The Punishing Game (20 page)

When McAlary and Cullen came home after their late afternoon workout, Kate rushed up to her husband the second he opened the front door.

“They threatened to kill us and hurt our daughter!” she exclaimed. “I want those bastards dead! You have to find them and kill them!”

McAlary looked around the room. “Slow down, Kate. Who are
they
?”

Michelle handed him a sheet of paper. “Kate found this taped to the mirror in your bedroom after we got back from going out for cappuccino.”

As McAlary read the note his pale Irish face grew red.

“What’s it say?” Cullen asked.

The trainer read it again before replying. Then he spoke through clenched teeth. “‘Boff should fly back to Las Vegas and Cullen stick to his boxing or else somebody might get hurt.’” He took a deep breath. “Then it says, ‘How’s your daughter Phoenix enjoying her visit with her aunt?’” He balled the paper up and hurled it across the room.

“Kate, why didn’t you call me at the gym as soon as you saw this?”

“I didn’t want to disrupt Danny’s workout.”

“To hell with Danny’s workout! This was more important!”

Kate walked past her husband and picked up the letter. She unballed it and tried to smooth it out. “This is evidence. We need to show it to the police.”

‘The police won’t do a damn thing. You should’ve called me.”

She let out a weary sigh. “Okay, maybe you’re right, but I didn’t. And now you’re here. Now what?”

McAlary didn’t say anything for a moment as he calmed himself down. “Did you call your sister?”

“Yes. Of course. I told her to put Phoenix on a plane to New York.”

McAlary’s face reddened again. “You did
what
?”

Kate blinked and said nothing.

“You think taking our daughter out of the frying pan and putting her in the fire is safer?” her husband asked.

“Look, at least here we can keep an eye on her.” She turned to Cullen. “Danny, I want you to ask Boff to recommend bodyguards to watch the house.”

“I’ll call him right now.” He dialed Boff’s cell phone, explained what had happened, listened for a minute, said thanks, and hung up.

McAlary turned to Cullen. “So? What’d he say?”

Cullen looked noticeably uncomfortable. “That, uh, there’ll be a car parked outside the house twenty-four hours a day.”

“Good,” the trainer said. “And I don’t care what it costs.”

Now comes the hard part
. “Well, it’s not going to cost anything.”

McAlary stared at Cullen. “Boff is going to pay the bodyguards himself?”

“Not exactly…. He said he’s asking some friends for help.”

As McAlary frowned, his wife asked, “What friends? Are they real bodyguards?”

Cullen didn’t want to explain any further. “Say, do you mind if I go to the kitchen for a soda?”

“Yes, we would mind,” Kate said. “What did Boff say? What’s he going to do?”

Here it goes.
“Well, you know what he does for a living, right? He knows many people who, uh—” 

“
Criminals?
He’s getting
criminals
to guard us?” Kate couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“Well, uh,
technically
, yes.”

McAlary grabbed Cullen’s arm. “Cut the BS, Danny! Tell it straight.”

The boxer stepped back. “Well, Boff’s got some pals in the Italian mafia, and—”

Kate threw up her hands. “Oh, great! The Sopranos are going to be our bodyguards.”

“No, no, no. Boff said these guys are more reliable than…er…real bodyguards. Not only are they better organized, they take threats to women and children very personally.”

All McAlary could do was stand there and shake his head. “So what time are the
Sopranos
coming?”

“In ten or fifteen minutes. Boff said to look for a black Cadillac.”

Michelle stood up. “Well, I’ll make some coffee for them and defrost some donuts and pizza.” She was not smiling. “These guys like to eat. As you may or may not know, my father was well-connected.”

As Michelle headed into the kitchen, McAlary rubbed his cheeks, making them even redder. “As soon as they get here,” he said, “I’m going for a walk. I need to let off steam.”

Kate frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? Considering the note?”

“I am
not
going to allow unknown people to force me into hiding.”

Kate pointed a finger at Cullen. “Danny, you’re going with him.”

Cullen and McAlary were standing on the front steps when they saw a tow truck drive up, followed closely by a shiny black Cadillac. The truck driver got out of his vehicle and attached a yoke under the wheels of an SUV that was parked directly in front of the Biaggi house. He used his hydraulic hoist to lift the SUV’s front end, then he hauled it away. The Cadillac promptly pulled into the newly-vacated space. The driver got out, waved at Cullen and McAlary, then picked up a newspaper. Leaning against the side of the car, he opened the paper and began reading. There was a second man in the passenger seat.

McAlary turned to Cullen. “Looks like Boff’s friends are indeed well organized.” Then he turned around, opened his front door, and called, “The Sopranos are here!” after which he and Cullen hustled down the steps and started down St. Mark’s Avenue at a brisk pace. The street was largely deserted now except for someone walking a dog a block away.

“Boff sounded pretty angry on the phone, Ryan.”

“If he didn’t want to help us, he didn’t have to.”

Cullen shook his head. “No, that’s not why he’s pissed. He’d never admit it, but he really likes you and Kate. Not only did these guys try to kill him, now they’re threatening his friends. Judging by what Boff did in Vegas to the guys that killed Julio, I sure wouldn’t want to be in these guys’ shoes when he finds ’em.”

McAlary grunted and picked up the pace. “Whatever Boff does will be just fine with me. Meanwhile, what’s going on with his investigation?”

Cullen ran down the meeting with Alphonso, what Boff had said at the warehouse, and the conversation they’d had with Damiano.

“Before Boff goes pointing a finger at Alphonso,” McAlary said, “he should—”

Two Hispanic teenagers with a boom box were pimp-walking toward them on the opposite side of the street. Both were dressed in the hip-hop style and wearing what by now McAlary knew were Cripps blue colors.

“Ryan, what’s wrong?” Cullen stopped walking.

The trainer stopped, too. “Maybe nothing.”

The teens suddenly crossed the street. They were heading straight for McAlary and Cullen.

The trainer was ready to stand his ground. “If there’s trouble,” he muttered, “let me handle it. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”

As the boys walked up, McAlary stepped into the street and flashed a friendly smile. “Nice night, isn’t it, kids.”

The teens frowned. The one holding the boom box put it down.

“We ain’t no kids, muthafucka,” he said.

Both of them were well-built. They were wearing blue shirts, blue baseball caps, and blue bandanas.

Still smiling, McAlary said, “My mistake. I should’ve said boys.”

Cullen recognized McAlary’s tactic. He was purposely trying to antagonize them. Probably looking for a fight just to get his anger out. In case his trainer got in over his head, Cullen stepped off the curb and walked up close behind him.

At the same time, McAlary pointed a finger at them. “Why don’t you two boys just move on?” he said. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Boom box guy scrunched his face. “Little squirt like you?” He turned to his buddy. “Luis, less teach this dude some respect.”

“Word, Manuel.”

But before they could move in on him, McAlary lunged at Manuel and slammed him in the nose with a right hook. As Manuel cried out in pain and grabbed his nose with both hands, Luis reached into his pocket. Before he could pull his hand out, McAlary fired a hard kick into the kid’s groin. Luis slid to the ground cupping his balls and groaning.

Seeing that Manuel’s nose was bleeding badly, McAlary took a handkerchief out of his own pocket, stepped forward, and handed it to the kid.

“Stick the ends in your nostrils, kid. It’ll help stop the flow.”

Manuel crumpled the handkerchief, hurled it at McAlary, and reached into his own pocket. McAlary’s hand shot out fast and grabbed his wrist in a vice grip. “Take it out slow, son. Or I’ll break your wrist.”

Manuel did as he was told. Out came a pistol. Using his free hand, McAlary grabbed the gun. He looked back at Luis, who was still on the ground moaning and clutching his groin, and walked over to him, put his hand in the kid’s pocket, and pulled out another gun. Stepping well back, McAlary ejected the clips, put them in his pocket, and set the guns on the street. He used one foot to slide the empty pistols back to their owners, Then he picked up his handkerchief and offered it again to Manuel, who still had blood coming out his nose. This time, the boy accepted it and stuck the ends into his nose.

“Did anybody send you guys?” McAlary asked.

Manuel looked confused. “For what?”

“To attack us.”

“No way,” Manuel said. “We just got tired of gamin’ the X-Box. So we took a walk to see what action was on the streets.”

Manuel seemed to be studying McAlary’s face. His eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, man,” he exclaimed, “I know you! You that crazy old Irish boxer.” He looked down at his friend. “Yo, Luis. This here is Ryan McAlary. He’s a champeen fighter.”

Luis glared at Manuel. “Yo, why didn’t you tell me that before we got our asses kicked?”

Manuel shrugged. “Dint reconnize him right away.”

McAlary was interested now. “You watch fights, son?”

Manuel nodded. “My brother Rafael does. He’s a boxer. Every night he’s got these fight DVDs on. Sometimes I sit and watch ’em with him. Especially the ones where the fighters are dudes like you who lay some serious hurt.” Manuel pushed the bloody handkerchief deeper into his nose. “In those three fights you had with Biaggi, man, you guys really got down.”

“Is Rafael an amateur or a pro?”

“Pro! He’s had twelve fights. Won ten. He woulda won ’em all, only he gots to work full time at a Burger King and don’t have much chance to train. And when he does train, the guy who works with him is some washed-up old bum. Always got liquor on his breath.”

McAlary walked over to Manuel and examined his nose. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I don’t think it’s broken. Tell me something. Do you know where Nino Biaggi’s gym is?”

“Yup. Above the Laundromat. That was a bad beat, killing that Biaggi guy. He was helpin’ kids get off the street.”

“Send your brother around tomorrow when he gets off from work. I’ll help him train.”

Manuel blinked several times and stepped back, then stepped forward again and looked more closely at McAlary. “Say what? We try to throw down on you, an’ now you wanna help my brother? Why?”

McAlary smiled. “It’d take too long to explain, and my wife would worry about me. What about you two guys? You look fit enough. Can you fight?”

Manuel shrugged his shoulders. “We got, like, guns, you know.”

“Well, you leave the guns home and come around to the gym, too. I’ll get you started on some basics.”

Manuel frowned. “Gimme one reason why I’d want my pretty face punched.”

For an answer, McAlary turned to Cullen. “Danny, tell Manuel how much you’re getting paid to fight in the Garden.”

“Three hundred thousand.”

Manuel whistled. “That’s a nice piece a cake for one fight!”

“You bet it is,” McAlary said. “And I’ve had boxers who made millions in a bout. You guys fight for free. Think about that.”

Manuel exchanged looks with Luis, who was slowly getting up off the ground. Then he said to McAlary, “Maybe…if I’m in your neighborhood tomorrow…maybe I’ll stop in.”

“Word,” McAlary said.

Manuel laughed. “Yeah, word. Luis, start back. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Luis looked only too glad to take off, though he was careful not to walk too fast.

Manuel lowered his voice. “You know who iced Biaggi, right?” he said.

“The Bloods,” McAlary said.

Manuel glanced back to make sure Luis was far enough away.

“I didn’t want Luis to hear me saying this ’cause we’re Cripps. We got, like, this code, you know. With rules against telling things to people on the outside. But the Bloods are our enemy, so I guess it’s okay to say this. The vibe in the hood is that Yusef Force is real friendly with their gang. Get my meaning? I can’t say no more.”

Manuel turned and hustled off in the direction his friend had taken.

Boff found DEA agent Marty Schlossberg sitting on a park bench in front of the New York Public Library. Schlossberg was about Boff’s age, had on a loose-fitting suit and tie, and was eating a sloppy-looking chili dog. As Boff sat down, Schlossberg handed him another chili dog and a napkin.

“Where’s the kraut?” Boff asked.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch. I see you haven’t changed much. Except for the side of the street you work on.” Schlossberg shook his head. “How can you defend the same scumbags we worked our butts off to put inside?”

“The money’s good.”

“Yeah, you definitely have changed. Remember the time we busted that Mexican dealer in San Antonio who had three suitcases full of cash?” Boff nodded. “I wanted to keep some to help pay for my son’s college expenses. You wouldn’t let me.”

“Because that would’ve been stealing.”

Schlossberg took a bite on his dog and spoke through his mouthful. “But what you do for a living, getting scumbags off, that’s righteous?”

“It’s legal. That’s the difference. Right, wrong, and morality have nothing to do with my job.”

Schlossberg checked his watch.

“Okay, I don’t have much time. Let’s hear it,” he said.

As Boff ate his dog, he gave the DEA agent a rundown on the case he was working on. Schlossberg interrupted before he finished.

“Whoa,” the agent said. “Wait a second. Frank Boff doing pro bono work? That’s a hoot. And aren’t you the guy who
defends
killers, not hunts them down? Maybe you
have
changed.”

Boff frowned. “Don’t draw any conclusions, Marty. This is a one-shot deal.”

Schlossberg let out a sharp laugh. “Wait until I tell the guys at the office about the new and improved Frank Boff.”

And Boff let out a weary sigh. “Anyway…can I finish what I was going to say before you interrupted me?”

“By all means.”

“I ran through several scenarios that would get Solis a big chunk of money fast. The only one that felt right was that he had ordered a very large shipment of drugs. Far more than he normally does.” Boff lowered his voice and spoke carefully. “I need information about that shipment—”

“Frank, I can’t—”

Boff held a hand up. “Marty, I’m well aware you can’t tell me anything specific without violating agency rules.” He leaned closer “So let’s do it this way. If I assumed a certain drug dealer had ordered a very large shipment of H…would I be playing in the right ballpark?”

The agent looked around, then spoke without looking at Boff. “It’s a good park to play in,” he said in a carefully neutral voice.

“Is the DEA in this park?”

“Like I said, it’s a good park to play in.”

“I’m assuming the opposing team is flying into
New York, not coming by boat.”

Schlossberg still hadn’t looked at Boff. “Makes sense to me,” he said.

Boff risked a more direct question. “Have you seen the team’s itinerary?”

The DEA agent hesitated before replying. “It’s known,” he said.

“Is there a date on the itinerary?”

Schlosberg shook his head. “It’s a tough game. We do the best we can.”

“I understand perfectly,” Boff said. “But if I assumed the team is coming in sometime say within the next two weeks, would I be wrong?”

Schlossberg finally looked at Boff. “You’re never wrong, remember?” Finishing his dog, the agent stood up to go. “As usual, Frank, it was not a pleasure to see you.”

Boff was sitting in his rental Honda with the windows closed and the air conditioner blasting when Cullen, McAlary, and Bellucci walked down the stairs from the gym. They nodded to the patrolman Biaggi had gotten stationed out front, then all three climbed into Boff’s back seat. As Boff put the car in gear, Cullen told him about what Manuel had said the night before about the connection between Yusef and the Bloods.

“That’s good to hear,” Boff said, pulling out into traffic. “It confirms what we already believe.”

Cullen leaned forward. “So what did you do today?”

“Ran a theory by a knowledgeable source. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Reaching Nino Biaggi’s house, Cullen saw that the black Cadillac with the mobsters was gone, replaced in the same space by a silver Lincoln MKZ with two men in the front seat.

“Are those your friends in the
Lincoln?” Cullen asked.

“Yup.”

Boff double parked just behind the Lincoln. Kate, who had been sitting on the stoop, walked over to his car, climbed into the front seat, and turned to him.

“I suppose I should thank you for what you’re doing,” she said.

“Always glad to help my friends.” Boff opened his door. “Excuse me one moment.”

Getting out, he walked over to the driver’s side of the
Lincoln. The man behind the wheel was about sixty, with wavy silver hair and a crooked nose. He was wearing a Nike golf shirt and black nylon pants. On the passenger side sat a muscular man in his late twenties who had on a black, skin-tight T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black jeans. Both men were eating pizza and sipping from cans of Coke. Smiling at Boff, the driver opened his window.

“Thanks for coming,” Boff said.

“We know how to pay back people who help us,” the driver said. He pointed to the house. “That lady Michelle is taking good care of us. Baked us a batch of chocolate chip cookies and brownies.” Putting his thumb and index finger together, the driver touched his lips and made a kissing sound. “
Marone a mi
, Frank, they were good. We saved some for our relief team. They should be here shortly.”

The younger guy leaned toward Boff. “Hey, Frank, you think I could ask Michelle out? I dig older women.”

“Joey, she just buried her husband.”

“That don’t bother me.”

“It wasn’t you I was thinking about, genius.”

Joey slapped one thigh. “I bet she’s horny as hell. Not having a man around and all, ya know?”

“Just watch the house, Joey. Okay?”

“Whatever you say, Frank.”

As Boff got back in his rental Honda and drove away, McAlary leaned forward. “You know those guys well?” he asked.

“Well enough. Both are certified psychopaths.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s certainly comforting,” she said. “What kind of pleasant things do they do?”

“
The guy on the passenger side is a hitman. The driver’s a cleaner.”

“
A cleaner?” McAlary repeated.

“If something goes seriously wrong on a job, they send in the cleaner to fix up the mess. Although they’re both very good at what they do,
like most criminals whose gonads are bigger than their brains, they screw up on occasion. That’s when they need my services. Joey, the hitman, once went to the office of two strip club managers who were skimming off the top of a mob-owned joint. After capping them both in their office, the Rhodes Scholar walked into the main room, sat down at the bar, ordered a drink, and watched the strippers. Long story short, he had to hire me. Since he’s not in prison, you know what I did. Nick the cleaner has never been arrested. But his younger brother was accused of stalking his ex-wife and peeping into her bedroom at night. I helped get the brother an acquittal.”

Kate shook her head. “How can you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning?” she muttered.

Boff smiled. “I have a hundred dollar bill taped to the bathroom mirror. Every time my Jewish side tries to make me feel guilty, I tap the C-note a couple times and it keeps me focused. If it’s any consolation, I spend every dime I make on my wife and kids.”

McAlary snorted. “Blood money.” 

Boff glanced in his mirror at the trainer. “As long as it’s green and isn’t counterfeit, I’m okay with blood on my bucks.”

Bellucci stuck his head in. “You ever kill anybody, Boff?”

Boff shook his head. “I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

“I meant when you were a DEA agent.”

“Actually, I came close once. A Jamaican drug dealer was about to chop off my partner’s head with a machete, so I shot him four times. He should’ve died, but somehow they saved his worthless life at the hospital. And you wonder why I hate doctors.”

Bellucci seemed keen to stay on topic. “Mikey Bellucci worries some day he might kill somebody in the ring.”

McAlary gave out a short laugh. “Not very likely,” he said. “You don’t punch hard enough.”

Kate sighed loud enough so all the men would hear. “Can we switch topics?” she asked. “In light of the warning note we received, I really don’t want to hear about killing.”

The rest of the way to LaGuardia they drove in relative silence, with only Bellucci talking about himself from time to time.