The Payback Game (12 page)

The next day Rashid called Hannah and told her Derrick was willing to meet with them. Cullen relayed the info to Boff, who told him he would pick them up at the gym. On the way, Boff stopped at Wallachi’s office and had Manny print
one of the photos he had taken of Galvani and the two longshoremen walking out of Sunny’s. He also asked for a surveillance shot of two men from a completely different case. Then he put these photos, along with the snapshot of Galvani and Maloney at the precinct picnic, into a manila envelope and headed for the gym.

“Where do we meet this snitch?” Boff asked Hannah as he drove away from the gym.

“On the platform of the above-ground B and Q station on Avenue J in Midwood. Our instructions are to walk toward the end of the platform on the north-bound side and wait for Derrick where the overhang roof ends.”

After Boff found a parking space outside the subway station, he grabbed the manila envelope with the photos and led them into the station. As instructed, they walked along the platform until they reached the end of the overhang roof.

Mere seconds after they arrived, Boff saw a short, rail-thin guy in his twenties step out of the station and head straight for them. “Must be our snitch,” he muttered.

The snitch had a gaunt face and the sickly color of a heavy drug user. He stopped halfway to them
and glanced behind him, apparently to see if he was being followed. Then he walked over and looked at Boff. He narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“This guy’s a cop,” he said. “I can see it in his eyes. I’m splittin’.”

As he turned to go, Hannah said, “Derrick, wait! He isn’t a cop. He’s a private investigator. Boff, show him your license.”

At this Derrick half turned around, still wary. Boff tucked the envelope under his arm and reached into his pocket. The second he did, Derrick thrust a hand in his own pants pocket and kept it there. Boff figured the kid had a gun.

“Now bring your hand out slowly, Mr. P.I.”

Putting on his friendliest smile, Boff pulled his wallet out of his pocket and held it open so the snitch could see both his license and his investigator’s badge.

Still wary, Derrick leaned an inch closer to get a better look. Then he turned all the way around to face them and removed his hand from his pocket.

“What’s a P.I. want with me?” he asked.

Hannah replied. “Boff’s helping me find a killer. He thinks you can help us.”

Still holding his wallet, Boff slid a hundred-dollar bill out of it and waved it like a flag. The snitch snatched the Benjamin and immediately held it up to the sunlight to inspect it before stuffing it in his pocket.

Boff put his wallet away.

“Okay, Mr. P.I,” Derrick said, “like, what you wanna know?”

It was Hannah who answered. “Rashid told us you’d heard about phony drug raids.”

“Yeah, I done did.”

“But Rashid thinks you might be making it up, because you didn’t give him any details.”

Derrick waved that off with one hand. “Why would I go and give Rashid information he could sell? I got me the details, for sure, girl. You know how I know? ’Cause I done seen a phony raid go down.”

“Where’d it happen?” Boff asked.

“Bensonhurst. I, like, live across the street from a dealer, ya know? And, like, one day I’m, like, sitting on my stoop minding my own business when this SUV with NYPD written on it pulls up in front
of the dealer’s house. Four dudes wearing black RAID jackets jump outta the car. Two of ’em got shotguns. The other guys, like, they were strapped up.”

“Strapped up?” Hannah asked.

“Holdin’ hand guns.”

“Then what happened?” Boff said.

“The dudes bust into the building. At the time, I was, like, high and feeling paranoid, ya know? So the minute they go into the building, I hustle my ass up to my crib. I watched the rest of it outta the window.”

“How long were the
dudes in there?”

“Like, around ten minutes. Tops. When they came out, they, like, had ’em a suitcase and a big duffle bag.”

“What about the dealer?” Boff said. “Did they bring him out cuffed?”

Derrick shook his head. “Nope. He wasn’t wit’ ’em.”

“Maybe,” Hannah said, “the dealer wasn’t there.”

“Oh, he was there, all right.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, see, this dude’s my supplier, see? So, like, a few minutes after the SUV peels away, I walk across the street and
go inside the dealer’s building. The door to his apartment, it’s, like, wide open. The dealer and his partner were using kitchen knives to saw off their plastic cuffs. When I asked him what’d gone down, he told me these dudes took his whole stash of H.
And
his cake.”

Hannah looked puzzled. “Cake?”

“Cash.”

“Did you get a good look at the cops’ faces?” Boff asked.

“Good enough.”

Boff took the picture of Galvani and Maloney at the precinct picnic out of the envelope and held it out for Derrick to see. “Do these guys look like the ones who made the raid?”

The snitch stepped a bit closer and squinted at the photo.
Great
, Boff thought
, the friggin’ mutt’s got bad eyesight
. A minute went by before the snitch nodded his head and stepped back. “Yeah, man, these two look like the dudes with the shotguns. For sure.”

Next, Boff took out the shot of Galvani and the two longshoremen outside Sunny’s. He tapped a finger on the longshoremen. “How about these other two dudes?”

Again Derrick stepped forward, squinted at the photo, and took his sweet time. Then he looked up and said in a tentative voice, “I…I think so. They…well, ya know…they look real familiar, ya know?”

The last photo Boff showed the snitch was one Manny had given him of two men from a completely different case. “Do
these
dudes
look familiar, too?” he asked.

This time, Derrick stared at the faces even longer before saying anything. Finally, “Well, ya know…uh, yeah…I mean, like, it
coulda
been these two. But, like, I’m not as sure as I was with the other guys, ya know?”

Feeling like he’d just wasted a Benjamin, Boff frowned. “You said you were high. How high?”

Derrick smiled. “Feeling mighty fine.”

“Well, when you’re feeling
mighty fine
, can you still see clearly?”

Derrick shrugged. “More or less.”

“Which is it? More? Or less?”

The snitch frowned. “Hey, man, I dunno. Sometimes my memory, it’s, like, it ain’t so good, ya know?”

“If you have memory problems when you’re stoned, how can you recall what the men from the raid looked like?”

The snitch shuffled his feet and glanced behind him. He seemed ready to bolt. Then he pointed a finger at Boff. “Look, Mr. P.I., don’t you be gettin’ on my case. You asked what I done saw. I done told you. Now I gots to split.”

Before Boff could slip in another question, Derrick walked away at a fast clip and disappeared inside the station.

As he disappeared, Hannah looked at Boff. “What do you think?”

“Well, he told us what we wanted to hear. Snitches have been known to do that. Was it all bullshit?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It could very well have been true. But it’s not nearly a slam dunk. I mean, the guy had to squint at the first two pictures for several minutes before he said it was the same men from the raid. I also didn’t like that he was very high when the so-called raid went down. And I
sure
as hell
didn’t find it reassuring he thought the last two guys I showed him could’ve been on the raid.”

Cullen finally spoke up. “But he did say he wasn’t as sure about those last two guys as he was with the others.”

Boff shrugged. “Still, the mere fact he even said those guys
could’ve
been on the raid waters down everything he told us. We’re going to need more definitive proof. Or else we drop this whole raid scenario.”

Boff was sitting on a bench by the cage-enclosed basketball courts in
Brower Park watching a pickup game when Damiano arrived.

“Okay, bring me up to speed,” she said before she even sat down.

He told her what they had discovered so far, the theories they were working on, and the phony raids scenario.

The detective didn’t look very impressed. “I dunno, Boff. I mean, man, you’re
out there
with this raid thing. I’m surprised you’re committed to it with virtually no evidence.”

“Who said I’m committed? It’s just a possibility I want to explore. So play along with me, okay?”

“Sure. How you waste your time is your business.”

“What I’d like to know from you is when cops are going on a raid, how do they requisition equipment. Such as NYPD jackets and a vehicle?”

“You go through the chain of command,” Damiano replied. “After you get approval for what you need, you pick everything up at a department supply facility.”

“Doing that would leave a paper trail, right?”

“For sure.”

“So, if these guys were conducting any number of raids, wouldn’t it set off whistles and bells when they didn’t return with drugs?”

“Absolutely,” the detective said. “The only way they could get around that would be by not using department equipment.”

“Where would they get the equipment?”

“The raid jackets are easy,” she replied. “You can buy a tactical response jacket online for under sixty bucks. You can also purchase pre-printed panels for the jackets with things like SHERIFF, POLICE, SECURITY, and RAID. Guns, plastic restraints, vests, and knock-off badges are also easily obtained online.”

Boff nodded. “What about the vehicle?”

“A little trickier,” she said. “If I were them, I’d buy a fairly new white SUV. Then I’d take it to a garage one of us owns or rents and paint on the requisite police lettering.”

As they were talking, a fist fight broke out on the basketball court and caught Boff’s attention a minute. He smiled as he remembered his early days playing hoops on
Bronx playgrounds. Then he turned back to Damiano and said, “What about the lights for the SUV’s roof?”

“There are stores in the city where you can purchase them. Or, like everything else in the world, just buy them online.”

“So the first thing I’ve got to find out is if any of these three guys owns a white SUV.”

“Correct. Write down the names of the mutts. I’ll run them through DMV for you.”

He scribbled the names on the back of a business card and handed it to her.

“One thing you need to consider,” Damiano said, “is if they’re using a garage to hide the vehicle, it won’t be located near residential or commercial buildings. They wouldn’t want to risk anyone seeing an NYPD car coming out of some garage and returning to it
later.”

“So they’d need a garage near warehouses and factories.”

“Exactly. And lotsa luck finding that garage.”

“Actually, there’s a way I
can
find it,” Boff said.

“And that is…?”

“I could fix GPS trackers to the longshoremen’s regular vehicles. I already have one on Galvani’s car. Then, assuming they’re going on a raid, when one of them drives to an area where warehouses and factories are located, they’ll lead us right to the garage.”

“Yeah, that’s possible,” she said. “But as good as you are, hotshot, even you can’t track three vehicles by yourself. You’re going to need more manpower.”

“Not a problem. Remember Pete Wallachi? The investigator I used on the last job you and I worked on?” She nodded. “He has plenty of ops in the firm he owns.”

Damiano stood up to go.

“One last thing,” Boff said.

“What’s that?”

“With Maloney dead, they’d only have three guys. Do you need four for a raid?”

“If it was department sanctioned? Yes. A
minimum
of four. It can be done, though, with only three people. Now I’ve really gotta get back to work. I’ll run these guys through DMV as soon as I can and call you.”

After one last glance at the pickup game, Boff walked with her back toward their parked cars.

“Ya know, Boff, even if you can nail them on these so-called raids, you’re going to have a few loose ends. For example, why was Maloney killed? Also, where do the Hells Angels fit in?”

“I’ll deal with all that
if
and
when
the time comes. For now, I just want to find out if these jokers are actually pulling raids. If they aren’t, then I’ll have to look for another angle.”

“As always, if you make the collar I want to be in on it.”

“You got it.”

Boff decided to wait at the gym for Damiano to get back to him. He watched his son train for several minutes. He hated to admit it, but Steven was starting to look less awkward in the ring. He was even throwing some decent combos. He had also added upper body muscle under McAlary’s rigorous strength and conditioning program.

Inevitably, however, Boff’s mind wandered from boxing back to his case. Taking out his phone, he called Dave Galloway, a college friend who was a defense lawyer.

“Hey Dave. Do you remember that
Brooklyn drug dealer we got acquitted of racketeering charges?”

Sure.
Pedro Rivera.

“Is he still around?”

Last I heard, it was business as usual with him.

“You have his cell number?”

Let me get it
.

Boff took out a pad and pen. Steven had just been rocked by a right hook from a guy he was sparring with. He hit the canvas.

Okay, Frank. Here’s the number: seven-one-eight, two-three-two, nine-zero-seven-three. What’s up with Rivera?

“He might be able to help me on a case I’m working on.”

It sounds like you’re at the gym. How’s Steven doing with his boxing?

“Well, let’s just say he looks more like a punching bag than a fighter. He’ll give it up soon.”

Does he know you want him to quit?

“Yes.”

Then he won’t. Just to spite you. Twenty bucks says he sticks.

“I’ll take that bet.” After hanging up, Boff called the drug dealer. “Pedro, this is Frank Boff. You remember me, right?”

I sure do. Every day that I wake up and don’t see bars, I thank God for you and Galloway. What’s up? I ain’t in trouble again, am I?

“Not that I’m aware of. I just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about phony drug raids going down in your neck of the woods.”

By phony, you mean, like, guys impersonating cops, making a bust, and then keeping everything they confiscate?

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Well, actually a couple of dealers I know recently told me they’d been hit by phony cops. I ain’t got no reason not to believe ‘em. Word about these bogus raids got around fast. Now everybody’s beefing up security. My own crib looks like fuckin’ Don Corleone’s fuckin’ fortress.

“Thanks, Pedro.”

As soon as he hung up, his phone rang. It was Damiano.

The longshoreman named Laterza owns a
two-year-old Beamer
and
a white Toyota Sequoia. He registered the SUV ten months ago. Plate number ADL-four-six-eight-one.

After scribbling the number down, he said, “Give me the plate on Laterza’s Beamer, and Monetti’s Camaro, too.
” He wrote those numbers down. “By the way, Victoria, I just spoke with a drug dealer in Bensonhurst. He told me a couple of other dealers have been hit by phony raids.”

Is this
dealer credible?

“As good as they come.”

So this means now that you’re all-in on these raids?

“No, not quite yet. I still want more confirmation.”

After finishing with Damiano, he called Wallachi and told him about the phony raid angle he was working on.

“Pete, I got confirmation just now from a very reliable source about these raids. Damiano also found out that Laterza owns a white SUV. So I have another job for you.”

Good. My wife just redid the friggin’ kitchen. Second friggin’ time in three friggin’ years. Cost me a shitload. I could use the business.

“I want you to put
GPS trackers on the longshoremen’s cars. If we keep tabs on them and Galvani, they might lead us to the garage where the white SUV is kept.”

Give me the plate numbers
of their cars.

Boff read them off his pad.

What if the dock workers don’t drive to work?

“They do. There’s no subway service in Red Hook.”

Then I’ll need their home addresses, too.

“I’ll get that info for you from a union official I know.

Okay. I’ll have the longshoremen tailed in the morning when they leave for work. We should be able to sticker them when they park at the docks. If not, then we can do it when they get home and park their vehicles.

“Thanks, Pete.”

Boff took out the business card the union official had given him and was about to call him when Cullen walked over. He had a towel wrapped around his sweaty neck.

“Using the gym as your second office today?” the boxer said. “You’ve been on the phone since you got here. You’re lucky Ryan doesn’t charge you rent.”

“Beats watching my kid get the crap beaten out of him.”

“That may change. Steven’s improving. I think he might just make a fighter. What did you learn from Damiano?”

“Tell you later.”

“Okay. I’ve got to do my stomach exercises. By the way, the doc says I’m healing faster than he thought I would. I’ll be able to do bag work and sparring soon.”

After Cullen went back to train, Boff called Jan Roszak and got the longshoremen’s residential addresses. Laterza lived in Brooklyn’s Cobble Hill, Monetti, in Carroll Gardens. Both were longstanding Italian-American neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Boff called Wallachi back with the addresses. Then, with no more calls to make, he waited for Steven to finish taking his daily punishment and drove the kid home to Riverdale.