Authors: Paul Watkins
John nods in agreement and slides out of the booth.
Espy shrugs out of his coat as he crosses the restaurant. He throws the garment in the next booth and stands expectantly as John extends his hand in greeting. Espy is a stocky man who looks bull-strong. Thick necked and balding, he’s breathing heavily from his short walk.
I assume he thinks of himself as a fashion plate, but unfortunately the fashion is slightly out of date… by forty or fifty years. He’s probably a victim of watching too many old gangster movies. The double-breasted suit is a bit too tight and the French cuffs are straining with the weight of the large links holding the sleeves together. A fold of flesh hangs over his shirt collar and his labored breathing accentuates the look of strangulation. The black wingtip shoes shine brightly from the ritual of the daily visit to the shoeshine stand. Even the cool morning is unable to stop him from sweating. He is obviously a man who lets his goons do all the real work.
“Hello, Mr. Espy,” John says in a quiet and respectful manner. He holds his hands in a prayerful attitude, then rubs them together several times before shaking hands. “I’d like you to meet Philip Richards. He’s the general manager for all the restaurants. I told him you wanted to meet with Mr. Jackson, but I figured you could fill him in with the details. Ah, I really don’t… “ Espy ignores whatever John is about to say and turns towards me. John doesn’t bother to finish his sentence and instead steps back in an unspoken attempt to gain distance from this whole affair.
By now I’m on my feet and I extend my hand in greeting. Espy grasps my hand and executes a brief, perfunctory handshake.
“Hi… where’s Jackson? He’s the real boss, isn’t he?”
It’s a good opening and, I suppose, a reasonable question.
“Mr. Jackson won’t be here for this meeting,” I answer. “It’s my job to gather the necessary information for his review. If we waited for an opening in his schedule right now, it would be quite a while before we would be able to get together, so I thought it would be better this way. Maybe save us all some time.”
Espy considers this for a moment and then slides into the booth. John takes this as his signal to depart and does so without further comment. I sit across from Espy and wait for him to begin. He watches John’s departure and seems to require no further explanation.
Turning back to me he stares for a moment before speaking.
“Richards … is that your name?”
I nod and he continues.
“Okay, Richards, here’s the deal. I’ve decided to get into the restaurant business and I like the looks of your operation. I’m a partner in a number of different operations around town and a few more won’t hurt.”
“What kind of arrangement are you proposing?”
He smiles briefly and then his face quickly returns to the normal hard lines.
“I will be a partner… the silent kind. I’ll make sure you have plenty of business. I’ll be putting money in, but it will just be passing through, as the saying goes. We may make a few cosmetic changes and put a few of our people on the payroll, but basically nothing much will change except we’ll take over running the finances from here on in. Don’t worry. you people will get a cut. You just won’t be making as much as you were before. In return for your cooperation, we will make certain you have a trouble-free operation. No problems… guaranteed. You maybe don’t know how much trouble there can be in this business. Lots of things can happen.” He looks me in eye before continuing. “Do I have to spell it out?”
Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I shake my head, declining the opportunity to hear all the terrible plagues he and his organization could visit upon us.
“Maybe I don’t have to say this,” he continues, “but I assume you know I can back up anything I say.”
I sit quietly for a time, taking all this in. He stares intensely across the table. I’m sure this is his version of pre-fight intimidation. I’d like to reach out and snuff this guy right now, but that probably wouldn’t be a very politic course of action. Whatever sewer he crawled out of will have an inexhaustible supply of his kind of slime-ball.
“Forgive me for being a little slow,” I begin, my voice shaking slightly, “but I’m afraid I need a little more information than you’re giving me. It’s my understanding that you have a reputation for being connected, but I will need to know more. For instance, to whom are you connected? And how can I be sure you aren’t just opening a little sideline on your own?”
Espy laughs.
“What… are you crazy? You must be. First of all, I don’t answer questions, I ask them… just so you know. Second, I don’t have to prove anything to you. You either do what I say, or you’ll regret it. For that I have plenty of references.” He chuckles again and shakes his head in wonder at my lack of underworld savvy.
I try to appear impressed and maybe even a little frightened, but it wouldn’t do to overplay any reaction right now. I’m sure he assumes I’m filling my drawers just being in his awesome presence. His kind is usually so full of themselves that they can’t imagine anyone not being impressed, frightened or awed by their reputation and physical intimidation. I hold up my hand to signal my appeal for forgiveness.
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I’ll take your message back to Mr. Jackson.” I reach into my jacket and pull out a business card. “Here’s my card… it would be best to talk directly to me from here on out. Don’t bother calling or talking to Taylor anymore… he doesn’t know anything and he won’t be able to tell you anything in the future. There’s no reason to bring him into any of this. But how do we get back to you? I’ll need a telephone number and an address in case we have to send anything or talk again for any reason. Also, if you can give us any other names or we canmeet any other people in your organization… someone we can contact in the event you’re away… that would help.”
“No more names now. You’ll meet everyone the next time.”
“When’s that going to be?”
“One week… our place. Here’s the address.”
He hands a small slip of paper to me with a two-line address written on it.
“It’s out on the island… you won’t have any trouble finding it. Figure eight o’clock… at night. Don’t be late. And tell your boss to not ask any damn fool questions like you did. My partner isn’t very understanding about these things. We’ll put everything together then.”
Espy slides out of the booth and picks up his coat.
“Don’t worry… you won’t feel a thing… completely painless.”
Espy throws his head back and laughs, delighted with his humor. He picks up his coat from the booth and then turns and leaves without further comment. Walking out the door he smiles and waves like an old friend.
A week isn’t much and we have a lot to do to prepare for the meeting.
I want to be certain we can finish this thing once and for all, and right now, the fewer people who knowabout it, the better.
***
Hudson’s demeanor is intense while listening to my description of the brief meeting I had in the city earlier today. It’s easy to get angry about this thing, but the tough part is what we are going to do about it? Indeed, just what can we do about it? For openers, what do we tell A.J.? Everything? Anything? My inclination is to tell him nothing about it… not now, not later. He’s too unpredictable.
I think we take care of it and get it over with, or we’re going to be saddled with this one for a long, long time. However, in order to take care of it now, we’re going to have to act quickly and decisively.
“So what do you think,” I ask, “go in, guns blazing… frag ‘em and then go to a movie?”
Hudson looks at me and smiles, “Sounds like a plan. What’s playing?”
“Seriously, Hud, we have to decide what we’re going to do and who’s going to do it. I want to take these guys out early in the game. I don’t know why, but I think Espy’s running a number on us. I think he’s an enterprising little schmuck who thinks he’s ready to move up to the big time. He either wants to strike out on his own, or, perhaps, start a little operation and hand it over as a present to his boss… hoping it will do wonders for his career in the business. From what little I know about these things, I can’t imagine him running a sideline for any length of time. That alone would be a death sentence. Bottom line, unfortunately, Espy isn’t going to go away. For whatever reason, he has decided to make a move on A.J.’s business.”
Hudson nods his agreement.
“Do you have anything to go on other than your gut?”
“Not right now, but I think there’s a way we can find out in a hurry. Maybe not this minute, but soon after we get to the meeting.”
“I’m all ears, as that fellow Perot used to say.”
I smile.
“Yeah, but he really is all ears.” Jim smiles in return. “No, I mean there may be a way to tell where Espy is on this, I think. When we get to the meeting there’s going to be one or two more people there from their side. That’s a guess, but let’s go with it for now. If Espy’s the ranking guy there, then I think he’s doing a deal on his own. Probably one of the scenarios I mentioned, but still on his own… at least for now. If his boss or some other biggy is there, then we’ll know he has the organization behind him and this whole thing has been sanctioned from the beginning.
“If it’s the organization we’ll have to fall back and play for time. We’ll have a mini-war on our hands and we might lose. The one thing we can’t do is call in the police or the feds. They’re just not capable of helping us to any degree in a deal like this… they’ll chicken out when the going gets tough. Or they’ll never get to the part where the going gets tough. We’re talking years. Their main concern will be getting evidence that will stand up in court. In the meantime, we’ll be getting shot while they’re checking to be certain everything the bad guys are doing while they’re killing us is illegal.
“Worse, the fed lawyers really don’t want to take on the mobsters in court because they will probably lose and that’s not deemed to be a good career move. From a legal-eagle point of view, it would be the Yankees playing a sandlot team… and the mob is the Yankees. They can and will hire the best and the brightest talent available. The feds, on the other hand, seldom hire from the top ten percent of the law school class. They don’t have the bucks. And the few good attorneys on the fed scene are either too busy to deal with the likes of us, or are on their way to greener pastures.
“On the other hand, if Espy is doing the deal on his own, then I move we take him and his pals out right then and there. Chances are the organization doesn’t know anything about it anyway and we can finish them off and hit the road. It will be over and we’ll forget about it. Presumably the mob won’t follow up simply because they won’t know anything about the games he was playing. They might wonder what’s going on, but I think they’ll eventually move on.
I still can’t imagine a small restaurant operation like A.J.’s is going to attract any serious attention from these guys. Hell, it’s not like it’s the New York City docks, or the airport, or something really worthwhile… something they want to control because of all the cash lying around. It’s just too small to be a major item on their dance card.”
Hudson leans forward and rests his arms on his knees… he’s waiting for the punch line. It’s one thing I’ve always liked about Jim when it comes to this sort of thing… he’s a professional. This is just another business deal as far as he’s concerned. There’s nothingillegal in doing business with a bunch of crooks… at least nothing illegal as long as you don’t get caught. And so far we have never been caught. In fact, we have never come close to getting caught.
“I think it should just be the two of us, if that’s okay with you,” I offer. A.J. won’t be there or know anything about it. If it’s too big, we back off. If there are just a few of them and Espy’s running a game, then we do them and split. We don’t tell anyone now and we don’t tell anyone later.”
Jim nods in agreement.
“Whether I go in alone or we go in together will depend on what it looks like at the time,” I continue. “Hell, I don’t know. There are a hundred possible scenarios.”
Hudson doesn’t bother taking notes… either one of us could give the lecture.
“We’ll have to have a code and at least a basic plan for two guys and another one for three guys. I don’t think there’ll be four. If there are, then we’ll leave and go back later when we’ll have surprise going for us. I’m guessing two or three. When we start, we’ll have to be in a position to take at least one out instantly. We can’t afford to be thrashing around, making a lot of racket. It has to be quick. If anyone gets away, we’re screwed.”
Jim reaches out and micro-punches my shoulder.
“One of the guys was talking the other day and your name came up. He thinks you’ve changed. Thinks you’re more of a gentleman and probably not prepared to do what has to be done in certain situations.”
“Really? What’d you say?”
“I agreed… in part. I think you’ve changed, too. I told him I thought you had changed… for the worse… or the better, depending on your point of view. Not that you ever agonized over this sort of thing, but you seem to be a bit quicker on the draw these days. I think you were a little more idealistic when we were younger. The only difference I see now is that you’re more sure of yourself. What the hell, there’s no mystery to it. You can’t sit down and argue with these jerks… all you’re going to do is get hurt. This way they get hurt. Actually, they get dead… which is a bit worse… for them.”
“Jim, look… I’m not on any crusade here. I’m just trying to face facts. We have an operator coming on to us and it’s not a deal we can sit down and work out over coffee. The police are out… they have too many concerns that have absolutely nothing to do with solving the problem. So we cut to the bottom line. These guys aren’t used to dealing with people like us. They think they’re real bad actors… and they are. Problem is… we’re worse.”
Jim smiles quietly, indulging me in my discourse.
“I’m going to take him out, Hud. The little fuck, Espy, needs killing… there’s no other way. I wish there were, but there isn’t.”
Jim and I are old friends, but that smile is gettingto me. I feel as though I’m being patronized.