The Butcher (21 page)

“Right.”

“Okay. We can do this, we can make this work.”

“James, with your help, I'm sure we can,” she said.

Jim hung up. He turned to Ken.

“It looks like we're going to Canada,” he said.

“Okay,” Ken replied.

Next, Jim called the Canadian authorities, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He got the head of the Mounties, Sergeant McDonald, on the phone and ran down the situation in quick cop-alese. That very day, Maria, Tom, and Jim boarded a plane for Toronto. The Pitera case, for now, was out of sight, but not out of mind. As Tom and Jim sped to Canada, DEA agents were circling Pitera, watching his minions, looking for that weak link—looking for his Achilles' heel.

When Tom and Jim and Maria arrived in Toronto, they went straight to meet Sergeant McDonald at Mountie headquarters. Sergeant
McDonald had a feeling he knew about whom they were talking. The first thing the sergeant did when Jim and Tommy and Maria arrived at his office was show them a picture and ask, “Do you know this guy?” as if he already knew the answer, his tone somber and overtly serious.

Jim took one look. The man in the photograph had a thick head of dark hair and a beard, but it was obvious that it was Giles—the surfer.

“That's him,” Jim said, showing the picture to Maria. She took it. She agreed with Jim that it was this Giles character.

Sergeant McDonald shook his head as though he'd just been given some very bad news. “Well, we have a serious problem here,” he said. “This man is one of the most wanted men in Canada. His real name is Yves LaSalle and he is a cop killer. He killed a police officer during a robbery in Houston, Texas, and then three security guards during another robbery he committed after having escaped from a maximum-security prison here in Canada where he had been serving a life sentence.”

“Holy shit,” Jim said. “I was so close to him I touched him.” Jim felt bad for not having cuffed him the day they first met. Jim hated cop killers. Both the good guys and the bad guys understood you don't kill a cop. To do so was a cardinal sin. Not only had this Giles guy killed a cop, but he had killed three other men in uniform. At the very top of the list of bad guys were—cop killers.

Sergeant McDonald said, “The problem is that we see this guy, we've got to arrest him on sight. There's no way, I mean think about it, that we can play out a sting with him.”

Both Jim and Tom knew his argument had merit. If Giles got away when they had an opportunity to arrest him, the Mounties' careers would be on the line. Jim and Tom decided not to make an argument of it right now. They would work the case to see how it played out. Sergeant McDonald explained that they believed Giles had connections to the Mafia—to the Bonanno crime family. This, of course, Jim and Tommy found endlessly interesting, having no idea that this would
all lead back to Brooklyn…to Tommy Pitera. Sergeant McDonald agreed to help them with the understanding that if Giles showed up, he was theirs. Jim immediately turned on the charm. If anyone could convince Sergeant McDonald to cooperate with them, let them play this out—trail Giles and in the end arrest him—it was Jim. This all had to do with the fact that Jim was truly being sincere, wasn't playing anybody. He knew what he was doing, was a professional, and would, one way or another, get the job done. Jim, in this case, wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

When Jim, Tommy Geisel, and Maria left Mountie headquarters, they checked into a nearby motel. Now Maria called the phone number that Vincenzo had given her. She said she was looking for Vincenzo. She was told he wasn't there, that she should call back in an hour. When, an hour later, she phoned back and asked for Vincenzo, a man with a very gruff-gravelly voice answered. He identified himself as Vincenzo. She said she had come to Canada as per their agreement…was in Toronto with “the goods.”

“What? Toronto?” he said incredulously.

“Yes, Toronto.”

“What are you doing there?”

“He told me to come here, I'm here. That's what he said.”

“No, you were supposed to come to Montreal.”

“Nooooo,” she said. “He told me to come to Toronto. I know he told me to come to Toronto.”

“My God,” the man with the gruff voice said. “Look, I'll call you back.” He hung up.

“This guy's crazy!” Maria said.

Jim, knowing that Maria was somewhat unhinged, knowing her perceptions were occasionally off base, asked “Maria, are you sure they said Toronto?” He immediately accepted that Maria had somehow made a mistake.

“Jim,” Maria said, “they said to come to Toronto.”

Jim was not about to argue with her.

“Look, Maria, you've just got to convince them to come here. It will make everything a lot easier. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

Before she called the number again, Jim spoke to Sergeant McDonald. He explained that apparently the bad guys were in Montreal, not Toronto. Sergeant McDonald said that opened up a whole Pandora's box of more trouble. Again, as per Jim's instructions, input, Maria called the number. Vincenzo answered. She explained that she had done what was asked of her, that the goods were in Toronto. He explained that did no good for anyone.

“Well,” she said, “my driver and I came up. The material's in the car. I had no idea I had to come here and now I have to go there. That changes everything. I don't want to go. You want it, you come here.”

“Look, Maria, I don't know who told you to go to Toronto, but that was a mistake. We're here, our operation is here,” he said in his gravelly voice.

“You need to come
here,”
she said.

Maria, Jim, and Tom discussed their going to Montreal, the different ramifications of the trip. In that it was a mistake for them to be in Toronto to begin with, Jim decided they ought to push for it. With that, Maria called back Vincenzo and said she'd drive the car to Montreal. He was grateful, said thank you, and hung up. Jim next called Sergeant McDonald. Maria soon called Hector and yelled at him, saying he told her to go to Toronto and now they wanted her to go somewhere else. Hector denied that he ever said Toronto. It went back and forth for quite a while. Ultimately, Hector said he was going to Montreal and would figure everything out for her. He said he would arrive on a seven
P.M.
flight.

Sergeant McDonald put Jim and Tom in contact with higher-ups in the narcotics division in Montreal. He explained, briefly, what was going down, and Jim, Tommy, Maria, and two Toronto Mounties were soon on their way to Montreal. The Mounties were there to make sure Jim and Tom got what they needed, cooperation and help, and that
the surveillance on Hector was carried out correctly. Jim and Tom had decided to follow Hector, see where he went. They were certain Hector was the key, that he would bring them to Vincenzo and Giles.

When they arrived at the airport, they hurried from the plane and were met by a dozen Mounties connected to the narcotics bureau. Each was dressed in plain clothes. Their boss was named Sergeant Martin. He was a tall, strong-looking man who had obviously been around the block several times. He was seasoned and well versed in the workings of the criminal mind. Jim and Tom took an immediate liking to him. The feeling was mutual. Sergeant Martin explained that four surveillance teams were set up outside, that they had guys dressed as hard hats and blue-collar workers and women pushing baby carriages. Jim liked what he saw and heard. They found the gate from which Hector would be disembarking. There was a somewhat crowded bar nearby. Martin, Jim, and Tom made their way up to the bar and ordered beers. Jim quickly brought Sergeant Martin up to speed. Sergeant Martin reiterated what Sergeant McDonald had said in Toronto: if they came upon Yves LaSalle, they had to arrest him.

“Jim, if we see him and we don't arrest him, we'll have to contend with that again. I couldn't handle that. He's a killer. He's proved this over and over.”

Jim nodded in agreement. He was able to see the gate from the bar. People were starting to disembark. Jim looked down the bar and quickly realized Yves was standing not three feet away from his elbow. Jim started motioning with his eyes to Sergeant Martin and Tom, but neither one of them was picking up his cues. He moved his eyebrows and his eyes, but they weren't getting it. Finally, he said, in little more than a whisper, “That's him. He's here. Right next to me. That's him!”

As incredible and improbable as this was to believe, it was absolutely true. It was as if fate had picked up Yves LaSalle and put him down there. Jim wanted this to play out. He understood Sergeant Martin's sentiments, but he knew there was a lot at stake here; he knew there
were bigger fish to fry. Jim and Sergeant Martin moved to the other side of a wide pillar. Jim reiterated his feelings. Sergeant Martin took a long, deep breath. He'd somehow known it would come to this, but he'd had no idea he would end up at a bar with Yves. Suffice it to say, Jim and Tom and a team of seasoned Mounties were given the green light to follow both Hector and Yves when they left the airport. More agents were brought in; the Mounties were taking this very seriously.

Yves spotted Hector and walked up to him. They embraced and walked off together, having no idea how many eyes were intently watching them, following them, clocking them, as flights were announced and the world went about its business.

Outside, they got into Yves' yellow convertible and drove away. A dozen different unmarked cars carefully followed them. Yves and Hector seemed, to a degree, oblivious to the tail. Yves had become cocky, so sure of himself that he lost perspective on the fact that he was a much-wanted cop killer. Yves pulled into a Marriott Hotel parking lot. Hector checked in. The two of them made their way into the hotel bar and began drinking in earnest. Unbeknownst to them, they were surrounded by seasoned, hard cops who knew the ropes. After an hour or so, Hector went upstairs by himself. Meanwhile, Yves got in the car and drove to an apartment house in downtown Montreal. Soon cop cars, staying at a discreet distance, surrounded the building. Before they allowed Yves to get away again, they'd kill him.

 

Early the next morning, there was an extensive debriefing at the Montreal office of the Mounted Police. Succinctly, Jim ran down the case. It was clear they knew what they had to do. The plan they put together was that they would have Maria call the club and have the bad guys meet her at a Holiday Inn near the airport. She would tell them that she had the drugs secreted in her van. The police would rent the two rooms on either side of Maria's. They would bug Maria's room extensively. Anything that was said, they'd record. Anything that was done,
they'd see.

As per instructions, Maria again called the club. Vincenzo again answered. He was pleased Maria had seen reason and come to Montreal. She invited him to the hotel, as Jim had instructed her to do, where they could consummate the deal. Vincenzo readily agreed to come, having no idea of the trap that was patiently waiting for him. Sure enough, at the prescribed time, the bad guys showed up—Vincenzo, Yves, and Hector. As the agents and Mounties watched on monitors to the left and right of Maria's room, they saw a calm, cool Maria greet her guests as though they were long-lost friends. The bad guys were all smiling and seemed happy. Maria was the perfect hostess. Vincenzo called room service and ordered a very good bottle of scotch. They made toasts to future business they would do together.

“Salud! Salud, salud!”
they said, accompanied by the sound of clinking glasses. All chummy, all warm, they sat down…one big happy family.

Vincenzo explained that for him the coke business was new, that he had been in the heroin business previously. He said there was a lot of money to be made in heroin because the product could be cut so much. Doe-eyed, all innocent, Maria said she knew nothing about the heroin business; she had never even seen the drug; and she asked questions about it of Vincenzo. It was obvious that he had been dealing in heroin for many years. He said that he and his “uncle” had done very well with it.

“But,” Maria said, “how do you know if it's good?”

“Well, I have a hot box and I put it in and see if it melts. But you know what the real test is? When the nigger hits the floor,” he said, tapping the arteries in his arm with two fingers.

The men got a big laugh out of that. Maria didn't quite understand what he meant. She asked him to explain.

“When the dope is good, the nigger ODs. In other words, we find some niggers and we give them the drugs and we see what happens.”

“Ohhhh, that's clever,” Maria said, subtly, encouragingly.

Now, changing the conversation, this Vincenzo character told Maria that he would like to take twenty keys of the cocaine now.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I want twenty kilos now and I'll take the rest in a couple of days.”

“That wasn't our agreement,” she said. “Our agreement was that I'd bring the drugs here and get paid. That's it.”

“Look, Maria,” Vincenzo said, his eyebrows rising, getting angry, “we gave you four hundred thousand already. When we get the drugs, we'll give you the rest of the money. There's no problem here.”

“That's not what the deal was,” she said.

This went back and forth awhile. Vincenzo was getting angrier and angrier. Yves and Hector pretty much stayed quiet. The argument became so heated that Vincenzo called for a time-out. The three men went downstairs to the bar. They talked among themselves for a little while before Yves and Hector got into their car and drove away, followed by six police cars. Vincenzo had two more drinks. This was early afternoon. As he drank, Jim again called his NYPD contact, Mike Spataro. Now he explained exactly what Vincenzo looked like, that he had an uncle who was connected.

Mike said, “Let me think, let me think…” Jim could hear him rustling through paper files. Suddenly Mike let out a whistle.