This is episode seventeen of the novel, From Here To 1137.
Planning For Frankie Grasso
After breakfast, Tom returned to the captain’s chair and continued to read Frankie Grasso’s dossier. He focused on Grasso’s responses to being challenged. He wanted to know his habits, routine, and what triggers him.
Two hours passed.
“Brain,” Tom said.
“Yes.”
“Call my brother,” Tom said. “And make it sound like a phone line.”
Tom listened to the phone ring twice, and he picked up.
“Hello.”
“Edgar, this is Tom. How are you?”
“Where are you?” Edgar said. “You sound like you’re in the next room.”
“Must be a good connection,” Tom said. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Edgar said. “Are you close by?”
“I’m on my way,” Tom said. “I need you to sit tight.”
“How soon will you be here?” Edgar asked.
“Look, Edgar. I called only to check on you. I can’t tell you anymore than that.”
“What’s going on?” Edgar sounded panicked.
“Stay calm,” Tom encouraged. “Everything is under control. Tell me where you are.”
“I’m less than a half mile off the William Floyd Parkway. It’s called Four Seasons Bed and Breakfast.”
“Okay,” Tom said. “Stay there. I should be there before midnight.”
“Are you flying?”
“Just leave it to me,” Tom said.
“You know my life is worthless, don’t you?” Edgar said.
“It’s not worthless,” Tom said.
“There’s only one way I can make it all right,” Edgar said. “That’s, be their man.”
“How can they use you?” Tom asked.
“I set up shell corporations for them, for one,” Edgar said. “I bill one corporation and run it through a dozen more. I bill them a lot and lose it gambling. Which I have done, but I use their money to lose it to them—kind of.”
“To the best of your knowledge, are you clear under 18 U. S. C.?”
“What!?” Edgar exclaimed. “What do you know about that?”
“It’s not important what I know,” Tom said. “It’s important that you have protected yourself.”
“Have you been consulting with another lawyer or the law?” Edgar asked forcefully.
“No,” Tom said. “I read a lot.”
“You have help,” Edgar said. “If the law is mixed up in this, I may lose my license no matter what 18 U. S. C. says.”
“I’ve read opinions and some cases,” Tom said. “I’m sure you have been coerced. Does anybody in your firm know?”
“Is this being wiretapped?” Edgar said.
“Absolutely not,” Tom said,
“I can assure you that I have not talked to another person about this,” Tom said.
“You’re too naive to lie,” Edgar said. “I’m not sure, but there may be a couple of other lawyers in on this.”
“Let me guess,” Tom said, “they were the ones who helped exploit your weakness for gambling.”
“Look, Tom,” Edgar said, “I never played so much as penny ante poker in school. It’s not a weakness. I got played.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out,” Tom said, “but who is the naive one, now?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Edgar said, “trying to fit in.”
“No,” Tom said, “because I’ve never had that need.”
“Lucky you,” Edgar said.
“We’re going to get out of this mess,” Tom said. “There’s something I need from you.”
“What’s that?” Edgar asked.
“The names of the two lawyers whom you suspect,” Tom said.
“I can’t do that,” Edgar said. “And why would you want to know?”
“First of all,” Tom said, “don’t claim some sort of collegial honor. If those guys are mixed up in this, they are dirty—dirtier than you. And I want to know. Maybe they can be helped, too.”
“Walter Plummer and Jason Howton,” Edgar said.
“Okay,” Tom said. “Stay put. Call if you need me.”
“When did you start using words like ' collegial?” Edgar asked.
“Nice,” Tom said, “I’m glad you caught that. I’m really trying to impress you.”
Edgar hung up.
“Brain,” Tom said.
“We have some work to do,” Tom said. “Walter Plummer and Jason Howton are lawyers in the same law firm as my brother. Find out what you can about them. Did they start crooked, or were they coerced into being crooked? Can you do that?”
“That should be no problem, Tom.”
Tom walked back to the food cloner. “Cup of black coffee, Sumatran, fine grind.”
The cup appeared, and coffee filled the cup from a spout. Tom removed it. He sipped it on his way to a lounge chair. “Ahh, that’s good.”
“Excuse me,” Brain said, “I have some information for you.”
“Go ahead, Brain.”
“Walter Plummer and Jason Howton met at high school in Scarsdale, New York,” Brain began. They graduated in the top ten percent of their class and went to Harvard. Their tuition was paid for by Andrew Porcelli. He’s a mob lawyer. When they graduated, they didn’t go into his practice, but both were hired at the same firm, which your brother eventually got a job with. They defend a lot of mob associates. The firm looks the other way. Messages that I’ve opened between them indicate that your brother was unwittingly brought into a relationship with Frankie Grasso.”
“Thank you, Brain,” Tom said.
“By the way, did you happen to notice where they will be after work?” Tom asked.
“They are scheduled at the office until 6:00,” Brain said. “Receipts indicate that tonight they will go to a pizza restaurant. Receipts indicate that normally they will be at a bar on 53rd Street called Granville’s.”
“I’ll want you to transport me there later on,” Tom said. “What about Grasso’s itinerary?”
“He will go to his home and have a meal with his family,” Brain said. “After that, he normally goes to the back room of a bar in Brooklyn. Guys come in with money and leave with whatever their percentage is. It is about four guys a night. Then he goes to another bar. He sits at the second table on the right, entering the bar. A guard sits on each side of him, and there is an empty chair across the table in front of him. The seat is usually left open for new clients or business partners. On Saturdays, he arrives at 10:00 and leaves about 4:00. He is very predictable.”
“Can I just walk in and sit down?? Tom asked.
“Normally, all contacts are made by appointment,” Brain said.
“How do you get all of this information?” Tom grinned, “Or is it all based on probability?”
“I was able to access law enforcement files,” Brain said. “They take very detailed notes.”
“How long did it take you?”
“I can be in their system, access and collect what I need, and be out in three to five minutes,” Brain said.
“What takes you so long?” Tom quipped.
“Oh,” Brain assured, “it is not me. Their systems are antiques. Their equipment to me is like stone age utensils are to you.”
“What time does he get to the bar?” Tom asked.
“Between 7:15 and 7:25,” Brain said.
“That’s all I need to know,” Tom said.
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