Chapter 13… i Quattro Fratelli
The Mushir was not happy with the failed attempt. Mister Curlander was proving to be a very observant and suspicious man, and a very lucky one.
“You have failed us again,” the Mushir had said. He’d been calm this time, and had not taken on the blustery tone of the last conversation, but that could well signal a betrayal which could come at any time. “If you are not successful with the next attempt we may have to send another to take care of this problem.”
“You may act as you please, Mushir, and I understand your displeasure. If you want to send another, that is your choice, but there is no guarantee that he will fare better. We will both pay the consequences of a failed mission if we are overly impulsive.”
“Get this done,” the Mushir had commanded. “Others aren’t as patient as I am.”
Looking back on it, giving chase to Mister Curlander through the streets of his own community had been a mistake, but the opportunity had been there. His death would have been looked at as accidental had it happened, which was one of the main objectives of the mission. Now, it was clear that the Mushir was being pressured and it would have to be done the first opportunity, even if it required taking more risk. Despite the Mushir’s impatience, however, the most important aspect of the mission continued to be that the deaths of both Mister Hutchinson and Mister Curlander not be traced back to the leaders of their struggle. Of that he did not need to be reminded. If they were to continue al-jihad fi sabil Allah, striving in the way of God, against their enemies in Syria and beyond, then the funds that were coming from their friends in Qatar needed to be protected at all costs. Without that money, and without the accounts in the United States in full operation, the Syrian government could continue its dominance over their cause indefinitely, and the deaths of thousands of their fellow mujahideen would happen quietly but quickly with a ferociousness that would frighten even the most hardened fighters.
Now, the mission was becoming more complicated. Too many other entities were becoming involved, and no matter how Mister Curlander died there would be a suspicious element to his death which could ignite inquiry and investigation that could risk the discovery of the accounts. They could be screwed, as the Americans said. He needed to think about how he was going to proceed. The lives of his family and many others depended on his actions now, and he needed to move quickly.
* * * * *
“When is your flight?” Harry asked.
“This afternoon,” Suzanne replied. “I’ll be leaving for the airport in a couple of hours.”
“How long will you be staying at Bobby’s place?”
“Originally I thought I’d stay a couple of weeks, but now I’m not so sure. I may stay longer. After what happened here yesterday this place is giving me the creeps. I don’t think I slept more than ten minutes the entire night.”
“I’ll bet,” Harry responded. “You know, my offer for you to come to the shore is always open. You just say the word.” And now that he’d said the word, he didn’t know if that was such a good idea. He hadn’t said anything to Suzanne about his own episodes, which had caused a fitful night for him as well. He got to the matter about which he’d called. “Did you give the phone and the laptop to Detective Pruitt yesterday?”
“I did. She took them with her, which suits me just fine, but I still feel kind of nervous about this. I mean, whoever broke in here looking for those items won’t know she has them. What if they try again? What if they do something to the house? Maybe I should cancel this trip entirely. What do you think, Harry? You’ve been right about everything else that’s happened so far.”
Harry’s anxiety level—which had been the red zone ever since Special Agent Breckenridge had knocked on his door the previous day—inched up a notch and he could feel his blood pulsing through his veins. The last thing he needed was to be responsible for Suzanne’s safety, but he understood her feelings completely. “It’s a little short notice, but maybe you could find a house sitter. You should certainly let the neighbors know you’re going to be gone so they could keep an eye on the house.”
“I’ve already done that,” Suzanne responded.
“Do you know anyone at the Cambridge police department?”
“There’s the detective I met yesterday who came to investigate the break-in.”
“Maybe you should let him know as well. If he’s on top of things he’ll let the officers that patrol your neighborhood know to check things out while you’re gone. I assume you’ve done all the normal things to make sure you don’t broadcast that the house is empty, you know, stop mail delivery, things like that.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve taken care of all that. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
Harry didn’t want to be rude, but he wanted to get to the point. “Suzanne, do you know if Detective Pruitt looked at what was on that phone and laptop?”
“I think she wanted to talk to Ducky’s wife first, you know, to cover all the legal aspects seeing as there’s no official investigation going on. I’ve never met Ducky’s wife, Harry. Have you met her?”
“I have,” Harry replied. “You’d like her. She really keeps Ducky in line.”
“And she’s the district attorney in Wallingham, isn’t she?”
“Assistant district attorney actually, and that’s part of the issue. If she was the DA, there would be a whole lot more attention on this.”
“I hope she can help us, Harry. You’ll let me know what comes of this, won’t you?”
“I will Suzanne. You have a good trip, and I’ll touch base with you as soon as I have more information.” He hung up and looked at the clock on the dashboard. He was in Denise’s car outside a convenience store, not wanting to make any phone calls from the house after what Breckenridge had told him. It was eight-thirty on Saturday morning, May 18th, and two weeks ago at this time he was on the Garden State Parkway on his way to the reunion. That seemed so long ago now. It being early, he figured it would be a good time to call Ducky and Monica. Ducky answered right away as if he’d been waiting for the call.
“Just what the hell was that all about yesterday?” Ducky spat out. “Just play along...? Really? Nothing like putting me on the spot, Harry.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“So what exactly was I playing along with, or for, or whatever the hell I was doing?”
Ducky didn’t sound happy. “The truth?”
“No, Harry. I want you to lie to me. Of course I want the truth. From the way you’re talking, I take it you didn’t really find out who killed Hutch.”
“It was a ruse.”
“No shit. Why?”
“My house was being bugged, and my phone was being tapped, and I needed to get the fuckers who were doing it flushed out into the open.” That revelation was followed by a long, long silence during which Harry just sipped his coffee. He knew he’d just hit Ducky between the eyes with a pretty fantastic-sounding story and Ducky was taking time to process.
“Let me see if I got all this straight,” Ducky resumed. “At the wake on Sunday, you bump into some guy who claimed to be the CEO at Hutch’s bank, except that the guy wasn’t the CEO but some impostor. On Monday, you were followed halfway to Point Pleasant by the CFO guy from Hutch’s bank, who really was the CFO. On Wednesday, someone stalks you at your office and then tries to run you off the road on your way home....”
“Well, I’m assuming they were trying to run me off the road. In reality I clipped a curb as I was trying to get away from them. Wait, how’d you find out about that? I don’t recall saying anything to you about it.”
“Fighting Al called me. And today, to make this tale even more special, you’re telling me that your house and phone were bugged. Have I got all that about right?”
“Pretty damned close, I’d say.”
“Well fuckin’ A, Harry. That sounds like some pretty serious shit.”
“Ye
ah, well, you haven’t even heard the best part. The guys who bugged my house and phone, the guys I tried to flush into the open?”
“Yeah?”
“They were CIA.”
“CIA.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“The CIA bugged your house and tapped your phone.”
“You’re repeating again.”
“I just want to be sure I heard you correctly.”
“You heard me correctly.”
“Harry, why is the CIA after you?”
“They’re not after me. They are trying to protect me.”
“From whom?”
“From the guys who tried to run me off the road.”
“And they are?”
“They don’t know, exactly.” Harry could almost hear Ducky grinding his teeth.
“Okay,” said Ducky. “Let me come at this from another angle. Why were they trying to protect you?”
“Because they think someone was... excuse me... is trying to kill me.”
“C’mon Harry, I’m trying to stay with you here, but you’re going to have to give me the full picture. Why would anyone want to kill you?”
Harry took a deep breath, knowing it all sounded too fantastic to believe. “Fasten your seatbelt, Ducky.”
“Wait,” Ducky said suddenly. “Is this something Monica should hear?”
“That’s part of the reason I called.”
Harry expected Ducky to summon her and bring her into the conversation, but instead Ducky asked, “How are you calling me right now? You’re not calling me from your house line, are you?”
“Ducky, I’m not an idiot. I’m in the car, Denise’s car actually. Mine will be out of commission for a while.”
“On your cell phone?”
“Yes, on my cell phone.”
“Harry, hang up right now. Don’t say another word.”
“But how—”
“Check your voicemail in five minutes.” And he was gone.
Harry sat there thinking: what voicemail? Ducky wouldn’t be leaving any messages for him at the home number, so he thought: work. He waited a couple of minutes to give Ducky a chance to do whatever he was going to do, and then dialed the number to his office, punching in the remote access code for his voicemail. Sure enough, Ducky’s voice came right through with the message, “Get Denise’s phone. Call back to this number.” It was a number Harry didn’t recognize. Harry called Denise and ten minutes later he walked into the nail salon where she was getting a fresh coat of Moon Candy shellac and picked up her cell phone.
“What the hell was all that about?” Harry asked when Ducky answered.
“Listen, Harry, I know enough about this sort of thing from Monica’s experience to know that if someone was listening in to your conversations, you have to assume they have all your phone numbers and can be listening in at any time. We might even be taking a chance by using Denise’s cell phone, but I think they would need a separate court order for that. You are on Denise’s phone, aren’t you?”
“Just as you instructed. Whose number is this?”
“It’s a very private number Monica uses once in a while.”
“So Monica is there?” Harry asked.
“Hello Harry,” came her voice from the background, and she was on the phone a second later. “Let’s meet for lunch.”
Harry said, “Lunch?”
“Yeah, lunch. Ducky told me you had some friends crash your party and I think it might be best to have lunch and talk about that in person.”
“But you’re four hours away in Massachusetts.”
“So pick a spot in the middle and we’ll meet you there. Where can you be around one o’clock this afternoon?”
Harry noted the time and said, “I know a nice Italian place in the Bronx.”
* * * * *
Quattro Fratelli restaurant was on East 187th Street near the corner of Hoffman Street in the Belmont section of the Bronx. Its burgundy awning shaded outdoor diners from the warm May afternoon sun while overhead large fan blades made of braided straw gently stirred the air. Taking a sip of a very good pinot grigio, Harry waited for a young couple on the sidewalk side of the wrought iron divider to finish examining the menu before continuing his conversation “How’s the grilled octopus?” he asked.
“It’s excellent,” Monica answered as she took a bite of it. “Tell me more about what this agent Breckenridge said to you.”
Harry leaned into the middle of the table. He couldn’t help but notice Monica’s perfume and he did his best to not be distracted by it, or her. Denise’s right hand held his left. Ducky looked serious as a heart attack; bad choice of words, he thought instantly. “Have you ever heard of FinCEN?” he asked, his voice low. Denise had by now, of course, and, as always, she was content to play wing man.
Ducky shook his head no while Monica said, “Isn’t it part of the Treasury Department?”
“FinCEN stands for Financial Crimes and Enforcement Network,” Harry explained. “It’s got an entire law enforcement structure set up to guard against illicit activities in both domestic and international banking systems. It’s the financial intelligence unit for the U.S. Treasury and is the government’s big dog in fighting financial crime, money laundering, and terrorist financing, and it works with other law enforcement agencies all over the world.”
Monica said, “I’ve heard of these guys but I’ve never gotten involved with them.”
“Well, the opportunity may have just dropped into your lap.”
Harry paused and Ducky said, “Don’t leave us hanging, Harry. How is this FinCEN organization involved with this Breckenridge dude from the CIA? More to the point, how is any of this related to Hutch?”
Harry didn’t respond but leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with Denise, knowing after twenty-five years of marriage she had something to say. She didn’t disappoint.
“It’s related to all of you in different ways,” she said to Ducky, which he didn’t expect.
“How so?”
“One,” she said, looking at him and pointing her thumb straight up in the air, “you and Harry and the other brothers have been talking back and forth for a couple of weeks now. As a result, whoever was after Harry could just as easily be after all of you now, and you don’t even know it. Two...” She extended her index finger now. “... whatever comes of this, Hutch’s family deserves to know the truth about how he died. Three...” She held up her middle finger now, all by itself. “... if someone killed Hutch and they tried to kill Harry as well, we need to get those fuckers and skin them alive with a dull butter knife.”
Harry kissed her hand and smiled sweetly. “That’s my girl,” he said, noting that Ducky and Monica looked a tad shocked. “Isn’t she great?”
Ducky pried his eyes away from Denise and said, “Harry, how does this relate to Hutch specifically?”
“Right. Suzanne told me that, quote, ‘a few months ago’ Hutch was contacted by someone at the Treasury Department, and a week later he made a trip to D.C. Hutch travelled a bit for his job, so she thought nothing of it. Separately, Breckenridge said he’s been working with FinCEN for, quote ‘a few months’.”
“So clearly you think those occurrences are tied together,” Monica concluded, “but what’s the connection?”
Her eyes were intense and unwavering, Harry noted. “The reason Breckenridge has been working with FinCEN is because the Treasury Department issued an alert urging all U.S. banks to monitor accounts connected to senior officials in both Syria and Qatar, and for them to be on the lookout for any account activity that might signal misappropriation of government funds. FinCEN asked the banks to exercise enhanced scrutiny on such accounts.” Harry held off for a minute as their waiter came over to check on them.
“Another bottle of wine?” Monica inquired. No one objected. “So you think Hutch’s bank had primary interest in the alert,” she went on.
“And
, I think Hutch came across something that convinced him to take that trip to D.C. According to Breckenridge, the alert required the banks to file SARs, suspicious activity reports, if they detected anything.”
“What’s that got to do with the CIA?” Ducky asked. Good question.
“Breckenridge didn’t get into the exact details, but indicated that the CIA has its own international terrorist watch list, which was part of what he was working on. My guess is that when the same names came up in common between the squirrelly bank accounts and the terrorist watch list, that’s when FinCEN and the CIA started playing in the same sand box.”
Putting it together, Ducky said, “So you think that somehow these terrorist bad-asses got wind of the fact that Hutch was onto their game and had him....” He didn’t finish the sentence. “But wait, you said on the phone this morning that Breckenridge was trying to protect you. Protect you from what? Wait... the assholes that tried to run you off the road... are you saying they could be... what... international terrorists?”
Harry took a sip of his wine. “I don’t know, but I think, that they think, that I know something about whatever accounts Hutch may have discovered, which now FinCEN and the CIA are all hot-to-trot over.”
The waiter came over and they ordered the rest of their lunches. After he left, Harry said more to Monica than to Ducky, “There’s more.”
She said, “Listen, Harry, I know you’re trying hard to establish probable cause for opening an investigation or making an arrest in Hutch’s death, but so far nothing you’ve said is going to convince my DA to go in that direction. Everything you’ve said so far is conjecture and the ruling from the medical examiner is still the overriding factor. There’s no evidence here that Hutch’s death was suspicious in any way.”
“Please, just let me say what I came here to say. Aren’t you at all interested in why my house was bugged and my phone was tapped?”
Skeptically, Monica looked at Ducky, who said to her, “C’mon Monica, Hutch was one of us.”
“The surveillance is certainly an interesting question,” she admitted. “You said these CIA guys were trying to protect you. You still haven’t said what they were trying to protect you from.”
“Like I said, there’s more.”
Monica said, “Of course there is,” to which she caught a sharp look from Denise. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I need to use the ladies room. Denise, would you care to join me?”
Denise said, “Yes, of course,” and they were off.
A few moments passed while Ducky sipped on some water. “Listen, Harry, you know I’m going all out on this. You do believe that, don’t you?”
“Are you?” Harry questioned.
“You’re damned right I am, but let’s get real here. Like Monica said, you’ve got nothing in terms of hard evidence, and you are... no, we are... going to need more besides your obsession with this if it’s going to move forward.”
“Is that what you’re calling it, an obsession?”
“C’mon Harry, let’s not do this. We made a bond to be brothers for life, and Hutch was our brother as well, and so is Fish, and Doc, and all the rest of them, but we can only help so much without concrete proof about how Hutch died.”
Harry’s jaw muscles tightened. “Are you speaking for the rest of the brothers now?”
“We’ve had some conversation about it.”
Harry stared Ducky right in the eye and he could see that Ducky wasn’t pulling any punches, and he never would. If Ducky said he was in, he was in, but Harry realized now that Ducky wasn’t going to be on this train much longer unless some concrete evidence surfaced that gave him, Monica, and the rest of the brothers something more to go on than brotherhood and faith. Harry said, “Let me say what I need to say here, today, and then you can all decide where you want to go with this. You’ll have your evidence.”
Ducky let the comment hang. The girls were back and they both spotted the wounded looks on the men’s faces. Neither of them spoke until Monica said to Harry, “You wanted to tell us something before we got to why you were being surveilled.”
Jaw muscles still tight, Harry said, “A few weeks before the reunion I got an email from Hutch asking if I could meet him in New York City.”
“Do you know why?”
“He said he had a client situation he wanted to discuss.”
“And you needed to go all the way to New York to do that?”
“In his email, he said specifically that he wanted to discuss the situation in person, no phone, no email, and he wanted to discuss it with someone he could trust implicitly.”
“Implicitly.”
“As in someone who could ‘keep his mouth shut.’ Those were his words exactly.”
“So what happened at this meeting?” Monica went on, clearly intrigued.
“We never had it. Hutch cancelled and said that he’d talk to me at the reunion.” Harry stopped there, as they all knew why that conversation never took place. “I think the reason Hutch wanted to meet with me was because he’d discovered some serious illegal activity at the bank and he wanted to get some advice on how to deal with it.” He paused. “But you need proof, right? Not conjecture.”
Monica said, “I don’t understand. What’s to deal with? If he’d already become aware of some suspicious account activity, and he’d already spoken to the FinCEN people, then all he had to do was bring them in and they’d take it from there... right?”
Harry noted Ducky’s smile and knew they were thinking the same thing. Ducky said, “It’s not that easy, sweetheart.”
“Why is it not that easy?” Monica asked sharply.
Ducky replied, “Because if Hutch had discovered the suspicious activity, what was to make him think that someone else at the bank wasn’t aware if it as well? On the one hand, if indeed no one else was aware of it, what was wrong with that picture? On the other hand, if someone else was aware and had not done anything about it or reported it to someone, what was wrong with that picture? Either way, the situation could range from some severe incompetence, to collusion. And, tied in to that are the politics of the situation to consider.”
Monica held up her hand and said, “You don’t need to go any further.” She turned to Harry. “My husband was about to remind me that politics are something I’m not very good at.”
“Just sayin’” said Ducky.
“Oh, and by the way,” Harry went on. “Did I tell you that the CEO at Hutch’s bank died a few weeks ago?”
That certainly got Monica’s attention again. “I don’t recall you saying anything about that.”
“And guess how he died?”
Monica and Ducky stopped moving, their eyes glued to Harry’s. “Don’t tell me,” said Monica. “No way.”
“Yes, way. Massive heart attack. Sound familiar?”
All eyes turned to Monica now. “I know what you’re all thinking,” she said, “and if I was in your shoes I’d be thinking the same thing. Believe me, I really hate to say this again, but without proof that the CEO’s death and Hutch’s death were due to anything other than natural causes, and further proof that their deaths were connected, all we have here is coincidence.” She let the comments settle on the table, but they didn’t settle well as evidenced by Harry’s heard-it-all-before look. “What I’m more interested in,” she went on, “is how these CIA boys managed to get a court order for the wiretap and the surveillance on you. In order for that to happen, they had to show some sort of probable cause to a judge somewhere along the way.”
“I think I know the answer to that,” said Harry. “Breckenridge said it had to do with the information they picked up on while doing their terrorist watch list surveillance.”
“Which was?”
“I’m not sure Breckenridge meant to reveal this on purpose, but what I got was that whoever these guys were that he was surveilling, they were convinced that Hutch had evidence that was lethal to their cause, and that he
had passed it along to me.”
Monica made the connection instantly. “Hutch wanted to make sure someone else had this information in case something happened to him. Someone he could trust implicitly and keep his mouth shut. Hence the trip to New York City.”
Harry smiled. “Exactly. Only thing is, the bad guys must not have become aware that the trip never happened.”
“Or maybe they figured Hutch gave you the information some other way,” said Ducky. “So what if you did have it? What were these CIA guys going to do, put you in some sort of witness protection program?”
“Personally, I think the protection thing is a bunch of fucking bullshit,” Harry said aggressively.
“Honey? Language?” said Denise, who’d hardly said a word other than her earlier tirade.
“Sorry, dear, but I think that’s something they cooked up so that a judge would allow the surveillance.”
“That sounds a little thin to me,” said Ducky. “Would a judge approve a court order on something like that?” he asked Monica.
“I guess that depends on the ultimate target and how strong the possibility was that any evidence obtained through execution of the order would eventually be inadmissible. Some judges would take a chance if the prize was important enough and they couldn’t see another way to get it. It also depends on what else was at stake. All I know is that we’ve got a lot of coincidence and circumstantial evidence built up, but I still think we need a piece of real evidence, something to tie all this together that would be indisputable.” She looked at Harry.
Harry grinned and said, “And I think we have it. Detective Pruitt is now in possession of Hutch’s cell phone and the laptop he used at the bank.”
Monica shook her head. “I’ve already talked to Pruitt about those items. There are different ownership rights at play there, and any search of either item could require more court orders.”
Ducky suddenly whipped out his cell phone. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ve got this.”
“Who are you calling?”
Ducky winked at Harry and said, “Zen Master.”
Even Harry didn’t see the connection. “How can Zen Master help with this? Doesn’t he own a string of Papa Pete’s Pizza shops?”
“Ah,” said Ducky. “There are many lessons in the mysterious ways of the Zen Master. You might remember that he didn’t live in the Lodge during our junior and senior years.”
“Yeah, I remember. He moved off campus and shared a place with a couple of other brothers who were a year ahead of us. So?”
“So you might recall that one of those other brothers was Tushy Wilcox, as in Rob Wilcox, who is now Senator Rob Wilcox from North Carolina.”
Clearly intrigued, Harry said, “Sure, I remember Tushy. You got my attention, Ducky, but where are you going with this?”
“Well, if Zen Master is still close to his former roommate, maybe he would be willing to make a call.”
Skeptically, Monica asked, “To what end, Ducky? This old boy network of yours can only take you so far. This is the law we’re talking about.”
“And it is precisely because of the law, my dear, beautiful, loving wife, that I think we should contact brother Zen Master and let him work his magic.”
Monica was about to snap back when Denise put a hand on her arm. Monica took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ve had about enough of this.”
Ducky kissed her hand and said, “All this talk about the CIA and FinCEN has reminded me that Senator Tushy is on the Senate Subcommittee on Emerging Threats and Capabilities.”
“And you know this... how?” Monica challenged.
“I looked it up, my dear, just as I researched the current profession of every other brother I could think of who might have known Hutch in case we had to enlist their expertise in some manner. That, plus the fact that Tushy was featured in our alumni magazine last year.”
Monica still wasn’t reeled in. “So this Tushy is a senator and he’s on this committee—”
“That’s the Subcommittee on Emerging Threats and Capabilities.”
“Whatever. How is that going to help us?”
Observing quietly, it was interesting that Monica had used the word us, thought Harry.
“The function of said subcommittee,” said Ducky as if he was quoting something, “is to oversee DoD policies and programs to counter emerging threats such as proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, illegal drugs, and terrorism. Did you hear that last word, boys and girls? Terrorism. We all know what the CIA does, but what did you say was one of the functions of this FinCEN organization?” The question was addressed to Harry, but Ducky went on to answer it for him. “You said it was the government’s big dog in fighting financial crime, money laundering, and terrorist financing all over the world... right?”
“That’s right,” said Harry.
“So Tushy and FinCEN are fighting the same war!” Ducky exclaimed. “With Tushy being on this subcommittee, do you think it’s possible that he knows some of the other head mofos-in-charge on the subject? And if it’s possible that Hutch’s cell phone and laptop contain information about suspicious accounts at Hutch’s bank, do you think Tushy might be able to put us in touch with people who could get to that information, legally or otherwise, and put us on to whoever had a motive to kill Hutch? Huh? Do you think it’s possible?”
No one answered.
“Well, is it possible, or not?”
Harry leaned back in his chair as the waiter brought their food, after which Monica turned to Denise and said, “So Denise, why is it that you don’t allow your husband to do so, but it’s okay for you to use the word fuck?”