Bayou Pierre: Contents

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27

Bayou Pierre Book II New
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

San Juan Bautista: Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29

Louisiana Hurricane, Mississippi Storm: Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27

Telegraph: Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25

Runners: Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22

Longhorn: Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Notes:

Entire books are published here, except for Bayou Pierre Book II, which is a work in progress. May I print a copy? Yes. There are simple instructions in the note at the end of each chapter.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 12

Phil couldn't risk making a phone call from the borrowed home. So about an hour before sunset, Mac drove him to a payphone at a convenience store approximately three miles away.

"Hello," Jean said into the phone.

Phil could tell right away that Patty wasn't back from shopping. The usual sounds of chaos could not be heard at the other end of the call.

"Hi Jean, it's Phil," he said, a smile coming to his face as he pictured Patty's beautiful sister standing at the wall phone in her kitchen.

"Hello, Brother-in-Law. Changed your mind and decided you want to move in with us?" she teased.

Phil felt homesick, homesick and happy at the same time. He supposed he was happy to be talking about something that had nothing to do with the Mafia.

"I take it from the quiet in the background that the kids aren't back from shopping, yet," Phil suggested.

"Why, do you want to come by for a beer?" Jean asked.

"I'm thinking of taking up drinking. Tonight might be a good time to start."

Phil laughed at Patty's sister, wondering if she had ever tasted alcohol. Jean was more adventurous than her little sister.

"I'm not really that close," Phil answered.

"Yeah, I heard, another mystery location," Jean said.

"I know you're worried," she continued, "but Patty's doing fine. She loves Mrs. Angelelli and the kids were almost as happy to see her this morning as she was to see them.

"Patty's strong. She'll be fine. I'm the one you should be worried about. Not only has my sister abandoned me with these hellions, but now we have a police car permanently parked outside the house. And I'll never know if the Mafia shows up, because there's always a cop in my back yard with a flashlight. Your friends from New Orleans could come for us. And so long as they use flashlights, we'd never know it wasn't the police," Jean teased.

"Jean, I'm so sorry I dragged you and the children into this mess," Phil began only to be interrupted.

"Stop," she said.

"No one could have had any idea all these things were going to happen. The way I look at it, the way the whole family sees it, you and Mo are keeping all of us safe from these monsters."

Phil chuckled.

"I'm serious," Jean scolded.

"I know you are. I wasn't laughing at what you said," Phil told her.

"What then? What's so funny?" Jean asked.

"The word monsters," Phil answered.

"I'm with one of these monsters right now and his whole family. And you know what? We've had a wonderful day. We cooked hamburgers. We played softball. The kids played hide-n-seek. I watched him hold hands with his wife, put his arm around her shoulder, kiss her just like any other husband would.

"It's surreal," Phil said.

"Is he the one who killed Aubrey?" Jean challenged.

Phil felt immediately cold as if he had been doused with a bucket of ice water.

"No," Phil said softly.

"Maybe not, but he could be. If not him, couldn't it be someone just like him?" Jean asked.

"They're not like us, Phil, no matter how cute their kids may be," Jean said, a tone of sympathy and understanding in her voice.

"They kill people. They ruin lives."

Phil knew she was right. Jean was smart and perceptive.

"I probably won't get to call back tonight, so tell her I called. Tell her I love her, please," Phil said.

"She understands and she loves you. So do I and so do the children. So you keep yourself safe, okay?" Jean urged.

"I will," Phil promised.

It was only a short ride back to the borrowed house, but Phil thought of a million things as they drove into the darkening skies.

"Roman soldiers," he spat out, not realizing he was talking aloud until he heard Mac's voice.

"What's that?" Mac asked.

"Vinny told me Zip calls his men Roman soldiers. Can you believe that?" Phil asked.

Well, from what I've read, some of those guys weren't all that much better than these animals," Mac answered, causing Phil to laugh.

"I suppose that's true," Phil mused.

In it for life, Phil thought again.


The next stop on the base-hopping tour was Edwards Air Force Base in the California desert. Vinny's family was moved out of Arizona just in time.

Danny had news at breakfast, but first he had to get Phil away from Vinny.

"I need you to make a call," Danny said to Phil as Phil and Mo walked up to the table.

Danny rose to lead Phil out of the room as Mo took a seat at the table with Vinny. Danny waited until they got to the room with the phones to speak so no one would overhear.

"We've got two guys from Chicago in the brig at Luke Air Force Base," Danny reported.

"Mafia?" Phil asked.

"Big time. They were showing a picture of Vinny around a bar where airmen hang out. One of the guys who had been on the flight line when your plane landed Saturday put Vinny with the picture and became suspicious that something was wrong. He had made you and Mac for cops on Saturday. When he saw two thugs showing the picture around the bar, he pieced things together, decided that Vinny must be somebody in need of protection.

"He lured the two Chicagoans over to the NCO Club at Luke, claiming that he had heard somebody talking about a guy who might look like the fella in the picture. When they got to the bar at the NCO Club, this sergeant said that he would call his friend and ask him to come to the club.

"Instead, he called a buddy in Security Police. Five minutes later, the cavalry shows up and the hoods are busted," Danny said.

"Any money change hands?" Phil asked.

"You betcha," Danny answered.

"One of the mobsters gave the sarge a C-note for his trouble before they left the bar off base.

"I was going to phone Ken and get him to call Phoenix and get some guys from the taskforce there up to Flagstaff," Danny said.

"I've got a better idea. I'll call Ken. You call the US attorney in Flagstaff, tell him who you are and what we've been doing with a protected witness in his jurisdiction. Have him send some deputy marshals over to the base to pick up these guys. Ask the US attorney to loan our task force one of his assistants to take these guys before a federal magistrate for a quickie arraignment.

"I'll get on the horn with Maria and have her work some of her magic with the Air Force. With a little luck, we'll have them in federal custody in Shreveport in time for supper. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true," Danny said.

"What if the magistrate won't play ball?"

"I can arrange for a very persuasive Assistant United States Attorney General to give him a call. Worst case, we've got these guys locked up in the custody of the US marshals in Flagstaff. But I'm willing to wager we do way better than worst case," Phil said, his eyes twinkling with confidence.

"I think I remember why I wanted you in this job," Danny teased.

During the morning interview session with Vinny, Phil and Danny briefed their witness about the arrest in Arizona.

"And you haven't spotted anyone sneaking around my family?" Vinny asked.

"Not a soul," Mac answered, "but we decided to move them anyway, just in case."

Maria's call came just before the lunch break and Phil decided to take it in Vinny's presence.

"That's great," Phil said into the phone, then turned to the others in the room.

"Our visitors from Chicago are in the air headed for Barksdale," Phil announced.

Vinny appeared puzzled.

"That's the airbase in Shreveport," Danny explained softly.

A big smile appeared on Vinny's face. After Phil finished the call with Maria, he placed a second one to Eb.

"I think I kind of remember you," the special prosecutor teased.

"The word I get," Eb continued, "is that US magistrate in Tucson is not a big fan of the Supreme Court. He immediately took charge, told the suspects they had waived their right to an attorney and that they would have an attorney present later in the day at their bail hearing. The guy signed an order turning the thugs over to the US Marshal Service, tapped his gavel and left the room.

"The US attorney here has a bail hearing set at four-thirty this afternoon. Johnny Pisanti's been screaming his head off all over the courthouse and Judge Hawkins sent his bailiff to find out how he heard the guys were headed for Shreveport. The judge told his bailiff to warn Pisanti that if he didn't shut up, he was going to get himself locked up for contempt before his clients arrived."

Phil laughed.

"Has anybody checked warrants on these guys?" Phil asked.

"I was just getting to that. One of 'em has seven outstanding felony warrants in Cook County alone. He's never even been arraigned on any of those charges in Chicago. But it gets better. The other one is an escapee from a state prison in Missouri. There is no way on earth these guys are going to make bail," Eb declared.


Patty had never flown on a plane before and she had never spent so much money at one time as her ticket to Los Angeles cost. It was hard to describe her emotional state, but excited was not nearly an adequate word.

"Angie this is all so wonderful, but I'm afraid I'm butting in. I can't believe your friend would just take me into her home like this," Patty protested.

"Don't be silly. She's looking forward to it. I've told her how much fun we have and what a great guy Phil is. We were young mothers together. Our children were born within two weeks of one another. In Japan, we did everything together because our husbands were always off in Korea flying missions. Denise and I are closer than sisters," Angie said.

Patty's trip had actually been Angie's idea, but it took encouragement from both Jean and Phil to put things over the top. Thursday, everyone but Phil and Sam from the Louisiana group were gathering in New Orleans to meet with the lawyers and investigators from Washington and Shreveport.

At first, John Brinker had insisted that Phil be there. But Ken and Phil had prevailed. Things were just too tenuous with Vinny for Phil to be away from him for four days. When the meetings were over, there would be an initial list of people who would be presented to federal and state grand juries for indictment. Vinny would be the key witness against several of these suspects and involved in the prosecution of a number of others. It was just too critical a moment to risk triggering Vinny's mercurial states of mind.

Vinny's family, staying nearby in Southern California, would be brought to Edwards Air Force Base for a long weekend, so Phil wouldn't be going back to Louisiana. Patty cried when she got the news. But in less than half an hour, Angie had stepped in and suggested that Patty be part of the family weekend at Edwards. Phil agreed. Ann Marie got approval from Washington and the planning began.

After the weekend, Vinny and his family would move to other locations and the long process of putting Vinny's testimony on film would begin.

The on base home of one of Edwards' senior noncoms was borrowed for Vinny's family. It was picked because of its spaciousness and because it was at the end of a street and could be easily sealed off. The lucky family being moved out of their home would get to spend the weekend at Disneyland on the tab of the United States Department of Justice. But Patty had been warned more than once not to mention that. Since there was no way the marshals service could look out for the safety of Vinny's kids at a place like Disneyland, Mac wanted to make sure the thought wasn't put in the Gennuso children's heads.

Southern California might seem warm to visitors from Iowa. But for folks from Louisiana, it seemed chilly, particularly in the early evening when Patty and Phil arrived for the Gennuso family cookout. Patty was captured by how beautiful Vinny's children were, and shocked by the giant hug Phil got from Vinny as soon as their party walked into the backyard of the borrowed home. But Vinny wasn't finished. As soon as he released Phil, he immediately put his arms around Patty.

"I'm Vinny," he said.

"I can't tell you how much I love Phil and how honored my family is to have you as a guest."

Phil was no help. He just laughed. Ann Marie was clearly nervous, but she avoided reaching for her gun.

"Aren't you going to hug Ann Marie, too?" Phil teased.

"She'll shoot you."

Everyone laughed, even the deputy marshals from Arizona who were providing protection for Vinny's wife and children. Patty moved on quickly, introducing herself to the children, learning their names and telling them about her nieces and nephews, who were very close in age.

"I was surprised how quickly I became comfortable with the Gennusos. I had a great time and the kids are adorable," Patty said as Mac drove back to the base commander's house.

"I'm not," Phil answered.

"Except for Vinny's chosen field of endeavor, they're a great family. What's so sad is that the kids have no idea why they're having to hide out and move around. Ginny hasn't been able to explain it to them. The only thing she's come up with so far that they can grasp is that some bad people killed their uncle.

"They think their father sells insurance for a living and they call Morello Uncle Carlos."

Patty squeezed Phil's hand very tightly.

"That's so sad," she said.

"I hope they never find out. But I guess things are not going to be like that for them, are they?" Patty asked.

"I'm afraid not," Phil admitted.

Saturday morning, Patty, Phil, Ann Marie and Mac picked up the Gennuso children at their borrowed home so Vincent and Ginny could have a day together on their own. All the kids wanted to ride in the car with Patty, so Phil and Mac followed behind in the second car.

"I am so glad I got to come," Patty said, taking Phil's hand as they walked through the zoo in Bakersfield.

"And I'm glad Mo got to go home. This is the first time he's spent more than an hour or two with his own family since this whole thing began."

"It wasn't easy," Phil said.

"I thought I was going to have to call Colonel Robichaux and get him to order Mo to go home. He has obsessed over my safety, particularly since Aubrey was killed."

Patty nearly crushed Phil's hand in both hers at the mention of Aubrey's death.

Phil assumed that two hours of junk food at the zoo would have the kids never wanting to eat again. But when the group walked into Shakey's Pizza around one o'clock, the hyper-wound up children had locust-like appetites. Toward the end of the sing along, the kids began clamoring for a visit to the beach, preferably Malibu. Eventually, they were able to accept that it was too far to go in the time they had left and they settled for a wild afternoon in a local playground.

"There are no apples in Apple Valley," the waitress explained as Patty and Phil watched the setting sun paint the mountains of California's high desert.

"Nobody knows where the name came from."

Phil and Patty didn't care. The kids had been parked at the theatre on base enjoying movie night with Air Force children and watched by two of the deputy marshals from Arizona. Mac and Ann Marie, posing as a couple, were seated several tables away. And for once, Phil and Patty were having dinner together in a restaurant that was not on an Air Force base.

"Angie took me to a luncheon the other day and I think I want to join the group. Would that be okay?" Patty asked, the question drawing a slight laugh from Phil before he answered.

"Well, I suppose, but why would you need my permission?" he asked.

"These are wives of men who get together to support one another because their husbands are on temporary assignment to Guam or the Philippines. From there, the husbands fly regular bombing missions over Vietnam. They rotate over for two weeks to a month, then come back to Barksdale until their next rotation," Patty answered.

"So they flip back and forth from being at home and being at war?" Phil asked.

"And that's really hard on everybody," Patty said.

"I guess I can see that, yes. But why do you think you need my permission to join the group?" Phil continued.

"Well they asked me to join, but we're not married for one thing. And for another, I don't want to run the risk of telling one of the members something that could endanger someone's life," Patty explained.

"I see," Phil said, a little light popping on in his head.

"I'll take it you're not suggesting we get married just so you can join this group," Phil teased, leading to a little pause while they both laughed.

"And I don't know of anything I tell you these days that would endanger you or anyone else. So, I don't see that as a problem. By all means, join if you think it will help you feel better about your life under your new protection routine.

"Did the women figure out who Ann Marie was and why she was there?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, they seemed to get that right away without being told. She's kind of all business," Patty answered, then looked to see if Ann Marie could hear that they were talking about her.

Phil guessed what Patty was doing, took a quick look for himself and became convinced the two security people couldn't hear the conversation Phil and Patty were having.

"And that bother's you, Ann Marie being so serious and businesslike?" Phil asked quietly, just to make sure he wasn't heard.

"No," Patty said.

"It's just that Mo is so much fun and I'm used to being around him and teasing. She's just different. Even when Angie and I are talking, she doesn't seem to feel comfortable joining in."

"Even if you ask her a question?" Phil asked.

"No, she's always polite and when we ask her questions she always answers. It's just," Patty paused, perhaps searching for words.

"She's not your buddy?" Phil suggested, causing Patty to laugh slightly.

"I guess that's it. You know how the guys at the station are, how they always tease me?" Patty offered.

"So you think everyone should be in love with you, just like the entire Shreveport Police Department," Phil quipped.

"That's not true," Patty protested.

"It absolutely is," Phil responded.

"I'm surprised you find time for me at all."

"Stop," Patty answered, unable to hide her smile.

The couple ate quietly for a moment, then Phil offered a question.

"And you felt better after having lunch with some of these wives?" he asked.

"I knew that I wasn't alone when I worried because your life is in constant danger. I knew these women were going through much the same thing and they seemed to sense the same about me. I guess Angie knew all of this before she invited me, because she went through this when her husband was flying missions over Korea during that war.

"And of course all of them, even Harry, fly missions that are called training missions, but could turn serious at a moment's notice. They carry what Angie calls live weapons and could be ordered to proceed to a target in Russia at any time. That part's too scary for me even to think about," Patty said.

"Just wait until the first time you are awakened in the middle of the night by a scramble, when ten or fifteen of those B-52s roar into the sky one right after another. I've only heard it twice. But both times, I was convinced that nuclear war had begun.

"It's just readiness training, but the real thing would sound exactly the same way. There's no way to tell the difference," Phil said.

Patty looked across the table and saw that most of the color had drained from Phil's face as he spoke those last words.

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 11

The big security meeting convened two days later in the commander's office at Barksdale.

John Brinker's major concern had been taken care of in advance.

"I'll be coming down for the meeting. I want to make sure there are no political issues between the marshals service and the Louisiana State Police," the assistant attorney general had told Phil,

Phil had proposed a compromise.

"Let me have the first crack at the man from the witness security program. If I run into a problem, I promise I'll back away and call you before it blows up. Danny's an old hand. Other feds respect him. I'll take him to the meeting with me. I'll talk to Mo first and reassure him, so he doesn't get his nose out of joint," Phil had countered.

When the meeting at Barksdale began in Colonel Harry Angelelli's office, Preston MacGregor, the detail supervisor in charge of the new federal security detail, was seated next to Mo. Phil sat on the other side of Mo holding Patty's hand hoping to calm her nerves. All Patty knew for sure was that her life and Phil's were about to change very significantly.

"We're there mostly to listen to the experts," Phil had told her.

He hadn't gone into detail, because he didn't know the specifics of the changes, only that they would be major. That point was emphasized by the fact that Colonel Angelelli had devoted a significant amount of his time and of his staff's resources to this problem smack in the middle of a war.

"Patty," the colonel said, turning his attention to a young lady he obviously admired very much, "I want to apologize for keeping you in suspense, but I understand the marshals service only finalized their plans just before this meeting."

"That's all right, Colonel," Patty answered with a tense smile.

"That's the first thing we need to change. I expect you to call me Harry from now on, please?" the colonel asked.

"I'll try," she answered, producing laughter around the table.

"Angela, my wife, I believe you two met once. Anyway, Angela and I talked for a long while last night and I got clear orders about this, so please don't argue or you'll get me in real trouble. All right?" the colonel asked again.

"Okay," Patty agreed with no idea where this conversation was headed, since she knew that the biggest concern was keeping Phil from being killed and could not imagine why the colonel was paying so much attention to her.

"Angela and I want to invite you to come live with us on base in our home. In fact, we insist and you've already promised not to get me in trouble," Colonel Angelelli asserted.

Patty dug her fingernails into the palm of Phil's hand. She was completely shocked by the announcement but managed a slight nod signifying something, perhaps her assent. There was too much to deal with and Patty was speechless for once.

"The marshals service has made it clear that they can't protect Phil without protecting you, particularly in light of the information coming from their chief witness that the Mafia might well try to harm you as a way of getting to Phil.

"Phil, I know this is news to you, too, and I apologize for springing this on you like this. But just as Angela would not hear of Patty living at the BOQ, she pointed out to me that it was time to get you out of there, too.

"So I want you and Mo to move into the guest house next to our home where the general stays when he visits and where other specialty officers spend time on occasion. Can you agree to that?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir," Phil answered.

Certainly, Phil could not argue in light of what had already transpired with Patty.

"Thank you," Harry said to Phil.

"I'm afraid there's more news for you, Patty. I think it best that Mr. MacGregor explains the rest," the colonel said, relieved that everything had gone well to that point.

"Thank you, Colonel," Preston MacGregor began.

"First, let me confirm what the colonel stated a moment ago. We have no chance of keeping Phil safe without enhancing the protection you have been getting and Trooper Melancon agrees."

Patty immediately looked intensely at Mo, who nodded his head, then agreed aloud in a firm voice.

"Just as Mo is going to continue to protect Phil twenty-four hours a day," the special inspector resumed, "we can't adequately protect you, Patty, without having someone with you at all times. Phil's boss, the assistant attorney general, insisted and we agreed that your protector should be a woman.

"So if I may, I'd like to introduce Deputy United States Marshal for the District of Columbia Ann Marie Sterling," Inspector MacGregor said.

The only other woman in the meeting stood and walked over to Patty and shook her hand. The Air Force officer who had been sitting next to Patty stood and moved to the chair previously occupied by the deputy marshal, so Ann Marie could sit next to Patty.

"Like all deputy marshals, Ann Marie has completed rigorous training in martial arts and the use of firearms. She's completed the executive security training offered by the US Secret Service and we consider her to be one of our best and best trained deputies.

"It took the personal intervention of the attorney general to get her assigned to you, Miss Phelps, and she will protect you with her life. And thanks to the hospitality of Colonel and Mrs. Angelelli, she'll be sharing a room with you in their home."

Preston MacGregor paused briefly to let some of this information sink in.

Colonel Angelelli used the pause to excuse himself so he could get on to other duties. He walked to where Patty sat and gave her a fatherly hug.

"Sorry I can't join you for lunch, but I'll see you tonight, okay?" he said in a comforting tone.

"Welcome to our family," he added.

"Thank you," Patty managed as her eyes teared over.

"Thank you so much, Colonel," Phil said as he rose to shake Harry's hand.

"I am very grateful for everything you have done and are doing," Phil added.

"It's the very least we can do. But everyone in the state of Louisiana is grateful for what you are doing, the risks you are taking, the sacrifices you make. That goes for you, too, Mo," the colonel said and Mo quickly rose to shake the colonel's hand.

"Thank you, sir," the trooper added.

The plan that Inspector MacGregor outlined was very thorough and Patty knew as she listened that her life was not going to be the same again for a long, long time. Patty struggled against tears as she rode with Phil in the back of the marshals service car. Mo rode in the front passenger seat.

"So Miss Patty, I guess I won't have to listen to you complain about me driving too fast so much for awhile," the state policeman teased.

Everyone laughed and the laughter helped break the tension. Deputy Marshal Sterling drove behind in the new marshal service car she would chauffeur Patty in. As soon as the cars pulled to a stop in front of the Angelleli house, Angela Angelleli appeared out of the front door and walked directly to Patty's car door, arriving just as Ann Marie Sterling was opening the door for Patty.

"I'm Angie," the colonel's wife told Patty, ignoring the young lady's outstretched hand and pulling Patty into a protective, motherly hug.

"We're so glad you're going to be with us. We just can't wait to meet your nieces and nephews. Tell me their names," Angela said.

"Jeanie, Willie, Horace and Darla," Patty said with a slight smile, pulling back from Angela's hug and looking into her face for the first time.

Angela Angelleli was even more beautiful than her husband, the colonel, was handsome. Patty glanced at the house, huge and somewhat colonial in appearance. It reminded Patty of houses she had seen in movies set in Hawaii or the Philippines perhaps.

"I want you to bring your nephews and nieces over very soon," Angie told Patty.

"I know you will miss them terribly and I don't want you to ever be shy about having them visit. There's so much for children to do on base, swimming, ballgames, dancing lessons, tennis. The list is endless and they're welcome to participate in all of it.

"I hear they're beautiful and delightful," Angie said, pausing.

"They may be beautiful, but they're absolutely wild," Patty responded.

"That's the way children should be. They grow up too fast and life becomes serious business before we know it," Angie said.

"Your house is stunning and so big," Patty said.

"Wait till you see the inside. These houses," Angie said, gesturing at the long row of beautiful homes for officers and their families, "are a big part of what makes duty at Barksdale one of the plum assignments in the Air Force."

"I know you've probably had enough coffee and tea in that interminable Air Force meeting this morning, but I have refreshments ready just in case," Angie offered once everyone was inside, standing in the foyer.

Introductions had taken place on the sidewalk in front of the house.

"I thought you'd like a tour of the house before lunch. And Patty and Ann Marie, I suspect you would like to start with the room you two will share. Follow me up the stairs," she directed.

Patty couldn't place Angie's accent. She just knew it wasn't southern.

"May I ask where you're from Mrs. Angelleli?" Patty asked.

"I was born in the base hospital at Fort Dix, New Jersey," she said, "but I've lived all over the world, first with my father and now with my husband. I'm not sure I can even name how many places I've lived anymore."

By the time she finished her answer, Angie was opening the door to Patty's new room. Patty couldn't help but gasp. The house was a mansion and her new room was something out of a movie.

"Am I really going to stay here?" she asked, bringing laughter to everyone in the room.

"You are. And Phil, just so you won't be completely left out, your room in the guesthouse next door is almost as nice. But I'm afraid it's done up in Air Force blue instead of pink. We did the pink and lace in here to match our daughter's room, which is just on the other side of that bathroom.

"Jenna is away at school at the University of Virginia," Angie announced.

"I've been mostly alone in this huge house ever since she left. As you'll soon see, Harry is almost never here. He comes in lots of mornings at one a.m. And most of the time, he's at the office before seven, except when he's flying. Those mornings he often gets up at four.

"I understand you work nights, Patty, so you might see him when you get home," Angie said.

Patty felt immediately comforted, which had been Angie's intention. Angie knew how upsetting all the changes Patty had learned about that morning were likely to be to the young woman.

The group had been seated at lunch for only about ten minutes when the cook came to the head of the table and whispered into Angie's ear.

"Phil, I'm afraid you have a phone call," the hostess said, unable to conceal her concern.

Patty squeezed Phil's hand very tightly, then he rose silently to follow the cook into the kitchen and the waiting telephone summons.

Phil was gone for just over twenty minutes. His facial expression was serious and perhaps a bit sad when he returned to the table.

"I am very sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Angelleli," Phil apologized without returning to his chair, "but gentlemen, we have a plane to catch."

Phil looked first at Mo, then Danny and finally at Mac. The three rose quickly and offered apologies to Angie, Patty and Ann Marie as Phil walked to Patty, who now standing by then. There were tears in the corners of her eyes and Phil kissed each eye before embracing her.

"I'll call you tonight at work," he said before turning to the deputy marshal.

"Ann Marie, thank you for taking care of Patty," he said.

By the time the group reached the flight line, a KC-135 from Little Rock Air Force Base, which had been operating along the Louisiana-Arkansas state line, touched down on the big runway at Barksdale. In minutes, Phil's group was settled on board. Soon they were airborne, bound for Little Rock.

"We'll catch up with Vinny and Sam there," Phil told his colleagues.

"What happened?" Danny had asked in the car ride across the base.

"Vinny had to go to the bathroom in the middle of lunch, so Sam and the deputy marshal went with him. When the got back to the table, there was a copy of yesterday morning's Picayune sitting on top of Vinny's unfinished lunch. The paper was opened to a story about Jack Gennuso's funeral. A picture centered on Carlos Morelo at the gravesite was circled and the words 'You're next' were written above the photo," Phil had explained.

As the group settled in for the quick flight, Phil finished repeating the report he had gotten from Sam during the phone call.

"When he saw the paper, Vinny lost it. He started screaming and crying. Said 'they're going to kill my family.'

"The whole dining area was disrupted. The deputy marshal got the Air Force to lock down the bunker and start an investigation into how the paper was delivered," Phil said.

"It had to be someone in the Air Force," Danny said.

"Yeah, I called Ken. He's got people headed to Keesler Air Force Base to see if they can turn up anything there," Phil said.

"Yeah, the family's got lots of contacts with airmen there," Danny agreed.

Vinny was still a mess when he and Sam landed in Arkansas about two hours later and were taken to the secure area on base where Phil, Mo, Danny and Mac were waiting.

"You're family is fine," Phil said as Vinny literally fell into his arms upon entering the room.

"We have a number and we'll get them on the phone for you as soon as you get yourself together," Phil said after Vinny released him from a death grip.

"Morello found me inside the headquarters of the Strategic Air Command," Vinny announced in disbelief.

"I'm not safe anywhere."

"Where's my family?" Vinny asked after a quiet moment.

"They are in a safe house about two hours from Phoenix. Are you ready to talk to them?" Phil asked.

Vinny shook his head.

"Can I get a beer?" he asked, managing a slight smile.

Mo stood up and went to talk to the Air Force security policeman who was assigned to them.

"It'll take a few minutes. They've got to get permission from the base commander. Alcohol is not usually allowed in this area," Mo explained.

The beer arrived in about fifteen minutes as Vinny was poring over the basketball box scores in that morning's Arkansas Gazette.

"That's how he relaxes," Phil whispered to Mac.

"Guy's a bookie, through and through."

Vinny finished his beer and then asked to make the phone call. In moments the mobster's face was transformed as he laughed and teased with his children.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Phil said loudly enough for Vinny to hear him.

But the crisis was over. Gennuso was back in harmony with the cosmos. He paid little attention as Phil went to find a phone.

"You must call me Angie," Mrs. Angelelli said to Phil over the phone.

"I'll go check. Patty was in the shower getting ready for work just a minute ago, but I know she wants to talk with you. She was quite upset after you left, but she calmed down and we've had a good afternoon together."

"Thank you so much for taking care of her. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it," Phil responded.

"As you know, she is an absolute delight. And with Jenna away at school, Patty's coming here is just what I needed. Ah, just a minute.

"It's for you. It's Phil," Phil overheard Angie tell Patty.

"My hair's wet and Angie is so wonderful," Patty said, her mood clearly much improved from the teary separation the two had experienced a couple of hours earlier.

"You're going to be late for work," Phil teased.

"That happens too much these days, but don't worry. I always blame it on you," she teased back.

"Is everything all right?" Patty asked, her voice continuing in a light-hearted tone.

"Pretty much. Vinny had a bad scare, but things are better now," Phil answered.

"I don't suppose I should ask where you are?" she tried.

"No, that probably is something you're better off not knowing until we can get the security situation settled down a little," Phil said casually.

"Ann Marie showed me her gun. She's even going to take me to the target range and teach me how to shoot it," Patty challenged.

"I hope you do better than I did," Phil laughed.

"By the way, that reminds me. I need to find that shotgun Colonel Robichaux gave me. I'm responsible for that thing and I don't have the slightest idea where it is.

"I'm glad you're better and I love you very much," Phil said, indicating that the call was just about over.

"I love you and I'm sorry for the tears. I'm better now and I just know I'm going to love staying here. Angie and I are going to take the kids shopping Saturday," Patty said, an excited anticipation in her voice.

"Call me tonight?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Phil agreed before ending the phone call.

"Hope Patty's all right," Vinny offered with genuine concern in his voice as Phil came back into the room.

"I'm sorry I spoiled lunch," he added.

"She's doing much better and thanks for waking us up about her security. I can live through just about anything Morello's got up his sleeve. But I would never forgive myself if something happened to Patty," Phil said.

"Danny says we're going to see my family this weekend. I can't wait for you to meet them. They'll be really impressed," Vinny announced, apparently carefree.

Phil tried hard not to look stunned and gave a quick glance to Danny, whose expression seemed to be saying that he would explain later.

"That's great news, huh Vinny?" Phil asked, but Vinny had returned his attention to the box scores.

"I feel like a goat responsible for soothing the anxieties of a race horse," Phil told Sam a few minutes later as the two walked to an area where they could make phone calls.

Sam laughed.

"I would have never thought to put it in those words, but that's about the way it's been working out. When you're gone for more than a few hours, Vinny changes completely. Then, all you need to do is walk in the room and he's back to the guy we just left.

"I can't explain it, but the pattern is clear," Sam said.

"Can we keep him here until the family reunion this weekend?" the detective asked.

"I certainly hope so, unless Morello finds him again. I've got to talk to Washington, but it looks like we're going to have to move him every two or three days to stay a step ahead of the Morello family," Phil said.

"Surely, they couldn't get anyone inside one of these facilities who could actually execute him," Sam asserted.

"I don't think so, either, but they got that newspaper into one of the most secure spots on the planet. I think we're better off moving him around until we figure things out. Good thing SAC has so many bases to choose from," Phil quipped.

Sam laughed.

"I'm so glad we met," the detective teased.

Saturday morning, Sam and Danny went home. Phil, Vinny, Mo and Mac were up early to ride along on a training mission for some Air Force reservists to Luke Air Force Base in Flagstaff, Arizona. Just before one in the afternoon Mountain Time, the four pulled into the driveway of a beautiful mountain home outside Sedona. Vinny was immediately mobbed by his wife and children. The marshals service had thought of everything. They even had started a charcoal fire in the barbecue.

"This is what I've been missing," Vinny said, swigging on a beer as he turned over the dozen or so hamburgers sizzling on the grill.

"When you 'n Patty gettin' married?" Vinny asked Phil.

"See what you're missin'?" he asked in obvious reference to all the domestic bliss currently surrounding him.

"Not until this is over," Phil answered, beginning to relax a little and taking a sip from his own beer.

"This ain't never over. It's for life. That's what they tell us when we come in," Vinny said.

"And like it or not, you're in," the bookie said with a friendly grin on his face.

"You sound like Zip," Phil teased.

Vinny laughed.

"You know, Zip wanted you with us, wanted you to be a soldier. That's what he calls us, Roman soldiers. Anyway, he said you was the kind of guy who could lead us into the next era, more professional, big time stuff. Instead, you joined the other side.

"That's right. One side or the other, it doesn't matter. You're in this thing for life," Vinny said.

Phil took another sip of beer, smiled and gazed into the mountains.

God, I hope Vinny's wrong, Phil thought. This is not how I want to spend the rest of my life.

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 10

"Flying on Air Force planes is not my favorite thing to do," Phil told Patty as they were seated for dinner in the Officers Club back at Barksdale Air Force Base.

"This last one wasn't too bad. It was pretty much like a small airliner, except the seats were turned facing the tail of the plane."

Patty knew that Phil didn't like flying, no matter what it was on, but that's not what she wanted to talk about. She had been worried about Phil's safety to the point that she had actually thrown up.

"I called Nita," Patty said, "and she told me how Morello tracked you to Dallas. You could have been killed right there in the airport."

"Mo and Sam were with me. They had guns," Phil said.

"Besides, they didn't track us to kill us. They were hoping we would lead them to Vinny Gennuso. They want to shut him up," Phil explained.

Phil could see how worried Patty was and this was the point where he feared she might ask a question like: "This is never going to end, is it?"

Then, Phil would have to admit that it probably wouldn't and he would have to ask if Patty wanted out.

Patty took Phil's hands in hers.

"I know I say this too much, but it's what I feel so strongly. I am so proud of you and I admire you so much for what you are doing. And I pray all the time that nothing terrible will happen to you, but if it ever should, I will have no regrets. I wouldn't change a single thing," she said, smiling broadly.

"But you've given up so much," Phil protested, fighting back tears of joy.

"Don't take my word for it. Just call Nita and ask her if she wouldn't change places with me," Patty teased, lightening the mood at once.

"Oh, that reminds me. Nita tells me you have a new girlfriend in Washington, a mysterious older woman named Maria. Sounds exotic. Is she Spanish?" Patty asked tauntingly.

"Italian," Phil answered, laughing, "and you should be grateful. Because she was the one who had the Air Force bring us home and that got us here tonight instead of next year."

"Nice try, Quimo Sabe, but Nita already told me that the governor was sending his plane to get you, before her highness in Washington butted in," Patty answered and punctuated her jibe with a pinch on Phil's forearm.

"Anyway, it looks like Nita and I are the only two people in your life who aren't Italian. So I don't think that's such a big deal."

They both laughed and Phil relished how good the laughter felt, how good life could feel when he wasn't wallowing in the filth that Carlos Morello made.

Except for the occasional meals at the Officers Club, Phil had given up trying to eat anywhere except in his office. It was too much of a hassle. The next morning, Phil and Eb were sitting at the conference table he had borrowed from the FBI having takeout breakfast.

"I had a good talk with Sam late last night, while you were out partying," the special prosecutor teased his friend.

"Apparently your talk made a big impression on our protected witness. Vinny agreed to tell us everything he knows about the Morello family, except for things that may implicate his cousins in specific crimes.

"The first thing the FBI wants to do is build a timeline, starting with Vinny's original contact with the organization. His connection was an uncle, not his father. There has been a special team put together in Washington to match his information with known crimes and to reconcile what Vinny tells us with what has been learned from wiretaps, surveillance and informants.

"Sam's staying for the long haul and will flag us with tips and material he develops related to violations of state law," Eb explained.

"This sounds almost too good to be true," Phil said, clearly pleased by what he had heard.

"That's because it is. Vinny told Sam he'd never killed anyone and had never been an eyewitness to any killings," Eb answered.

"So he's not a made man," Phil interrupted.

"I'm not sure that term has the same meaning in New Orleans that it would have in New York or Chicago. Vinny's certainly part of the family, but he's a jovial and personable guy. That's a lot of what made him such a great earner. He had the biggest book in the family, working the Quarter and Mid-City.

"The way Vinny tells it, there was virtually no enforcement activity in his area. People paid him before they paid the rent. That doesn't sound like the Mafia I've heard about around here, but Sam believes it could be true. Sam says it's impossible not to like the guy."

"So, this is going to take a long time to work through?" Phil suggested.

"Unquestionably, but we may pick up some stuff we can use to help with cases we're already working. And another thing, they're compiling a much more accurate organization chart than we've had in the past. That could be useful in working these tax cases. What the Jefferson DA gave us is all abbreviations and partial initials. We're bogged down with that stuff," Eb said.

Phil looked relieved and was about to say so when the phone rang.

"Good morning, Maria," Phil said, answering as another smile formed on his face.

"I'm just learning that we're making some real progress with our witness. And by the way, thanks for everything you did to get me back home," he said, then paused to listen.

"That's why I'm calling," Maria said.

"The boss wants you and Eb and Ken up here this afternoon to guide the people who are setting up the system to correlate the information we're developing. Tell me when you've got a pencil, I've got your flight information for you."

Phil began writing.

"Good thing we're having breakfast already. Looks like we've just got time to head for the airport," Phil teased.

Maria laughed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't worry. It's what I signed up for.

"Is that it?" he asked before saying goodbye.

"Not quite," Maria answered,

"Danny and Sam want you back where they are when we get through with you up here. I'll have to work that out with our friends in the blue suits."

Eb could see Phil cringe, but Phil said nothing into the phone to match the expression Eb observed on his friend's face. Everyone was careful not to use the words Altus or Oklahoma, especially over the telephone.

What Phil had suspected before they left for the airport turned out to be true once they were working in Washington. There was little or nothing he could contribute to setting up a system to organize the information being generated by the Vinny interviews. In stark contrast, Eb's skills made all the difference in how the project would be structured, but Eb would never have been invited without Phil. Someone, probably Maria, had put that together before the trip was set up.

"Eb's doing all the work," Phil admitted candidly to Sam that night when the two spoke by phone.
"Then why aren't you on your way down here?" Sam asked.

"Maria's working that out through channels, but I don't understand why you need me," Phil replied.

"I don't, but Vinny does. It's hard to explain, but we're not the kind of cops he's used to. I'm afraid neither Danny nor me would do well at NOPD," Sam said.

"Well, the interviews look great. I've been reading over them during the meetings," Phil offered.

"We need you to make sure that keeps happening. Vinny knows we're not politicians, that we don't have any juice. He knows you're close to McClellan and thinks you're a big wig at the justice department," Sam explained.

"So it's a question of respect? He thinks I can do something for him that you can't. Is that it?" Phil asked.

"Maybe. I can't put my finger on it exactly. It all seems to trace back to the build up Zip gave you to all the members of the organization.

"I'm not sure what the explanation is, but he keeps asking about you. And he was very much impressed when he heard you were in Washington this afternoon," Sam finished.

Phil laughed.

"Well, tell him I was with the attorney general today and handed him a folder containing some of Vinny's interview material. Maybe it will give his ego a boost," Phil said.

"Is it true?" Sam asked, a little disbelief revealed in the tone of his voice.

"Sure," Phil answered, pausing to laugh, "but I wouldn't put too much stock in it. It seems like they're working another protected witness up in New England. And I think the attorney general has our case confused with that one. You know, New England, New Orleans. They're both far outside the Washington sphere of importance."

Sam laughed.

"Well, I won't tell him that part. That's one thing about Vinny I'm truly convinced of. He believes he's giving up a whole lot to help us, so he needs a lot of reinforcement to keep himself convinced that other people feel the same way.

"Don't misunderstand me, things go well between us when we are talking. But I'm not sure he could find Shreveport on a map. The outer limits of his known world seem to be the Mississippi Gulf Coast and maybe Baton Rouge," Sam said.

Phil laughed.

"Maybe I should run out to a souvenir stand and get him a little brass paperweight of the Lincoln Memorial or something like that," Phil joked.

"Might as well bring him a moon rock. He wouldn't know the difference," Sam countered.

The next morning, Phil and Sam met for breakfast.

"There is not a hint of morality in that man," Phil said of Vinny.

Sam agreed.

"Psychologists would say he is an amoral personality, literally has no concept of right and wrong. It's a common trait in criminals, particularly so for professional killers."

"So are you saying we should doubt him when he tells us he's never killed anyone?" Phil asked.

"I can't say for sure, but I tend to believe him when he says that. It's probably not very important to us whether he did or didn't. It's pretty clear the Morello family has a lot of respect for him one way or the other. Danny says word is that bets are way down on the book he ran. He's a thoroughly likeable guy," Sam said.

Phil agreed. He'd spent about ninety minutes talking and drinking beer with Vinny the night before after arriving back in Altus.

When breakfast was finished, Danny showed up. Sam excused himself so he could go to the makeshift office they'd set up and make phone calls to Shreveport. Phil and Danny took coffee out to a little patio area near the club's swimming pool.

"This may be the first time since we got here the wind isn't blowing forty miles per hour," Danny said of the nearly perfect day they were sitting in, bright sun and a temperature of about fifty-five.

"Yeah, the winds were kicking pretty good when we landed at Tinker late yesterday on that KC-135. But by the time we took off in the Cessna 150 to fly out here, the sun had gone down and the winds were completely calm, just like now. It was like riding on glass up there," Phil said.

"You rode all the way from Maryland on a KC-135?" Danny asked.

"No, I rode to Omaha on a JetStar with a group of colonels from the Pentagon. The 135 from Tinker was up there training. They made a quick stop for some fuel and I rode with them back to Oklahoma," Phil replied.

"So, do you still think Vinny doesn't know anything?" Phil asked.

"Clearly, we believe now that he has a lot of knowledge about how the Morello family operates, a whole lot. But we're a very long way from turning any of that knowledge into direct evidence we can use in criminal trials," the treasury agent answered.

Phil silently marveled at how impatient people are, not just his friend Danny, but people in general. Danny didn't need chiding for his impatience, so Phil quickly turned the conversation back to his original point.

"What do you think I need to be doing here to help with Vinny?" he asked.

Danny sensed that Phil was eager to leave and also that Phil didn't realize that he really had special skills with witnesses in criminal cases, probably because Danny's young friend just couldn't think of himself as a cop. It was only a role he was filling reluctantly to catch the killer of his friend Aubrey Braud.

"Be Vinny's friend. He needs you and he's not someone we can count on to just do the right thing. This guy doesn't know what right is outside the concept of loyalty to supporting his family at home and being loyal to his family in organized crime," Danny explained.

"Vinny does get that you're a politician and an important one. People in his world are used to dealing with politicians. Sam and I are cops. And in Vinny's world, cops who aren't on the take are people to be avoided at all costs, mistrusted. They're the enemy.

"In short, there's no way Vinny can ever like Sam and me, but he likes you. I know I've said it before, but Zip told Vinny and the others often that you're a man to be respected," Danny added.

"But what about the notion that people cooperate with the police out of fear?" Phil asked.

Danny couldn't tell whether Phil wasn't buying his argument or just needed more convincing.

"Good people, law abiding people, might fall into that category, but Vinny's not afraid of us. He's afraid of Morello. We just remind Vinny that he's a rat, one who's gone over to the feds. And that's the worst thing a person can do in Vinny's world.

"Plus, Vinny is a man who lives on respect. Every time he walked into a bar in the Quarter, he could feel that respect. He knew he was important," Danny said.

"So he feels important having me around because I know John McClellan, because I shook hands with the attorney general, yesterday?" Phil asked.

"And because a full colonel flew you onto this airbase last night, which gets me to the most important point. When we checked the wiretaps this morning, we picked up a conversation between one of the other bookies and Zip. An airman at Keesler Air Force Base in Mississippi asked if information about Vinny's whereabouts was worth something to him.

"The bookie took a hundred dollars off the airman's tab and was told that Vinny was staying at Altus Air Force Base. We've got to get Vinny out of here. Do you think your lady in Washington can help us with that?" Danny asked.

"Okay," Phil agreed, standing to leave, "I'll make the call right now. Does Sam know?"

"No, I just found out before I came to join you. You think we need to get him out of here right now, don't you?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to talk to the base commander and see where he can give us a ride to right away. When we get there, I'll call Maria and see what she can come up with. I just hope it's not some place with three feet of snow on the ground," Phil said, trying to lighten up an extremely bad situation.

Within the hour, a C-130 on a training mission for the Texas Air National Guard taxied right up to the open door of a hangar. Five minutes later, the whole task force crew was in the air. The C-130 did a series of touch and gos at Sheppard Air Force Base, then at Carswell Air Force Base and finally landed at Dyess Air Force Base in Abilene. Phil got extremely sick, but never threw up. The expression on Vinny's face was of deep concern as Phil headed off to find a phone. Phil looked a little less pale when he came back to the group.

"The Air Force is sending some lunch over to us," Phil announced.

"Geez, do you feel well enough to eat?" Vinny asked.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'll probably eat something. Maybe Maria will find a better ride out of here for us than the one I came up with on my own," Phil teased.

Phil headed back to the bathroom to wash his face again.

"Where we going, now?" Vinny asked a few minutes after the big KC-135 lifted off from Dyess.

"Offutt Air Force Base," Phil answered.

He was still a little shaky from the morning's airsickness, but feeling better. Lunch had helped and he knew that riding on the big tanker was likelier to agree with his stomach.

"I flew through there yesterday," he added.

"Is it cold there?" Vinny answered.

"I'm afraid, so," Phil answered, laughing, "but we're not going to be outside much, so it shouldn't be too bad."

"I'll bet Zip finds us in less than forty-eight hours. Whatcha say? Hundred bucks?" Vinny responded with a laugh.

"Dollar," Phil answered.

"I never bet more than a dollar. But it doesn't make any difference how long it takes him to find where we are. Offutt's the headquarters of the Strategic Air Command, the home of the guys with the B-52s and hydrogen bombs. We'll be in the area where access is controlled by armed guards.

"Of course, if nuclear war breaks out, we'll have to give up our bunks so the command staff can move in," Phil teased.

"That could be a challenge even for Zip," Vinny agreed.

Everyone laughed and Phil's face began to relax. The plane had climbed through the low clouds and the ride was smoothing out. Vinny turned serious.

"You know, you guys are spending too much time worrying about keeping me alive. They'll pick their spot and time and they'll hit me before I get in a courtroom to testify, but you've got bigger things to worry about," he said.

Phil looked at his new best friend and could tell that Vinny was genuinely concerned. He wondered if he should tell him that they would tape any testimony in advance just in case, but decided against it.

"What you should be doing is providing better protection for yourself. Just because nothing has happened yet, doesn't mean a thing. Morello will find a way to get to you," Vinny said.

He wasn't smiling and Phil turned serious as well.

"If you know something specific about a contract or anything else, now might be a good time for you to tell me what you know," Phil said.

"I don't know much. I know they've been following you and they know your routines. I know they've decided not to try anything on the airbase or in the federal building unless they have to. I haven't heard any specific plan, but I know they'll take Mo out first," Vinny said, looking at the trooper.

Phil looked quickly at the state policeman. His expression had turned cold, even deadly.

"What do you mean when you say that they wouldn't try anything on the airbase or in the federal building unless they have to?" Danny asked.

"Why would they have to and why would they possibly think they could pull off something on federal property without getting caught?"

Vinny's expression hadn't changed. It was serious, but not overly so, more like matter-of-fact.

"Oh, they know if they do it in one of those two places, the guy gets caught. They would never say so out loud, but they hope he gets killed in the process, cleaner that way, no loose ends.

"Again, I've never heard any specific talk about this, just me and some of the other guys sittin' around shootin' the breeze. But what we figure is they bring in somebody from Italy. He gets caught. He doesn't know anything, right? So he can't tell anybody what he doesn't know. He gets his orders in Naples or someplace like that. He never meets Zip or anybody, probably flies into Chicago or something."

Vinny looked directly at Danny.

"Anyway, you got to get serious about Phil's security. You need to get some decoy cars. You need to get Mo more help. Everybody agrees he's good, but he's just one guy.

"You thought about a sniper hit in the parking lot at the federal building? Cause, I guarantee you Zip's thought about it. Maybe the easiest way to get him is in Washington? I don't know. I'm not an expert, but believe me Zip is and he knows lots of guys in Chicago and other places. These guys have lots of experience takin' out federal witnesses and so on. Look how close they came to gettin' Sam," Vinny said.

When the group settled in at the airbase in Nebraska, Danny called Ken in New Orleans and reported the conversation with Vinny in detail.

"Gennuso's right," Ken answered, "things have been moving so fast that we've kind of lost track of the obvious. We're just making it too easy. I'll get on this and get back to you."

Ken Reilly made a call to John Brinker and relayed the information he had received from Danny.

"You're right," the assistant attorney general agreed, "we've taken our eye off the ball. I'm going to the director of the US Marshals Service and the commander at Barksdale Air Force Base. This investigation already has too many martyrs.

"There's one thing you didn't mention. We've got to get a safe place for Phil's girlfriend Patty to live and we've got to get her round the clock protection. You know what my biggest hurdle is going to be?"

"Phil," Ken answered.

John Brinker laughed.

"No, he's actually been pretty cooperative about the security. My biggest challenge is going to be to get marshals service to work with that trooper, Mo, because I know that Phil won't give him up."

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 9

"I don't know whether this guy knows anything worthwhile," Danny admitted candidly in a phone call from Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque.

"I hope that doesn't turn out to be the case," Phil responded, "but one way or another, we had to get him out of New Orleans for good. The only thing for him there was certain death."

"That's true. I just hope we didn't ruin his life for nothing," Danny said.

"Gennuso ruined his own life forever the day he decided the Mafia was an acceptable way of making a living," Phil countered.

"You're right," Danny admitted.

"Look I think you and Sam and Mo should come over here. Maybe you guys can get something out of Gennuso. We're not getting anywhere the way things are now," Danny suggested.

"Don't tell me you're going to start treating me like a cop, too," Phil replied.

"I can see why Sam might be useful, but what could I contribute?" Phil asked.

Danny laughed.

"The guy admires you. He thought you showed a lot of courage, a macho thing, maybe. I don't know. And oh, Sorrento apparently talked about you a lot. Told the guys that the feds were mostly a bunch of bumbling bureaucrats. But you, on the other hand, were someone to watch out for, a man worthy of respect," Danny said.

Phil laughed.

"The next time we get Sorrento in custody, remind me to ask him why he's decided to give me such a prominent place in his life," Phil teased, drawing more laughter from his friend the treasury agent.

"And he really trusts Mo. He knows he owes him his life. And in the screwed up code these guys say they live by, to Gennuso, that means he's obligated to Mo.

"Anyway, we need you. One of the Air Force guys said you should talk to your man at Barksdale, that the Air Force may be able to give you a ride over here. They brought us over here from Phoenix and set us up," Danny explained.

"Okay," Phil answered.

"I'll make the arrangements and get back to you."

Twenty minutes later, Phil, Mo and Sam were on their way to Love Field in Mo's state police cruiser.

"We're about to wear this thing out, aren't we?" Sam asked, referring to Mo's state car.

"We could have taken your car," Phil teased back.

"The Air Force didn't have anything going directly to Albuquerque. The best they could have done was fly us to North Dakota, where we would ride back down with some general. We wouldn't get to Kirtland until ten o'clock tonight," Phil explained.

"So how does that explain why we're driving to Dallas. Didn't we just drive past a perfectly good airport?" Sam asked.

"Last plane of the morning for Love Field left ten minutes ago. Next one's not until two this afternoon," Phil answered.

"You know, Mo, it wouldn't hurt if you were to jump in somewhere and help me out. I seem to be taking a lot of abuse here over travel arrangements you made," Phil teased.

"I'm sorry. I think maybe I was still stuck back there on the part where Zip Sorrento thinks you're a man worthy of respect. Is that what Danny said?" the trooper teased.

The jibes about Phil's closeness to the Louisiana Mafia continued for some time. When the trio stopped to pick up hamburgers, Phil called Danny to tell him about their pending arrival in Albuquerque.

"Someone from the Albuquerque office will pick you up, probably from the marshal service. Whoever they send, you won't have any trouble picking them out of the crowd," Danny said, the remark producing laughter on both ends of the phone.

"Look, the Air Force people have moved us to a base house that was just vacated by an officer who was transferred. We're hoping that the more relaxed atmosphere will help us settle Gennuso down," Danny said.

All three men wore worried expressions as they took their seats on the plane at Love Field.

"I'd bet my pension on it," Sam said in response to Mo's question.

"Those guys in the terminal had mob written all over them."

Two short men with slicked black hair, olive complexions and shiny suits had paid way too much attention to the three men from Shreveport as they boarded the plane. Sam stood up and walked over to the gate agent near the front door of the plane and quietly showed him his badge and told him he was travelling with two other law enforcement officers.

"I'm pretty sure we were watched by two suspicious characters when we got on the airplane," Sam whispered to the agent.

"Without attracting too much attention, could you go to the ticket counter and see if they asked anyone about us after we came out to board?" Sam whispered.

The gate agent looked nervously at his watch as Sam described the two thugs.

"All right," the man agreed.

"Wait here and I'll be back."

Looking at his own watch, Sam guessed correctly that the agent was anxious to get his flight in the air.

"Is something wrong?" a stewardess asked Sam.

He quickly and secretively showed her his badge and credentials.

"I needed the agent to check on something for me. He'll be right back with the information," Sam explained.

"Well take your seat as quickly as you can. We're a little late and we're flying into strong head winds," she said, then turned to go help with the other passengers.

She paused and turned around again.

"Is there some kind of danger?" she asked the detective.

"No, there's no danger to the flight. I'll tell you the details about my request to the gate agent when we get in the air," Sam said, smiling to reassure her.

The gate agent confirmed to Sam that a man dressed as Sam had described had checked to see if his friend Phil Adley made the flight. He was concerned about his colleague being late for an important meeting in Albuquerque. After the obliging agent at the counter assured the concerned man that his friend was on the plane, the man walked quickly to a payphone close to the gate.

"We've gotta get Gennuso out of Albuquerque," Sam told Mo and Phil when he returned to his seat.

"Okay. What else?" Phil asked as Sam buckled his seatbelt.

"Maybe we should check and see where this plane's going after Albuquerque and just fly to the next stop. If someone watched us get on the plane in Dallas, there's a pretty good chance someone else could be watching and following in Albuquerque," Sam answered.

The door had been closed and the plane started to move.

"Too late," Phil remarked.

"I guess I can call Danny as soon as we land."

"Maybe we don't have to wait," Mo suggested.

As the no smoking light went off, Mo pushed his call button. When the stewardess appeared, Mo returned her smile and indicated she should look at the open commission identifying him as a Louisiana State Police officer.

"Could I talk to the stewardess Sam talked with earlier? I need to get up so I can speak with her in private," he said.

"Is there some kind of problem?" the stewardess asked, smiling to conceal her concern, just as she had been trained to do.

"We need some special assistance," Mo answered and the attendant led the trooper into the galley area near the front of the plane where the other stewardesses were busy preparing to serve snacks and drinks.

As soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, the stewardess Sam and Mo had talked with appeared at the row of seats occupied by the group from Shreveport.

"Mr. Adley," she said with a warm smile, "we are going to be able to help with your request. If you'll just come with me, please?"

When they were in the front galley, the stewardess closed the curtain behind them, then opened the door to the flight deck.

"Captain, this is Assistant Inspector General Adley of the justice department," she said, introducing Phil to the pilot.

Phil shook hands with the three flight crew members. The second officer handed Phil a headset.

"Put these on your ears," he instructed pointing to the bulky headphones, "and when you want to talk, press this button," the officer added, demonstrating how to operate the push to talk switch on the headset.

The second officer then put his own headset back on and began communicating with the airline's operation center in Tulsa. Phil could hear everything that was being said at both ends of the conversation. Next he heard the ringing sound of a telephone. After two rings, Phil heard Maria's familiar voice.

"Assistant Attorney General Brinker's office," she said.

Phil looked at the officer who initiated the phone patch.

"Just push the button he said," indicating that Phil should press the push to talk switch.

"And let it up to hear the response," he added.

"Maria, it's Phil Adley and I'm talking to you from the radio of an airliner. I'm on the flight deck and we're on our way to Albuquerque. I need help with an urgent matter he said," he said, then released the button so he could hear Maria.

"Okay. Mr. Brinker is in a committee hearing over on the Hill, but I can reach him. Just tell me what you need and I'll call him right away," Maria said, sounding very much as if this were the kind of situation she dealt with every day.

"Well do call him, of course. But I think you need to do some other things first. We have an important subject in our care at Kirtland Air Force Base and his safety has been seriously jeopardized. I'm going to give you a number for Special Agent Dan Hodge of the task force in New Orleans. Please tell Danny that he needs to get our subject off that air base right away and I need you to help arrange that in the most expeditious way possible.

"Can you do that for me?" Phil asked.

"Absolutely," Maria responded, when Phil released the push to talk switch.

"Good. Here's the number," Phil said, then called it out to her.

"After you've made whatever arrangements are needed, then please call the assistant attorney general and tell him what's going on. I'm about to ask the captain of the plane if we can stay on in Albuquerque and ride to the next stop, which is Las Vegas."

Phil looked over to see the pilot was nodding his head to affirm that the three could remain on board in Albuquerque.

"The captain is nodding, which I think means that we can go on to Las Vegas. I hope that our doing that will help draw attention away for the subject at Kirtland. So when you've gotten the arrangements made to get Danny and his person out of New Mexico, could you then make a plan to get us to wherever you arrange to send them?" Phil asked.

When the plane rolled to a stop in Las Vegas, their stewardess came to their seats before the door was opened.

"There's a car waiting for you at the foot of the ramp. We've been told to get you into it before the rest of the passengers get off the plane," she said, her professional smile firmly in place.

The door to the flight deck was open as the three walked past.

"Thank you, Captain," Phil called in as they moved by.

"Glad we could help," the pilot said in response.

In a few minutes, a car driven by a plainclothes airport security officer was driving the trio around the runways to an unmarked hanger perhaps a mile from the main terminal building. As they got out of the car, the three spotted a C-130 transport taxiing toward them.

"I think that's your ride," the security man said.

Phil knew Maria was really good at what she did, but this was amazing.

"Mr. Adley?" he added.

"That's me," Phil answered.

"You're supposed to call your office in Washington. There's a phone in the office inside the hanger you can use. There are bathrooms in there, too," he said.

"You ready to go to Oklahoma?" the major smiled when the trio walked out of the hanger and in toward the transport plane.

"Willis Draper," the major said as he reached to shake hands with each of the three, who responded by giving their names along with their handshakes.

"Where we going?" Mo asked of no one in particular.

"Altus Air Force Base," Phil answered.

"Looks like that's our new rendezvous point with our friends from New Orleans," he explained.

"Sorry our seats are not quite as comfortable as that 707, but you'll have lots more room to spread out," Major Draper teased.

The flight was just under three hours and there was a staff car waiting on the flight line when Major Draper pulled his ship to a halt.

"That was not the most fun I've ever had," Phil told the other two as they rode to the Officer's Club.

Sam had spent some time during the flight explaining how much worse the air transport he had experienced during the Korean War had been. He let Phil's remark pass without further rebuttal.

"Any idea what we're walking into?" he asked.

"All Maria told me was that she had arranged transport on a flight to Altus with a general who was returning to Washington. She said that Danny and the other two agents and Gennuso would be dropped off here. I don't know whether they're here or not," Phil answered.

After a quick bathroom stop, the three from Shreveport were led to a private room off from the main dining area of the club.

Vinny Gennuso sat with three empty Budweiser cans in front of him looking very upset.

"Thank God you're here, Mo," he said when the three walked into the room.

"I'm worried sick about my family."

Mo walked over to the distraught bookie and father. He put a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing.

"Give me a minute, Vinny," Phil said, walking past Gennuso.

Phil picked a can of beer out of the ice, popped it open and began walking to the far corner of the room with Danny. The conversation lasted for about three minutes and Phil walked back over to the table.

"Your family's okay," Phil told Vinny.

"They've been moved to another location in the Phoenix area just as a precaution, but we have no reason to believe that any of Morello's people even know what part of the country they are. The best we can find out, someone spotted us leaving the federal building in Shreveport this morning and somehow figured we were catching a plane to Albuquerque in Dallas.

"But the three of us stayed on the plane in Albuquerque and flew to Vegas hoping we could draw attention away from Albuquerque. A couple of suspicious guys driving a car with Nevada tags were waiting at the gate in the airport in Albuquerque. They made a brief call to a phone number in Las Vegas from a payphone near the gate, then drove off toward Vegas. The marshals service in Albuquerque followed them for a hundred miles, but the two guys never gave any indication that they were going anywhere but Las Vegas.

"We're pretty sure they never knew where you were. We believe they were just tracking us trying to find you. You're family's perfectly all right.

"I'm going to step out for just a minute and find somebody to bring a phone in here so we can get your family on the line, okay?" Phil concluded.

Vinny seemed calmer after he talked with his family and the whole group enjoyed a nice dinner served in the private dining area. After the meal, Mo and one of the agents from New Orleans staked out a corner table in the club's rec room where Gennuso, Danny, Mo and Phil shot pool for a little over an hour.

"You and I have at least one big thing in common," Phil said to Vinny as the two sat the next morning at a table with Mo in the private dining area of the club.

"Carlos Morello murdered your brother and murdered my best friend."

Phil allowed that thought to settle in with Vinny for at least a full minute.

"Also, you need to realize that your life in the Mafia is over forever, gone. That leads to the question of how are you going to begin to right Morello's wrongs as well as your own wrongs."

Again, Phil let Vinny digest this information.

"I told Mo when our best friend Aubrey Braud was murdered that I was prepared to spend the rest of my life seeing to it that Morello went to prison. What are you going to do to this man who's ruined your life?

"I suspect you still feel loyalty to him and your former friends in the organization, but you're already dead to Morello and to the others. You knew that the moment Mo showed up on your front porch or you wouldn't have come up with the scheme to make it look like you were being arrested when you in fact were not.

"Agent Hodge doubts you know very much that we would find useful. You and I both know that's not true. You know plenty that will help us lock up Morello. You just have to make the decision to do what's right for you and your murdered brother," Phil said.

Phil wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, stood, picked up his half-drunk cup of coffee, turned and walked quickly toward the door. Mo was right behind.

"How'd it go?" Danny asked after Phil and Mo had walked over to the table where the rest of the cops were finishing breakfast.

"Message delivered," Phil answered.

"I'd give him at least five minutes to think about our conversation. You know more about this than I do. But it's my feeling that when you do go into the room, it should be just you and Sam to start. Maybe he was overwhelmed by too many feds the first time," Phil suggested.

There were biscuits and bacon in a big platter at the center of the table.

"Mind if I steal a couple of these?" Phil asked.

"I only got one bite of my omelet. Shame, it was good, too," Phil teased.

"Why don't we sit down and you order another one?" Mo suggested to his friend.

"No, I'd better just take a couple of these. We need to get over to headquarters and a phone," Phil answered.

Phil glanced at Danny and saw agreement written on his face.

"Maria and Nita have called. That was about twenty minutes ago," Danny confirmed.

"I've already talked to Reilly and brought him up to speed," he finished.

Phil was pleasantly surprised when an observant waiter walked over. He brought a paper sack for the biscuits and bacon, some paper napkins and a cardboard cup for Phil's coffee. Phil ate in the car as the airman drove them the few blocks to headquarters.

"I needed to hear your voice," Phil said when Nita picked up her phone on the first ring.

"Thank God, you're all right," Governor McClellan's assistant said when she heard his voice.

"We didn't know what to think when we heard that Morello's people had tracked you to Dallas," Nita said, the worry retreating from her tone of voice.

Phil thought for a moment about what he had said to Mo the night before.

"You know, if these guys would try and blend in a little better, we wouldn't have known they were at Love Field."

"And we would both be dead," Mo had agreed.

Phil didn't repeat those words to Nita.

"We're fine," he said instead.

"How did you find me?" Phil asked, remembering that was one of the prime reasons he had decided to call Nita first, to let her know where he was.

"Maria," she answered.

"She and I have become fast friends."

"She's pretty amazing," Phil said.

"Watch yourself, Bub. The last thing I need is another rival," Nita teased.

"Relax, she's a grandmother," Phil replied.

"A divorced, young grandmother and I'll bet sexy as all get-out," Nita countered.

"I suppose in a Washington power sort of way," Phil admitted.

"That's just great. First it's a young beauty who looks like a child and now it's a grandmother. I'm doomed," Nita said.

"I don't know what I see in you, anyway."

"Someone who has almost as little social life as you," Phil suggested.

They both enjoyed a laugh, happy that Phil and Mo were still alive.

"The governor wants to send his plane up there to get you. Do you know when you're coming home?" Nita asked.

"The when part is up in the air, but I'm not sure we want to fly to Shreveport. I think we need to go to Dallas to get Mo's car. And I'm real sure we don't want to fly in on a plane that someone could find a flight plan for and track us back up here.

"Well the car part's already been taken care of. Colonel Robichaux's already sent people from Shreveport to get it. They checked it for bombs and bugs and parked it on the lot of the federal building.

"As for tracking the plane's trip through the tail number, maybe we could just drop you guys off in Natchitoches or something. Surely, nobody would be looking for you there," Nita said.

"Yeah, maybe something like that could work, but I'd better check with Maria before you send the plane all the way up here," Phil replied.

As it turned out, Maria was one step ahead. Working with the Air Force, she had a Texas Air National Guard crew's training mission amended. They would fly their C-131 from Carswell Air Force Base in Fort Worth to Altus, then drop Phil and Mo at Navy Dallas. An FBI plane would take them from Dallas' Red Bird Airport back to Shreveport Regional. Sam would stay in Oklahoma with Gennuso.

Nita was disappointed.

"What do I tell the governor?" she asked.

"Tell him thank you very much," Phil answered.

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 8

Just before two the next morning, Jack Gennuso fell onto a grain barge which was part of a large tow passing beneath the Huey P. Long Bridge on the Mississippi River in Jefferson Parish, less than a mile from the Palermo Produce warehouse. The towboat captain called the Coast Guard and the Coast Guard requested assistance from the Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office.

Gennuso, an alcoholic, left a rambling, drunken suicide note on the dashboard of his new Chevrolet Impala. He also left his badge and commission identifying him as a deputy sheriff of Jefferson Parish. None of the East Bank deputies who answered the call recognized their colleague's picture on the ID. Gennuso was a civil deputy who worked in the tax office in Gretna.

The deputies called the Louisiana State Police to help with traffic on the bridge, which was busy even that time of the morning. One of the troopers who came to assist was flagged down by a trucker who had pulled onto the shoulder after crossing the bridge. When the truck driver told the trooper that he had watched two men push a third man over the bridge, that trooper radioed for additional assistance from Troop B to secure what he informed the dispatcher was definitely a crime scene.

Next, the trooper, who had been at the state police academy with Maurice Melancon, placed a call to his former classmate in his room at Barksdale Air Force Base.

"Get someone to come from the troop and secure the trucker's load, then transport that truck driver to the parking lot of the New Orleans Federal Building," Mo told his old friend.

"By the time you get there, someone with the Federal Organized Crime Task Force will be waiting for you on the lot and take you to their offices," Mo directed.

"Guard that man with your life and stay with him until you hear directly from me. I'll clear everything with Colonel Robichaux and thanks for calling."

"You need to call Danny right away," Mo told Phil, who had been awakened by the early morning telephone call.

"Sorry to wake you, Danny," Phil said a few minutes later, "but one of our troopers in Jefferson Parish has stumbled onto what may be a mob hit. That trooper is on his way to the federal building in New Orleans with an eyewitness and you need to have someone meet him in the parking lot and escort him up to the task force offices."

"The victim is a civil deputy in the JPSO and he could be connected to our Morello tax investigation up here. Officers from Troop B are attempting to secure the crime scene," Phil paused as Danny interrupted for the first time.

"Near the center of the Huey Long Bridge on the eastbound side," Phil answered.

"Yeah, I think maybe the presence of some federal agents might stop a shooting war from breaking out between our troopers and the JP deputies," Phil answered, then paused as Danny asked another question.

"Let's put this down as an official request from the Louisiana State Police and the state special prosecutor and I'll get you some paper to back up the invitation for your task force to help with the investigation. Jefferson SO won't like it, but I guess we're long past caring what they think," Phil responded.

"And you'll handle the politics?" Danny asked.

"That's what I do," Phil said into the telephone, a smile coming over his face.

Mo laughed, thinking how far and how fast this battle against the Mafia had come in just a few months.

"Mo and I are on our way down and I suspect that Eb will want to come with us. If you need us, have state police contact us on the radio and I'll stop and give you a call.

"Mo told that trooper to stay with our witness and keep him alive. If the guy gets antsy, promise him we'll do whatever it takes to protect him," Phil said, then listened for another question.

"That's right. When he walks through those doors that say Organized Crime Task Force, he'll probably have a pretty good idea about what he witnessed. There's no way to sugarcoat news like that," Phil agreed.

Phil and Mo pulled into the parking lot at Louisiana State Police Troop E in Alexandria about two hours later. Eb had decided to stay in Shreveport and go through the file boxes provided by District Attorney Bainbridge. He was trying to determine how central a figure in the Morello tax case Jack Gennuso was. After a quick check with Danny, Phil made the requested call to Washington. Danny wanted a forensic pathologist from Dover Air Force Base in Delaware to fly to New Orleans immediately to participate in Gennuso's autopsy.

"I'll take care of scaring the coroner in Jefferson Parish into letting us participate. I just need your juice in Washington to get an expert down here," Danny had told Phil over the phone.

"We've got the body headed to Belle Chase Naval Air Station for safe keeping," Phil told Mo a few minutes later as the resumed their drive to New Orleans.

"Coroner didn't like it, but he agreed."

"That won't keep the coroner from declaring the death a suicide, will it?" Mo asked.

"Probably not, but it could give us indisputable evidence of murder, which could help in some future prosecution for conspiracy or something like that down the road," Phil answered.

"But Danny doesn't believe we have any chance of catching Gennuso's killers, does he?" Mo continued.

"I don't think so, but I didn't ask him that specifically. It just means that we've set up the legal case right in the beginning, that we won't have the unchallenged testimony from a so-called expert witness saying that Gennuso killed himself," Phil said.

"I think the thing that I'm having the most trouble dealing with is that Morello can murder people in cold blood right under our noses and there's nothing we can do to stop it. We can't even put him in jail after he's done it," Mo observed.

"I know. It's terrible," Phil conceded.

"But if we can put him in jail for not paying his taxes, that's at least something.

"And who knows how these things are going to play out? All we can do is just keep coming after him and see what turns up. Doing nothing is certainly not the right answer," Phil said.

As the pair continued to drive south, Phil listened to WWL's early morning newscast on the radio. The Gennuso coverage was extensive.

"We're going to investigate this as a homicide. Somebody, probably somebody in organized crime, has killed a key witness right in the middle of our ongoing investigation into tax cheating by the Louisiana mob and we're not about to turn our backs," special prosecutor Ebenezer Holloway said as part of the news story.

"All right Eb," Phil said in an out loud commentary to the broadcast.

"Pull over at the next payphone," Phil asked Mo.

"I want to call Ken and ask him to call the radio station. We need to make sure we get the word out that the federal task force is helping with this investigation, too," Phil explained.

"Why didn't you fly?" Ken asked Phil a couple of hours later when Phil and Mo walked into the task force office in New Orleans.

"We'd still be sitting at the airport waiting to board the plane. The scheduled service between here and Shreveport is terrible," Phil answered.

"Well, we'd better set up a regular charter deal for you in Shreveport like the one we have out at Lakefront," the task force chief said.

Phil cringed at the thought of riding in a small plane, but admitted that necessity forced him to accept the suggestion.

"Probably would be best to have it in place just in case of a real emergency," he said.

"By the way, calling the radio station was a great idea. It's helped us get established as part of the investigation. Thanks for offering it. I never would have thought about it. I guess I still have that FBI mentality that says the news media is the enemy. I tend to forget that sometimes it can be useful," Ken admitted.

"I don't suppose anyone's come in to confess to murdering Gennuso?" Mo asked, trying to steer the conversation to something he was more interested in.

Everyone laughed.

"Not hardly, but the pathologist is on his way from Dover, so we could be doing the autopsy late this afternoon," Ed announced as he spread the crime scene photos of Jack Gennuso's body lying on the deck of the barge.

"I'm going down to get a bacon and egg sandwich," Mo said.

"I'm starved. You want one?" the trooper asked, looking at Phil.

Phil nodded and Mo headed out the door. It was time to call Eb.

"So is Gennuso our main guy in this tax investigation?" Phil asked the special prosecutor.

"I'm waiting on a handwriting expert from the Shreveport Police Department," Eb answered.

"Most of this stuff is just handwritten gibberish. Doesn't mean anything so far as I can tell. I only have a couple of things signed by Gennuso. A lot of the rest of the writing looks the same to me, but I figured I'd better make sure before I wasted any more time with this stuff," Eb said.

"Hold on a second," Phil said into the phone, then covered the mouthpiece of the receiver.

"Danny was just telling me. They found out that Gennuso has a brother who runs book for Morello, so it sounds like there is definitely some kind of connection. As soon as another state policeman from Troop B gets here, Mo's going to go out and pick up the brother. Probably not too likely that he'll give us anything, but it's worth a try," Phil said.

"Call me when you get confirmation on the handwriting, please?" Phil asked.

"And I think we ought to have the television stations come over and shoot interviews with you so they can get them transferred to tape and on planes to the rest of the stations in the state in time for the evening news," Phil added.

"Come to think of it," Phil said, looking at Ken, "we should do the same thing here with Eb so we can get tapes up to Shreveport and Monroe for six o'clock."


Vinny Gennuso came to the door only seconds after Mo knocked.

"Vincent Gennuso?" the state trooper asked as he held his commission up for the Mafia bookie to read.

"Yeah," Vinny responded.

"What do you want?"

"We'd like to come in and talk with you about your brother Jack," Mo answered.

The bookie raised his voice so he could clearly be heard out on the street and by any neighbor who might be listening at a front window.

"I got nothin' to say to you. Let us alone. My brother's dead because of you and that damn bunch of do-gooders up in Shreveport," the Morello family member yelled, his face turning red with anger.

Still scowling, Vinny whispered so softly that Mo almost didn't hear.

"I'm going to shove you in the chest. Cuff me and take me to the car. I'm gonna make a fuss as you lead me out," the younger Gennuso brother said just before thrusting the palm of his hand into the officer's chest, not quite forcefully enough to push him down.

In a second, Mo had spun Vinny around and quickly cuffed his hands behind his back. As Mo and the uniformed trooper began leading the mobster down the sidewalk to the marked state police car parked on the street in front of his home.

"I'm gonna kick at you," Vinny told the uniformed state policeman, again reverting to a low whisper.

"Swat me in the thigh with your stick," he instructed.

"This is a big load of crap. You guys might as well have killed my brother yourselves," Vinny screamed before thrusting his foot at the trooper.

In return, Gennuso got a glancing blow from the officer's nightstick on the side of his leg. The troopers placed Vinny in the back of the car and Mo slid in beside him, giving the gangster, who seemed to have practice at getting arrested, a shove and moving him over to the opposite side of the car. Just for good measure, Vinny allowed his head to bang into the door window.

"Sorry for the show," Gennuso told the two troopers as the car pulled away from his house, "but this neighborhood has ears.

"Somebody whacked my brother, didn't they? That's why you're here," Vinny asked.

"Yep, we're pretty sure," Mo answered.

"Do you know who?" Vinny followed.

"No, we've got a growing list of victims murdered by your boss and we've got absolutely nothing in any of the cases. So far, that includes your brother's murder as well," Trooper Melancon replied.

"We thought you might be able to tell us."

"Word is you got a witness?" Vinny suggested.

Mo did not respond.

"You'd better keep him wrapped up tight. If there was a witness, that's something that was allowed on purpose to send a message to anyone else who might feel like talking. The guy you've got, his life is totally worthless at this point.

"I don't want to be on that list with him, so I want you guys to charge me with resisting arrest and battery," he told Mo.

"You'll do time, if we do," Mo said.

"Come what may. You don't charge me and I get a bullet for nothing, 'cause I don't know anything to tell you. Jack had a hard life, turned him into a drunk. He'd been scared of being popped for maybe three years now," Vinny said.

"How did they get to him, gambling debts he couldn't pay?" Mo asked.

"Nah, they took him for a ride in the swamp, stuck a shotgun in his mouth and told him what he was going to do. He's been a total wreck ever since. I'm really surprised he hadn't killed himself before now," Vinny said.

Ken Reilly led a sizable group into the interrogation room where Gennuso had been left to sit alone for only about five minutes. Mo had removed the handcuffs from Vinny before he had left the room. As the door opened, Vinny seemed to be paying more attention to some loud voices outside the room than to the contingent of law enforcement people filing into the interrogation room.

"I'll get straight to the point," the federal task force chief said to the mob bookie after introducing himself.

"I'm offering full protection and immunity from any and all crimes you may have committed. I can have you in the federal witness protection program tonight," Ken said.

In a flash, Genusso sprang from his chair with Mo a second behind him. The mobster jerked the door open.

"I want my lawyer," Vinny shouted, just as Mo grabbed him and began pulling him back into the room.

Mo closed the door and started to lead him back to his chair, but was interrupted. The door flew open and a big man in an expensive suit burst through.

"Don't say a thing, Vinny," the man's voice boomed into the small room.

"I demand to talk to my client right now," he added, quickly.

The man in the expensive suit was Marcel LeClaire's arch-nemesis, the notorious mob lawyer Billy Ruby.

Gennuso sat still in the chair, Mo's hand leaning heavily on his shoulder. Ruby looked directly at Ken Reilly.

"If you're not charging him, I'm taking my client out of here right now," Ruby stated.

"Give us a minute, counselor," Ken asked, fighting to control his temper.

"I'll take that as a no," Ruby blustered.

"Let's go, Vinny," the lawyer commanded.

Gennuso immediately began to rise and Mo released the pressure on his shoulder. Ken Reilly was shocked speechless. When Vinny stood erect, Mo clicked his handcuffs back on the bookie's wrist.

"Vincent Gennuso," Mo said, "you're under arrest for assaulting a state police officer and for resisting lawful arrest."

As he spoke, Mo began escorting Vinny out of the interrogation room. Phil looked to see that Ken's whole head had turned glowing red.

"You taking him to Gretna?" Ruby barked at Mo.

"East Baton Rouge," Mo answered.

"Are you out of your mind? Whatever happened, happened in Jefferson Parish. You can't kidnap my client like this," Ruby screamed.

"One more word and you're going, too, counselor," Mo said calmly.

"Or you can just meet us in Baton Rouge and get your client out of jail."

Mo stared directly at Billy Ruby, who stood just as silently as Ken Reilly had a moment earlier.

Seventy minutes later, the marked state police car from Troop B pulled onto the parking lot of Troop A on the southeast corner of Baton Rouge. Mo helped Vinny out of the backseat of the car, then walked him back to the car that had followed all the way from New Orleans. The trooper tapped his knuckle on the rolled up window of the Lincoln and called out loudly enough to be heard through the window.

"Come in, Mr. Ruby. We'll only be a minute," he said.

As the four walked toward the front door, Billy Ruby spoke to his client.

"Did they try to question you on the ride up, Vinny?" he asked.

"Nah, we talked about basketball and stuff," the bookie replied, an answer that was true as far as it went.

"I'd like a place where I could talk with my client in private," Ruby told Mo calmly when they were inside the state police building.

"I need to go to the head," Vinny told Mo before he could respond to the lawyer's request.

"How about that Coke you promised?" Vinny asked Mo as the two emerged from the bathroom.

Billy Ruby noticed that his client's hands were now cuffed in front instead of behind his back as the two walked through a door and into a hallway. Mo dropped two nickels in the vending machine and a ten-ounce bottle of Coca-Cola plopped out into the bin.

"Would you like one or maybe some coffee, Mr. Ruby?" Mo asked as he opened the bottle.

It was the second time the trooper had called him Mr. Ruby and the lawyer wondered what that meant.

"Maybe some black coffee," he answered, still processing this new turn toward politeness.

He's up to something. What is it, the lawyer asked himself?

Ruby got his answer as the two walked back into the troop's reception area. The front door opened and an obviously cocky young man with a crewcut walked in. Quickly, the man's eyes were drawn to the handcuffs.

"You Mr. Gennuso? I'm Hilton Joubert. I got word you wanted to talk to me about representation," the young lawyer announced as he stepped hastily in Vinny's direction.

Vinny shifted the soft drink into his left hand so he could shake hands with his right.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Joubert. I'm glad my wife was able to reach you. I think y'all are first cousins if I remember right?" Vinny asked.

"Yeah, we grew up together in Raceland. She was like my little sister," Joubert answered.

"Are you thinking about what you're doing here, Vinny?" Billy Ruby asked.

"Relax, Billy. It's a family thing. You go on back to New Orleans. They'll book me. Hilton will get me out. Ginny's coming up to take me home. I'll talk to you as soon as I make the arrangements for my brother's funeral.

"Tell everybody I got this covered. I just lost my temper when they came to my house, but they're not really bad guys. Hilton might even be able to work this out for me, huh counselor?" Vinny said, flashing a smile at the sinister looking jilted mob lawyer.

"He knows people up here. It's like a foreign country to me," Vinny added, still smiling.

"It's okay. It's okay."

Billy Ruby turned sullenly and headed for the front door. He dreaded breaking the news to Carlos Morello. The little man was not going to be happy.

Nita made most of the arrangements. A mansion trooper picked up a district judge and an assistant district attorney at the East Baton Rouge Parish Courthouse and drove them to the state hanger at Ryan Airport. Hilton Jaubert borrowed the electric typewriter the secretary used to keep the official records of the state aviation department. In less than twenty minutes, Vincent Gennuso had pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct in connection with his arrest by state police at his home. Vinny paid a twenty-dollar fine with cash and the case was disposed of and would be filed in the official records of the court. Everyone in the hanger except for the troopers left the building so they would not see what happened next.

While the plea agreement was being formalized in the aviation office, a King Air chartered by the US Marshal Service in New Orleans had taxied right up to the door of the state hanger. Vinny climbed the steps into the plane, where he was greeted by his wife, their three children and two deputy US marshals. In minutes, the King Air was back in the air headed for Luke Air Force Base in Phoenix, where the Gennuso family would begin their new life in the federal witness protection program.

"I'm sorry, Special Agent Reilly," Mo said to the head of the organized crime task force about two-and-a-half hours later in New Orleans, "but I didn't want to get that man killed. I felt and still feel that if we had let Vinny Gennuso walk out of this office with Ruby, we were signing his death warrant. And I just didn't want someone who had trusted me to protect his life to get killed."

Ken, who was completely exhausted by the events and pace of the day, stood and shook hands with the apologetic Louisiana trooper.

"Maybe there was a better way to handle it, and maybe not," the task force chief said, "but we got done what needed to be done. Gennuso is now a protected federal witness. And I hope he can provide the information and testimony that helps all of us lock Carlos Morello up."

"Are there hard feelings?" Mo asked Phil as the two pulled out of the parking garage to start the long drive back to Shreveport.

"I think he understands why you did what you did, but I can tell you first hand that the man has got a major league temper. He went completely through the roof when you walked out of the office with Gennuso. But ten minutes later, we were all working frantically on the witness protection problem.

"Thank God for Nita. She can make more things happen faster than anyone I've ever seen," Phil said.

"What about you? You think I did the wrong thing, too?" Mo asked.

"It certainly lacked political finesse, but you were right. We couldn't just let Morello whack somebody else who might be able to tell us something. I think where we made our mistake was going straight to Gennuso's house.

"Danny said we might have been better off to have used one of the fed's snitches to get word to him to meet us in a hotel room or something less public than what we actually did. But on the other hand, Danny admitted that had we waited, Vinny might have been in the wind and we would never have gotten a chance to talk to him.

"Danny says Ken blows up like this when he thinks someone's trying to undercut his authority, but he gets over it.

"How 'bout we stop at Rousell's?" Phil asked.

"I don't think I've had anything to eat since that breakfast sandwich."

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 7

A trooper phoned Mo when the small plane owned by the State of Louisiana lifted off from Lakefront with Carlos Morello on board. State police in Baton Rouge was alerting the Shreveport news media about Morello's arrest and his pending arrival at Shreveport Regional Airport. Phil wanted this to be a state show, but couldn't quite convince himself to stay away from the airport. As during the arrival of Zip Sorrento, Phil would remain out of camera view.

There were no leg irons for Morello. The feds kept them handy for such occasions, but that wasn't Ned Porter's style. The state police captain was, however, proudly wearing his uniform for the cameras. He had flown as the only armed escort for the mob boss on the four-seat Cessna most often used by the Louisiana Department of Corrections.

Television reporters shouted several questions at Morello, whose face seemed pale. The mobster did not answer and gave no indication that he had even heard the reporters' shouts.

"Did he give you any trouble, Captain Porter?" one of the television journalists tried, hoping to get some kind of sound from the perp walk.

"I'm afraid he was too busy throwing up," the captain answered.

"What was that?" a newspaper reporter asked.

"Mr. Morello was airsick during most of the flight. It was pretty bumpy up there," the senior trooper explained.

Phil, who also suffered from airsickness, was not sympathetic. But he was struck by the aging frailness of his enemy. It was truly amazing how this little man could be the cause of so much havoc and suffering and brutal violence.

Mo maneuvered Phil into the Caddo Parish Courthouse out of the sight of the media and found seats for the two in a small office near the booking desk. The cameras and reporters were left behind to wait noisily in a hallway a few feet from where Morelo stood. Phil couldn't see anything, but he could certainly hear the roar caused by the reporters and photographers in the hall.

"Sorry you're having to go through this, Mr. Morello, but we'll have you out of here in just a few minutes."

Phil could not mistake the very distinct voice and diction of Johnny Pisanti, the legal representative for Morello's interests in North Louisiana. Phil quickly touched Mo's shoulder, indicating to the trooper to close the cracked door. Phil rapidly dialed the number to the special phone on Eb's desk upstairs.

"You need to get down here quickly," Phil told the special prosecutor in a voice just above a whisper.

"I just heard Pisanti tell Morello that he would have him out of here in a few minutes. That can't be true," Phil said, struggling to keep his voice down.

"Sorry," Eb said, "the judge just called. He's set bail at twelve-hundred-fifty dollars. Pisanti's going to post the bond in cash and Morello will walk out in his custody.

"I know you find this upsetting, but there is nothing we can do to stop it. We'll see Morello in court at an arraignment at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon," Eb concluded as Phil fought back a scream.

"And I'm just supposed to sit through this while Morello walks out of here thumbing his nose at us again?" Phil asked, surprised that he was able to keep his voice down so that he wouldn't be heard outside the room.

"Whatever you do, don't go out in that hallway where the cameras are. Just stay put for a few minutes. I'll get a deputy to come down. When they take Morello into the other room to print him and get his mug shots, the deputy will take you and Mo around to the jail elevator and get you up here to my office without anyone seeing you," Eb said firmly.

"Okay," Phil said softly, fighting hard to keep his composure.

"We can't even keep him in jail overnight," Phil said dejectedly to Mo after he had hung up the phone.

"We got him before the cameras in handcuffs," Mo said in a near-whisper.

"I think that counts for a lot, really."


Phil was shocked in court the next afternoon at the arraignment. Pisanti was not there with Morello. Instead, Morello stood with the lawyer Phil and the others on the task force had taken to calling Chicago. He had not spoken aloud in court previously, but only whispered advice to Pisanti.

"Does your client wish to enter a plea at this time, Mr. O'Mally?" the judge asked.

"He does, your honor. Mr. Morello wishes to plead guilty with apologies to the people of Louisiana. He was not aware that his accountants had not been filing his state income taxes along with his federal returns, but he accepts full responsibility and feels deep remorse," Kevin O'Mally answered.

Phil's shock turned to complete disbelief and there was murmuring throughout the stunned courtroom.

"Is that your wish, Mr. Morello?" the judge asked.

"Yes, your honor. I'm very sorry," the gangster said in a clear voice.

Phil looked quickly to Eb, expecting him to be voicing some kind of objection, but quickly realized there was nothing the prosecutor could do. He had won his rapidly filed case completely. There was nothing for him to protest.

"Very well," the judge said.

"The court accepts your plea and finds you guilty and sentences you to the maximum penalty," the judge said, looking down to the paper in front of him.

"That would be a fine of twelve-hundred-fifty dollars. I see you have already posted an appearance bond in that amount, so the court will accept that cash bond in payment of the fine. Additionally, I'm assessing court costs in the same amount.

"Is your client prepared to pay that today, Mr. O'Mally?" the judge asked.

"Yes, we have cash," the Chicago lawyer answered.

"Mr. Morello, you have thirty days to file your tax returns with the Louisiana Department of Revenue and work out arrangements with them for paying those returns. Should you fail to do that, this court will issue a warrant for your arrest.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, your honor. And once again, I would like to apologize for letting this slip by and I assure you it won't happen again," Louisiana's mob boss answered contritely.

"Mr. O'Mally, I want those tax returns and payment agreements provided for the record. Take your client to the clerk's office. The bailiff will go with you. When you've paid your court costs, your client will be free to go.

"Court is adjourned," the judge said, quickly rapping his gavel.

"I wouldn't be too discouraged. No one else has even put him in a courtroom in thirty-five years," John Brinker consoled Phil in a phone conversation a few minutes after the hearing.

"We've demonstrated to Morello and his followers that we can exercise power over their lives and threaten their freedom. I think it's just a matter of time and effort before we get some other people to come forward against Morello. We're running people through the system. That's how you find a witness willing to make a deal," the assistant attorney general asserted.

"But we didn't even keep him in jail overnight," Phil protested.

"Small steps," John Brinker cautioned.

"Small steps."

"There's another matter I need to tell you about and I'll call Ken and tell him as well.

"The hit man they sent after Boerne is not in our system. The best we can tell, he's never been arrested in the United States," John Brinker said.

"This guy was a professional killer. He must have been handled somewhere?" Phil responded.

"We're going to try Canada and Interpol. Some of our folks in New York have suggested the probability that he's Italian, so we'll try Italy. But don't get your hopes up. The Italians have extremely poor records, especially in Sicily and Naples where most of these guys come from," Phil's boss said.

"Even if we knew who he was, would that do much to help us find who hired him?" Phil asked.

"Probably not. We're just being thorough. Leads can come from the most likely places. We made a case in New York once when somebody claimed the body and flew it back to Sicily," John Brinker said.

"No one's asked about the body, yet. But I've asked the coroner to call if anyone inquires," Phil said.


"Good morning, man of my dreams," Nita announced cheerfully when she called at six a.m. the next day.

Phil laughed.

"It's been a while since I've had one of your early morning wakeups. But experience has taught me that these calls don't always bring good news," Phil said.

"I'll let you make your own interpretation, but I promise what I'm about to tell you is stunning," Nita said, then read the banner headline from the morning's Times-Picayune.

"Jeff DA launches Morello tax probe."

"We must have hit a nerve," Phil said.

"They want these cases in courts they control and they want that badly enough to pay a lot of taxes they've always ducked while DAs looked the other way down here," Nita observed.

Just before noon, Phil, Eb and Mo walked into the task force conference room in the New Orleans Federal Building. Marcel LeClaire was already there. As Phil had suggested, the meeting was kept to a limited number of key players.

"What I proposed on the trip down was that I call some witnesses before our grand jury in Shreveport based on the guilty pleas we already have in Morello tax cases. We can investigate a conspiracy of people who had to have participated in helping Morello avoid paying his taxes and of course we would subpoena Ed Bainbridge, the Jefferson Parish District Attorney," Eb announced after the group had settled in for business.

Buster LeClaire laughed.

"Excellent knee to the groin," he said, "but you'd better get your subpoena this afternoon. And while you're shooting for the moon, ask your judge to issue an order restraining any blanket settlements of these tax cases in Jefferson, because I guarantee that Bainbridge intends to have a big check in his hand by four o'clock. He'll wave that check at the cameras and say that everything's been wrapped up," Nita's father said.

Without a word, Eb picked up the phone on the conference table, asked to be connected to Judge Marcus Hughes and gave the phone number. Everyone in the meeting listened as Eb made his request.

"Thank you, your honor," Eb said before hanging up the phone.

"Mo, can you get us a couple of guys to serve the subpoena?" Eb asked the state police officer.

"I'd better do it myself. I don't want to wait for someone from Baton Rouge to get here. I'll take a man from Troop B with me, but I don't want to leave it up to them. The subpoena might get lost," Mo answered with a smile.

"Can you guys stay in this building until I get back?" Mo asked Eb and Phil.

"I'm sure our justice department friends will look after you here," he teased.

Everyone laughed and Mo rose to make the arrangements and get the telegraphic subpoena. Buster turned to Ken Reilly.

"In a conspiracy like this, I'm sure there's got to be some federal component somewhere, aren't you?" Marcel LeClaire asked, drawing more laughter.

"Must be," Ken agreed with a smile.

"Eb, as soon as that subpoena touches Bainbridge, he's going to the fourth circuit. He'll get it quashed and we need to be ready over at the Supreme Court to get a stay on the fourth circuit order and ask for a full hearing.

"But Ken we need a federal subpoena to fall back on as insurance while I earn that dollar that Eb paid me to work for him," Buster said.

"Smoke?" Ken said.

"As much as we can make," Buster agreed.

"Phil, you need to have Eb's and Ken's press conference no later than two. We don't want to have to spend all our time undoing everything that Morello gets Bainbridge to do.

"At the press conference Ken, you need to scare the ever-living daylights out of Bainbridge. He'll be a lot more afraid of Morello than he is of Eb, but you need to give him plenty to take pause over," Buster instructed.

The first surprise of the afternoon came when Louisiana's Fourth Circuit of Appeal let the subpoena stand. These elected judges apparently didn't feel the political timing was good to be going out on a limb for Carlos Morello. District Attorney Bainbridge quickly appealed to the Louisiana Supreme Court, which just as quickly refused a hearing.

The next afternoon, the combined news media of New Orleans and Shreveport spilled off the sidewalk and substantially blocked traffic on Texas Street as the Jefferson Parish district attorney walked up the steps and into the spacious Caddo Parish Courthouse. Bainbridge never stopped walking but did say in a low voice that he would cooperate with the grand jury and the state's special prosecutor.

"Are you concerned about facing federal conspiracy charges?" a WWL television reporter called out.

"It won't come to that," the wily old prosecutor responded.

Phil and Eb stood watching unnoticed and headed for the courthouse basement as soon as Bainbridge had passed through the front doors of the building.

"That was great," Phil said to his friend.

"What are you going to do now?"

"That's a bit tricky," Eb answered, "owing to the fact that I haven't got a single shred of evidence of a conspiracy.

"I guess I'd better sneak in and get into the grand jury room and make some magic," the lanky prosecutor said, smiling broadly.

But Ken Reilly had played his part extremely well at the press conference. As Ed Bainbridge sat in the witness holding room, he was, at least temporarily, more afraid of a federal conspiracy indictment than he was of his old friend Carlos Morello.

When the bailiff came to escort the district attorney into the grand jury, the prosecutor pointed to almost a dozen cardboard boxes that were stacked nearby.

"Could you get those brought inside, please?" District Attorney Bainbridge asked.

The way things timed out, before the swearing in could begin, the two bailiffs were occupied for more than two minutes carrying the boxes into the grand jury room. Eb could only standby completely puzzled by what was going on. As the parade continued, he finally motioned for the Jefferson DA to join him in a corner of the room away from the hearing of the grand jurors.

"I didn't subpoena any records, just you," Eb said.

"The cold fact is that I don't know anything and I give you my word as an officer of the court on that. I'll gladly say that under oath in a minute. Whatever evidence my office has to make these tax cases is in those boxes. To make sure we don't miss anything, I've got attorneys, not investigators, making a thorough search. Anything else we find will be brought up here to you," Bainbridge said.

Eb thought it was very significant that the district attorney excluded investigators from the process. Zip Sorrento was of course a staff investigator for the Jefferson Parish District Attorney's Office and it was widely believed that some, if not all, of the investigators owed their loyalty to Zip.

Eb thought for a minute.

"You mean you're turning this whole investigation over to me voluntarily?" he asked Bainbridge.

"I absolutely am," the Jefferson DA affirmed.

"And you know I'm going to put you under oath to say these things and that if you lie to me I'm going to send you to jail?" Eb challenged.

The district attorney looked at the floor for a long moment, then looked up directly into the tall, young prosecutor's eyes.

"I understand," he answered.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me, but I don't want to go to federal prison."

"Let's get started," Eb said, turning and walking back to the conference table where the grand jury was sitting.

"He really fooled me. He's a much better lawyer than I could have imagined," Eb whispered to Phil about forty-five minutes later as the two stood in an alcove of the courthouse main lobby waiting for Ed Bainbridge's post-testimony press conference to start.

"I told the truth," the Jefferson Parish district attorney began shakily, "and I turned all my records on the tax investigation over to the grand jury and the special prosecutor."

"Are you turning your investigation over the special prosecutor?" a reporter asked.

"Yes," Bainbridge confirmed.

"Why?" the reporter followed.

"As I testified before the grand jury, I really didn't know much about these tax issues at the start and I honestly don't know any more about them now. The special prosecutor has already successfully prosecuted some tax cases from our parish up here and we stand ready to provide him any additional information we turn up," the DA responded.

"So why did you begin the tax investigation in the first place?" another reporter asked.

"Most of my attorneys thought that it looked bad that high-profile crimes committed in our parish were being prosecuted in Shreveport and they wanted us to get out front in the investigation. So, I went along," Ed Bainbridge explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

"Don't you look worse, now?" the reporter challenged.

"Yes," the district attorney admitted in a voice barely above a whisper.

Phil saw that at least one television crew had spotted the pair.

"I need to go, Eb," Phil said softly.

"Stay if you're ready to talk."

"I don't know what I could add," Eb answered and the two took a couple of steps back out of view, then turned and walked quickly to a stairwell.

In a matter of seconds, they were outside. Mo led them to his car and drove over to Phil's office so they could digest the afternoon's developments in private.

"I'm sorry," Marcel LeClaire apologized to Eb and Phil in a phone conversation a few minutes later.

"Bainbridge seldom appears in public and always looks bumbling when he does. I should have told you that he is really an excellent lawyer. He was law review at Tulane."

"I don't think I would have done anything differently, if I had known he was so good. I was just caught completely off guard," Eb responded.

"Sounds like you handled everything just fine," Buster said, seeking to bolster Eb's own assessment of how things had gone before the grand jury.

Next, Phil and Eb placed a call to treasury agent Dan Hodge and his boss at the task force, Ken Reilly.

"Yeah, we heard a report on the radio just a few minutes ago," Ken said after Phil had briefly described the day's developments.

"How's the investigation coming?" the task force chief asked.

"We haven't opened the boxes, yet. So, there's no way to tell where that's going to lead. But my best bet is that we're going to have to find an eyewitness to the conspiracy or one of the conspirators before that part of the investigation goes anywhere," Eb answered.

"Don't hold your breath," Danny said, not lending any encouragement.

"Well, we are going through our tapes and transcripts from the wiretaps looking for any discussions about state and local taxes. It's not something that would have gotten much attention before we began this new era of cooperation that Phil has brought in.

"But I suspect Special Agent Hodge is right. These guys were pretty careful what they talked about anywhere we could hear them," Ken concluded.

"Danny, that's something I wanted to ask you. What's Bainbridge's life worth, after his performance up here this afternoon?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, that's interesting. We'll talk about it, but don't jump to any conclusions. I suspect you guys have already found out that the district attorney is really a good lawyer, not just the kind of idiot he looks like on TV," Danny replied.

"You're right," Eb said.

"When I got him under oath before the grand jury, he gave me absolutely nothing I could use. However, it was clear from our brief conversation before his testimony that Special Agent Reilly really got his attention. He's scared of you guys," the state prosecutor said.

"Well, we'll see what we can do to keep the pressure on him. But the truth is, at this point, we've got absolutely no case on Bainbridge or anyone close to him. So the only thing out there still are the gambling charges you have on Sorrento," Ken responded.

"What about that, Danny? Is Sorrento in any trouble with Morello?" Phil asked.

"I don't think so at all," the treasury agent answered.

"Fact is, Morello has never needed Zip more than he does right now. If there's going to be payback, if somebody's going to get hit, we don't have a clue who that might be.

"I'm not ruling anything out, I'm just saying we don't know who did what and who knows what inside Jefferson law enforcement. There could be some Morello targets, but we don't have any help for you right now," Danny said.

There is no charge for reading this novel. If you like it, please refer your friends. Feel free to highlight, paste and print one copy for your private use. This novel is protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.