To Free a Spy (11 page)

In prison as in business, there are leaders and there are followers. When Cosmo arrived at the United States Penitentiary in Atlanta three years ago, it didn’t take long for the prison population to learn who he was. The tenures of former members of the organized crime community in the
Big A
were always a topic of conversation among new inmates, as if it were an honor to occupy the same prison that once held Al Capone and Vito Genovese, so the appearance of a modern day crime boss caused a stir: In some, fear, and in others that notion of opportunity. The century-old USP Atlanta was one of the toughest facilities in the Federal Bureau of Prisons and housed hard-core criminals. And because of its age and open inside design, security among inmates was difficult to achieve making it one of the most dangerous.

Cosmo Terracina entered USP Atlanta with the presumption of power and became the most feared man in the prison. He had respect and power and the loyalty of an inner circle capable of handling any threats to his position. But the last year had been so peaceful that he worried his men might lose their edge.

Cosmo never spoke to anyone other than Doyle Riley. Men who studied Cosmo didn’t risk eye contact and anyone wishing to communicate with him went through Riley. Unlike other power brokers, Cosmo didn’t dehumanize men unless he had to, but any perceived disrespect toward him would result in a warning from Doyle Riley at a minimum. Cosmo had created the same power for himself here that he had enjoyed on the outside. Even in prison, life for Cosmo Terracina was good.

Cosmo’s continuing activities in Boston required reliable communication, and all messages to and from the outside went through Riley, who as a lawyer had worked for Cosmo in Boston for years and then got into cocaine and became too incapacitated to function. When he was charged with obstruction of justice, perjury and a book full of other offenses, he refused to plea bargain and ended up in the Atlanta prison with Cosmo, who got him off drugs and put him to work as his lawyer again. Cosmo depended on him to handle details, and Riley, not much of a physical specimen, relied on Cosmo to keep him safe. It was an unspoken arrangement both men benefited from. It was family.

“Word from LaRez Sanazaro,” Riley said now. They were eating lunch at a stainless steel table that rested on the bare concrete floor of the mess hall. They always sat in the noisy southeast corner where they could talk business without being overheard.

“LaRez?”
Cosmo was surprised.

“Sending us a little job.”

Cosmo had never forgotten he owed LaRez. Years ago when one of Cosmo’s associates faced tax evasion charges, the spotlight was so hot on Cosmo and his men that when it was time for the trial they still hadn’t found a safe way to silence a family accountant who had agreed to testify for the feds and entered the witness protection program. LaRez sent his personal representative, a man unknown to the feds, from Las Vegas to visit the accountant’s mother on the day before he was to testify. The accountant developed a sudden case of amnesia on the witness stand and the case was dismissed then and there.

“What’s on his mind?” Cosmo asked.

“There’s this CIA spook that’s been playing footsies with the other side. He’s coming here. LaRez wants him to open up to the feds.”

“To the
feds?
Maybe LaRez would like us to call a little meeting, get ’em in the conference room together. Have some tea. What’s he done, anyway?”

Riley shrugged. “Some international thing.”

“Wha’
kind
of international thing?”

“Something overseas. I…, hell, Cosmo, you think LaRez sent me a book about all of this? I should have studied cryptic codes instead of law. You wouldn’t believe some of the messages I get.” Doyle Riley was the only man alive who could be that direct with Cosmo. “Something about nukes.”

Nukes. Cosmo understood. It was a big business. Brokers who can get them are selling nuke parts Russia made during the Cold War to anybody who wants them.

* * *

Next day at lunch, Cosmo filled his lunch tray and sat down across from the new man who fit the description Riley had given him. Cosmo had his complaints about some of the laws in this country, but no hard feelings. The U.S. had welcomed his grandparents off a boat from Italy and not only had Cosmo himself done okay here, America provided his children with legitimate opportunities, and they, now grown, had stayed away from crime. Cosmo got into it before he knew what he was doing and then it was too late. The money wasn’t all that bad even in the beginning, and then one thing led to another and soon he was into loans, protection and drugs, the thing he regretted most. But betray America? Cosmo had no tolerance for someone like this Joplan.

Per Cosmo’s instructions, “Brows” Brickley seated himself at Cosmo’s table. “Make the face so you will remember him,” Riley had said, and Brows had asked if that meant a follow-up job later on. Cosmo knew of Brows back in Boston, doing various jobs for the mafia. When Brows was convicted of dismembering a local night club comic who had made the mistake of sleeping with an underboss’s girlfriend, the family arranged through government contacts to have Brows serve his time in the Big A. “Listen to this, Cosmo,” Doyle Riley had told Cosmo then. “Brows is gonna join us here. The boys want us to look after him.”

When Brows arrived at the Big A, Cosmo was amused. “You never told me he was Frankenstein,” he grunted to Riley. “Seen that cliff over his eyes?”

“Steroids.”

Cosmo saw what he needed to see of Joplan for now. He rose from the table holding his tray and stepped behind the bench seat with his left foot. As he lifted his right foot over, another inmate rammed him from behind. Cosmo windmilled to maintain his balance but couldn’t recover and fell to the concrete floor. Food scraps and utensils pelted down on him like hail in a thunderstorm. He looked up to see a man with stringy red hair and a face to match bent over him. He was laughing. Loudly. Cosmo was agile for a big man but when he scrambled to get up the red man dumped his own tray on him—just in case anyone thought this had been an accident. By then, the floor was so slippery that Cosmo could get no traction. In one last try, his arms slid out from under him and his chest popped the floor. His humiliation was indescribable.

The man who’d knocked him down put his foot in the middle of Cosmo’s back. “You’ve met Red Russell, old man. I heard you was tough, but now
look
at you down there, in all that slop and all.” Red slapped his own knees in uncontrolled derision. “You know, that’s the way we used to feed them hogs back home,” Russell whined from the top of his voice, like a TV sports announcer might call an exciting play.

Brows was standing behind Russell waiting for some sort of signal from Cosmo. He deflated when Cosmo shook his head, the corners of Brows’s mouth turning down in a pout. As Red walked away, he looked down at Cosmo again and said, “You have a Red Russell day now, ya heah!”

The hush in the room left no doubt that every man there saw Red’s power play. A new man had made his move and right then he looked pretty strong. It had all happened in a matter of seconds and the first guard didn’t arrive until Cosmo was back on his feet. Then two-dozen more in full riot gear stormed in and locked down the place.

“Banana peel,” Cosmo grunted, waving a hand at the mess on the floor when the first guard got to him.

“Don’t give me that, Terracina, I know what happened.”

“Clumsy in my old age.” He knew the guard didn’t believe that, but that made no difference to Cosmo. After a few minutes the guards backed off but every eye in the room was on Cosmo. A low murmur replaced the hush that occupied the room minutes earlier.

* * *

Harvey Joplan, still wondering why the hell they suddenly transferred him here with only days until his release, sat in the seat across from Cosmo and watched this Red Russell thug make his move. Joplan was no stranger to peril but realized he was in a world that had its own hazards.

* * *

Red Russell couldn’t manage a straight face as he walked out of the chow hall. The feds had transferred him to Atlanta from the federal prison in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, so they could break up a gang he’d organized back there. They didn’t say that was the reason, of course, but he knew. And he loved it. He would soon be in no less of a power position in Atlanta than he was in Lewisburg, and the drug dealers he controlled in Chicago would keep on making him money. Not a month in the Big A and he had made his move. The legendary Cosmo Terracina was laughing stock now and would have trouble maintaining respect among his own men, not to mention the general population there.

Red couldn’t wait to see Rudy. Rudy Snow had warned him against going after Cosmo. “He ain’t easy, that Cosmo, he dangerous as a snake with two heads, man.” But that made Cosmo an even more appealing target to Red. If today’s little introduction didn’t work, force would. Cosmo could stay alive if he was smart but if he resisted, well, Red would be as happy to do it the hard way. Besides, killing Cosmo Terracina would make the others fear Red more.
Fear
. That was control.

In the yard later, Rudy smiled. “You looked good, man,
real
good. Everybody seen what you done. But sleep with your eyes open. Ain’t over ’til it’s over. Cosmo, he’s mafia, man.”

“He’s finished, that old bastard. I’ve dealt with them mafias before. They don’t wanna die no more’n anybody else does.”

* * *

Later that day in the yard Cosmo described his plan to Doyle Riley in the fewest words possible. Riley had been in on Cosmo’s planning of hundreds of operations in Boston and there in Atlanta, and their simplicity always surprised him. This one had the interesting potential to fix two problems. It could settle the matter with Red Russell, and with a little luck it might fill LaRez’s order regarding Joplan at the same time. Riley liked the plan and went off to find Joplan at the next yard time.

“Cosmo Terracina invites you to join him for dinner tonight,” he said to Joplan.

Joplan was standing alone and continued staring at nothing. “Who’s Cosmo Terracina?” he said, showing no interest.

“You’ll get to know him. Has a proposition he thinks you’ll find interesting. He’ll be sitting with me, southeast corner of the chow hall,” Riley said.

* * *

Cosmo and Riley were seated when Joplan arrived. “This your man?” Joplan asked Riley, making no eye contact with either man.

“Meet Cosmo. Cosmo, Joplan.”

“Saw him at lunch,” Joplan said, with a smirk.

Neither Riley nor Cosmo showed any reaction.

“Look, you got any idea why you’re here? In the Big A, I mean?” Riley asked.

Joplan stared.

“The reason you’re here is because Cosmo’s here. They wanted you to meet him. Cosmo feels bad about that because otherwise you would be in some nice new place instead of this rat trap.”

“They?”
Joplan seemed amused at this story.

“His friends, business associates on the outside. You know how it works.”

“So what is it
they
want?”

“This is where it gets a little sticky,” Riley said, leaning closer to Joplan and lowering his voice. “They want you to, like, cooperate with the feds.”

It was the first time Joplan showed any reaction at all. He shook his head as if to clear it.
“Cooperate?”
He looked at Cosmo, who didn’t bother to look up from the fries he was eating, and then at Riley.

Riley nodded. “Completely.”

Joplan’s eyes narrowed. “Now this is cozy. What are you two in for, bustin’ parking meters? I must be missing something. I’ll be on the street in a few days while the two of you go on rotting here.”

Riley nodded that he understood Joplan’s confusion. “It’s like this. My client here feels a debt of gratitude to this country. He has reason to believe you’ve betrayed it. Now although he has an appreciation for men who keep their secrets to themselves, he requests that you come clean. Tell the feds everything. In return, Cosmo will see that no harm comes to you while you’re here.”

Joplan almost laughed.
“He’s going to protect me?
From who? That Red Russell redneck that walked all over him today?”

Riley put his fork down. He spoke in the level tones he had used in the paneled conference rooms in Boston when bargaining with one or another government attorney over the fate of one of his mob clients. “It’s considerate of you to worry about my client, but you might be surprised to know that he and Mr. Russell think very much alike. Cosmo holds no grudge toward him at all. It’s the way things work. You know the old saying, survival of the fittest. Same rules here as he lived under on the outside, Mr. Joplan.”

Joplan stood up to leave.

Riley said, “My client understands a man likes to sleep on a proposal before making up his mind. He’ll wait until tomorrow morning for your decision.”

“He’ll be waiting when hell freezes over,” Joplan said. “Don’t come near me, either of you. You see me, you go another direction. My style is different than Russell’s, and more conclusive.”

As Joplan walked away, Cosmo looked at him for the first time, and then at Riley. “Give this Joplan the consolation prize,” he mumbled, as he dumped more ketchup on the fries.

Red Russell felt like
a million dollars as he walked to the showers that evening. Cosmo was sitting alone in the rec room staring at nothing. It was all over for the old man now, since Red made a public spectacle of him in the chow hall. You could see it in his eyes. And Red was going to make Rudy Snow his number one man. Someone to watch his back, deliver orders to his other men. As Red entered the showers another inmate high-fived him and a couple averted their eyes. Their new respect for him was evident. Predictable. Fear was king. That was why all of them cleared out when he came in—fear and respect. And to give him privacy. Red Russell liked the Big A as well as he could like any prison.

He got under the shower, made it as hot as he could take and backed up under it. This was something of a celebration and since no one else was in the room, he risked closing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have to see the rusty pipes and crumbling plaster walls. Even the stainless steel sinks were rusty. As the water did its relaxation trick Red imagined the gold shower head in the mansion he built for himself in Chicago, the white marble floor, the inch-thick glass shower partition on which he paid an artist to etch a silhouette of Elyse. He felt Elyse’s gleaming wet skin as she sidled into the shower with him. As the steam rose from his back he wondered if everything would be the same when he got back to the Windy City. No, it’d be better! He would be stronger with a tougher rep! Meanwhile, he would enjoy life as a man to be respected. He wouldn’t allow prison to change his standing among others.