The Heart of an Assassin (12 page)

“Why? We haven’t done anything,” asked the
driver.

Without any warning the passenger reached
into his jacket and pulled out a gun and fired at Tyler, who was
partially visible in the driver’s window. It happened so fast, that
Tyler fell backward on the pavement, avoiding getting shot in the
face or chest.

The driver put the car in drive and gunned
the accelerator. The car jumped out of its parking spot, hitting
the right taillight of a car parked a few feet in front of them.
Tyler fired after them, hitting their backlight and trunk as the
car screeched away.

Out of the church came Sam with his pistol
drawn. Not moving too far from the entryway, he shouted out to
Tyler, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Tyler responded. Tyler
jumped into his car and drove it up on the sidewalk in front of the
church. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he shouted to Sam.

Sam ran back into the church to retrieve the
others. In a matter of seconds, they all piled into the car, made a
quick U-turn and headed south toward Ninety-Fifth Street where they
entered the Henry Hudson Parkway heading north. Less than a block
away, a hotdog vendor witnessed the events that unfolded in the
last few minutes.

June
1, 1984 (O’Hare Airport)

Nick Costello, now traveling as Neal Galuchi,
a freelance reporter for several magazines, arrived at O’Hare
airport in Chicago. Over time, Nick had become accustomed to using
various disguises. Bleaching his hair blond, wearing a plaid suit,
dark-rimmed glasses, and walking with a cane to help offset a
fictitious bad limp, helped him to feel more at ease as he traveled
about. The dark glasses gave him the ability to look around without
bringing any suspicion to him. Anytime he entered an area, such as
an airport or air plane, he would look into each person’s face and
determine, at a glance, if they posed a threat, if they were what
they seemed or not. He could mentally count the number of men,
women, and children that were on the flight with him, and would
listen to any conversations in his immediate area. He always picked
a seat in the aisle at the back so that he could monitor any and
all events that occurred during a flight. He was quite
knowledgeable on how the emergency doors opened and where they were
located. He had mentally practiced an emergency escape countless
times over the last twenty years and, fortunately, never had to use
it. Unlike many of those in his business, Nick always assumed he
would get caught and was always prepared to do what he had to do to
avoid it.

Exiting the plane, he managed to cling to a
young lady who was carrying a child and several bags while pushing
a stroller. He offered to push the stroller for her and help her to
the baggage area. “Please, please let me help you with your
stroller and bags,” Nick invited her. At first she hesitated,
however, his demeanor and the fact he was limping made her feel at
ease.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” she said. “My husband
should be at the gate to meet us,” she commented.

“Of course, no problem,” he responded while
taking control of the stroller and one of her bags.

They walked, single file, off the plane. As
they exited the gate, Nick looked about and saw a man a few feet
behind the crowd start to wave. “Is that your husband?” Nick
inquired.

“Yes, yes, that’s him,” she responded as she
too started to wave.

They walked toward the man. The woman, the
child, and the man all embraced while Nick stood there holding the
stroller. “This gentleman was kind enough to help me with the bags
and stroller,” she told her husband.

“It was my pleasure,” Nick responded. Her
husband nodded and thanked Nick for his kindness, eager to embrace
his child and his wife again.

“You folks have a great day,” Nick said as he
walked away.

“You too, sir,” the husband responded with a
big smile on his face.

Nick walked toward the baggage claim area,
and as he did he spotted at least three suspicious-looking
characters at different locations. A couple were standing about as
if they had all the time in the world, while the other was
pretending to be busy glancing at a magazine in front of a gate
with no departure date on it. None gave him a second look. They may
not be looking for him, but they are definitely looking for
someone, he thought.

Nick decided three strikes and you’re out, so
he made the decision to leave the airport and head to another
location to pick up his instructions. Hailing a cab, he headed for
the Marriott Hotel on Frontage Road in Burr Ridge. Entering the
hotel lobby, he turned right and walked over to a lounge area and
seated himself. From this vantage point, he could see the front
desk as well as anyone else who may be idly passing time in the
lobby. The two clerks behind the desk were both busy with clients
checking in or out. They appeared to be competent at their jobs as
calls came in while they were handling customers. After a short
time, Nick strolled over to the front desk, identified himself, and
asked if there were any messages for him.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Galuchi,” responded the clerk
as he handed Nick a manila envelope. “Will you be checking in now,
sir?” asked the clerk.

“No, not at this time,” answered Nick. “Can
you direct me to your dining area?”

“Why yes, of course, sir. Go to your left,
past the elevators and the restaurant will be on your right,” the
clerk responded. Nick nodded and went in the direction of the
restaurant.

Reaching the restaurant, he walked in and
exited through the other side, then hailed a cab. Nick made it a
practice to know the layout of any location, making sure that there
was more than one entrance or exit.

Before exiting the cab, Nick switched his
identity to Robert Edwards by replacing the Neal Galuchi driver’s
license and credit cards with that of his new identity. Neal’s
credit cards and driver’s license were concealed in a pocket
located on the inside bottom of his pants. Nick found this to be
risky, but necessary as he didn’t want anyone to track the
whereabouts of either of his pseudo characters.

Nick arrived at the Holiday Inn close to
Midway airport. He walked directly to the gift shop, which was
located in the lobby opposite the front desk. Buying Life Savers
candy and a magazine, Nick scanned the area for anything out of the
ordinary. After a short period, he felt comfortable, at least for
the moment, and checked in.

“Welcome to Chicago,” the clerk behind the
desk said.

“Thank you,” responded Nick, eyeing him and
watching for anything that might be deemed suspicious. He then
handed the clerk his credit card and showed him his driver’s
license.

“You are booked for one night, Mr. Edwards.
Please sign here,” the clerk said while pointing to a sheet he
placed in front of Nick. Nick signed, was handed a card access key
to room 315, and was bid a good day.

Once in his room, Nick opened the envelope
and glanced at the information provided. Next, he tore up the paper
into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet.

The job was in New York, which made things a
little easier. So after rechecking the room, making a mental
imprint of how it had been left, he departed for Chicago’s Midway
International Airport where he booked a flight to Long Island’s
MacArthur Airport.

The hit was two individuals, Naiba Nadroi and
Icile Nadroi. After a short time, Nick was able to interpret the
names to be Felicia and Fabio Giordano. This could prove to be an
interesting if not amusing situation. A simultaneous hit on rival
families? Only time would tell.

Second Stop

June 2, 1984 (New Jersey)

On his flight, Nick smiled to himself as he
tried to anticipate the orders that Felicia would have for him. It
would be amusing if the hit was on a top member of the Chicago
family. How would he collect if he wiped out both of the clients?
He smiled to himself as he pondered the situation. After a short
period, he came up with a plan on how to collect from all
parties.

Upon his arrival to MacArthur airport, he
rented a car and drove to the Holiday Inn in Hauppauge, one of the
drop-off points Felicia was instructed to use. He stepped out of
his car and entered the lobby from a back entrance, which was left
open during the day. Making his way toward the front desk, he
stopped short when he noticed that a camera had been installed. He
immediately turned around and walked out of the Inn to his car and
left the area.

“Damn!” he said to himself.

Driving west on the Long Island Expressway he
made his way toward Hicksville where there was another drop off
point. Forty-five minutes later, he was on the corner of Newbridge
Road and West Old Country Road where there was a restaurant called
the Breakfast House. He sat down and ordered a chicken salad with
some lemonade. As he sat there, he did his usual, and casual,
search of the premises. There were no cameras here, and he waited
to see if anyone was just hanging around. He did spot a middle-aged
man reading a newspaper who seemed to be waiting for someone. Nick
watched this man through his dark sunglasses and decided he did not
pose a threat. An hour later, he finished his lunch, paid, and left
only to return five minutes later to use the restroom. Suddenly
there was a huge explosion on the other side of the restaurant.
People jumped from their seats, running toward the commotion.

Using the explosion as a distraction, Nick
entered the restroom. Only one occupant could use it at any given
time, and the entrance was not in plain view of the customers or
anyone else in the restaurant. Lastly, there was a wide enough
window in the back from which to exit. Nick locked the door behind
him, pulled the cover off the trash can. He picked up the plastic
garbage bag and extracted the envelope at the bottom, replacing the
bag and cover to its original state. He unlocked the door and
exited the bathroom via the window, closing it behind him. He then
quickly made his way to his car and left the area.

Nick continued west and was in Newark, New
Jersey, an hour and half later. Turning in his car as Robert
Edwards, he hailed a cab and checked into a nearby motor lodge as
Neal Galuchi. Next, he called Jay Messina from a nearby phone
booth.

Nick had not contacted Jay since his last job
in New York about twenty years ago and was anxious to see how his
old buddy was doing. “I am sorry, but that number has been
disconnected” was the recording Nick heard. He left and returned to
the motor lodge. Where are you, Jay, Nick thought to himself.

Though Nick made it a point to keep in
contact with most of the people he worked with, on an annual basis,
Jay was not among them. Jay and he went back many years, and Nick
trusted him. Due to other assignments and priorities, Nick had not
tried to communicate with Jay for over twenty years. Has it been
that long? Damn, I dropped the ball on this one.

Nick remembered he and Jay agreed on a plan
in the event Jay was ever compromised. The plan was simple; Jay
would disconnect one of three numbers. If the first number was
disconnected, it was an indication that Jay needed to talk with him
as soon as possible. If the second number was disconnected, it
would mean that he was compromised but that Nick did not have to
worry, he had successfully escaped. If the third number was
disconnected it would mean that they knew who Nick was and that he
needed to take the appropriate action to disappear. Since Nick
lived under an assumed name, this did not worry him.

Nick called all three numbers from the local
phone booth and was somewhat relieved while at the same time
disappointed to know that the second number, but not the third, had
been disconnected. Nick trusted only a handful people in his life.
Jay was one of those people, and now he had gone underground. Nick
knew he left the country and figured he would go to a warm climate,
to places they had talked about when they were together in the
service. Good luck to you, Jay, Nick thought.

Nick was now forced to change his plan
slightly. This made him uneasy; he would be exposing himself to
contacts he had never used before, especially now when the hit was
a corrupted judge being protected by federal agents. He thought
back to other hits of the past; all had an element of risk. But
this hit raised the stakes higher. Nick was becoming excited with
the challenge and prospect of successfully completing his
mission.

October 1969

What Nick didn’t know was that approximately
five years after his last visit to New York City, the FBI got a tip
about Jay Messina. They got word that Jay was operating a gun shop
in the back of his little store. The FBI, as was standard
procedure, decided to monitor Mr. Messina’s activities before
closing in. This proved to be a bad decision on their part because
Jay was a very cautious man who had installed concealed cameras
years ago to monitor the streets around his shop. Cameras he could
monitor from his home six miles away and, thus, became aware of not
only their surveillance, but that they had planted bugs in his
shop. As usual, he went to work the next several days and acted as
if nothing was wrong as he cleaned out his back room. Step-by-step,
he dismantled all of the weapons in the hidden room, carrying them
out in his attaché case; cleaned them thoroughly of any
fingerprints, then discarded them in different locations (rivers,
garbage cans, etc.) throughout the city.

On his last day, he spread gasoline inside
his secret room and nailed it shut, then planted explosives with a
timer set for 5:00 a.m. Next, he closed his shop at the normal
time, knowing full well that he was being watched, and drove
home.