Bruno cut off the call and waited.
David Lander hadn’t been able to sit down for the past fifteen minutes. He compulsively checked his iPhone clock. Bobby Tennucci’s friend had told him he should receive a call shortly after 4:30. From whom and about what, he had no idea.
When his desk phone rang at 4:48, Lander dropped into his desk chair so hard that the chair rolled back against the wall with a loud thud. He rolled forward, picked up the receiver, and, in too loud a voice, said, “David Lander.”
“Mr. Lander, this is Bess Katz at Eastern Teachers Retirement Fund. I wonder if you could answer a question for me.”
At 5:00 p.m., Bruno called Lander and asked, “Did you receive a call?”
“You bet. And I can tell you there’s one very angry woman over at Eastern Teachers Retirement Fund.”
“Well done, Dave. I’ll be in touch next week. I hope you’ll have the name of the counseling center by then.”
As he terminated the call, movement to his left caused him to jerk in that direction.
“Sorry to disturb you, Bruno,” Janet said. “I want to say goodbye before I leave.”
“What! You’re leaving?”
Janet squinted at Bruno. “I’ve been here long enough. And now that the Nguyen woman has been arrested, there’s no reason for me to hide out any longer.”
Bruno stepped closer to her. “Whoever hired Nguyen can hire another killer. I don’t think you’re safe just yet.”
She waved her hands in a dismissive manner. “I’m just a hanger-on here. Besides, I need to get back to work.”
“Give it another day, Janet. Please.”
Janet stiffened her back and jabbed a hand at Bruno. “I’ve had enough of this, Bruno. I think I’m in more danger here than I was in California. I know you’re into something that’s more than likely dangerous, probably illegal. But I have no idea what it is, since you refuse to tell me. I—”
“It’s for your own safety. That’s why—”
“Let me finish. I lied to the police about going to their station to meet with them. I figure it’s only a matter of a day or two before those detectives try to find me. Hell, they’ve probably already asked Carmela Rosales about me. I’m getting out of here.”
“Would it help if I told you what’s going on?”
She spread her arms but didn’t immediately respond. After a few seconds, she said, “At this point, I’m not sure I want to know.”
“One day, Janet. That’s all I ask. Wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Not if I can catch a flight out tonight.” She spun around and left the basement.
Perhaps it was stress, or fatigue, or worry about Janet leaving, or all those things that made Bruno go weak. He sagged as though boneless into a nearby chair. The clock on the desk showed it was 5:59 p.m. He tiredly reached for the television remote on the side of the desk and clicked the POWER button. When the screen came to life, he turned to a local news channel. At 6:00, the lead-in music and graphics for the news show came up; a flashy blonde in a black dress welcomed the audience and, in a dramatic voice, announced, “We have breaking news that a New York-based investment house may have attempted to defraud a group of institutional investors in the amount of billions of dollars.” She frowned and added, “Yes, you heard me correctly. I said billions. We’re looking into the allegations and will have more to report at ten.”
Bruno felt newly energized. It was almost done.
Then one of his burner phones rang. He saw Jesse Falco’s number on the screen.
“What’s up, Jesse?”
“The job’s done.”
“Good. Now I want you to destroy the flash drive and BleachBit any code that might remain on all devices you used.”
Louis Massarino returned to his home at 6:05 p.m. after meeting with Bobby Tennucci. He hugged and kissed his wife, Rosa, and told her, “I’ll join you for dinner in an hour, but first I need to talk with Bruno.”
“You okay?” Rosa asked.
“Getting there, mia cara.”
“I hope your troubles over Carlo’s death will soon be behind you.”
He kissed her again. “Soon. Very soon.”
CHAPTER 28
Sy Rosen usually left his office early on Fridays. But on this Friday, he was too wired to make the ride to his Long Island estate and then put up with his wife’s grousing about the shitty service at the country club or their daughter-in-law’s bitchy mother. He was both concerned and exhilarated. He hadn’t heard from Victoria Nguyen for a couple days. That worried him greatly. But not enough to suppress his excitement over the closing of the real estate mortgage deal with Sunrise Casualty Insurance. All in all, this was a night for celebration. It had been a long time since he’d spent a night with Sylvie. He felt a sudden flush as he thought about how the young woman made him feel. It’ll be worth every penny of her two-thousand-dollar fee, he thought.
He checked his Rolex and smiled: 6:15. Rosen put away the papers on his desk and moved toward his private bathroom. He brushed his teeth and slapped on a little cologne. As he moved back toward his desk, his office door flew open.
“What the hell?” he blurted.
Richard Stone, trailed by Wayne Summers, burst in. The look on Stone’s face caused Rosen’s stomach to flip. “Jesus, Richard, you look like the Grim Reaper. What’s wrong?”
“We have a problem.”
Rosen scoffed. “Jeez, that much I already figured out. Someone screw up a customer order?”
Stone shuffled to a chair and collapsed into it. Summers remained halfway between the office door and Rosen’s desk, his eyes wide and his skin grayish.
“Come on, spill it,” Rosen growled. “What is it?”
Stone opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gaped like a beached fish.
Rosen turned toward Summers, pointed at the chair next to Stone, and barked, “Sit.”
After he sat, Summers cleared his throat, sounding like a toad with emphysema. He coughed, then said, “I received a call from a guy at Sunrise Insurance about our deal. He—”
“Joseph Campbell?” Rosen asked.
“What?”
“Joseph Campbell. The guy at Sunrise who you worked with on the deal.”
Summers shook his head as though he was having an epileptic fit. He made the toad sound again and then, in a raspy voice, said, “No, it was another man named David Lander.”
“What do you mean, ‘another man’?” Rosen asked as he moved his gaze onto Stone, who’d slumped almost prone in his chair. “Who’s this guy, Lander?”
His head bent, Summers replied, “My usual contact in the company’s real estate investment department.” Summers gulped and added, “Anyway, Lander called me a few minutes ago and wanted to know about the deal. I told him I’d been working with Joseph Campbell. He…he told me there was no one named Joseph Campbell at Sunrise.” Summers whimpered. “Lander said he got a call from one of our investors in the deal wanting to verify they were selling part of their commercial real estate mortgage portfolio. When he told her he didn’t know what she was talking about, she went ballistic.”