Mike sat at one of the two chairs and proceeded to call Dan Turner. He was in big trouble and aware that only Turner stood between him and bigger trouble. He tried to remain calm. “Dan, please listen very carefully, I’m not sure how much time they’re going to give me. I need your help. I was arrested this morning by the RCMP.”
“Surely you’re joking,” Turner said.
“I wish I was. I’m really here, and I’m a goddamned prisoner in the Don Jail.”
“What’s the charge? I’m sure they told you.”
“Unlawful possession and sale of a stolen substance, and unlawful sale and disposal of a toxic substance.”
“Incredible! What do you know about it?”
“I don’t know. Either somebody’s set me up or I’m having a hell of a nightmare.”
A consummate professional, Turner took immediate control. “Have you said anything to anyone?”
“Nothing.”
“Good. Don’t. I want you to remain absolutely silent. We certainly don’t want to help those bastards in any way. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Turner met Mike in the windowless, white-walled room. He began the discussion after sitting on the only chair available. “I did a little scratching before I left the office, and I’m afraid the feds have a pretty good case against you,” he said with his booming baritone voice. He leveled his hazel eyes at Mike in a deep, penetrating stare. “I want you to be completely honest with me. Is the case justified?”
Mike shook his head vigorously. “Dan, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. As far as the toxic substance is concerned, you probably know more than I do.”
“We’ll talk about that later, but first I want to deal with a higher priority. I took the liberty of talking to Marc Peterson before I left the office. I asked him to make the necessary financial arrangements to get you out of here. If you’re prepared to sign the papers…”
“How much, Dan?” Mike asked.
“Half a million.”
Mike winced, and then nodded.
“It’s to make sure you don’t run. You don’t need to come up with the cash—you just need to guarantee the amount with tangible assets.” Again Mike nodded. “Let me change the subject. Do you know a woman by the name of Karen Servito?” The flush on Mike’s face gave Turner the answer.
“I certainly do know her. Why do you ask?”
“The feds think she’s also involved in this thing.”
Mike lurched forward and glared at Turner. “In what way?”
“They’ve charged her with theft and unlawful sale of gasoline, and unlawful transportation of a stolen substance across an international boundary.”
Mike rolled his eyes and raised his hands. “I suppose you’re going to tell me they’ve arrested her, too.”
Turner nodded. “Shortly after they arrested you.”
“Where the hell is she? Do you know?”
“In a cell, right here, right now.”
“Put everything on hold!” Mike demanded, barely able to contain his rage. “I don’t care what it costs, I want you to represent Karen Servito, and I want you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here. I’ll look after her bail and all of your expenses.” His wheels spun, and then clicked. “I’m convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we’ve been shafted, and I have a pretty good idea who did it.”
Turner nodded. “On two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“The first is that Karen agrees to have me as her legal representative. The second is that you’ll both come to my office and answer a lot more questions.”
It took Turner less than an hour to guarantee Mike and Karen’s release. As they met outside the police station, Karen rushed to Mike’s arms. “It was Jim. I know it from the bottom of my heart. If it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to pay that son of a bitch back,” she promised, tears filling her dark brown eyes.
“You two really do know each other,” Turner said with a smirk.
He brought them to his office, which was was on the sixty-fifth floor of the North American Bank Building, a steel clad structure near the foot of Bay Street. He began to fire questions at his clients the second they entered. “How did you two come to know each other? I’m sure you understand why I need to know.”
Mike smiled at Karen. “You answer that one.”
“We met eighteen years ago. Mike was a student at the University of Toronto, and I was a stewardess with Air Canada. For one reason and another, we’ve been prevented from doing what we should have done then.”
“What was that?”
“Get married,” Karen said, continuing to smile at Mike.
“Good answer. Do you two have any mutual business interests?”
“None whatsoever,” Mike replied with emphasis.
“That’s good.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this situation, Dan,” Mike continued. “The theory I was twirling in my brain really crystallized when you told me the feds had arrested Karen, too. I think a lot of your questions will be answered if I tell you what I know.”
“I would be pleased if you would. Go ahead.”
“Karen has been unhappily married to Jim Servito for a number of years. Eventually, she became so unhappy that she had an affair. I happen to be the individual with whom she had the affair. When Karen’s husband found out about us, he beat Karen up and threatened to kill her if she ever saw me again. We ignored the threat and continued to see each other anyway. Even though we took particular care to avoid being seen together, he knew. So he decided to get even. He wanted us to suffer, so he set us up. It had to be him, Dan. Who else would bother to finesse this nightmare, and have the means to do so?”
Turner stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then turned to Mike and nodded. “Let’s assume for now that your theory’s correct. How do we go about proving Karen’s husband should be the one who was put in jail, instead of you and Karen?”
“I wish I knew,” Mike said, feeling the same helpless frustration he felt the day he and Karen searched Servito’s farmhouse.
“Mike, I sincerely believe that you and Karen are innocent. The feds don’t share my belief, and so I have no alternative but to prepare to defend you. I don’t have the time to prove or disprove your theories, however.
“How much time do we have?”
“Two, maybe three months.”
Mike and Karen glanced at each other with pained expressions.
“Karen, what do you know about your husband’s business activities?” Turner asked.
“Not very much. He’s always been very secretive about his business. He rarely tells me anything.”
“What can you tell me about Reserve Oil?”
“Nothing. I didn’t even know it existed.”
“I find that very difficult to believe. You must know you’re the president and sole owner of that company?”
Karen was surprised and shaken. “I had no idea.”
“Didn’t your husband ever mention it?”
“Never.”
“Was a lawyer present when you signed?”
“I signed a lot of papers for Jim… and Robert Grenstein was always there. My husband said he was our family lawyer.”
“Do you have any knowledge of the existence or installation of illegal gasoline valves at the Golden National refinery, in Buffalo, New York?”
“What!” Mike shouted.
“No!” Karen said with extreme indignation. “I’ve never even heard of Golden National.”
“Dan, what the hell is this about?” Mike asked.
“In my telephone discussion with William Dare today, he advised that two alien gasoline valves have recently been discovered in Golden National’s Buffalo refinery. Golden National claims the valves were installed without the knowledge or consent of management, and were used to steal a very large quantity of gasoline. Dare claimed to be in possession of a taped confession from some individual who says that the owner of Reserve Oil is responsi
ble for the installation of the valves.”
“Who was the individual?”
“Dare declined to provide that information.”
“Did he explain about the toxic substance?” Mike asked, fully expecting more bad news.
Turner grimaced. “He claims they have irrefutable evidence that the gasoline you were retailing at your outlet in Fort Erie contained between two and three percent poly chlorinated biphenyls. They’re now conducting extensive tests at all of your retail outlets.”
Mike’s heart sank. Even if Turner could defend him against the charges, irredeemable damage had been done to the reputation and financial capacity of his company.
CHAPTER 47
Within seconds of Servito’s arrival at the Brass Rail Tavern, his eyes found the bulbous cheeks of Jerry Allison’s rump draped over the rim of a red bar stool. Allison’s lips were inches from of his third scotch when he felt the sting of Servito’s slap on his back. The scotch leaped up and splashed his face.
“Follow me,” Servito ordered, beckoning with his index finger.
Allison nodded, wiped his face, and followed Servito to a small table at the rear of the bar, carrying the remains of his drink with him. Servito waited until Allison had arrived at the table, and then snatched his drink and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor.
“Aw, shit! What did you do that for?” Allison protested.
“Sit your fat ass down and listen!” Servito ordered. “I don’t want your tiny brain clogged up with booze tonight.” He waited until Allison had lowered himself onto a chair between the wall and the table. “Did you pack a bag?” he asked.
Allison nodded. “It’s in the limo. What the hell’s happening?” he asked. When Servito passed on a chance to party, something big was going down.
Servito placed both hands on the table and glared at Allison. “The party’s over, Jerry. It’s been a good party, but it’s over.”
“What are you telling me?” Allison asked.
“There’s too much heat. We’re going to close up shop.”
“And do what?”
“Get out of Dodge. You and I are going to retire in Caracas.”
“Where?”
“Caracas, Venezuela. It’s time for a change of scenery. We’re leaving in my plane tomorrow.”
“Caracas! What the hell are we gonna do there?”
“Who knows? Maybe we can play the gasoline game down there. Trust me, I’ll think of something exciting.”
Allison rubbed his face with his hands and exhaled. “I need another drink. I don’t think I can take all this without one.”
“Forget the booze, Jerry. We’re going to a very important meeting. It’s scheduled to start in Fort Erie in four hours. First, I want you to take the limousine and follow me to Pearson Airport. I made arrangements to meet George Lanotti out there at seven-thirty.”
“Is George going with us?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there. Let’s go. We’re late.”
Servito’s Corvette led the long, white limousine up the circular ramp leading to the sixth and top level of the parking garage at Pearson Airport. The two cars parked on each side of Lanotti’s Mustang. Lanotti was in a mustard colored suit and green shoes, pacing in front his car, blowing on his hands in an effort to keep them warm.
“I got the photographs, boss,” he said, and handed a thick white envelope to Servito.
Servito snatched the envelope and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. When his right hand reappeared, it held a 38-caliber revolver, complete with silencer. He smiled at Lanotti. “Sorry, George. Your services are no longer required.” He pointed the revolver at Lannoti’s heart, and then pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession.
Lanotti jerked violently. His lifeless body slumped to the pavement.
Allison raised his hands above his shoulders and stared wide-eyed at Lanotti’s body, then at Servito. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“He knew too much,” Servito said.
CHAPTER 48
After sitting silently in Servito’s Corvette for almost thirty minutes, Allison’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’s this big meeting all about?” he asked.
Servito flashed an evil smile. “Like I told you before—when you close up shop, you have to let your employees go.”
“Jim, you can’t tell me it’s necessary to go all the way to Fort Erie at night just to fire some employees. Level with me. What are we really going to do?”
“Get rid of some loose ends. There are three of them, and they’re all going to be at the meeting.”
“Who?”
“Lasker, Bushing, and Langston. They all know too much.”
Allison swallowed dryly. “You going to do them, too?”
“Yup.”
“Jesus! Why the hell do you need to do this if we’re gonna disappear to Venezuela?”
“Because I want my wife and King to fry in hell—I want to make sure there’s nobody around to clear them when I’m gone.”
“So how are you gonna do it?”
“You see the red blanket on the back seat?”
Allison turned and glanced at the blanket. He nodded. “There’s a briefcase under it. It’s packed with enough dynamite and gasoline to solve our problem. It’s also rigged with a timer. Just before we go in, I’m going to set the timer for eleven-fifteen. I’m going to take the briefcase with me and set it under the table. At five after eleven, I want you to stand up and say you forgot to phone the office, and that you’ll do it from the secretary’s phone. At ten after eleven, I want you to run back into Lasker’s office and tell me there’s an urgent call from my wife. Say it’s about my son. Tell me he’s been hurt bad. Then we’ll both leave.” Servito grinned. “The meeting will end with a bang.”
Allison rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”
Servito pounded his fist on the steering wheel and glared at Allison. “Fucking right it’s extreme. You gotta be extreme if you wanna live happily ever after in paradise. If we don’t waste these guys before we go, pretty soon the feds are gonna be all over them like a tent. Sure as hell at least one of them is gonna start singing. Now we don’t want that to happen, do we?”
Allison shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “What about Martin and Sadowski and Sarnos? You gonna let them go too?”
Servito chuckled. “Lanotti did Sadowski and Sarnos last night and Martin’s already on ice.”
Servito’s Corvette raced past the opened gate of the chain-link fence surrounding the property of Amerada Tank Lines and skidded to a stop at the Amerada head office. He reached for his briefcase, set the timer for 11:15 p.m., and then turned to Allison. “Don’t screw up, Jerry,” he warned. “We have got to be out of there and at least a hundred yards away when this thing blows.”
Servito immediately took control when he and Allison entered Lasker’s inner office. He exuded charm while shaking hands with Bushing and Lasker, and then grabbed Allison’s arm and pulled him in Langston’s direction. “Earle, I don’t think you’ve met Jerry Allison. Jerry’s a business associate of mine.”
Langston, forcing a smile, extended his frail hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“My pleasure,” Allison said with a squeamish smile.
“Gentlemen, we’ll start as soon as everyone’s seated,” Servito announced, pointing to the large wooden table in the center of the office. He sat as close as possible to his three intended victims, and then shoved his briefcase as far as he could in front of his feet. Quickly glancing around the room, he saw that it was small and cramped, just as he had remembered. He looked at his watch. It was 11:04 p.m.
“Gentlemen, I called this meeting tonight because we have some major problems to discuss. The game has changed. It was beautiful when we didn’t have to spend all of our time worrying about the feds. Now they’re around us like flies. We can’t make a move without bumping into them. We need to develop new ways of avoiding the heat, new ways of—”
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Allison stood abruptly. “Excuse me, Jim. I gotta call the office. I forgot to do it before we came in here.”
Servito nodded approval, and then turned to Lasker. “Dave, do you mind if he uses Trish’s phone?”
Lasker nodded. “No problem. Go ahead.”
Allison headed for the door.
Delighted with Allison’s performance, Servito continued his time-consuming rhetoric until the door to the inner office burst open at 11:09 and Allison rushed in. “Jim, I’m sorry to interrupt. You better call your wife… your son’s been hurt bad.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Servito said, feigning a frown of sincere concern. He hurried from the office.
Allison followed and closed the door behind him. Servito had already started the engine by the time he reached the right door of the Corvette.
“Get your fat ass in here!” Servito shouted. “We’ve got less than a minute!”
While Allison struggled to squeeze into the car, Servito jerked the car into reverse, knocking him back into the seat and swinging the handle of the opened door out of his reach. Allison leaned out toward the door as Servito pushed the gearshift into drive and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The forward momentum caused the door on Allison’s side to reverse direction, and the window slammed against his head.
“Jesus, Jim!” Allison protested. “Wait ‘til I’m in the Goddamned car!”
“We’re outta’ time, baby!” Servito shouted as he raced the car through the open gate and onto the highway. Within seconds, the Corvette was over two hundred yards from the metal shack and continuing to accelerate.
Allison glanced at his watch. It was exactly 11:15 p.m. He turned his head to look through the rear window, and the night sky lit up as if the sun had suddenly reappeared. The sound of the explosion reached the car a fraction of a second later.