Phil Oakley

Bayou Pierre: Contents

2010-09-24T11:10:00.000-06:00

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, 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

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. These novels are protected under U.S. Copyright and all rights are reserved. My email address is oakley.phil@gmail.com.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 25

2010-09-24T09:53:00.004-06:00

Lunch in Chicago would have to wait.

"Nobody knows what to do with you and my hands are pretty much tied," Phil's boss, Assistant Attorney General John Brinker told him as the two sat at a private lunch in the Officers Club at Andrews Air Force Base, where Phil had been summoned.

"My primary concern is keeping you safe. And until all the Washington business about your future shakes out, I want you to stay on Air Force property. That's one of the reasons I drove out here instead of having you come to the justice department. The other was to keep you out of camera range. You're hot news and I want to cool you off to keep you alive and to keep you away from Washington controversy," the judge said.

Phil was genuinely puzzled. His boss smiled at him.

"Just before you were attacked in Chicago, you hit the president's radar. He had one of his late night brainstorms and decided he needed to get you to the White House for a photo op, let you brief him about fighting organized crime. The phones were burning up until some political guy at the White House found out you had never been in the service," the assistant attorney general explained.

"I have a medical deferment," Phil said.

"I know that," the judge responded with a smile.

"I've got your Selective Service file sitting on my desk back at the office, but you're a borderline case. You get re-evaluated every year. If you had a deformed leg or something like that, it would be easy to explain. But the kind of medical deferment you have translates draft dodger to the professional hawks in Washington. I even got a call yesterday from one of our friends at the Pentagon that said some general wanted the Air Force to stop flying you around.

'We've gotten that tamped down. And I'm sure with the attack in Chicago it's unlikely to come back. But I have to be frank. I don't want the president to preempt you. I think the potential for negative publicity is too high. And I think even too much good exposure in the press will detract from your effectiveness. So, I have quietly sided with the right wing politicos in the administration. I have done this without telling the attorney general, who is also anxious to take advantage of the good publicity you have brought to the justice department.

"Any objections?" John Brinker asked his young protege.

Phil smiled.

"I don't need all that and neither do our investigations," he answered.

"Besides, long term or not, I don't want anything to do with this administration. If it weren't for all the things that have happened to my life since I accidentally landed in Shreveport, I might well be one of those demonstrators against the war that we all watch on television every night," Phil said.

"I wouldn't advertise that around any of those SAC bases where you live as a guest," the judge teased.

"Don't worry. I know how to play the game with the hawks in the Air Force, but you might be surprised how many of these base commanders and pilots have serious doubts about the war," Phil said, smiling mischievously.

"So for the time being, I have your support in my efforts to keep you under wraps for security reasons?" Phil's boss asked.

"One thing. I want to go to Chicago tomorrow and have lunch in a very public place. We can't have Giancana thinking he can run me out of town. Patty wants to go, too," Phil responded.

"How about I go as your date, instead. I can call and explain it to her, if you like," the judge offered.

Phones were brought in. And for the first time, Mo and Ben came into the room as well. John Brinker explained his plans and reasons behind them to Patty. She gave her consent. Phil made his call to Sylvan.

"I've got to change our lunch plans a little, because I'm bringing a guest from Washington and that means Washington rules. Out of fairness, I think the Sun-Times should be asked to take the photos. There should also be one TV pool camera there and reporters from each of the television stations and all of the newspapers. For security reasons, please don't tell them in advance who they will be having lunch with," Phil began.

"I'll ask everyone when we're seated if we can agree to doing things off the record. If anyone objects, it will only be small talk and a photo op. Is that okay with you?" Phil asked.

"Is the Drake all right?" Sylvan replied.

"Couldn't we go somewhere a little less showy?" Phil asked.

Sylvan laughed.

"I'm about to lose my special access to you aren't I?" the reporter responded.

"I will still call you back anytime, but I've got to get out of the papers for awhile. Orders from Washington. Security," Phil explained.

"Your bosses are right. You're no good to anybody dead," Sylvan agreed.

When they gathered in Chicago for lunch the next day, Phil stood uncomfortably behind the assistant attorney general as his boss made statements praising Phil's work and courage. Phil did not say anything for the camera.

Shortly after everyone was photographed eating, the television and newspaper cameras were packed away. There seemed hardly any reason to keep what was said during lunch off the record, because the conversation consisted mostly of small talk. Phil dodged the questions about his future, except to explain that the prosecutions were going well and it was time for him to be off stage for a while.

"What about Giancana? Do you have enough on him to put him in jail?" an impatient print journalist finally asked defiantly.

The room was quickly quiet.

Phil smiled.

"I guess we'd better set the camera back up for this answer," Phil suggested.

When that had been done, Phil asked the reporter to repeat his question, which he did using precisely the same words. Phil was smiling confidently as he began to answer.

"Two things can happen," he began.

"Mr. Giancana can surrender to face the charges that we will eventually, but absolutely bring against him. Or, he can die resisting."

Phil paused, staring resolutely into the camera lens. Within ten seconds questions began erupting all around the table, but Phil and his boss rose deliberately and moved methodically around the table shaking the hand of each journalist. Phil saved his encounter with Sylvan for last.

After the handshakes, four deputy US marshals formed a line to separate Phil and John Brinker from the luncheon guests. Phil and his boss were then escorted out of the restaurant that Sylvan had chosen as a substitute for the posh dining room at the Drake Hotel. The pair from the justice department and the Tribune reporter passed through the establishment's kitchen and into a car waiting in the alley. Its motor was running and there were escort vehicles in front and in back of it.

The justice department plane that had brought the assistant attorney general, Phil and the security people from Washington would take off from the airport at the lakefront in Gary, Indiana, about a twenty-five minute drive from the restaurant. The same plane had flown the group to the Palwaukee Airport in Wheeling, Illinois, a few minutes before lunch. The airport switch was another security measure.

"So when will I see you again?" the reporter asked Phil after he was escorted out of one of the security cars and on to the government jet.

"Too soon to know," Phil answered, "but Patty and I are grateful for your friendship and your understanding."

A few minutes after the justice department plane took off for Maryland, Tommy the Moose appeared in court in Terre Haute. He was represented by a lawyer from New York.

As the JetStar throttled back from it's initial climb out, John Brinker laughed before he spoke.

"So much for lowering your public profile," he teased his young protege.

Mo laughed, but Deputy Marshal Ben Rheinhardt did something totally out of character for him. He voiced a strong opinion about something not directly involved in his area of authority.

"I am proud of what Phil said this afternoon and of what he does every day. And I think I speak for a lot of people who carry a federal badge," the acting security chief from Arizona told the assistant United States attorney general.

The passenger cabin was quiet for a moment.

"You've certainly earned the right to speak as you please," Phil's boss said, "earned it by putting your life on the line for your country and it's safety every day.

"I don't mean to imply that Phil did anything wrong. But I know you recognize those words he spoke are going to be on every network news program tonight and on the front page of every paper in the country tomorrow morning. Politics aside, and you've been a federal officer long enough to know that politics are never aside in our lives. But forgetting politics for a moment, what Phil did and said today is not going to make your job of protecting this exceptional young leader we all look up to any easier."

"Of course not," Ben agreed, "but it makes our job even more meaningful. And it is now more important than ever that we do our part of this job right. It also makes me even prouder of what I do."

"Thank you, Ben," Phil said.

"Thank you very much."

"Well, I just can't wait to get back to Andrews, myself," Trooper Melancon announced mischievously.

"Maybe while we're in the middle of that meeting with the task force boys from New York, Phil will invite some more cameras into the room and call out each one of the five mafia bosses up there. No reason not to make this World War III," Mo finished, his words causing a roar of laughter inside the government plane that almost drowned out the engine noise.

Danny waited in a hall at Andrews Air Force Base to ambush the group from Chicago before they entered the room to begin the meetings with the New York Organized Crime Task Force. As soon as they rounded the corner, the New Orleans based treasury agent called out in a loud voice.

"Mo, I took the liberty of asking one of your guys from Troop G to go through all that junk in your room at Barksdale. He found the shotgun the state police loaned our hero and put it on the pillow on his bed," Danny teased.

By that time, Phil had walked to a point even with his friend from New Orleans, where Danny ceremoniously plopped a new box of 12 gauge buckshot into Phil's hand.

"From what I heard on the radio in car on the way over here, you're going to need these, Hero," Danny said.

In seconds, the group, Danny and Phil walking side by side, had entered the Air Force conference room. To Phil's amazement, the agents from New York were standing, applauding."

"See you got your ammo," one of the New Yorkers called across the room to Phil, bringing laughter from everyone and a reddening coloration to Phil's face.

John Brinker took his seat at the head of the table. Phil sat at his right and soon everyone was in his chair. The meeting had only been going a few minutes when there was a loud knock on the door. Almost immediately, a lieutenant colonel stepped into the doorway and made his apology.

"Sorry for interrupting," he began, "but the White House is calling for Mr. Adley. It's the president's secretary and she's holding on the line. She told me to bring you to the phone."

Phil stood, a sheepish expression covering his face and melding into his posture.

"Excuse me," he said in a voice that sounded way more confident than he felt.

As Phil turned to walk toward the open door, he felt John Brinker take his hand for a quick second as if to say "you'll do just fine."

"Hello," Phil said into the phone less than a minute later.

The president's secretary had not yet become a household name, but Phil knew it and knew the lady had an amazing reputation. Phil recognized the confidence of command in her voice after she had spoken just a few words.

"The president wants you to come to the Oval Office for a meeting at 10:30 tomorrow morning. He's become quite the admirer and wants to show you off," she told Phil.

"Thank you," Phil managed, surprised at the invitation, particularly in light of what his boss had told him only the day before, and apprehensive about what was coming next.

"I'm told you're politically astute. With that in mind, the president wanted me to ask you how you will handle the question on your draft status when it comes up during the photo op," she said with pleasant authority, seeming completely confident that Phil would have the perfect answer.

"Candidly, given that issue, I am surprised the president wants to have his picture taken with me," Phil said in polite parry to his new ally's quick thrust.

"Do you need some time? Would you like to call me back?" she asked and Phil could almost see her smile through the telephone line.

She wasn't taunting him. She was continuing her confidence, her implied belief that what she was asking was well within Phil's ability.

"Maybe a question?" Phil tried.

"Of course," the president's secretary responded.

"Could I bring a friend?" Phil asked.

"I don't know. The president has already had me call Director Hoover and the attorney general to tell them they couldn't come," she explained.

Phil was stunned that Hoover wanted to have his picture taken with him. Phil had heard that the FBI director despised him.

"This would be a different kind of friend," Phil offered.

"Who did you have in mind?" she asked, obviously curious about Phil's next move.

"A very good friend who has piloted sixteen B-52 raids over Vietnam," Phil told her.

"I take it this friend is your landlord at that Strategic Air Command base in Shreveport?" the secretary asked with unconcealed approval and admiration.

"Yes, Colonel Harry Angelleli," Phil confirmed.

"Outstanding. Get him on a plane. I'll firm this up with the president and I'll call you back in a few minutes."

"The last time I came to the White House, Eisenhower was president," Harry told Phil as the two were driven through the gate by Ben.

"But we didn't get to go to the Oval Office. It was a medal pinning in the East Room for combat pilots from Korea. I guess I had to wait for you to come along to hit the big time," Phil's friend teased.

Once they were inside, Phil and Harry were separated from Ben, Mo and their other security folks. They were on Secret Service turf.

To everyone's surprise but Phil's, the pair was escorted directly to the small office occupied by the president's personal secretary. Phil had understood at once that he and the president's confidant knew one another before Phil had even had the opportunity to say hello into the telephone. She greeted Colonel Angelleli first.

"It's an honor to meet you," she told the exceptionally handsome pilot.

"Just like the president, I am extremely grateful for what you and your crews from Barksdale do for your country. We also appreciate the way you keep our young friend safe," she added before turning her attention to Phil.

"My, but you're impressive," she told him, her face bearing a warm and admiring smile.

Phil only had one wrinkled suit, but the Air Force had cleaned and pressed it for him. And Mo had insisted he shine his shoes, something Phil absolutely never did.

"Look, I know you don't like this guy, but you're going to be in there representing the people of Louisiana. They have a right to expect that you look respectable," Mo had told him the night before his visit to the White House.

"Where did you learn to shine shoes like that?" Mo had asked fifteen minutes later, completely puzzled by his friend's new shoe shine.

"Air Force ROTC at the University of Texas," Phil admitted.

The president's secretary made a point of touching the sleeve of Phil's freshly pressed suit coat approvingly, then the cuff of his new, stiff white shirt.

"You'll need to get a shirt with French cuffs," she instructed her young pupil.

"The president's going to give you some cuff links with the presidential seal and I expect you to wear them the next time you get your picture in the paper.

"Respect," she added.

"I will," Phil agreed.

As Phil had told Mo, he did not like or agree with the thirty-seventh President of the United States, but he had a deep love and great respect for his country. Phil caught a glimpse of Harry taking in the whole scene. The Air Force commander was enjoying his young friend's schooling immensely. A knowing look was quickly exchanged between the two older residents of the room.

"Thank you again, Colonel," the president's secretary said just as her door opened so that Phil and Harry could be ushered in to see the president.

"I'll see you when you come out," she called to both men as they were led out.

It was proper that the president should greet Harry first and he did with an effusive and sincere thanks for his service and the missions the airman had flown. The B-52 raids were being done at the president's personal direction. The president absolutely believed that they would bring the North Vietnamese to the negotiating table.

But Phil was shocked at the warmth of the president's greeting of him.

"Of course I want to thank you for your service to our country," the president began, "but I also want to tell you how much I admire your enormous courage. And I want to tell you how sorry I am for your friend Aubrey Braud's death. But you stepped right up. Picked up his sword and carried on.

"I admire that," the president said to Phil as he held his right hand with his own and grasped Phil's arm at the elbow with his left hand.

Phil noticed that the White House photographer had been joined by a second man with a newspaper style Speed Graphic camera and by a television camera man from NBC. They were quickly followed by the pool reporters. Phil saw that Harry noticed the change at least as soon as he did. The expression on Harry's face turned from smile to stone. This was the Harry Angelleli Phil had known existed, but had never seen in person before. This was the man who flew a B-52 with a live hydrogen bomb in it's belly and that warrior was making sure that the young bespectacled correspondent from NBC didn't miss his message. He was staring holes through the ivy league journalist.

About forty-five seconds passed before the eldest member of the pool closed things out.

"Thank you, Mr. President," he said and the group filed quickly out, as quickly as they had come in.

"We've got another group who wanted to have their pictures taken with you," the president told his guests when the reporters had cleared the room, a statement that proved to be only partially true.

Phil immediately recognized Louisiana's ancient senior US Senator, who made no secret of the fact that he wanted to be next to Harry in the photo after telling the president good morning.

"I'll stand next to the general," he told Colonel Angelleli, taking a wide path around Phil, who was receiving a bear hug from the congressman from Louisiana's fourth district.

"We're all so proud of you, Son," the member of congress said loudly and directly into Phil's ear from only a few inches away.

Phil stifled a laugh. During Phil's days as a reporter, there had been a number of uncomfortable encounters involving the hawkish reactionary who represented Phil and the rest of Northwest Louisiana in the US House of Representatives. Phil knew exactly which picture was going to be on the cover of the next morning's Shreveport Times. Guessing what the Picayune would choose was a little tougher.

"Sorry, Mr. President, but I left my committee in recess and I need to get back," the appropriations chairman said as soon as the camera flashes stopped.

"Doesn't look like the senator's overly impressed with your celebrity," Harry whispered to Phil while the president walked the elderly man to door of the office.

Phil smiled and so did his friend the Air Force commander, whose facial expression had now returned to it's usual relaxed state. The president did have the cuff links for Phil and another warm handshake came along with them. Phil stared openly into the president's face. His eyes were not black as Phil had heard them described. They were dark, but lively and clearly they did not miss a thing.

"Colonel," the president said, "I have something for you, too," as he handed Harry a special Air Force One pin.

The president quickly walked to his desk and withdrew a box wrapped in white glossy paper and secured with a bow.

"There should be enough pins in here so that each man in each crew from your recent mission over Vietnam can have one. I would be honored if you would present them in my behalf and with my deepest gratitude when you get back to Louisiana," the president told his commander.

"Thank you, Mr. President. We'll have a special ceremony on the flight line, tomorrow," Harry said.

In less than a minute, the two were standing back in the presidential secretary's office.

"Thank you, so much," Phil told her.

"Thank you for the inspiration and courage you have shown us all," she said earnestly, handing him a note card with a phone number written on it employing excellent penmanship.

"I answer that number myself," she said with no further explanation.

"Wow," Harry whispered when they were out the door and being escorted away from the president's area within the executive mansion.

"I'd like to show you the rest of the White House, if you have the time," the young aide said.

Ten minutes later, Phil and Harry were led to a small sitting area just outside a small office housing several Secret Service agents.

"Boss wants you to call her before you leave the building, Hot Shot," Mo said, watching Phil's face light up at the possibility of talking with Nita from the White House.

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 24

2010-05-11T14:32:00.003-06:00

As Phil walked through the terminal at O'Hare Airport, Patty's beautiful portrait smiled up at him from stacks of newspapers everywhere. He thought back to the night before when Patty had been completely in love with her experiences of the day. Everything had been exactly right in her world and Phil could see that perfection reflected in the incredible picture on the cover of the Chicago Tribune. Phil paused just long enough to buy a copy of the paper to read on the drive in to the Loop. Phil, Eddie and his staff spent about forty-five minutes putting the final touches on the plan for the announcement before stepping out to face the biggest group of cameras Phil had ever seen. It was instantly clear that Phil was not in Shreveport anymore.

"The heat is on in Chicago," the task force chief announced to a sea of flashing still cameras and blinding television lights.

"Tomaso Musso will face federal racketeering and conspiracy charges in Chicago. He was arrested by task force agents at a hideout in Wisconsin and is currently in lockup at a federal facility in Terre Haute, Indiana," Eddie Aimes told the press conference.

"Is he facing charges in Louisiana?" a voice shouted from the crowd.

"We anticipate that he will be indicted there. Just before coming out here, I spoke to Governor John McClellan and to the district attorney in Shreveport. They seem willing to let us have first crack at him here," Special Agent Ames replied.

"But won't he get the death penalty in Louisiana?" the voice retorted.

"I'm sure that's on Mr. Musso's mind. Maybe that knowledge will help his memory concerning a great many crimes in Illinois.

"Why is he being held in Indiana?" another reporter called out.

"For his own safety?" the task force boss responded.

Inwardly, Eddie was pleased to hear the plan working out just as they had hoped.

"Does that mean Musso is cooperating with your investigation?" a third voice asked.

"I can't comment," Eddie answered, then paused before making a planned addition.

"We promised Mr. Musso protection and we can best provide that in the federal prison in Terre Haute.

"Now before we go on, I need to give you some information that's time sensitive. Mr. Musso will make his initial appearance before a federal magistrate at one-thirty Eastern Time this afternoon in the US District Court in Terre Haute, located at 921 Ohio Street. I suspect some of you may need to phone that in to your editors," Eddie Aimes announced as about a third of the press conference participants began scrambling for telephones.

"It was a slam dunk," Phil said, congratulating Eddie as the group entered his office.

Phil had stood one step back and one step to the right of the task force chief for the whole news conference. When asked what his role in the capture of Musso had been, Phil had answered briefly.

"None. I was in another state," Phil had said.

"Was the information about Tommy the Moose developed by people you have in custody in Louisiana?" another reporter had asked.

"No. Mr. Musso was located and arrested solely by the Chicago task force," Phil had answered.

At that point, Eddie had cut things off and promised a written statement after Musso had faced the magistrate.

Sam Giancana's lawyer, Kevin O'Mally, had shown up in Terre Haute without being called, but Musso had refused to meet with him. At the hearing, Musso accepted a court appointed attorney, who indicated that his client would seek private counsel in time for his next appearance.

"Does your client have any objection to being held in the federal prison here?" the magistrate had asked.

"Not at this time, your honor," had been the lawyer's response.

"Do you think Musso's going to play ball?" Phil asked Eddie after the hearing.

"Not a chance," Eddie answered, "but he knows we've burned him and made it appear to Sam like he is willing to cut a deal with us. My guys guess that he's trying to figure out a way to stay alive. Probably doesn't have any long-term goals, yet."

Phil phoned Danny.

"The Moose has done a lot of dirty work for other families, and none of the other bosses like Giancana with the possible exception of Morello. My guess is he may reach out to the boys in New York, maybe make some kind of deal up there that would keep him alive in the can.

"Terre Haute is a maximum security facility. Musso probably likes his chances of being safe there for the time being. He's probably also relieved not to be in Shreveport with the others," Danny answered.

"Nothing's simple about these guys, is it?" Phil asked, bringing laughter from his friend with the New Orleans task force.

"So they didn't need you up there at all?" Patty suggested when she and Phil finally got to talk by phone around five-thirty Chicago time.

Phil laughed.

"Not really," he admitted.

"But with all the media attention you and I've been getting in Chicago this week, Eddie felt it added to his credibility to have me standing beside him showing my approval of what his guys had done. I suppose my presence said to the people of Chicago that we in the justice department trust Eddie to handle this matter up here and you should, too.

"What Eddie really didn't need was us flying another Chicago mobster off to Shreveport," Phil explained.

"I'm buying up as many copies of the Trib as I can," Phil teased, "enough for all your aunts and uncles. The picture is fabulous. Have you seen it?"

"Yes," Patty answered with a smile.

"Angie arranged for an airman to drive to a newsstand in San Francisco and buy several copies of the paper. But I'm not going to be satisfied until I hear you say my picture is as nice as the one Nita had in the New York Daily News," Patty teased back.

"Well, I still haven't seen that one, yet. But it's hard for me to imagine that it tops your picture this morning. It is absolutely as beautiful as you are and somehow it seems to reveal how wonderful you are inside, as well," Phil said in complete sincerity.

"You're going to make me cry," Patty responded.

In less than an hour, Phil went along with a large number of the members of the Chicago task force for a celebration at Morton's on North State Street. He rode over in one of the task force cars, but the marshal's service would be sending a car to pick him up. Maria had arranged for an Air Force flight to pick him up at Naval Air Station Glenview. The celebration at the steakhouse had just passed the two-and-a-half hour point when Deputy Marshal Ben Rheinhardt tapped Phil on the shoulder to tell him the car was waiting out front.

"Congratulations to all of you, again," Phil announced as he stood to excuse himself, "but I've got to catch a plane.

"Excellent work," Phil concluded as Mo led him to the door of the private dining room, through the restaurant and to the front door.

Mo went through the door first and checked the street.

"Clear," he called back to Ben.

In seconds, Phil was in the rear seat on the passenger side of the car. Ben stood guard as Mo took his seat on the driver's side next to Phil in the back. Ben took the shotgun seat and the Chicago deputy marshal driving pulled into traffic. He rolled carefully past two limousines that were parked in front of where he had stopped the car, then pressed hard on the accelerator.

Thud! A man who had been struck by the marshal's car crashed into the windshield. Three people inside the car stared at the man who had hit the windshield, but something told Mo to keep his eyes on Phil. In another second, a man stood at Phil's window, pointing a pistol directly at him. Mo had unholstered his weapon as soon as the crash occurred. Phil's eyes were still fixed on the man on the hood of the car when Mo fired twice, the trooper's shots going directly in front of Phil's nose, passing through the rolled up window and downing the gunman. Phil was blinded by the muzzle flash and the explosions from the rounds were ringing in his ears.

"Back up!" Mo screamed.

And as soon as the man who had been struck by the car rolled off the hood, Mo issued his second command.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted and the driver hit the gas.

"Get us to a hospital," Mo said, sternly, but with less volume and intensity than before.

"Is he hit?" Ben said, turning his body and reaching into the backseat to check on Phil.

"I don't think so," Mo answered.

"I fired two shots and I only heard two shots."

"That's all I heard," Ben agreed.

Phil began to feel his face, neck and chest. His ears continued to ring and his vision was seriously impaired.

"I don't think I've been shot, but I'm having trouble seeing and my ears are ringing," Phil told his companions in a much too loud voice.

"Probably from the gunshots," Ben speculated aloud.

"Better get to the hospital, anyway," he added.

"No," Phil heard himself say.

"Lets head for the naval air station. I'm not bleeding. If need be, a doctor can check me out there."

"Okay," Ben agreed.

"This car's a mess. I can barely see out," the deputy who was driving said, speaking for the first time.

"If you absolutely have to, we can stop and get another one, but I'd rather not," Ben responded.

"Absolutely not," Mo said, looking through the windshield.

"We don't know if there are more shooters after us. I'm not about to lose another friend. I can see through the windshield, which means you can, too," he told the deputy driving the car.

"Step on it," Mo commanded.

They were on the base in less than thirty minutes, where they were escorted to flight ops. A doctor was waiting.

"You've got some powder burns," he told Phil.

"Are your ears still ringing? How's your vision?" the flight surgeon asked Phil.

"The ringing's mostly gone, but everything sounds muffled. Vision's better, but things still look a bit fuzzy," Phil answered.

"Can he fly?" a Navy commander asked the doctor.

"Let me do a couple of tests to make sure," the doctor answered.

"He's okay," the flight surgeon said about three minutes later.

"Good. I need to get that plane in the air," the commander said.

"Just a minute," Phil said as he began moving toward a desk a few feet away.

He pulled a notebook from his coat pocket, turned several pages to an entry then put the telephone number on the desk where the petty officer seated in front of the phone could see it.

"Hello," Phil said to the noncom.

"Could you get that number for me?" Phil asked, then paused for a smile.

"Certainly, sir," the man answered.

"Sorry, Commander. I'll make this as quick as I can," Phil said, turning to face the officer.

"It's ringing," the petty officer told Phil as he handed over the receiver to the phone.

"Hello," Patty answered after the second ring, a tone of panic in her voice.

"Hi," Phil said.

"Are you all right?" Patty asked.

"Danny called and said there had been a shooting, but he didn't think you were hurt."

"I'm fine, but I've got to get on the plane. I'll tell you everything I know in about three hours, okay?" Phil asked.

"I love you," Patty said.

"I'll be waiting."

"I love you," Phil responded.

"Sorry I have to rush off."

"Oh," Patty remembered.

"Danny said Sylvan called. What do you want Danny to tell him?" she asked.

"Tell Danny, I'm calling Sylvan right now. Gotta run," Phil said, handing the phone back to the petty officer.

"Just one more call and I'll be on the plane," Phil explained to the commander as he opened his notebook to Sylvan's number at the paper, then showed it to the noncom at the desk.

"Chicago?" the petty officer asked.

"That's right," Phil answered.

"Sylvan Pratt," Phil heard through the phone after only one ring.

"Sylvan, it's Phil Adley," Phil said.

"I'm not hurt. I haven't been wounded and I will call you back in a couple of hours. But right now, I've got to get on a plane that's being held for me," Phil told the reporter.

"What happened? Where are you? Who shot at you?" Sylvan asked.

"I promise I will call you as soon as I get back on the ground. But I wanted you to know that I am all right. Call Danny and I'm sure he will answer whatever he can for you. I've got to go," Phil concluded.

Phil passed the phone back to the petty officer, then walked toward the officer and shook his hand.

"Sorry to hold you up," he said.

"Doctor, thank you very much," Phil said turning to the flight surgeon and shaking his hand as well.

"What about the shooting investigation?" the driver asked.

"You're right," Ben agreed, then walked quickly to the petty officer at the desk.

"Do you have a big envelope?" the deputy marshal asked.

"Mo, write the date and time on this envelope and sign your name," Ben told the trooper as he took the envelope from the petty officer and began walking toward Mo.

"When you've done that, drop your gun in the envelope, seal it and give it to Deputy Marshal Roddy. They've got to have the gun for the investigation," Ben explained, looking directly into the trooper's eyes.

Witnessing the scene, Phil wondered quickly whether Mo would give up his gun and decided to speak.

"As soon as we get in the air, I'll get a patch through to Nita and have someone bring you another gun when we land at Castle," Phil said.

Mo took the envelope and began writing on it as directed. Then he removed the revolver from his holster, dropped it in the envelope, sealed it and handed it to the deputy marshal from Chicago. Ten minutes later the big Air Force jet roared down the runway and climbed into the dark Illinois sky. In three more hours, Phil watched an ecstatically exited Patty rush past him at the foot of the steps to the airplane and smother a disbelieving Maurice Melancon with furious kisses.

"Thank you," she gushed.

"Thank you with all my heart."

Only then did Patty grab Phil and kiss him furiously.

"What happened to your face," she said, pulling back to look more carefully at Phil's injuries.

"Burns from Mo's gun," Phil explained.

"He fired directly in front of my nose."

Just as Angie leaned in to kiss Phil, he noticed a uniformed California Highway Patrolman standing in front of Mo.

"Are you Trooper Melancon?" the man asked.

"I've got something for you, but I'm going to need you to sign some papers," he said.

For perhaps the two-hundreth time, Phil stood in amazement at what Nita could do.

In less than two minutes, Mo had a new pistol in his holster, identical to the one he had handed over in Illinois three hours earlier. Ten minutes later, the whole group sat around the conference table in the Officers Club listening as Phil talked to Danny on the phone.

"Shooter's dead. Two in the center of the chest less than two inches apart. He carried an army surplus .45 with the serial number filed down," Phil said after he had ended the call.

"The guy we hit with the car?" Ben asked.

"Of course he was dead. We all knew that when he hit the windshield. He was an alcoholic they apparently picked up off the street. No ID. Just a fresh twenty-dollar bill in his pocket," Phil answered.

"I can't believe I didn't see any of these people when I checked the street," Mo said.

"The cab driver told investigators that two men emerged from a door alcove just in front of him. They appeared to be supporting a third man whom they shoved directly into the patch of our car, so you wouldn't have seen them. They were hidden from your view at the restaurant door. As for the shooter, no witness could be found who saw him, but the guys who did the scene investigation surmised he could have been in the same alcove. They're going to try to ID him with fingerprints," Phil explained.

Phil watched Mo's face for a few seconds, then rose and escorted his friend out into the hall next to the door.

"It's okay. You did the right thing. You absolutely saved my life," Phil said, noting that Mo stood close to him and was on the verge of tears.

"I never even shot at anybody, at least not until tonight. Now I have killed a man," Mo said.

Phil had seen this reaction at several officer involved shootings when he worked as a reporter and he knew there was no easy way to deal with this.

"I just know I'm going to see that guy's face every day and night for the rest of my life. It's so vivid. It's burned into my mind. If I could draw, I would be able to sketch it from memory. And his eyes, his eyes were like death, like shark's eyes," the trooper said.

"Maybe we need to get you back to Louisiana, give you some days off," Phil suggested.

"Let's see about that tomorrow, see how I do tonight. I need a priest. I need to confess," Mo told his friend.

"You want to wait out here while I go in and find one?" Phil asked.

Mo smiled.

"Nah, I'm going to step over to the bar and have a shot of whiskey, maybe two," he answered.

"Fine," Phil responded, slapping his friend's upper arm gently.

"Bring me a beer when you come back to the conference room," Phil requested.

By the time Phil had made the phone call to find the priest and explained why he was needed, Mo was back in the conference room.

"That's a good idea," Angie said when Mo walked in with Phil's beer.

"Anybody else?" she asked as she headed for the door.

"Sweet tea," Patty answered and everyone in the room laughed, including Mo.

"Sorry I'm so late calling back," Phil said into the phone in a call to Sylvan a minute or so later.

"I had to talk to Danny first," he explained.

"None of us really knew much about what had happened. Danny said he had already filled you in about the investigation from our end. I would urge you to go with what he told you rather than to rely on me to pass it on to you. He's a step closer to the actual process than me and he also is a little more detached, okay?" Phil asked.

"Sure," Sylvan agreed.

"Before we start, just let me say how very glad I am that you weren't seriously hurt and in a minute I'll ask you on the record to describe your injuries. But you are okay, right?"

"Yeah," Phil confirmed.

"And also off the record, how's Mo?" Sylvan asked.

"It's not easy. You've worked cops. I'm sure you've seen this before," Phil said.

"Absolutely," Sylvan agreed.

"And you're holding up okay?" he asked.

"Hasn't sunk in yet," Phil answered.

"Sorry to have to rush this, but they're holding the final for me, so I need to get on the record," Sylvan explained.

"Go ahead," Phil said.

"Do you know who this man was or why he wanted to kill you?" the reporter asked.

"No. I never saw him. Thank God Trooper Melancon did or I would be dead," Phil answered.

"Describe your injuries, please?" Sylvan asked.

"I have some powder burns on my face. At first my hearing and vision were affected by the blast, but they're pretty much back to normal now. Thankfully, I was not seriously hurt," Phil said.

"What went through your mind during the attack?" was Sylvan's next question.

"Nothing. There wasn't time. A second or two after we pulled away from the curb, this poor man flew into our windshield. That had just begun to register when the gun went off in front of my face. The car came to a sudden halt. Trooper Melancon screamed orders. The tires squealed and the car backed up. Then we took off at high speed. There was just no time," Phil answered.

"One final question: When are you coming back to Chicago?" Sylvan asked.

"Soon," Phil said firmly.

"I'd offer to buy your lunch, but you probably would want a safer dining companion," he added.

Phil could hear a page being rolled quickly out of the reporter's typewriter.

"That's it," Sylvan said to someone in the newsroom in Chicago.

"Thanks," Sylvan said, speaking to Phil.

"We're done. And in answer to your invitation, I will be honored to have lunch with you. We'll do it in the most public place in the city, if you want. Your bravery is giving Chicago hope."

"Deal," Phil said.

Patty spoke to Sylvan for a few seconds, assuring him that Phil's injuries were not serious and telling the reporter who had become a friend how glad she was that was the case.

"One thing for the record before I go," she told the reporter.

'When you two sit down for lunch, set an extra place, because I'm coming, too," she said.

Phil reached over and pulled Patty into a two-armed hug, while Sylvan charged off across the newsroom with her quote to be added to the story.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 23

2010-05-05T10:33:00.005-06:00

It was easy for Sylvan to figure out that Phil had a very different goal for his day in Shreveport. In Dallas, he had gone out of his way to appear on camera. In Shreveport, he was determined that the cameras be focused on the two task force heads, Eddie Aimes of Chicago and Ken Reilly of New Orleans.

Phil did appear at a motion hearing for Mario Barbato. Sylvan noticed that Phil carefully sat where the courtroom artist could easily put Phil in her drawing. Phil positioned himself directly behind the Chicago mob captain. Sylvan had thought about asking the artist to draw Phil in, but decided to see what she came up with on her own.

When the judge quickly denied Barbato's motion that he be released from custody, the reporter checked the art. In the picture, Phil sat behind the gangster with a smile revealing his satisfaction at the court's ruling.

A few minutes after the group had returned to Phil's office, Sylvan called Mo off to the side of the room.

"You and Phil have a good friend in the governor's office?" the reporter asked in a soft voice.

Mo smiled and nodded.

"Could I get her phone number?" Sylvan asked.

The next afternoon, Nita escorted the Tribune reporter into Governor John McClellan's office in Baton Rouge, then turned to go back to her own office.

"Governor, would it be all right if Miss LeClaire sat in with us?" Sylvan asked Nita's boss and mentor.

"I think that would be an excellent idea," McClellan agreed.

Nita was immediately swept by anxiety, fearing the question she knew would come. She smiled and looked pleased with the invitation and permitted no sign of her inner turmoil to show.

"Governor, I understand you looked upon Aubrey Braud as a son, that you had great hopes for his future?" the reporter began.

"I do see him as my son and I mourn his passing every day. At the same time, I am extremely proud of what he accomplished during his far too brief time with us. I greatly admire Aubrey's courage and integrity. I was pleased at how quickly Aubrey and Phil Adley became the closest of friends.

"It would be easy to say that I'm pleased to see that Phil has picked up the torch from his fallen friend, but that would be inaccurate. Truth is, Phil raised the issue of organized criminal permeation in our culture and government. It was because of Phil's persistence on this major issue that I sent Aubrey up to Bossier to start cleaning up this mess," the governor said.

"Why Bossier? Why not Jefferson and New Orleans where the problem is so much more obvious?" Sylvan challenged.

"Practicality mostly. We had a district attorney in Shreveport who was conducting a legitimate investigation. We had a high profile murder case that traced back to organized crime and strong citizen support surrounding the investigation into that murder. Then, we had a vacancy in the sheriff's office in Bossier Parish, where Aubrey already was something of a local hero. In short, I concluded that we had a good chance of success there, but I never imagined it would lead to a national attack on the Mafia," Governor McClellan answered.

"It's been said that it is impossible to get Mafia convictions in the courts in New Orleans and the neighboring parish of Jefferson, where Carlos Morello lives. Do you agree with that assertion?" the Tribune reporter asked.

"We have a series of convictions for violations of state tax laws against Morello in a state court in Shreveport. There are a number of major organized criminal figures in jail in Shreveport, some facing state capital felony charges. We have a system that's working. And from a practical standpoint, it would be foolish to try to move our investigation under these circumstances. But that's not what you're really asking.

"People in Louisiana, and in the past I confess to being one of those people, have had a tendency to view most of what organized crime did as victimless. I admit this was never true, but it's what a lot of us chose to believe. My mind was changed first by a senseless murder over gambling debts in Bossier Parish and then by the investigation and criminal events that followed.

"I admit I was wrong to hold out against reality for as long as I did, but that's definitely in the past now. The people in this state are at war against the Mafia and I think most of the people in Orleans and Jefferson Parishes who have given this matter serious thought support our cause," the governor said.

"You give Phil Adley a lot of credit for changing your mind and leading you to confront organized crime in your state. What did he say that convinced you?" Sylvan asked.

"If you're implying that he stated a brilliant argument during a conversation that persuaded me to join the fight, I must tell you that didn't happen. I just watched what he did and heard what he was reporting to the whole state. Far from being persuaded by his words, I tried to dissuade him and have others do the same. My message was that if he didn't stop what he was doing, he was going to get himself killed.

"He didn't listen and the state of Louisiana is better off for it. And I might add that so are the people of Illinois, at least in my judgment," John McClellan explained.

"Miss LeClaire, I take it he won you over, too, so much so that you persuaded your father to assist Mr. Adley as a special attorney. Is that accurate?" the reporter asked.

"I was convinced from the very first that he was on the right track. But as for persuading my father or recruiting him, it was Phil and to some extent the governor who did that," Nita answered, knowing that she was no where close to being off the hook.

"But weren't you the first to make your father aware of what the inspector was doing?" Sylvan followed up.

Nita laughed briefly.

"Like most people in the state, my father was quite seriously and immediately impressed with the reporting Phil did on the radio. I don't remember specifically, but it could have been my father who first brought Phil's name up in one of our conversations," the governor's assistant answered.

"Forgive me, but you seem to indicate that this was something casual. I know that you work quite closely with Phil and I've been told by several people that the two of you are or were romantically involved," the journalist offered.

There was no turning back now.

"I do work closely with Phil, though not as closely as I did before he became a federal officer. I admire him greatly, who he is and what he's done. And I've never made any secret of my romantic interest in him. But I think you know that Phil's committed to someone else. She's a beautiful, smart and wonderful person. And over the course of time, she and I have become friends. Phil never encouraged my romantic interest and I would never do anything to jeopardize my friendship with either one of them," Nita responded.

She had played it perfectly and was able to appear calm on the outside. Inside, her composure was hanging by a thread and she prayed that Sylvan would move on. The reporter smiled, but Nita couldn't tell whether she was going to escape.

"The governor has told people you're a better politician than he is," Sylvan began, then paused as Governor McClellan laughed heartily.

"If Inspector Adley asked you, would you help him get elected governor of Louisiana?" the reporter asked.

"Without hesitation, I would. But I must tell you, I think he's likely to do bigger things than become governor," Nita responded.

"Governor, do you have any advice for the people of Illinois so far as fighting organized crime is concerned?" Sylvan asked McClellan, while turning his body away from Nita LeClaire.

She very much hoped the movement was a signal that Sylvan Pratt was through with her. The governor quickly jumped in.

"Stand up and be counted," he said.

"Be inspired by the courage of this young man Phil Adley and all the other brave and intelligent folks involved in this investigation. I've watched the head of your Chicago task force, Ed Aimes, and I'm impressed. Your newspaper has already editorialized, telling people in Illinois with knowledge of organized crime that they should speak up. I'll go a step farther.

"I know that there will be people who read this story who have direct information about crimes that were hatched in Illinois and committed in our state, specifically the murders of Aubrey Braud and Trooper Billy Fitzmorris and the horrendous attack on Inspector Preston MacGregor. If you know anything useful in prosecuting the perpetrators of these crimes, I urge you to contact Captain Nate Porter of the Louisiana State Police. Come forward. Tell us what you know and we will protect you," the governor concluded.

That became the headline on the Sunday Tribune story: "'Come forward,' governor of Louisiana urges."

Phil got the word on the story as he sat having breakfast with Patty, Angie and Mo in the Officers Club at Castle Air Force Base in California. Eddie, who had just returned to Chicago the night before, read a dozen or so excerpts from Sylvan's story as Phil stood at the bar, using the only phone available in the club. It was just before dinner time in California when Nita called Mo and asked to talk to Phil.

"He made me confess that I was in love with you," Nita related to Phil, talking about her interview with Sylvan Pratt, "but he left it out of the story.

"I thought I was going to die right there in the governor's office," she added.

"I haven't actually read the story, yet," Phil responded, "but Eddie read quotes from it to me.

"When I first moved to Shreveport on a career rebound, I could not in my wildest dreams ever imagine that all the things that have happened would happen. And I could never have conceived that you and I would be where we are now, when I think back to our first talk on the phone."

Nita wanted to ask what exactly the status of that 'we' was. But following her usual pattern, she prepared to move the conversation along and away from her own feelings about the man she would never have and probably never stop wanting.

From Phil's perspective, this whole topic was a minefield he had no idea how to get through. While he was glad that Sylvan had left Nita's answer about romantic involvement out of the story he clearly felt Nita's discomfort and regretted it. This situation was not something anyone had caused. It simply was.

"I appreciate Sylvan's considerate approach in dealing with these personal matters. I suppose we will just have to be grateful until the next time," he suggested.

"You're right. This element is too big a target, potentially too interesting to readers to believe that the next reporter will be as kind. I hate it for Patty more than anything else," Nita said.

"Sylvan's a class guy," Phil added, leaving a silent space in their conversation.

"Daddy and the governor are both thrilled with the story. They think it will help the investigation and puts Louisiana in a positive spotlight for once as the state that has the courage to stand up against organized crime," Nita reported.

"Yeah, my bosses in Washington are really happy, too. They think the justice department has come off looking great. The Judge thinks we can expect the New York Times and Washington Post to weigh in next. I suppose that's the logical next step, but I doubt they're going to be as flattering to us," Phil suggested.

"Hard to say. We've had limited contact with them in the past, especially the Times. They haven't had much good to say when they weren't ignoring us, which is most of the time. However, both papers have always referred to the governor as a racial moderate. I suppose that's about as big a tribute as they can pay a southern governor," Nita said.

Phil knew he had to prepare Patty for the next time and that he needed to tell her what Sylvan had asked in his interview, but left out of the paper.

"Y'all worry too much about me and my feelings. I love Nita. She's a great friend to me just as she is to you, but I might be a little bit jealous," Patty concluded a few minutes later as she sat talking to Phil in yet another Air Force conference room.

"Besides, if some New York paper does run the part about Nita in a story, maybe they'll use her picture. Once everyone in the country gets a look at her, they'll immediately believe that I must be the most beautiful woman on earth," Patty teased.

Phil took Patty's hand and kissed her.

Patty was a prophet. The next morning, Phil got an early call from Danny.

"Nita's picture is on the cover of the New York Daily News. The headline reads 'Hunting mobsters in Bayouland," Danny said as soon as Phil had said hello.

"Good story or bad?" Phil asked while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Great story, but they get to the love triangle in the second paragraph," Danny responded.

"There is no love triangle," Phil interjected.

"There is in this story. Your co-stars are Nita, Patty and John McClellan, who comes off looking like a mob busting folk hero. Then there's also the part about how you've taken over the entire justice department and Strategic Air Command for your crusade," Phil's friend added.

"Who's quoted?" Phil asked.

"All the star players, but Nita. Her part's taken care of by 'sources at the Louisiana state capitol.' No interview with McClellan. Most of his quotes come the Tribune story. No indication they interviewed him at all. Justice department's handled with confidential sources at the New York Organized Crime Task Force. Nobody in Washington. And there's a remarkably accurate version of the raid on Venezia and Sinatra," Danny said.

"I'd better get on the phone with John Brinker," Phil said, seeking to cut off the conversation.

"There's nothing to sweat. Everybody looks good in this thing. Do you need me to talk to Patty, calm her down?" Danny asked.

Phil laughed.

"What's so funny?" Danny asked.

"Patty predicted this, last night. She said she hoped Nita's picture got printed in one of the New York papers so people would think Patty was the most beautiful girl in the world," Phil answered.

"Well, she got her wish," Danny said after a hearty laugh.

"I haven't seen the picture, but my guy from New York who called said she looked like a movie star, maybe Kim Novak. Said she was standing alone at the podium in the governor's press conference room, commanding the entire scene," Danny reported.

"That's Nita all right," Phil said, laughing again.

"I gotta go," he finished.

"Everybody here is walking on air," Maria said as soon as she recognized Phil's voice over the phone.

"Judge's not here," she continued, "but he said to give you a message when you called. He said tell him Justice hasn't had a star like this, ever. And not since the days of Eliot Ness has any federal agent gotten more favorable attention as a mob fighter. He'll call you as soon as gets back. He's with the attorney general."

"So he's not mad?" Phil asked into the phone, unable to conceal the disbelief in his voice.

"Heavens no," Maria responded with a laugh.

"It's been a long time since this administration had anything positive said about it, especially in the New York papers.

"How's Patty taking it?" Maria asked, a tone of concern in her voice.

"I don't think she knows yet. I think she's probably still asleep," Phil answered.

"Well, let me butt into your business then. Please allow me to call and explain it to her. I think I can tell her in a way that will help her to understand what high praise this story is for you and the work you've all been doing. And I can explain to her how the New York tabloids work," Maria said.

"All right," Phil agreed, then told her the conversation with Patty when she had said she hoped Nita's picture got in the paper.

Maria laughed and Phil was silent for a few seconds while he thought.

"Maybe you can explain this to Nita, too?" Phil suggested, tentatively.

"Not on your life," Maria said.

"I bet she already knows and I'm pretty sure she's not happy. But come to think of it, if the Daily News had put a picture of me on the front page and I looked half as good and commanding as she does, I'd be overjoyed. But somehow, I'm pretty sure that's not the case," Maria added.

"I'd better call Patty," she finished.

"I don't know what I'm going to say to Nita," Phil told Mo who had listened to the California side of these two conversations and had a pretty good idea about what had happened.

But it was Nita who spoke first.

"I am so sorry," she began.

"Apologizing for something you didn't do and had no control over is not appropriate. If I've learned only one thing about Patty, it's that she's a lot stronger than people think," Phil said, a smile growing on his face.

Just as he had begun to speak, Phil noticed that Patty had entered his room. She was smiling broadly and kissed Mo's cheek as she passed by him. Except for her smile, it was clear from her appearance that Patty had been awakened by Maria's phone call, jumped into some clothes and come immediately to Phil's room. She kissed Phil lightly on the forehead and reached for the phone.

"I love you, Nita," she said into the phone.

"And Phil's right, you have done nothing to apologize for. Besides, the way Maria described it, that's really a killer picture on the cover of the biggest circulation newspaper in the country. I'm really thrilled about that part. I told Phil last night that I hoped someone would print your picture in the paper. That way people will think I'm prettier than you," Patty teased, an even bigger smile on her face.

In Baton Rouge, Nita was trying to laugh and hold back tears of joy at the same time. What class Patty has, she thought. Amazing.

"As soon as he puts some pants on, Phil's going to take me to breakfast," Patty continued, causing Phil to realize for the first time since Patty had walked into the room that he was sitting on his bed in his underwear.

Patty began laughing as Phil jumped up and grabbed his trousers from the chair close to the bed. Phil, frazzled, started to run his hand through his uncombed hair, then stopped and thought better of that action. He changed directions and slipped into the shirt he had taken off late the night before.

"I must tell you," Patty teased, "that our boy wonder doesn't look very much like a super crime fighter right now.

"Uh oh, I think he's blushing," she said, breaking into laughter.

On the other end of the phone where she was visualizing the scene being described to her by Patty, Nita began laughing as well.

"It would be great if you could come have breakfast with us and I can't wait to see your picture from that paper. Maria is having a copy sent to me and hopefully I'll get it tomorrow," Patty concluded.

The phone calls that kept interrupting breakfast were enjoyable. Everyone seemed enthusiastic about the day's splash in the New York press until the sixth call. Phil could tell Mo was concerned when he walked over from the bar to the table where Patty was sipping an after breakfast tea and Phil was finishing his coffee.

"What's wrong?" Phil asked his friend.

"Danny says you need to call Sylvan right away," the state trooper answered.

Phil rose to walk to the phone. He had promised Sylvan he would talk to him any time. All Sylvan had to do was call, leave word and Phil would immediately phone him back.

"Wait a minute," Mo cautioned.

"He actually wants to talk to Patty, but Danny figured you should call instead," Mo explained.

Patty didn't wait for the conversation to continue. She quickly rose and spoke directly to Mo.

"Show me how to do this," she directed, indicating that Mo should demonstrate what she needed to do to navigate the Air Force phone system.

Phil walked cautiously behind Patty and the trooper and took a seat on a bar stool.

"Thank you so much for keeping Nita's comments about her and me out of your story," Patty said to the Tribune reporter after the two had exchanged hellos.

It took about fifteen minutes for Patty to answer all of Sylvan's questions. She called suggestions that there was a love triangle involving Nita, Phil and Patty 'nonsense.'

"So it doesn't bother you that Miss LeClaire freely admits she's in love with Phil?" the reporter asked.

"Of course not. I knew that before Nita and I became close friends. I'm sure these things that appeared in the paper in New York were brand new to the people who read them, but not to the people who work at the Louisiana state capitol. This has been common knowledge since shortly after I met Phil.

"No one could have a better friend than Nita LeClaire. She is very much like a sister to me," Patty concluded.

Phil was extremely impressed with the answers he overheard from Patty and found it easy to fill in the questions on the other end just by listening to Patty's side of the interview.

"I suppose it wouldn't do for you to get a picture from the Shreveport Police Department and I don't think my picture's ever been in the Shreveport Times, but before I make a commitment to having my picture made I suppose I should talk to Phil. Everything around here requires security," Phil heard Patty answer before she passed the telephone to Phil.

"So what do you think? She's pretty terrific, huh?" Phil asked Sylvan.

"Absolutely amazing," the reporter replied.

"I suppose a lot of people say this, but I couldn't help but find it incredible that both these exceptional women admit to being in love with you," he teased.

"I get that all the time, especially from Mo," Phil admitted.

Working out the details for the photo shoot took about forty-five minutes of back and forth. It was the photographer, who had not been told where Patty was staying, who came up with Redwood City as the location. A whirlwind followed. Patty was quickly off to have her hair done and find a new dress for the occasion. Credit for the photo would only say 'Special to the Chicago Tribune,' a concession the photographer and the paper made for the sake of Patty's safety.

The story appeared on page one of the next morning's paper along with the most stunning photograph Patty had ever had taken. The story leaned heavily on the interview with Patty. But for the first time, the Attorney General of the United States was quoted at length praising Phil by name. Sylvan also used some quotes from his earlier interview with Governor McClellan, material that had not appeared in his Sunday story.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 22

2010-03-17T14:54:00.001-06:00

The Tribune reporter made note of Phil's words and expression, then paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"So do you have a plan to obtain this evidence that will result in Giancana's arrest?" Sylvan Pratt asked.

"Yes," Phil responded.

"Surely, there's more to it than that," the reporter prodded.

"There's some of this Giancana may not already know," Phil said, flashing a smile.

"Well then, tell us the part you know that he already has knowledge of," Sylvan continued, smiling back.

Fair enough, Phil calculated.

"We know that the man who hired Venezia and Sinatra is a captain in the Giancana family who specializes in punishment and enforcement for the Outfit," Phil answered.

"That would be 'Tommy the Moose' Musso?" the reporter quizzed.

"His legal name is Tomaso Musso. And yes, they call him Tommy the Moose," Phil admitted, smiling again.

"Have you arrested him?" Sylvan asked.

The door to the conference room opened and Trooper Melancon motioned for Phil to join him in the corner. Mo had been out of the room for almost fifteen minutes making travel arrangements. When Phil and the state policeman finished their conversation, Phil walked back to where Sylvan Pratt was sitting, but did not return to his own seat.

"I'm afraid your visit has made it unsafe for us to stay here. You're invited to fly to Texas with us. If you like, I can make sure that the government bills your paper for your transport," Phil began.

"There are other people's lives at stake, not just Mo's and mine. I would earnestly request that you not mention the Air Force Base in Texas we will be flying to. For that matter, I would appreciate it, if you did not use the name of this base in your story, either, but I'll leave that to your conscience.

"You should have time to file a story before we leave and we'll escort the cab driver in here to see you so you can pay him and send him back to Boise. I'll also have a phone brought in for you to file with. For guidance, we expect to be wheels up in about forty-five minutes," Phil said.

"See you on the plane?" Phil asked as he and Mo began to turn to walk out of the room.

"Yes," Sylvan said.

The Lockheed JetStar that the reporter was escorted to had just completed a run to Hill Air Force Base in Utah. So in Air Force parlance, it was practically in the neighborhood when Maria had called to make the travel arrangements. Phil had wanted that plane used to take Patty and the witnesses to their next stop.

"The marshals service didn't feel they could wait. While you were talking to the reporter, the base commander at Mountain Home made a C-130 available. I'm afraid Patty and the others are already in the air," Maria had explained.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," Phil had lamented.

"I'm sorry, but it was for their safety," Maria had said.

"Where are they going?" Phil had asked after a pause.

"Castle Air Force Base, near Merced, California," Maria had answered.

Phil and Mo were already in their seats when Sylvan stepped on board. Phil motioned to the reporter to sit in the empty seat by the window next to Phil and stood so Sylvan could get in without climbing over Phil.

"My bag?" the reporter asked.

"I saw them put it on the plane. You'll learn, if you stay with us a couple of days, how really good these people are," Phil responded.

The two made small talk for a few minutes. But when the jet began the turn onto its heading for Texas, Phil's tone changed.

"I want to make a point, to tell you some things you may wish to add to your story when we land.

"We're not running away. We're being prudent. There's been a lot in the media that would seem to indicate that because these organized criminals have continued to target us with attacks that somehow we may not be up to the task of taking them down.

"I'll let you draw your own conclusions. But as you've already been able to observe in the short time you've been with us, we're not without resources in this fight. We have been kept safe during our struggle by dedicated federal officers, one of whom took a bullet intended for me. We have enjoyed the protection and enthusiastic cooperation of the United States Air Force.

"It's my opinion that Carlos Morello and Sam Giancana have taken us far too lightly," Phil said.

The reporter made note of the words and their speaker's determination and conviction.

"I need to get to a phone," Sylvan announced when the plane rolled to a stop at Carswell Air Force Base in Fort Worth.

Noticing that Phil and Mo were headed in a different direction than he was being led when they entered they building, the reporter turned and called out.

"How do I reach you?" he said loudly.

"Mo will call you and give you a number," Phil answered over his shoulder as he passed out of the building toward the open door of a waiting car.

Phil was thinking through ways of apologizing to Patty as they drove across the base to their next temporary headquarters. The process of changing locations had become routine, but this was the first time Phil had not been able to tell Patty goodbye and by now she was probably landing at another strange place in California. Thank God Angie was with her, Phil thought.

"You just had a call, Inspector," the sergeant said after Phil and Mo introduced themselves.

"I wrote down the number. Should I get the young lady on the phone?" he asked.

Phil smiled as he realized Patty had already tried to call him. Surely, that was a good sign, he thought. Phil didn't get past hello before Patty took over the conversation.

She was completely excited about flying on a what she called a real Air Force plane.

"I got to wear a parachute and I sat in the jump seat on the flight deck," she told Phil, obviously still exhilarated by her experience.

"It was the most fun I've ever had riding a plane."

How things had changed, Phil thought. It had only been a few months since she had flown to California to visit Phil at a different base and that had been Patty's first time on an airplane. Now she rode them all the time, it seemed.

"I am so sorry. I didn't even get to tell you goodbye," Phil apologized to her.

"Ann Marie said we had to leave right away, that the Mafia had found out where we were. She said that you couldn't leave with us because you had to talk to some reporter from Chicago. Did he really show up in a cab?" Patty asked.

Phil laughed.

"I'm afraid so," Phil admitted.

"I've never even seen a cab anywhere around the base," she said.

"He took it from the airport in Boise," Phil answered.

"That's crazy. That must be fifty miles," Patty said.

"A little more, actually. So you're all right?" Phil asked.

"Great except I'm going to miss seeing you every day and Ann Marie told me I had to keep Vinny from going crazy, that I was the only one except for you and Sam he would listen to," she responded.

"She also wouldn't tell me where you were. That it was safer if no one knew until things settled down," Patty said, a hint of concern evident in her tone of voice.

"I'll ask Ben about that in a few minutes. I'm sure it's only for a day or two. We couldn't talk much on the plane about security, because the reporter was with us," Phil explained.

"Is he still with you?" she asked.

"No, I think the marshal service took him to a hotel. We gave him Danny's number. He can call Danny when he wants to talk to me," Phil answered.

"Wow, this guy must really be something. Won't the other reporters be mad that this one guy is getting all this special treatment?" Patty asked.

"Well, we had to find out what he knew and how he found us. That's why I had to talk to him originally. We'll wait and see what he writes for tomorrow's paper, then decide how useful he might be. We also should be able to tell by how he writes his story how much we can trust him," Phil explained.

"Angie's motioning to me to hang up. I think we've got to go. I love you," she said.

"I love you and I'll call you later," Phil said.

Phil was surprised that Sylvan only called once that night, just to check a couple of facts.

"What do you figure he is up?" Mo asked Phil.

"I've thought about it," Phil began, "and I don't think he really needed to call at all. I think he had everything he needed for his story and then some. I suspect he called just to make sure I would call him back like I promised. I don't know, maybe he had to convince some editor in Chicago that he hadn't lost track of me.

Phil was exhausted and had gone to bed early after a brief chat with Patty, who was still at dinner with the base commander and his whole family. Phil was sleeping soundly when the airman knocked on the door to tell him he had a phone call.

"I guess you haven't seen the story yet," Phil's boss said over the phone from Washington.

"The task force in Chicago put it on the teletype for us. I'm sure someone will bring you a copy before too long. I don't think the department has ever had a better play in the press since I've been here," the judge told Phil.

"Congratulations. If there were a textbook on how to do law enforcement PR, this morning's story would be the example of perfect execution. Everybody on our side comes out a hero and Eddie and the whole Chicago team get major credit for scoring a big coup against the Outfit."

"That's great," Phil said.

"I had a good feeling about things, but you never know for sure until you read the story.

"I need to ask a couple of questions. Did he identify Mountain Home as the base where he located us?" Phil asked.

"No, he just said an Air Force Base in the western United States," the Judge replied.

"What about Carswell Air Force base? Did he name it?" Phil continued.

"No, he simply wrote that you had been relocated to another base that the paper would not name because of security concerns, explaining that you had already been the target of at least one Mafia attempt on your life," Phil's boss answered.

"Outstanding," Phil said, then listened carefully as John Brinker read excerpts from the story that the assistant attorney general particularly liked.

"So did we send Sam Giancana an appropriate message?" Phil asked his boss as he seemed to be winding down his reading.

"Yes, sir," the older man said.

"You certainly did. What's your next move?"

"Mo's kind of cranky," Phil teased, "so I suppose we should feed him some breakfast before we take off.

"After that, I'm going to stop by Sylvan Pratt's hotel in Dallas and let him spend the day with us. I may ask him to step out of the room occasionally when we have matters involving intelligence or informants to protect, but I'm going to give him as much access as possible for the day. He's demonstrated that he can be trusted.

"I'm going to spend part of the day showing myself for the cameras just to let Morello and Giancana know that I can. Then, we're going to Shreveport tomorrow and do the same thing there. I think while I'm visible, I'll have a joint press conference for Ken Reilly and Eddie. I'll stand behind them in view of the cameras while they make their statements, then discretely duck out when the questions begin.

"I think we need to get those guys back in the spotlight and I think we need to call some attention to all the gangsters we actually have behind bars in Louisiana.

"How does that sound to you?" Phil asked.

"Too dangerous for my taste, but I see your point. As soon as we finish this call, I'm going to get on the phone and make sure that Ben has access to every federal agent he needs in both cities to make sure you don't get shot. And when you duck out of that press conference tomorrow, I want you back on a SAC base far away.

"Do I make myself clear?" the Judge insisted.

Phil stifled a laugh at his boss' parental concern and answered seriously in a firm tone of voice.

"Yes, sir."

"We're going to spend a day in public and you're invited along for the whole ride. We completely trust your good judgment in what you write. That is we believe that you will exercise caution about reporting things that could get people hurt or killed. There may be a time or two during the course of the day we will ask you to step out of the room. That will only happen when we have sources or sensitive intelligence to protect.

"Is that acceptable?" Phil asked Sylvan before the marshal service car pulled out of the Hotel Adolphus parking garage.

Sylvan smiled and said yes. Mo waited for Phil to tell the reporter how much joy his cover story in that morning's Chicago Tribune had brought to people at the justice department in Washington, but Phil took a totally different track.

"Are you married? Do you have kids?" Phil asked Sylvan instead.

"I am married and we have twins, a boy and a girl in first grade," the man from Chicago answered.

Phil guessed his age to be about thirty.

"I hear you have a remarkable girlfriend?" Sylvan asked casually.

"That's quite true. But for her safety and for the security of those around her, it's better that I not talk about her," Phil answered and Sylvan dropped the matter.

"You used to work here, in Dallas?" he asked.

"I did, but it was a brief stay. Apparently I made a friend without realizing it," Phil replied.

"You'll probably be meeting him sometime today, Captain Will Fritz of the Dallas Police Department.

"That's a pretty famous admirer," Sylvan remarked.

"He's a great detective. But I would have never thought he knew I was alive when I worked the police beat in Dallas. He didn't seem to notice any young reporter that I could tell, but clearly I missed something based on what I've heard from friends and colleagues," Phil said.

Phil had called the public information officer for the Dallas Police Department and told him of his plans to make public visits with principals in the case. The sidewalk in front of the courts building was crowded with cameras when Mo and Ben opened the car door for Phil and Sylvan to step out. Phil didn't stop, but walked slowly in deference to the cameras. It wasn't something he had much experience in from his position in front of the camera, but he'd been on the other side enough times to understand what he needed to do. Once the slow walk was established, reporters began asking questions.

"Quite a story in the Chicago Tribune this morning," one newspaper man called out.

"I've heard about it and I hope to read it sometime during the day," Phil responded.

"Are you really going to arrest Sam Giancana?" a second voice asked.

"Yes, but I can't tell you when. We're still developing evidence for the grand jury," Phil answered.

"How about Carlos Morello? Gonna bust him, too?" a reporter with a New Orleans accent asked.

"It hasn't been all that long since we had him in custody and got a guilty plea from him. But if you're talking about the murders of Sheriff Braud and Trooper Fitzmorris, we're not close at this time to an arrest of Morello in that case," Phil said.

"There's been a lot of talk that Morello and Giancana were involved in the assassination of President Kennedy. Are you pursuing anything in that area?" someone asked.

"No," Phil answered just as he stepped into the back corner of the elevator.

"Who's the man with you?" a reporter holding his hand on the elevator door asked.

"Sylvan Pratt. See you upstairs in a few minutes," Phil called out as the door was allowed to close.

Reporters and cameramen scurried to catch other elevators to the district attorney's office.

The next thirty minutes was a blur of camera flashes, lights and shouted questions. Sylvan used the commotion as cover to move away from Phil, finding a inconspicuous spot next to Danny. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil noticed the two became increasingly engrossed in their own conversation and that Sylvan seemed to be taking notes about what Danny was telling him.

When District Attorney Henry Wade excused himself, Phil stepped quickly to the corner and tapped Danny on the shoulder. In seconds, Danny was leading Phil and Sylvan out of the room through a side door, down a hall to another door and down another hall to a small room with a couple of desks, lots of files and four telephones. As soon as Phil had started to move, Mo and Ben became a rear guard to the fast retreat. Phil learned a few minutes later that the quick departures had left Marcel LeClaire and Captain Will Fritz in front of the microphones.

"We used the opportunity to savage Bozarth's case for the local press," Buster explained after entering the small file room that the Louisianians had commandeered.

"Does this go on all the time?" Sylvan asked Phil.

"Hardly," Phil replied with a small laugh.

"Usually, Danny investigates, Buster leads legal research and they occasionally talk to me at some far-flung Air Force Base where Ben and Mo have me hidden out."

Sylvan looked at Danny for confirmation.

"Sad, but pretty much true," Danny said, nodding his head.

"You mean you spend your whole life in hiding?" the reporter asked Phil.

"Under constant armed guard, day and night," Buster volunteered.

"Aubrey Braud slipped away one time and look what happened to him," Mo contributed.

"This is a strange kind of war," Sylvan remarked.

"Indeed," Phil agreed, "but like my new friends say, whatcha gonna do?"

A knock on the door interrupted the stream of questions. Mo and Ben opened it to find a young woman standing with Captain Fritz.

"Got time for lunch?" he invited through the open door.

A few blocks after the cars passed the giant Ferris wheel of the State Fair of Texas, Captain Fritz stopped the lead car in front of Sunny South Bar-B-Q on Second Avenue. After the detective received a huge hug from an enormous black woman, the party was quickly seated at three tables that had been quickly shoved together and covered with unrolled brown butcher paper. Glasses of sweet tea and eating utensils quickly appeared and they were soon followed by enormous metal trays of ribs, sausage and quartered barbecued chicken. Next came bowls of beans, potato salad, onions, peppers and sauce. Whole loaves of fresh white bread were placed before the diners as well.

"No menu," the captain explained, "but be sure and save room for peach cobbler and pecan pie."

"Maybe Dallas is not quite as stuffy as you expected," Buster said in the general direction of Sylvan.

Most of the ties had at least a light speckling of barbecue sauce by the time the pie and cobbler arrived.

"Thanks for not asking me about Ruby and Oswald," Captain Fritz said to the Tribune reporter.

"Would you like to meet our star prisoner?" he asked Sylvan.

"Yes, sir," the young man replied.

"Hold on while I make a quick call," the famous Dallas cop said.

Twenty minutes later, the captain led the reporter past a row of cells to a room where lawyers talked to their clients. Wilfred Bozarth sat patiently waiting and two minutes later his attorney, Joe Tonahill, appeared at the open door.

"I'll leave y'all alone," Captain Fritz said to the three.

He started out of the room, then paused and turned to face the men.

"I could have someone take some pictures if you would like," he said to the reporter.

"All right with you?" he asked Tonahill.

"That might be good," Sylvan agreed, then looked over to the lawyer who announced his approval.

"Fine. Just tell him to get my good side," Tonahill joked.

The captain laughed, turned and walked out of the room.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to write about him," Sylvan said a couple of hours later in answer to Mo's question.

"Bozarth is a man incapable of telling the truth."

"Very misunderstood," Mo suggested with a laugh.

"I think you'll find Nickie and Jackie more interesting when you meet with them tomorrow, assuming you want to go face to face with them?" Phil suggested.

"Will their lawyer go for that?" the reporter responded.

"We'll have to ask him, of course. But I can't see why he wouldn't. They won't be under oath and I'm certain he knows what a favorable impression these old guys are capable of making," Phil said.

"And they're absolute coldblooded killers?" Sylvan asked.

"Stone cold, no one could be more so. And they are completely confident no one will ever prove anything against them," Phil added.

"Do you need time and space to file?" Phil asked, "because we're about ready to head for Shreveport."

"I only need about fifteen minutes. I think most of what they will use from me today is going to be included in another story that someone else will co-write. Most of what I'm gathering is going into a big piece for Sunday's cover," the journalist answered.

Phil guarded his reaction, hoping that he had maintained an unrevealing face.

"We'll give you some space. Just let us know when you're ready. I was thinking you might want to ride to Shreveport with Sam Boerne. He's been in on all of this from the very first, probably knows more than anyone about the actual crimes and the time line of the investigation," Phil said.

"So what kind of reporter was Phil Adley?" Sylvan asked Detective Boerne thirty minutes later as Sam was negotiating the traffic on the entrance ramp to R.L. Thornton Freeway East.

"He was young and eager and almost as impressive as a reporter as he is as a cop. He was one of the few reporters I've met who had an instinctive understanding of cops, how we work and how we think. He won guys over right away. We knew we could trust him," Sam answered.

"You mean trust him to tell your side of the story? Trust him to look the other way when you needed him to?" Sylvan asked.

"No good cop would trust someone like that. Phil watched one of his best friends, a robbery-homicide detective, get shot in Oklahoma City. He knew that when people make mistakes in some of the situations we get into, people die. Even when I first met him, Phil understood what we did out there, how really serious it is," Sam answered, giving no indication that the reporter's question had ruffled his feathers.

"So you trusted him with you life even back then?" Sylvan asked.

"Then and now," Sam said, affirming his answer with a fatherly smile.

"I've heard you don't think much of politicians. How come you find yourself so drawn to Phil, considering he is obviously such a skilled political operator?" the reporter challenged.

"One of the hardest things for me to accept about police work is that all law enforcement is one-hundred percent dependent on the acts of politicians. In spite of what I sometimes say, I have known some excellent public servants, dedicated people who were successful in getting elected and using the offices they attained for the public good.

"True, I've found quite a few bad apples in the political barrel. But getting back to where I started, we need political support to do our jobs as policemen. Even though he's extremely young, I've found that Phil Adley has a real gift for using the political system in a positive way. He's very good at getting competing political factions to work together, maybe better than anyone I've ever seen. He was an excellent sheriff for the brief time he held that office. And there's little doubt in my mind that he could have been sheriff of Bossier Parish for as long as he wanted.

"He's been extremely effective in getting various parts of the federal political apparatus to fight organized crime as one unit. In all my years in law enforcement, I've never seen anything like it. He's got an investigation running efficiently in spite of the fact that it crosses all kinds of different jurisdictions, several states, different cities and parishes and multiple federal agencies. He has performed nothing short of a miracle in getting the Air Force, which is very busy fighting a major war overseas, to provide enormous assistance to his own war, the one against organized crime.

"This is one case where someone with great political skills has been able to make a difference," Sam said as the car began to clear the city traffic congestion and pick up speed in its journey to Louisiana.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 21

2010-03-11T11:37:00.004-06:00

"So does this wrap it up, Lover?" Governor McClellan's assistant asked Phil.

"No, we still have a loose end, a murder expert in Chicago called Tommy the Moose," Phil answered.

"You made that name up," Nita challenged.

Phil laughed.

"Real name is Tomaso Musso," Phil said.

"Was he the fourth member of the hit team?" Nita asked.

"We don't think so. We think he hired Nickie and Jackie. We don't know whether he had anything to do with procuring Bozo," Phil teased.

Nita laughed.

"I take it Bozo is what they call Wilfred Bozarth?" Nita asked.

"Yeah, that's a name got pinned on him in prison and it stuck. Though from what I've heard about his propensity for violence, I doubt I'd call him that to his face without help close by or a weapon aimed at his nose," Phil admitted.

Nita laughed.

"This is all well and good," she said, "but the reason I called was to tell you that Daddy is in Dallas."

Phil noted the time. It was almost 11:30 in Baton Rouge.

"What did he drive there, too?" Phil asked.

"No," she said.

"I flew him on the governor's plane."

"Any particular reason?" Phil asked cautiously.

"To keep the governor from going over there. Ever since he got the news, he's been storming around saying he wanted to go to Texas to handle the extradition himself," Nita explained.

"Oh my God, that would be a disaster, a complete circus," Phil said.

"As soon as he started, I sent the plane to Lakefront to pick up Daddy. But Daddy and I and Mrs. McClellan spent the whole day and way into the night talking the governor out of going," Nita said.

"He couldn't see what a potential catastrophe for the case his involvement might cause?" Phil asked.

"All he could focus on was Aubrey. He still blames himself for Aubrey's death. And you know he thinks of Aubrey as a son," Nita answered.

"Is he now permanently disabused of the notion of going to Dallas?" Phil asked.

"I hope so, but I guess we'll have to see what tomorrow brings," Nita replied.

At four-thirty the next morning, there was a knock on the door of the room in the BOQ shared by Phil and Mo.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but we have a call for the inspector from a state policeman in Louisiana. The trooper says the governor wants to talk to him," the airman told Mo.

"Boss wants to talk to you, Sunshine," Mo told Phil, laughing as he made his announcement.

"Can the operator put the call in here?" Mo asked the airman.

"Sure," the airman answered.

"Good morning, Governor," Phil said into the telephone about thirty seconds later.

"Guess Nita's already told you I was causing trouble, yesterday?" Governor McClellan responded.

"Those weren't the words she used, but I talked to her last night," Phil admitted.

"And you told her my coming to Dallas and sticking my nose in would be a disaster?" the governor followed up.

"More or less," Phil said, a small smile crossing his lips.

"Well, you're both right, but it's killing me to sit down here while this scum thumbs his nose at us in Dallas. I just feel so useless. I guess I wanted to relive my past. I convinced myself that I could kick-start this whole business if I appeared in court. Nonsense, I know, but I'm just frustrated," John McClellan confessed.

"Buster will get the job done as efficiently as anyone, even you," Phil soothed.

The governor laughed.

"I know he's a better lawyer than me. Though before a jury in North Louisiana, I used to have my moments. Never practiced much in the city.

"I talked to Captain Porter already this morning. He says you've got the case headed in the right direction, says you're a born cop. Who would've thought?" Governor McClellan teased.

"Certainly not I," Phil conceded.

"You're not kidding anybody but yourself. I knew the first time I talked to you that you could do anything that needed to be done. You're a born investigator, too. These thugs just love telling you things they wouldn't tell anyone else. I've been keeping track. Don't you worry about that.

"You're a damn fine politician, too. As good as they come, except maybe for Nita and me. Who am I kidding? No one can hold a candle to Nita.

"Well I've gone on enough. How long before you get this bum back to Shreveport? I'm just itching to sign his death warrant," the governor added.

"Governor, we're going to need Bozarth to roll on the two old men from Connecticut. We're going to have to make a deal with him, which means we're going to have to take the death penalty off the table at the very least. As for how long, I'm hoping for the best, but we've got to be prepared for the long haul on this one. I learned last night that our suspect has hired Joe Tonahill, a guy who's got a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Of course, a lot of how long this gets strung out is going to depend on the judge," Phil explained.

"Buster tells me most of those judges in Dallas County are Republicans," Governor McClellan interjected.

"A few of them anyway, but there's one thing I hope you'll do for us," Phil suggested.

"What's that?" the governor asked.

"Call the governor of Texas and tell him Aubrey's story," Phil replied.

"Preston Smith is an idiot," McClellan said.

"Maybe, but he's a fine courthouse politician and the kind of man who would appreciate and probably expect your call," Phil said.

"I'll call him as soon as the sun comes up," the governor teased.

There was quiet on the phone line for a few seconds.

"I know you'll do this right. I just had to talk to you," John McClellan added.

Phil was going to say thank you and goodbye, but the governor was already gone. He turned to Mo.

"I guess after a shower, I'd better check in with Sam and Captain Porter and see what they've got up their sleeve for this interrogation," Phil said.

It had already been decided that Danny would stay on the sideline, at least in the preliminary stages.

"I called Aubrey's mother this morning," Patty told Phil after delivering her good morning kiss at the table in the Officers Club where they were meeting for breakfast.

"That was a nice thing for you to do. How was she?" Phil asked.

"She was quite pleased that there have been three arrests, but concerned when she read that the guy in Texas was going to fight extradition. She told me that she and Aubrey's father were probably going to Dallas to be in court for the hearing," Patty reported.

"That ought to help put a face on this thing for the media," Phil observed.

"I suppose I should give Danny a call, so he and Sam and Buster can help arrange for their visit."

"Is there really any chance that Texas would not send this guy to Shreveport for trial?" Patty asked.

"I don't think so," Phil answered, "but that doesn't mean that Bozarth's lawyer won't use the hearing to slow down the inevitable. That's a lot of what lawyers do, drag things out as much as possible."

"But, why?" Patty asked.

"If they know they're going to lose, why wouldn't they just just get on with things?"

"Because so long as you're in court, anything can happen and every so often it works. This attorney is a shrewd character. He knows that nothing good is going to happen for his client in Shreveport, so it's to the defense's advantage to keep away from there as long as possible," Phil answered.

"I would like to be in court with Aubrey's parents," Patty said.

"Can I go?"

Phil looked into her eyes and took Patty's hand.

"I know they would appreciate your support and it would probably look good for our case in the papers to have you at their side, but it's just too dangerous. Not only would you be placing your own life at risk by appearing in public, but the lives of anyone who happened to be around you, like the Brauds, would be endangered as well," he said.

Phil hoped that Patty wouldn't cry. He knew he was asking her to be a lot stronger than anyone could realistically expect of a person as young as Patty. Instead of crying, she bit her lower lip for a moment.

"I can't go to Dallas for the same reason," Phil added, hoping that would make a difference to Patty.

"Then the only other thing we can do is let Sam shoot this guy," Patty teased.

"Sam's got more sense, but don't suggest it to Mo. You could wind up being an accessory to Mo's extralegal activities," Phil said with a laugh.

He was glad to see Patty laugh with him. He had apologized several times for being responsible for putting her life in danger and resisted the temptation to do that again. Instead he asked a question and tried to pose his query playfully.

"Did you ever dream in your wildest imagination that you would be caught up in something desperately dangerous like this?"

Showing once again how truly remarkable and amazingly strong she was, Patty replied immediately, her eyes dancing with mischief and love.

"Of course. This was exactly what I had in mind that first Sunday afternoon when I showed up at your house and caught you wrapped in a bath towel. I knew if I played my cards perfectly, I could wind up on the lamb with you in Idaho," Patty said.

She managed to keep her facial expression totally controlled until she had spoken the last word, when they both erupted in roaring laughter. Neither said anything for more than a minute. They took sips of water and a couple of bites of their breakfasts before the conversation resumed.

"Looking at his picture, it's easy to visualize Bozarth as Aubrey's killer. But those two old men from New England, they look like a couple of kindly grandfathers. I just ask myself over and over how they could possibly have done something so horrible," Patty said.

"Interesting," Phil responded.

"Earlier, I was reading the reports Danny sent up. A stewardess in Dallas told two of the deputies that Venezia and Sinatra were 'very sweet.' An Eastern Airlines ticket agent in New Orleans said they had 'beautiful smiles.'

"The whole time I was reading these reports from people who encountered these 'cute' old men, my mind kept flashing back to the crime scene photos and the horribly burned bodies of Aubrey and Trooper Fitzmorris," Phil confessed.

It was totally out of character for Phil to talk with Patty like this. He was almost always careful to protect her against the ugly details of this awful work that had consumed their lives. Patty didn't really understand what point Phil was trying to make. She had never looked at the crime scene photos, but she had seen the pictures in the paper and on television newscasts. She knew what he was talking about. During the long silence between them, Patty reached over and took Phil's hand.

"You're trying to make sense of nonsense," she suggested.

"That's what my grandmother would say."

Phil smiled at this wise young woman who had been along with him on his journey through Mafia hell.

"Ever since we spent time with Vinny and his family, I've never been able to look upon him as a bad man. He's a great father who loves his children and those kids adore him. He's become like a big brother or loving uncle to me," Patty admitted.

"Vinny's different," Phil said.

"So far as we know he's never killed anyone."

"But what he does for a living takes the livelihood away from countless families who pay their gambling losses to him instead of buying school clothes or food for their children. Isn't that right?" Patty asked.

Phil nodded his head to confirm what she was saying.

"And some construction worker or longshoreman who can't pay Vinny winds up in the hospital or worse don't they? That happens whether Vinny does the actual beating himself, doesn't it?" she continued.

"Probably," Phil admitted, "but Vinny's still a special case. Danny said that he almost never has collection problems because he carefully manages his customers, has a good sense of what they can afford to lose. But you're right. These are mitigating details. Vinny's a thug, pure and simple. He may not be a violent maniac, but there's nothing benevolent about what he does for a living."

Phil stood and Patty rose to meet him. They embraced and kissed.

"I've got to pass on the word to Danny and Buster about Aubrey's parents' plans," Phil said.

"Hope I get to see you tonight," he added before turning to head back to work.

A few minutes later, after Phil finished talking with his colleagues in Dallas, Mo had a suggestion.

"We need to call Nita," he said, "to see if the Brauds need help with their travel to Texas or if they need someone to go with them."

Within hours, Aubrey's parents were driving out of Shreveport in a state police car with Captain Nate Porter at the wheel. At three-forty that afternoon, the captain pulled into the underground parking garage of the county's sparkling new courts building on Commerce Street in downtown Dallas. The Brauds were given a few minutes to freshen up. Then, right at four o'clock, they entered a big room filled with waiting reporters and cameras. A uniformed city police officer began passing out press kits containing newspaper photos of the scene of Aubrey Braud's and Billy Fitzmorris' murder. Television crews also received a small roll of video tape of news footage taken at the time of the killings. The Brauds took their seats at a table at the front of the room. Standing behind them were Captain Fritz, legendary Dallas County District Attorney Henry Wade and Captain Porter.

"We want to ask the people of Texas for their support in bringing our son's murderers to justice by seeing to it that this man Wilfred Bozarth is extradited to Shreveport for trial," Aubrey's mother announced in a strong, clear voice.

When she opened her mouth to continue, no words came out. In seconds, she had broken down completely and buried her face in a clean handkerchief her husband had quickly put in her hands. District attorney Wade and Captain Porter answered the questions from the reporters. But it was Aubrey's crying mother, whose picture led all the evening newscasts that night and was featured in papers from Dallas to New Orleans to Chicago the next day.

Phil and Mo had difficulty holding back tears the next afternoon when they were shown the cover photo on a copy of the Chicago Tribune that had been flown to them. Long before they saw the paper, Phil and his state police guard knew that the Brauds had sat directly behind Bozarth during his first court appearance in Dallas that morning. They also knew that Bozarth's attorney, Joe Tonahill, had shown up in court with a briefcase stuffed with legal tricks.

"We're winning the PR war in grand fashion," Buster LeClaire told Phil when they talked by phone late that afternoon, "but this country clown defending Bozarth is going to make us try the whole case in a hearing here in Dallas before we ever get him to Shreveport."

"Are you telling me you can't win?" Phil asked.

"I'm saying this is going to be a tough process. He's got three guys who swear he was helping them scrape paint off an old house in East Dallas at the time we know he was in Louisiana.

"Captain Fritz's guys want to sweat the man who owns the house, but he's in the cardiac care unit at Baylor hospital and his doctors won't let the cops see him. There's no telling how long Tonahill can drag this out," Buster answered, unable to hide his frustration.

"Well it could be a lot worse," Phil suggested.

"Governor McClellan could be over there trying to relive his glory years as a trial lawyer," he teased.

"That he's not doing that is certainly something to be grateful for," the New Orleans attorney admitted with a chuckle.

"The only thing to do here is to stay prepared and on our toes, guarding against Tonahill's tricks and work our way through the process," Buster asserted.

"Do you have enough research and investigative help?" Phil asked.

"I think so, between what you've already sent and the local assistance we're getting from the Dallas County DA," Marcel LeClaire answered.

"Well, don't hesitate to ask. This case has turned high profile in Washington. With the New York and Chicago involvement, I can get you anything you need," Phil said.

Phil remembered that Chicago was setting a plan in motion to apprehend some Outfit members in Omaha as they were seeking to harm him or his witnesses or both. As he reached for the phone to call Eddie, the instrument rang.

"Is Inspector Adley there?" the male voice on the other end of the phone asked.

"Who's calling please?" Phil responded, not recognizing the voice.

"I'm sorry," the man apologized.

"This is Sergeant Thomasson at the security police desk."

"Certainly, sergeant. This is Phil Adley. What can we do for you?" he asked.

Mo quickly became more attentive, straining to determine what was going on.

"Just got a call from the main gate. There's a man named Sylvan Pratt who just arrived in a cab from Boise. He has credentials from the Chicago Police Department identifying him as a reporter for the Chicago Tribune and he's asking to see you.

"What do you want us to do?" the sergeant asked.

"Wow," Phil said, allowing the phone line to go silent while he thought for a minute.

"Well, we don't want to leave him up there. I guess we'd better try to find out what he knows. Could you have someone drive him to your office? And, do you have a room you could put him in where we could talk with him? We wouldn't want him to come here with us," Phil explained.

"We have an interview room or I guess we could use the conference room," Sergeant Thommason answered.

"I guess we'd better go with the conference room," Phil said, resisting the temptation to put this unwanted guest in a room used to investigate crimes.

"What about the cab? What do you want to do with that?" the policeman asked.

"What's your usual procedure?" Phil asked.

"I don't know that we have one. I don't remember a cab ever coming to the gate before. They don't have any cabs in Mountain Home (the closest town to the base) and Boise's fifty miles away," he said.

Phil laughed and covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand.

"There's a reporter from Chicago at the front gate. Came in a cab from Boise," Phil explained to Mo in a low voice.

"I guess you'd better escort the cab to the security office, too, then," Phil said, "but don't let the driver around anyone he could ask questions."

A few minutes later, Phil and Mo walked into the conference room.

"How did you find me?" Phil asked Sylvan after the three had shaken hands, but before they sat down.

"Confidential source," the reporter answered.

"That means one of two things: the Outfit or someone in the justice department," Phil asserted.

"My money's on the Outfit," Phil continued before motioning to indicate that the reporter should be seated.

"The fact that you found us means that we and some other people important to our investigation are in serious danger," Phil explained as he and Mo sat down.

"In light of that, could we go off the record?" Phil asked the man from the Tribune.

"I'd really prefer not to. The only way I would agree is in exchange for a promise that you would give me a lengthy interview on the record. And part of that interview could involve me asking you questions about the conversation we had off the record," Sylvan answered.

"Fine," Phil said, hoping to show no outward sign of his disappointment at the reporter's answer.

"Keep your notebook open," he added, watching as the reporter quickly wrote down some words, probably Phil's admission that Sylvan's presence meant that Phil and others involved in the investigation were in danger.

Phil knew there were black reporters working for major news organizations, but could not remember having met one until Sylvan Pratt showed up.

"Why'd you take a cab all the way from Boise?" Phil asked, smiling.

"I don't drive," Sylvan explained.

Phil and Mo both laughed.

"I guess that makes sense."

"How does it feel being hunted by two or is it three organized crime families?" the reporter asked.

"It's not always comfortable," Phil admitted, "but it must mean that we're doing some things right. And don't forget, we're not just sitting idly by. We've got a good number of gangsters locked up and more in our sights. This is not one-sided."

"There's been a lot of speculation in Chicago that you're replacing Ed Aimes as head of the Chicago task force. Is that true?" Sylvan asked.

"Absolutely, positively not. Special Agent Aimes is doing an outstanding job. The excellent work his task force has been doing for years is paying off in countless ways right now. His people are making arrests and those arrests are going to result in convictions and a lot of long sentences for important organized crime figures in the Chicago area," Phil said, then changed course.

"I told you earlier that the fact your paper sent you here means that the lives of some very important people in this investigation are in danger. I would hope that you would reconsider and tell us how you found out where we are. Knowing that could help us protect the lives of those people I mentioned who are vital to this investigation," Phil said gently.

There was silence for several moments, then the reporter asked another question.

"Are you going to seek the death penalty for Giacomo Venezia, Nicholas Sinatra and Wilfred Bozarth?" Sylvan asked.

"Absolutely," Phil responded, "but keep in mind those trials will take place in state court."

"And can you get Bozarth extradited to Louisiana for trial?" the Tribune reporter followed.

"Without any doubt," Phil said with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Are there more arrests coming in Chicago?" Sylvan asked.

"Bet on it," Phil said without hesitating.

"Do you intend to arrest Sam Giancana?" the reporter fired back.

"We know he made the arrangements and gave the orders that resulted in the murders of Sheriff Braud and Trooper Fitzmorris. We also know that he arranged and ordered the attacks in Shreveport that led to the serious wounding of Inspector Preston MacGregor of the US Marshals Service. As soon as we develop evidence we can place before a grand jury to support what we already know, we will arrest Giancana," Phil said, making certain that Sylvan Pratt was witness to the look of dead certain determination in Phil's facial expression.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 20

2010-02-18T11:52:00.014-06:00

It was just after ten the same night when the four agents from the New York Organized Crime Task Force arrived at the house on Tredeau Street, just about a block from the South End Recreational Center in Hartford's Little Italy. Two agents went around back and the second pair knocked loudly on the front door of the darkened house. The pounding went on for about three minutes before a light came on in the foyer of the old home. Half a minute later, a disheveled elderly man with snow-white hair, wearing a torn bathrobe and worn out slippers opened the door.

"Giacomo Venezia, FBI. We have a warrant for your arrest. We also have a warrant for your cousin Nicholas Sinatra," the agent in the gray suit announced.

"It's the feds, Nickie. Come on down," Jackie hollered in a surprisingly strong voice.

"We want lawyers," the old man said to the two agents standing on his front stoop.

The agents each showed open warrants as they pushed past the ancient mobster and into the vestibule of his home.

"Our warrants name the two of you as material witnesses in a murder investigation. We also have a search warrant. Is there anyone in the home except for you and your cousin?" the agent asked.

Venezia shook his head.

"Just us," he said.

The search took about forty-five minutes. The agents found five handguns and an assortment of driver's licenses with various names and from different states. Little attempt had been made to conceal any of the seized items.

The telephone lines were burning. As soon as Danny got word that Sinatra and Venezia had been arrested, he called Phil.

"I need a plane to fly these guys from Connecticut to Shreveport," Danny had said.

Phil had only begun his conversation with Maria when the base operator broke in.

"I have an urgent call from Washington, Assistant Attorney General John Brinker. May I put him through?" she asked.

"Bye," Maria said hastily.

Phil hung up the phone and the instrument rang almost immediately.

"Hello, Judge," Phil said to his boss.

"This looks like the best one yet," John Brinker said.

"I just got off the phone with the head of the New York Organized Crime Task Force. He's got your two hit men in one of his cars and he wants to hold them in New York. I understand you're trying to fly them to Shreveport. What do I tell him?" the assistant attorney general asked.

"Tell him, these guys will get the death penalty in Louisiana. After we get our state convictions in Shreveport, he can have them back in New York for all the trials he wants. Tell him these old men killed my best friend," Phil answered instinctively.

"Jeez," Phil's boss said.

"From what little I've heard about these guys, they're too old to live long enough to be executed."

"That might be true, but why not get a couple of death sentences on the books for them just in case they turn out to be medical marvels?"

Phil knew he had won the argument when he heard his boss laughing on the other end of the telephone.

"Get Maria on the phone and have her arrange a charter out of New Haven for Shreveport. I don't want to waste any time waiting for the Air Force to find us a ride, time that the guys in New York might use to go over my head on this," John Brinker said.

Thirty minutes later, the two old men were pushed back into the plush seats of a King Air lifting off the runway at Tweed-New Haven Airport. They were accompanied by two of the agents of the New York task force. The feds were not exactly sure where Shreveport was and Jackie and Nickie weren't talking.

Eb wasted no time building murder cases against Venezia and Sinatra. Even before the plane had landed, using the list of drivers' license names the FBI provided, the special prosecutor dispatched detectives from the Bossier and Caddo Parish Sheriffs Offices to Dallas and Little Rock to check airline passenger manifests and show photos of Nickie and Jackie.

The Caddo deputies struck pay dirt at the Hertz rental counter at Love Field.

"When did the customer return the car?" one of the detectives asked.

"I don't know. I remember the rental, two small guys, old men who talked funny. Hold on a minute," the clerk said.

She turned, went through the door and returned in a couple of minutes carrying a manila folder.

"The account has gone to collections," the woman wearing the company uniform said.

"This is strange," she continued.

"They didn't return the car here. Didn't actually return it anywhere. The car was towed out of a no stopping zone at the New Orleans airport two days after it was rented."

"How did they pay?" the second deputy asked.

"They left a one hundred and fifty dollar cash deposit, not nearly enough to cover what they did, especially with the towing and storage fees. That's why it went to collections.

"Wait, here's a note from New York. When someone from the Manhattan office went by the address, it was a dry cleaners and no one there had ever heard of the man who rented the car."

"What was the address?" the detective asked.

"Three-twelve West Twenty-First Street," the clerk answered.

The rental clerk smiled with every response to every question. She had only displayed a slight frown when she read from the note about the towing and storage fees.

The deputy who had spoken first, checked the drivers' license list and confirmed that the name on the rental agreement matched a fraudulent license with the same name and phony address. He picked up a cheap brown attache case and clicked it open, removed an oversized envelope and spread six photographs on the rental counter.

"Do you recognize any of these men?" he asked.

The clerk immediately picked the photos of Sinatra and Venezia.

"Who are they?" the smiling clerk asked.

"Their real names are Nicholas Sinatra and Giacomo Venizia," the detective answered.

"Who did they kill?" the rental clerk joked.

"We just want to talk to them about an investigation we're conducting in Shreveport," the second deputy explained.

"Well, they certainly looked harmless to me," the clerk volunteered, "like a couple of old grandpas. To be honest with you, I was surprised that either one of them still had a driver's license.

"Oh," she paused, "but I guess the driver's license wasn't real since it didn't have his right name on it, huh?"

The clerk was still smiling.

"Thank you very much. Oh, one more thing. Does that rental sheet have a flight number on it?" the first detective asked as he stuffed the pictures back in the envelope.

The clerk took a quick look.

"Nope," she said, "just an airline, Braniff."

"That's very helpful," the deputy said before the two officers turned to make their way back to the Braniff counter, where previously no one had recognized either Nickie or Jackie's picture.

It only took two minutes to find that a Braniff flight from Kennedy airport had landed at Love Field about twenty minutes before the car was rented at Hertz. None of the names on the manifest matched any of the drivers' license names, but there was something curious. Two men named Jones had sat next to one another in first class. Their first names were listed as Nick and Jack and the ticket had been purchased from a travel agent in Chicago's Loop. A quick phone call revealed that the man who had bought and picked up the tickets had paid cash.

"Good work," Eb told the deputies when they called in to report.

"See if you can get me the names and addresses of the stewardesses on the flight. If any of them live in Dallas, track them down and show them the pictures," the special prosecutor added.

The deputies found one member of the cabin crew at home in her apartment on Bryan Street in Dallas. She immediately picked Jackie and Nickie's pictures.

"They were cute," the stewardess said.

"They only drank one glass of red wine each. Hardly touched their lunches.

"I hope they're all right?" she asked.

"They were very sweet."

Using the date the rental car was towed, Eb asked Danny to send a couple of agents to airline counters at Moisant, New Orleans' international airport on Airline Highway in Jefferson Parish. Three hours into their search, the agents found a friendly Eastern Airlines ticket agent who had sold two first class tickets to Nick and Jack Smith of Brooklyn. She identified pictures of Venezia and Sinatra and said they paid in cash.

"They had beautiful smiles," the agent remembered.

"They are brothers. They had been here attending the funeral of an old Navy buddy," she added.

The crew from that flight was based in Miami and the FBI would track them down, but Eb had enough. That afternoon, Eb presented his evidence to the special grand jury and they immediately voted capital murder indictments naming Nicholas Sinatra, aka Nick Jones and Nick Smith and Giacomo Venizia, also known as Jack Smith and Jack Jones. The old men were charged with killing Sheriff Aubrey Braud and Trooper Billy Fitzmorris.

Deputies and city police officers were quickly showing photos in bars and convenience stores in Bossier Parish, looking for anyone who had come into contact with the Connecticut hit men. In Chicago, task force agents appeared at the travel agency in the Loop hoping to identify the man who had bought the tickets for the flight to Dallas. Their theory was that by identifying the man who paid for the tickets, the investigators might be able to trace the money back to the Outfit. It was a long shot, but at least worth a try.

"Funny thing just happened at the jail," Eb said in a phone call to Phil just after ten o'clock that night.

"When we pulled Nickie and Jackie into a room so Johnny Pisanti could tell them about the murder charges, our killers refused to talk to Johnny. As soon as he introduced himself, they stood up and said 'get us out of here. We want a public defender.'"

"What'd you do?" Phil asked.

"We had no choice. We got someone over from the public defender's office. They only asked one question.

"Who's the best criminal defense lawyer around here. When the public defender's man answered, they stood, shook his hand and thanked him for his time. Now Charles Casey is on the case.

"What do you make of that?" Eb asked.

"I'm not sure," Phil answered, "but it's not good. I'm afraid we're missing something."

Phil knew what it was when he awoke at three the next morning. Except for Vinny, Phil's new gangster friends were used to staying up late and sleeping in mornings. Phil asked to be notified when Silvio was awake.

Silvio was led into the conference room for breakfast. Phil, who had not been able to go back to sleep, was suffering from too much coffee and held his hand over his almost empty cup when Silvio moved to pour it full.

"I've already had more than I need," Phil responded with a smile.

"What's wrong?" Silvio asked, his mouth mostly filled with a huge bite of omelet.

"It seems unlikely that our two guys from Connecticut could have killed Aubrey and Fitzmorris by themselves," Phil replied and waited patiently to hear from the Chicago mobster.

"Too old and too small? Is that what you're thinking?" Silvio suggested.

"By all accounts, their age isn't a problem of itself, but there was a fair amount of physical strength required to make the crime scene appear the way it did," Phil answered.

"Do you think Tommy the Moose went along to help?" Phil asked.

Silvio ate several more bites of his breakfast while he considered the question.

"Only way you're ever gonna know is if the old guys tell you. Have you thought they might have gotten help from one of Morello's guys or brought a third hitter in from somewhere else?"

Phil had been thinking of little else since his early wake up. Eb had done an amazing job tracking the movements of Jackie and Nickie, but there was really nothing to tie them to the murder except the expert speculation of Silvio Amalfitano. There was also the news from Eb that Sinatra and Venezia had hired Charles Casey and had refused to speak with Pisanti. Phil knew any jury in Shreveport would convict, but he had to admit there was a real possibility that a judge or an appeals court would kick the indictment if some more substantial evidence weren't available. A few minutes later, Phil was back on the phone with Eb, talking about his concerns.

"I don't think we've got any trouble at the arraignment this afternoon," the special prosecutor reassured.

"Casey has certainly already been down the same path you've taken, but my guess is it's too soon for him to fire that cannon. Even if he gets the indictment dismissed this afternoon, and I don't think any judge in Caddo Parish would want to do that. But even if he does, he knows he can't get around the material witness warrant, so his clients are going to stay in jail.

"My biggest concern is what these old men know things that we don't. From what I hear, they weren't all that surprised when the FBI showed up at their place. Why did they want an independent lawyer? That's what we've got to figure out and I don't have a clue," Eb said.

"I think it's fair to assume that they don't want to close the door on a deal," Phil suggested.

"Yeah, but that's far out on the last resort scale. They know they are unlikely to live long enough to actually be executed."

"We need to go to New York," Danny suggested in a phone call a few minutes later.

"It's time for you to work some magic on the task force guys up there. They're far and away the best in the country. You also have to reassure them. They busted two of the most important hit men in the world for you and you flew 'em off to someplace they've barely even heard of.

"Show 'em you're a big time player and I think there's a pretty good chance they can find answers to your questions," Danny challenged.

As usual, Phil's next call was to Maria to make travel arrangements. In the middle of that conversation, Maria passed on a message.

"The Judge thinks you're making exactly the right move," she said and Phil knew that his boss was standing over Maria's shoulder as they talked.

"Why doesn't he come along with me?" Phil asked, revealing that he probably had some doubts about how the New Yorkers would react to this kid from nowhere.

Phil heard his boss laugh in the background.

"He says you don't need him," Maria answered in a voice that led Phil to picture her grandmotherly smile.

The facts that Phil needed two bodyguards to keep him alive and that he was willing to go to any length to find the people who killed his best friend and another law enforcement officer gave Phil instant credibility with the agents assigned to the New York Organized Crime Task Force and their boss. The group of experienced federal cops was surprised at how quickly they were able to put Phil's very young age out of their minds once the conversation began.

It had been Danny who had recalled at the time of Aubrey's murder that there had been a similar mob killing near Chicago a few years earlier. But Danny found it interesting that there had been a very similar hit in New Jersey that also closely resembled the attack on Aubrey Braud and Billy Fitzmorris about six months before the two Louisianians were killed.

"We picked up an interesting tidbit from a bug we had planted in a social club," an agent named Edward offered.

"The vic was disabled with a high concentration of ether sprayed from a Windex bottle. Once they got the guy unconscious, they put him in the car, poured whiskey all over him and torched the car just like they did in your case," the agent said.

"Did you suspect our guys Venezia and Sinatra in that case?" Phil asked.

"Not until just now," Edward replied, his answer producing a round of laughter in the room.

"Maybe you want to get blood and tissue samples to Quantico," one of the supervisors suggested to Danny, who nodded his agreement.

Phil turned his attention back to Edward.

"So if the old men from Connecticut were involved in your New Jersey hit, they probably had the help of someone from New York who might have been more physically up to the task of moving the unconscious victim into the staged position of the crime?" Phil asked.

"That makes sense," the agent agreed.

"Do you have an identity for the voice of the guy who told the story?" Phil asked.

"No, but we can back-check to make sure no one recognizes the speaker. If I remember right, we didn't have any visual surveillance of the club at the time this particular tape was made. I just recall it because it was interesting, out of the ordinary," Edward answered.

"I think you also have to consider that it's probable that your two perps picked up a helper from nearby, some local thug who came to them from the Morello family," the supervisor suggested.

"True," Danny agreed, "but we think it could also be a Chicago captain who goes by the name Tommy the Moose."

"We'll get to our contacts on the street to see if anybody else has heard the story about the Windex man. Could help our case and yours if we turn anything," Edward said.

But a possible break came from closer to home in a phone call Eb made after a Caddo Parish deputy passed along a tip from a gas and grocery store owner. Gerald English had recognized pictures of Jackie and Nickie on a television newscast.

"They sat in the backseat of the car," the grocer told Eb when he called.

"I'm sure it was the guys on TV."

"Who was the driver?" Eb asked the store owner.

"Rough lookin' fella. Must've been six foot tall. Had kinda reddish-brown wavy hair, a gold tooth, I think. He had some old scars on his face. You could tell he was no stranger to a bar fight. He bought two bottles of Ten High Bourbon, a six pack of Schlitz, cigarettes and ten bucks worth of gas. Then he went out to use the payphone in the booth close to the highway. Figured he must've wanted privacy, 'cause there's another payphone on the wall inside the store," Gerald English said.

"We're getting a sketch artist from Shreveport PD up there right now," the special prosecutor told Phil in another phone conversation a few minutes later.

Phil called Sam Boerne to get him back to Shreveport.

"Where's the store?" Sam asked Phil.

"On Highway Seventy-One at Mears Road, about ten miles from where we found the car," Phil answered.

"Do you think our driver could have been one of the Dixie Mafia guys?" Phil asked the Shreveport homicide detective.

"But there's another possibility," Sam suggested.

"The Morellos've got contacts in Dallas. Our hit men could have picked him up there. Might be good to get the sketches over there to see if anyone recognizes him, especially at the rental car place."

By nightfall, Danny was on a plane for Dallas. Phil, Mo and Ben flew to Washington where they hitched a ride with the Air Force back to Idaho.

"Guess who knew our boy in the sketch?" Danny asked Phil in a phone call after lunch the next day.

"Someone at the Hertz counter," Phil tried.

"Nope," Danny said.

"None other than Captain Will Fritz, the famous Dallas homicide detective."

"I know him," Phil said.

"He remembers you and he's been following what you've been doing with your life. Right now, he's got three teams out looking for our man. His real name is Wilfred Bozarth. They called him Bozo in the joint and the name stuck. Captain Fritz says he's handled him so many times he's lost count. Our man Bozo's known to hangout with Morello's friends up here. He last did time for manslaughter, beat a guy to death in a fight in a bar on Greenville Avenue," Danny said.

"Small world," Phil mused.

"Captain Porter's on his way over here. He's going to pick up Sam at Love Field," Danny said.

"We have Gerald English in protective custody?" Phil asked.

"He wouldn't hear of it. He put the shotgun he usually keeps under his counter on top, right next to the register. There's a sheriff's deputy sitting at the front door with a shotgun in his lap and another deputy around at the back door keeping guard from his cruiser with his shotgun," Danny answered.

"Any chance Bozarth will waive extradition?" Phil asked.

"I suspect he's a whole lot smarter than that. My guess is we're going to be here a while," Danny said.

"I'm coming down," Phil told his friend.

"Better stay where you are. You can run things by phone," Danny responded.

There was silence for a time before Phil conceded.

"Well, at least I'm going to get Buster over there. We need an experienced legal eye watching everything we do," he said.

"Good idea," Danny agreed.

"I think he might also be able to help Sam with the Shreveport media. We'll probably also see the Chicago papers and TV stations open a second front over here as well."

Phil laughed.

"You're probably right," Phil admitted.

Mo had pieced things together from what he heard on the Idaho end of the conversation.

"We're not going to Dallas?" he asked Phil

Phil shook his head.

Mo smiled before he spoke.

"I guess it's for the best. I'd probably shoot the scum right there in the middle of the detective bureau. And I guess that wouldn't be good, because we're going to need his testimony to fry Sinatra and Venezia, aren't we?" he asked.

A few minutes later, Patty and Angela Angelleli showed up.

"What wonderful news," Patty called in from the door, unable to contain her glee.

"We should celebrate," Angie announced, entering the room between Patti and Ann Marie , Patty's deputy marshal.

When everyone had left the party at the Officers Club, Phil went looking for Silvio.

"We can't find Musso," Phil began.

"The guy can be a ghost. There are a bunch of places they use as hideouts in Wisconsin. The agents in Chicago may not know all of 'em. Get me a map of Wisconsin and I'll try to lay 'em out for you as best as I can remember. No promises, though. We only saw this guy when he wanted to be seen. I think even Sam's scared of him.

"So he wasn't in Shreveport for the hit?" Silvio asked.

"Not likely. This punk from Dallas, Bozarth, probably was all the help the old men needed," Phil acknowledged.

"And the cops got him?" Silvio asked.

"Yeah, Captain Fritz's boys brought him in less than an hour after I got the first call," Phil said.

"Those guys in Dallas who claim they're connected, they're a bunch of clowns," Silvio said, not attempting to conceal his disdain.

Phil laughed.

"What?" Silvio asked.

"Know what this guy's prison name is?" Phil asked.

Silvio shook his head.

"Bozo," Phil replied, an announcement that brought laughter from both men.

Phil looked over to see Mo signaling that he had a phone call.

"Nita," he mouthed from across the room.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 19

2010-02-11T11:29:00.005-06:00

"Eddie, I'm sorry I'm causing problems for you," Phil said to begin their telephone conversation.

"I'm not sure that problems with Chicago politicians taking payoffs from the Outfit is something you can take responsibility for," Eddie teased, "but I know what you're getting at.

"There's no need for an apology but I do need you here in the worst sort of way," the head of the Chicago Organized Crime Task Force said with a trace of urgency in his voice.

"Of course I will come," Phil said, "but I'm pretty sure my appearance before the Chicago media is only going to make matters worse."

"Why do think that?" Eddie asked.

Phil went through the same explanation he had given the assistant attorney general. Then he related his suggestion that Buster LeClaire appear as the lead attorney in court as a special prosecutor and repeated his suggestion that Ken Reilly should travel to Shreveport to present himself as the face of the investigation.

Eddie agreed, but wanted one modification.

"I think I need to be in Shreveport as well. You're right. The Chicago media is about to invade that place and I think it's important for them to see me there and hear me participating as an active partner in the investigation," the task force boss said.

"I agree completely," Phil responded.

"Get on a plane. And if I could make a suggestion," Phil said, then paused.

"Sure," Eddie said.

"We'll send you a telegram from Ken explaining how vitally important your presence in Louisiana is for the investigation and we'll send copies of that telegram to the media. Then, we'll set up a joint press conference for you and Ken in Shreveport. What do you think?" Phil asked.

"I think it will go a long way toward calming things down in Chicago," Eddie agreed.

"I'll get the telegram working. Call me back with your flight information. If it's all right with you, we'll have Ken meet your plane and you two can have your press conference right there. It will look more urgent that way," Phil said.

Phil did not admit how embarrassed he was to be manufacturing a spectacle like he had just described. But he had to silently concede that it would have significant impact on the case. Phil's next step was to call Buster.

"There's no business like show business," Buster teased after he had heard the whole thing.

Phil laughed.

"One thing," Marcel LeClaire said.

"I want you to personally call Iris Kelley at WWL and leak my appointment to her. If I'm going to spend this much time away from my practice, my partners need to see that the firm is getting something out of this adventure."

"Done," Phil agreed.

"The papers for your appointment will catch up with you in Shreveport. I imagine Ken will want to fly from Lakefront. You want to ride along?" Phil asked.

"No, I think I'll drive. I want to stop off in Baton Rouge and see Nita," Buster explained.

"Tell her I said hello," Phil said.

"I will, but it would be better if you took a minute and called her yourself. She's been worried sick about you," Buster added.

"She's number three on the list, after Ken and Iris, but before my boss," Phil said laughing.

"Serves him right for getting you into all this," Buster teased.

Somewhere in the course of his activity, Phil had managed to slip on some clothes, but he was clearly delighted when Mo showed up with hot coffee and two bacon and egg sandwiches.

"Thanks," Phil said.

"I'm talking to Nita."

Trooper Melancon reached his hand out and Phil passed over the telephone.

"Hey, Boss," Mo said.

"I just wanted you to know that your boyfriend is safe for now. But if he doesn't stop getting us into all these situations, I may shoot him myself."

All three had a big laugh. Nita wanted to end her conversation with Phil by telling him she loved him.

"Thanks for calling and take care of yourself," she said instead.

"I will," Phil promised before hanging up the phone to call John Brinker.

The scene at Shreveport Regional Airport for the press conference was complete chaos, just perfect for the television audience back in Chicago.

"All rise," the bailiff called at ten the next morning as Judge Hawkins entered the packed courtroom.

"What's this?" the crusty jurist asked the bailiff, an elderly man who knew exactly what the judge was referring to without any further words spoken.

"She's an artist, your honor and I have already warned her that she's not to cause any disruptions," the bailiff answered.

Judge Hawkins looked directly at the stunningly beautiful courtroom artist from Chicago, a woman about fifty years old.

"See to it that you get my good side for the folks up there in Chicago," he said before shocking the entire courtroom with a rare smile.

"Mr. Ruby," the judge called out gruffly.

"Yes, your honor," the New Orleans mob lawyer responded, rising to his feet.

"I'm fully well aware that the purpose of this hearing is to determine the fate of a bail motion. But before you waste a lot of my morning trying to justify your exorbitant fees, I want to make it perfectly clear that there is no way in hell that your client is leaving my jurisdiction.

"You have anything else?"

"Yes, your honor," Billy Ruby replied with a smile.

"We would like to propose that our client be released to the personal custody of an officer of this court, Mr. Johnny Pisanti and that our client remain available to this court inside Mr. Pisanti's home. We're also ready to pay for the expenses incurred by the US Marshals Service to maintain watch over our client in Mr. Pisanti's residence and to post a substantial cash bond in addition to these other conditions."

"How substantial, Mr. Ruby? Would you say a million dollars worth of substantial?" Judge Hawkins asked.

There was a collective gasp in the courtroom and Billy Ruby swallowed very hard.

"Yes, your honor. We would agree to that amount," the lawyer managed.

"Well, Mr. Ruby, I can't for the life of me imagine how a man such as your client could legally come up with a million dollars in cash. And this court has no intention of accepting anything as bond that comes as a result of criminal activity," the judge said, scowling at Ruby.

"Your honor," Billy Ruby protested loudly.

"You don't have to shout, Mr. Ruby, nor feign indignation. I know you're completely familiar with the Fifth Circuit and you won't hesitate to appeal my ruling down there.

"This defendant is remanded to the custody of the US Marshals to be held without bail for trial," the judge said sternly.

"We're adjourned," he added, rapping his gavel sharply before slowly standing.

"All rise," the bailiff called out as Judge Hawkins began to walk out of the courtroom.

The acceptance by Mario Barbato of the million-dollar bail proposal that Judge Hawkins had skillfully dangled in front of him answered the questions of lots of critics and doubters in Chicago and Washington about the way these organized crime cases were being handled.

"Judge: 'No way in hell'" screamed that afternoon's Chicago Today headline. The next morning the Chicago Tribune followed with three major stories and a complete set of sketches from the courtroom. Special Agent Eddie Aimes received lots of praise in the quotes in the Trib stories and in the coverage on the cover of the Washington Post.

However, over a third of one of the Tribune stories was devoted to the behind-the-scenes management and expertise of Assistant Inspector General Phil Adley of the United States Department of Justice.

"No wonder Carlos wanted this kid rubbed out," one of the Chicago task force's informants quoted Sam Giancana as having said after he read the newspaper story.

"Phil's a genius," Eddie told John Brinker in a telephone conversation just before lunch the next day.

"He pushed every appropriate button at just the right time."

"Giancana's talking about you," Danny told Phil in a phone call that afternoon.

"Yeah, I heard. And I suppose that's not good," Phil responded.

"You suppose right. This whole thing has the potential of getting out of hand, just like the Nazi's invasion of Russia," Danny said.

"Well, we've gotten help in Shreveport from Chicago and more people are on the way from Washington. I just got off the phone with Maria. She said some of the reinforcements were on planes right now," Phil offered.

"Yeah, but we can't risk having you set foot in Louisiana for the foreseeable future. And we need you here to coordinate all this mess, particularly with the new people coming in and the investigation threatening to grow beyond our capacity to manage it," Danny replied.

"Wait a minute. Isn't that why we're in business, to put mobsters in jail?" Phil asked, but moved on with the conversation before Danny could answer.

"Look, we've got some serious assets in place. Eddie's a real player and I think we need to keep him in place in Shreveport, at least for a while. And don't forget Buster and Eb. Those guys are heavy hitters,"

"Eb's so tired he can hardly see straight," Danny said.

"Well that's why we've got so much help coming, so we can break up these cases and spread out some of the legal work. And don't forget," Phil said.

"Hold on a minute," Danny interrupted.

"Eddie just walked in. I'm going to hand him the phone."

"Hey, Phil," Eddie said.

"What's up?" Phil asked, sensing that something important had just happened.

"One of our informants in Chicago just heard that Giancana has put a hundred-thousand dollar price on your head. We also heard that the Outfit thinks the Air Force has you wrapped up in Omaha," the Chicago task force boss said.

"Do you have some people you can send to Omaha?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, I guess we could. What do you have in mind?" Eddie asked.

"Maybe we can set a trap? Maybe we can get the marshals service up there to act like they're guarding someone on base?" Phil suggested.

"Possible. It could work all right. Let me get on it," Eddie answered.

"Good hunting," Phil said.

Phil sat quietly for a few moments.

"You know Mo, you and I have lost track the most important element in all of this. We've put all kinds of Mafia guys in jail, but we're not an inch closer to finding Aubrey's killers than the day we started," Phil said to his friend, the Louisiana trooper.

"Well, you asked Silvio on the plane. It seemed pretty clear to me that he didn't know anything," Mo replied.

"Let's go find him. Maybe I didn't ask him the right questions," Phil said.

"You look tired," Phil said to Silvio when they got to the cousins' room.

Silvio Amalfitano was sitting in a chair reading the paper while his cousin Buddy napped on one of the two twin beds.

"Not much happens out here, huh?" Silvio said, indicating with his eyes the thin copy of the Idaho Statesman he held in his hands.

"Wanna get a beer?" Phil invited.

"Sure, why not? Want me to wake Buddy?" the Chicago cousin asked.

"Let him sleep. We can tell the deputy to bring him to us, if he wakes up," Phil answered.

Silvio stood up and followed Phil and Mo out of the room. They picked a table by the window in the Officers Club as far from the bar as possible. There were no customers in the place.

"We're willing to make a deal with the trigger man," Phil tantalized in his opening remarks to Silvio.

The mobster was intrigued, but clearly puzzled.

"I don't get it. Those guys are back in Italy. And anyway, I don't know what they could give you that I haven't already," Silvio said.

"Wrong hit," Phil asserted.

"I want the guys who killed Sheriff Braud and Trooper Fitzmorris. In exchange for fingering the people who set things up, they skip the death penalty."

"I told you on the plane. I don't know anything about those killings," Silvio answered, curious as to where this was going.

"But you either have a good idea who might or you could draw us a map leading to the people who set this up," Phil said, looking at Amalfitano with the complete confidence of someone who knew he was right.

But Silvio sat in silence and Phil knew he was missing something, probably something obvious.

"How much of your money do you figure you can actually get to?" Phil asked after he figured out what he was doing wrong.

Silvio laughed a little.

"Probably none of it," he admitted.

"And nobody's going to send me any of it, even if I tell them where to look, because I'm a rat."

Silvio had a smile on his face that seemed to say, 'What you gonna do?'

"How many kids you have?" Phil asked, now confident he was back on track.

"Five," Silvio answered.

"What if I told you I have a way they can all go to college? Would you help me then?" Phil asked.

Silvio smiled. He had decided to cash in for his kids.

"The old man came up to see Sam about two weeks before your friend was killed," he began.

Phil knew that the old man was the way the Outfit guys referred to Morello.

"Zip was with him?" Phil asked.

Silvio shook his head.

"You see him yourself?" Phil continued.

"No, but everybody was talking about it. The guy rode up on the Panama Limited. Seemed to think he would attract less attention on a train than flying," Silvio answered.

"Funny, after our talk on the plane, I started trying to remember anything that might have involved your case. Then I remembered the train ride and I asked Buddy when your friend got murdered. That's when I started putting things together."

"So who else was in the meeting?" Phil asked.

"Just the old man and Sam. But after, we heard Sam called in Tommy the Moose," Silvio said, as if that cleared up everything.

Phil had no idea where this was going, but he forged ahead.

"What's his real name?" Phil asked.

"Tomaso Musso," Silvio said, "but he's got another nickname."

Silvio left that morsel as bait and Phil took it.

"And?" Phil asked.

"They call him the Executioner. He's a captain, but he has no crew. All the other captains kick part of their take to him and Sam pays him, too. His specialty is taking care of politicians who stray away from us and rats, people like me," Silvio answered.

Phil looked closely at the mobster and concluded that Silvio was very satisfied with himself. Amalfitano was confident he had solved the puzzle.

"So Musso killed Aubrey and the trooper?" Phil asked.

"My guess would be no," Silvio said.

"A couple a times before, Tommy the Moose called in these two old guys from Hartford, real small, maybe close to seventy years old. Nobody would suspect them of anything, but word is they're both stone killers. New York boys use them a lot," Silvio explained.

"Any proof to any of this?" Phil asked, knowing the answer to his question in advance.

Silvio confirmed Phil's suspicion with a shake of the head.

The pieces fell quickly into place for Phil. Danny might already know who the two old men in Connecticut were. There couldn't be too many hit men who fit that description. If Danny didn't know, someone with the New York task force would. Phil picked up the phone and gave Nita's phone number to the base operator.

"I'm with an informant who has just solved Aubrey's murder," he told Nita.

"He has five children and we want to see to it that they all get full scholarships to LSU," Phil said.

"I'm sure the governor will set up the scholarship fund," he added.

"He won't have to. I'll tell him. But I've got the list of donors for things like this and I'll make the calls myself. Give me their names and ages," Nita said.

Phil turned his head directly to Silvio.

"Give me your kids' first names and ages," he said.

"We won't use last names for now," Phil told Nita.

"They'll be changing pretty soon."

"Jennifer is fifteen," Silvio began and they went through the entire list and Nita called them all back to make sure she had them right.

Silvio confirmed the list with a nod.

"Let me talk to your informant," Nita asked Phil.

"Thank you," she began.

"Aubrey Braud was a dear friend. I'm Nita LeClaire, Governor McClellan's assistant. Each of your children will have full educations at LSU. And beginning with Jennifer's arrival, I will keep in touch with all of them while they're here.

"I don't know what else you may have done in your life, but you have done a very good thing today. Thank you again," she said.

Silvio was unable to speak, but managed to hold back his tears as he passed the phone over to Phil.

"Thank you," Nita said to Phil.

"I'll tell the governor."

"You want a glass of water or something?" Phil asked Silvio, who was still unable to speak.

The Mafioso just shook his head.

"Danny," Phil said into the phone a few minutes later.

"Can you get us a federal material witness warrant on one Tomaso Musso, a.k.a. Tommy the Moose? We want to question him about the murders of Aubrey Braud and Billy Fitzmorris.

"And have you ever heard of a couple of old men in Hartford who perform special hits for the mob?" Phil asked.

"Those guys are famous. Nickie Sinatra and Jackie Venezia," Danny answered without hesitation.

"You want material witness warrants for them too?" he asked.

"Yes and do you think Judge Hawkins will sign them based on information from a confidential informant?" Phil asked.

"I'm pretty sure he will. But if not, I suppose I should tell him that Silvio Amalfitano provided the information?" Danny asked.

"Yes, but only if you have to," Phil said.

"And as soon as their feet touch the ground in Shreveport, tell Eb. I'm going to ask him to indict all three of them for capital murder [a state charge that carried the death penalty]."

"Any proof?" Danny asked.

"Just the word of a Mafia puzzle master," Phil replied.

"I'm sure they've killed somebody," Danny quipped.

"That's a safe bet," Phil responded before ending the call.

"You can do that based on what I said?" an amazed Silvio asked.

"Your boss has messed with the wrong people in the wrong place. I've got a grand jury sitting in Shreveport that will indict a ham sandwich, if Eb asks them to," Phil answered.

"Somebody's going to the electric chair."

Phil could tell by Mo's broad smile that his friend did not feel that he had overreached, but he wanted verbal re-enforcement.

"So you don't think I went too far with the information Silvio gave up?" Phil asked.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I think Sam Boerne is right about you. You are a natural-born cop," the trooper answered.

Phil was somewhat reassured. The material witness warrants were federal and if something went wrong, the responsibility was his. The state murder indictments were another thing. So Phil called Eb and told him the whole story.

"Amalfitano knows what he's talking about?" the Louisiana special prosecutor asked.

"He does," Phil confirmed.

"And you have no reason to believe he's lying to you or misleading you?" Eb followed up.

"None at all," Phil answered.

"I'll get the indictments first thing in the morning. I think we've got a decent chance somebody among the three will talk and we can investigate further based on the information we develop from the cooperating witness," Eb asserted.

"Thanks," Phil said and ended the conversation.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 18

2010-02-03T11:47:00.005-06:00

Mario Barbato was sitting at a table inside Gino's Deli on North Harlem in Elmwood Park with a plate of melon and gabagool when the agents from the Chicago Organized Crime Task Force entered. Two of the feds stood at the front door, while the second pair of agents approached the table.

"Mario Barbato?" one of the agents asked in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the dining area.

"Yeah," Barbato grunted.

"Stand up and place your hands behind your back," the agent ordered.

"You're under arrest for the attempted murder of a federal officer in Shreveport."

"Where's that?" Barbato demanded as he slowly rose to his feet.

"We'll show you, smart guy," the agent answered as he clicked one of the cuffs on Barbato's left hand.

When the second cuff was in place, the other agent at the table began to read the mob captain his rights from the Miranda card he was holding in his hand.

"Let's go," the first agent called loudly into the kitchen, where a fifth and sixth agent had entered from a back door.

In less than two minutes, Barbato was seated between two FBI agents in the backseat of the middle of three cars. They were on their way to Waukegan Regional Airport, about twenty minutes drive north in Wisconsin.

At the airport, four of the agents accompanied the mob captain onto a waiting King Air. Barbato's trial might be held in Shreveport, but he was the most important collar the Chicago task force had made in a long time. Even though he had been a gift from the Louisiana guys, he was Outfit and he was their perp so far as the Chicago agents were concerned.

"Where you takin' me?" Mario Barbato asked, losing a trace of his composure by asking the question.

"Shreveport, we promised to show you where it was," one of the arresting agents answered, a wry smile crossing his face.

"You can't kidnap me like this. I want a lawyer," the mobster protested.

"We'll radio ahead and your lawyer can meet the plane. Your boss already has a guy down there," the other arresting agent said.

"Yeah, who?" Barbato asked, unable to conceal his surprise.

"Kevin O'Mally," the agent answered.

The Outfit captain was quiet for more than a minute.

"I'm not saying anything until I see O'Mally," he said finally.

"That's certainly your right," the agent responded as the plane began a wide turn onto a heading for Louisiana.

"So Agent Hodge isn't going with us the rest of the way?" Silvio asked as the Air Force transport turned onto a taxiway, beginning its journey on to Idaho.

"No, he has business in Shreveport," Phil answered, wondering what it was about himself that seemed to make these Mafioso comfortable enough that they could easily chat with him.

"Is that where you're taking Mario?" Silvio asked.

"Yes," Phil answered.

"He's not going to like that," Buddy's cousin said.

"I expect not, but why? Jail's jail, isn't it?" Phil questioned.

Both Amalfitanos laughed.

"Well, Mario could expect special treatment in Cook County. And besides, he wouldn't stay locked up more than a couple of hours, if that. My guess is you guys are taking him to Shreveport so that won't happen," Silvio suggested.

Phil smiled.

"Food's actually pretty good," Buddy said, "but they brought us some special stuff in, come to think of it."

"Is that what made you decide to go rat, they bought you some pizza?" Silvio asked his cousin.

Phil noticed that Silvio's voice had a harsh edge on it, but his tone was not completely hateful.

"No, I talked because this guy," Buddy said looking directly at Phil, "had me boxed in. Either I could roll on you or Morello would take my family. That's why I talked and you know it, Silvio.

"You did just the same thing when you ratted your captain. I didn't have any more choice than you did."

Things were quiet for a moment before Silvio spoke again.

"You got my kids? They all right?" he asked Phil.

"The marshals have them and they're safe," Phil answered.

"They coming to the same place we're going?" Silvio asked.

"Unlikely," Phil answered.

"The marshals service will find a place where they won't stick out so much. Hopefully, both your families will be in the same city, but not too close."

"Our families don't know each other. Buddy's family moved to New Orleans when we were little kids," Silvio explained.

The group flew in silence for about fifteen minutes, then a mischievous smile appeared on Silvio's face as he returned to a subject that clearly fascinated him.

"So how did a wet behind the ears sheriff from Noplace, Louisiana, wind up being a big honcho with the justice department?" he challenged Phil.

Phil and Mo both laughed. Ben laughed at the mobster's brashness. But in fact, Ben was just as curious about Phil's rise in status as Silvio.

"We did all that," Buddy joked, bringing laughter from Phil and Mo again.

"There's certainly a lot of truth in what Buddy says," Phil admitted, leading Buddy to continue.

"Zip said this guy would fill as big as stage as they put him on," Buddy added.

"I wish I had never met Zip Sorrento," Phil said.

"My life has been on a downhill spiral ever since I did."

Everyone laughed, but Ben hoped that Phil would go on to provide a more serious answer.

"To me, it's most amazing that I ever became a sheriff in the first place. I was a radio reporter just arrived in Shreveport when all this mess started," Phil said.

"I became friends with Aubrey Braud," Phil began, pausing to watch carefully for any reaction from Silvio.

When it was clear the name did not register on Silvio, Phil continued.

"Next, I met this guy," Phil said, poking Mo with his finger.

"When two of Buddy's associates came to my driveway with an envelope full of money, the governor decided I needed state police protection and I wound up with him," Phil related, looking at the state trooper.

"Then the governor made our friend Aubrey sheriff of Bossier Parish and Aubrey insisted I become his PR guy, but he made the awful mistake of calling me his chief deputy. When some of your colleagues murdered Aubrey, I automatically became sheriff," Phil said.

Phil noticed Silvio looking directly at him, the expression on his face clearly saying 'I don't know anything about that. I'm sorry, though.'

"I've always thought the guy who got off the plane in Omaha had a lot to do with the second part. The assistant attorney general who is now my boss in Washington came down for some meetings and I played a role in one of those meetings. It was not too long after that I was asked to come to Washington, offered a job and here I am on an Air Force plane chatting with you guys," Phil finished lightly.

"So what's next? What you gonna do when all this is over?" Silvio followed up.

"Well, according to Buddy's friend Vinny, this is never over. He says I'm like you guys, in it for life," Phil answered with a smile.

Both cousins laughed knowingly.

"You believe Vinny's right? You're like a made man on the other side of the fence?" Silvio asked.

"At first, I thought Vinny was talking crazy, but something he said sunk in. So long as Zip is alive, he'll see to it that someone is hunting me?" Phil explained.

"So what about the old man, Carlos? Will he keep after you, too, even if you get Sorrento strapped in a chair?" Silvio pressed.

"Probably, but that's too many ifs. Zip's going to prison for a long time. But whether we can get enough evidence to put him on death row, that's another question altogether," Phil answered.

"Plus, now you've come to Chicago and messed with us and the Outfit never forgets. Maybe Vinny's got a point.

"I gonna meet this Vinny?" Silvio asked.

"Pretty soon, now," Phil answered, looking at his watch, then nodding his head.

"Vinny's our best earner," Buddy said proudly, then reflected.

"At least he was," he added.

As soon as the door opened into the conference room, Vinny was on his feet and a few seconds later he was embracing Buddy.

"Sorry for what I had to do. It was for my family," Vinny said.

"They caught me in the same trap, Vinny," Buddy responded, then separated from the hug and took a step back.

"Vinny Gennuso, this is my cousin, Silvio," Buddy said, introducing the two men.

"Sorry, I guess I ratted you out, too," Vinny said as he shook hands with Silvio.

"What can I say? I rolled over on my captain. I guess we're all in the same boat. All of us got big targets painted on our chests," Silvio said.

Phil and the lawmen watched from a few steps away. Phil had asked Danny to call Sam Boerne, so he could prepare Vinny for the arrival that had just unfolded.

"This man's become like a brother to me," Vinny told the other mobsters as his arms encircled Phil in a giant bear hug.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Mo announced sarcastically, bringing laughter to the room.

"Do we have to talk business at dinner, because I would like for Patty to join us," Vinny said to Phil as the mobster pointed toward the waiting spread of covered dishes on the conference table.

"She'll probably come if you ask her," a smiling Phil replied to Vinny.

Mo smiled at the gregarious Mafioso and picked up the phone.

"Mrs. Angelelli could come, too," Vinny suggested.

But when he looked from Mo to Phil, Vinny could see that Phil was shaking his head to indicate that was not a good idea. Vinny's smile ebbed, but he took the phone from Mo's hand and Vinny's face lit up again as soon as heard Patty's voice on the phone.

"It's me," he said into the mouthpiece.

"My friend Buddy and his cousin are in from Chicago. We want you to come over and have dinner with us. We got pasta and sauce, minestrone, salad and cheesecake," Vinny said.

"I knew the cheesecake would get you," Vinny announced triumphantly, "and I'll have 'em bring some sweet tea right away.

"What's that? Who?" Vinny teased.

"Yeah, he's here," the gangster said as he passed the telephone to Phil.

"Hello," Phil said.

"I'm fine. Mo and Ben have been taking good care of me," Phil answered.

"Are you sure?" Phil asked in disbelief.

"If that's what they want. There's plenty of food," Phil said.

"See you in a few minutes," he concluded before hanging up the phone.

"You win again, Vinny," Phil told the mobster.

"Not only is Mrs. Angelelli coming, but the wife of the commander of this base is coming as well.

Phil looked over. All three of the made guys were looking smug. They knew that civilian women found gangsters exciting, exotic.

"No business at all and no scary stories," Phil warned the trio.

In a few minutes, the room became electric. The three women were giggling like schoolgirls as they entered. Only Ann Marie was composed. There oohs all over the room as Patty gave Phil a delicious welcome home kiss, which was followed by a kiss on the cheek from Angie and a handshake and semi-hug from Darlene Black, the base commander's wife.

Patty got a kiss on the check and a hug from Vinny, then shook hands pleasantly when she was introduced to Buddy. But Patty turned cold as steel when it came time to be introduced to Silvio. Instead of extending her hand, she looked him fiercely in the eye and spoke.

"You're one of the ones who tried to kill Phil," she said.

Patty's body was shaking, but her voice was firm. Phil immediately put his left hand on Patty's right shoulder and Vinny quickly placed his right hand on Patty's other shoulder. Phil quickly considered whether to call the whole thing off as a bad idea, but Vinny spoke before Phil could.

"Patty, it was business," Vinny said in a gentle, low voice just above a whisper.

Everyone froze, except for Ann Marie who had moved quickly to a spot directly behind Patty.

"He more than made up for it," Phil said.

"He gave us information that will cement the case against Zip and led us to arrest his own captain, a very high figure in Chicago organized crime."

"Is that true?" Patty asked Silvio.

"Yes ma'am," Silvio answered with a nod.

"And you'll testify about what you did in court?" she asked.

"I will," Silvio said.

"Is your family safe, now?" Patty asked the Mafioso, her voice becoming gentle again.

"The inspector tells me they are. I'm hoping to speak with them soon," Silvio answered.

"Thank you for doing the right thing," Patty said, extending her hand to shake Silvio's.

"The rest of dinner went fine," Phil told Danny in a telephone conversation about two hours later.

"I wasn't too wild about the idea of putting these three guys together on the same base," Danny said, "but the alternative, having our witnesses locked up, was far worse."

"They seem to be in the process of forming some sort of family on the outside," Phil suggested to Danny, who was as much of an expert on organized crime as Phil knew.

"These are the strangest people I've ever been around," he added.

"But they seem to be drawn to you," Danny volunteered.

"That's another thing I can't figure," Phil said.

"Gang behavior is strange, whether it's in the Mafia, in a prison or in Spanish Harlem. They seem to form family-like units, but they're also inclined to kill one another.

"Keep your eye open. They can go from hugging one another to snarling at each other like alligators in a flash," Danny instructed.

"I take it Sam knows these things well," Phil said.

"I think he has the concept, but he hasn't been that close to the Morello family, at least not the made guys. He's dealt with a lot of messengers and hangers-on, people who are close to Morello but not family members.

"There's another thing. Vinny's got him totally baffled. The way he's prone to skipping off into outer space is one thing, especially when you're gone for more than a day. The other thing that none of us can explain is how protective Vinny is of you and Patty," Danny said.

"There's no doubt that his protective instincts are the only reason I'm alive," Phil offered.

"True," the federal agent admitted.

"What about Barbato? You get anything from him?" Phil asked after a silent pause.

"His favorite word is lawyer," Danny joked, "that and he hates greasy fried food."

"Ask Giuseppe to cook for him," Phil suggested.

"That's a good idea and it also reminds me of something. Giuseppe called me while you were hanging out at the hospital. His daughter is worried sick about you. He would like for you to call her," Danny said.

It took Phil a moment after he had ended his conversation with Danny to find the number. It was almost ten o'clock in Shreveport, but he decided to make the call.

"Hello," a sleepy voice said over the phone.

"Annabella, I hope I didn't wake you," Phil said.

"It's so wonderful to hear your voice. I've been praying for you and lighting a candle in church every day," the excited young lady said.

"Thank God, you're all right."

"Thank you for those prayers. I'm perfectly fine and so is Patty. She's up here with me," Phil said.

"And you're safe from those bad men, Morello's people?" she asked, becoming suddenly anxious.

"We are quite safe and we even managed to capture one of those men who ordered the attack in Shreveport and put him in jail," Phil responded.

"I know. I saw it on television this evening. I stuck my tongue out at him when he walked in front of the camera, handcuffed to those two policemen," she said.

Phil couldn't help but laugh.

"I need you to do something for me," Phil said after a pause.

"Anything," Annabella answered.

"I want you to bake some cookies," Phil said.

"For you and Patty? Are you coming home?" she asked.

"Not just yet. The cookies are for Preston MacGregor and his wife. Mac is the man who saved my life the other day and he was badly wounded in the shooting. He's being moved to Shumpert Hospital tomorrow.

"Do you think you could bake him some cookies after school and ask your aunt or your father to take to visit Mr. and Mrs. MacGregor in the hospital?" Phil asked.

"Of course," Annabella answered in a very grownup voice.

"I'll talk to my aunt tonight and I'll leave my father a note so he will see it when he gets home. He told me he had visited you when Mr. MacGregor was in the hospital, but I just had to talk to you. I have been so worried.

"Could I speak to Patty, too? Daddy said that she had to have a lady police officer protecting her. I don't want anything bad happening to her, either," Annabella said.

"I'm calling from my office and I'm afraid Patty has already gone back to the house where she is staying with some very nice people. She is safe here and has a nice lady making sure of that. Maybe she can call you after school tomorrow. Would that be all right?" Phil asked.

"That would be wonderful and I'm so glad you called. I'll bake the cookies right after school. Do you think he likes Toll House cookies?" she asked.

"I'm sure he does," Phil answered.

"Please tell your father I said hello."

"I love you and thank you so much for calling," Annabella said.

"I love you, too. Sleep well," Phil finished.

"Sweet dreams," she responded before hanging up the phone.

Sweet dreams sounded very good to Phil, perhaps spiced by Toll House cookies lovingly baked by a beautiful young girl. Anything normal sounded good.

Phil was summoned to the phone early the next morning.

"Good morning, Judge," he said to John Brinker, his boss in Washington.

"Hope I didn't wake you, but your new friend in Chicago has got a problem," the assistant attorney general said.

"I take it you mean Eddie Aimes?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, the Chicago Tribune found out about Barbato's arrest and transport to Shreveport. The embarrassment stems from questions in the story as to why the Chicago task force wasn't able to wash the city's own dirty laundry at home.

"The paper was looking for you last night. The press officer at the department called me and I issued a one-sentence statement saying that Barbato was being held in Shreveport because the actual shootings took place in Louisiana. Is that what you would have done?" Phil's boss asked.

"I would have issued the statement in Ken Reilly's name, but that's about what it would have said. So where do we stand this morning?" Phil responded.

"Well, first and foremost, the attorney general wants us to get a handle on this thing. What gets written in the papers in New Orleans doesn't get much traction here, but Chicago is a completely different matter.

"Second, Eddie wants you in Chicago as quickly as you can get there. He thinks you can get the press off his back," John Brinker answered.

"I will do whatever you and Eddie want, but I have to tell you that I think me going to Chicago would just throw gasoline on the fire. The underlying problem Eddie's got is substantive. The fact is we can't handle Barbato in Chicago because Giancana's got his fingers everywhere in the judicial system there and Eddie can't say that publicly.

"If I were to become the public face of this case in Chicago, it would just make Eddie and his people look weak. It would also help Barbato's lawyers get their man back into a Chicago federal court. As a matter of fact, depending on whether they have a federal judge in Chicago who is an absolute puppet, they might well get an order to bring Barbato back, anyway," Phil said.

"So what are you going to do?" John Brinker asked.

"Well, if you'll let me, I'll call Eddie as soon as I hang up with you and cover these issues with him. Assuming he agrees with me on them, I'm going to ask you to appoint Marcel LeClaire as a special prosecutor for the justice department reporting to Washington just like I do to assist with Barbato's case. And assist is really the key word. We can't afford to have it look to people in Chicago like Washington's taking over the case, but we've also got a huge problem in Shreveport with Judge Hawkins if we have an assistant US attorney from Chicago sitting first chair in the case," Phil said.

"You don't think that judge's rulings would be colored by the fact that government counsel is from Chicago do you?" Phil's boss asked.

"Not his rulings. But trust me, Judge Hawkins lives to make the lives of lawyers he sees every day miserable. There is no way to imagine how much grief he would pile on an assistant from Chicago. I know that O'Mally will be running the show for Barbato, but I am almost certain that Billy Ruby or Johnny Pisanti will actually do the talking," Phil answered.

"So you envision a match-up between LeClaire and Ruby?" John Brinker asked.

"Probably," Phil agreed.

"Let me see how this sits with Eddie and I'll get back to you. I also think we need to get Ken up to Shreveport right away. He needs to be our face for the Chicago press, which I'm sure is about to invade Louisiana," Phil said.

"Why Ken and not you?" Phil's boss asked.

"Two reasons. First, Ken is Eddie's counterpart. Second, he's not from Washington. If I talk, it looks like Washington's taking over the whole case," Phil explained.

"As soon as we get these cases behind us, we've got to get you to law school," John Brinker announced.

Phil laughed.

"I'll call you back," he said to his boss.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 17

2010-01-11T10:54:00.001-06:00

"Buddy's not like Vinny," Danny said to Phil in a phone conversation late that afternoon.

"There was no dance at all. He just laid it all out. Dates, times, places, amounts of money, people, he just told us like he was giving us directions on how to get to his house.

"It's all being typed up now. When it's done, he'll sign it and a couple of agents are going to drive it to Shreveport.

"So where's the next stop on our mystery tour of North America?" the treasury agent asked.

"Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton," Phil said.

"Your local Air Force contact in Little Rock will have to give you the travel details. Maria didn't have them before she left the office, but she did tell me that Buddy's cousin is on his way. The two FBI agents who arrested him are driving him down there as we speak."

"So the bust went all right?" Danny asked.

"Maria said they took him down in a bar where he was drinking coffee and checking basketball scores in the paper. She said they announced loudly that he was under arrest for the attempted murder of a federal agent in Shreveport. Maria said they didn't tell him he was actually being taken into custody in connection with a material witness warrant until they got him in the car. That's also where they told him about his cousin.

"When the agents stopped to use the payphone, their colleagues at the office instructed them to head toward Indianapolis and check back in about an hour," Phil explained.

"Do you have any plans to meet us in Ohio?" Danny asked.

"I could certainly come if you need me, but it sounds to me like you've got things mostly in hand," Phil answered.

"Well, we need to get his testimony on film and then there's the cousin," Danny explained.

"So maybe I should call John Brinker. It sounds like you need some help there. And it might also be a good idea if I make a stop in Chicago and talk with the taskforce there, since a significant part of our crime spree happened in Chicago.

"Do we have any idea what the cousin can tell us?" Phil asked.

"That's pretty hard to say. The only thing we know for sure at this point is that he was the go-between. But whether he witnessed anything of substance doesn't fall in the stack of information supplied by Buddy," Danny answered.

"And I think it's a good idea to recruit the Chicago taskforce into this thing. Every time we turn over one layer in this case, we see there were more layers hidden underneath. That's the way organized crime cases work," he added.

"What do I do if Vinny wigs out on me while you're gone?" Detective Boerne asked Phil after Phil had talked with his boss and made his latest set of travel arrangements.

"How 'bout Patty?" Phil suggested.

"She seems to have a calming effect on him."

Phil got to experience something few civilians do. The KC-135 he flew out on performed an in-air refueling of a B-52 while he was onboard. When the mission was completed, the big tanker plane took Phil on to Wurtsmith Air Force Base in Michigan, where the US Navy was waiting for him. Phil was flown to Naval Air Station Glenview aboard a P-3 Orion, which had been searching for make believe submarines in Lake Michigan before picking Phil up.

"I'm Special Agent Eddie Aimes," the cheerful head of the Chicago Organized Crime Taskforce said as he stood to shake hands.

"Phil Adley," Phil said, extending his hand to shake Eddie's.

"Yeah, I heard of you. You're the guy who didn't think being at war with one Mafia family was enough, so you decided to take on the Outfit just for good measure," the FBI agent teased.

Phil laughed.

"Don't forget the guys from Naples," Phil responded.

"They were the ones actually gunning for me," he added.

"I heard about that, too. How's the marshal doing?" Eddie asked.

"I spoke to his wife this morning. Today, he was supposed to take his first steps since the shooting. I need to call and see how that went," Phil answered.

"I actually got to talk to him last night, but just for a minute, just long enough to say thanks. He looks like he's going to make a full recovery."

The two sat in chairs in front of a desk in a borrowed flight office.

"I've got two more agents driving up here now. My boss in Washington said you needed some help in Dayton. I'll leave the two guys who busted Silvio Amalfitano over there as well. Do you think you can get these agents flown to the base?" Eddie asked.

"I'm sure we can find a way, but I'm not certain how I'm getting to Ohio at this point. However, we now have a designated contact person at the Pentagon making these arrangements for us, so I'm sure Maria can work something out with her for your guys," Phil answered.

"I don't know how high up in the Outfit Silvio goes. He hadn't hit our radar until your guys brought him to our attention. So far as we knew up to that point, whatever contact existed between the Morello family and the Outfit was just between Carlos and Sam the Cigar. Clearly that's not the case, so it could be your shooting involves some heavy hitters up here. One way or another, we're glad for the opportunity to pursue it.

"Are you going to put Silvio under your protection?" Eddie asked.

"I would guess that will be the case. We had thought we were being clever with his cousin Buddy, but found out differently when he all but begged for us to protect him. So it seems likely that he would urge his cousin to go into the program as well.

"That said, Danny told me earlier today that Buddy Amalfitano doesn't believe there is any way we can protect him. He told Danny he didn't expect to live to testify," Phil said.

"You putting him on film?" Eddie asked.

"Tomorrow, I hope," Phil replied.

"Well here's the deal," Eddie began.

"We're willing to work with you any way we can. It sounds to us, based on the number of Morello's people you've got locked up and charged, that your taskforce is way ahead of anything we've managed to do up here. If Silvio knows half as much as his cousin, we might be ready to make a breakthrough, but we have a problem.

"We don't trust our judges. They're not all dirty, but the ones that aren't are all afraid. If we make cases here that connect to your shooting down there, is there any chance your judge will try our cases?"

Phil laughed.

"Our judge is crazy as a gooney bird," Phil said, "but he didn't like his hometown getting shot up, either. If your cases connect to the shootout, I'm pretty sure he would try 'em. And there's more.

"We've got an unsolved case involving the murders of a sheriff and a state trooper. We believe those shooters might have come from here, too. If we can develop a case on those murders, we want to try them in Shreveport. As a matter of fact, we want to try them in state court there so we can get the death penalty," Phil said.

"You can do that? We can't even get the State's Attorney up here to take an open and shut case we make for him. He's completely mobbed up," Eddie said.

"That's true in New Orleans, too. That's why we're doing everything in Shreveport," Phil explained.

There was a knock on the door and a few seconds later a Navy lieutenant opened it and stepped in.

"I'm looking for Inspector Adley," he inquired looking at both men.

"That would be me," Phil responded with a smile.

"I have been asked to set you up with transport going to Wright-Patterson. We've got a P-3 Orion on a training mission. The skipper just radioed that he was about fifteen minutes out.

"Is that going to work with your schedule?" the lieutenant asked.

Phil looked at Eddie inquiringly.

"I think we're just about wrapped up here," he suggested.

Eddie confirmed the answer with a nod.

"And there are three of you?" the lieutenant continued.

"Actually, we've picked up a couple of more passengers, FBI agents, since we arrived here. Could we work them in?" Phil asked.

"No problem," the officer offered, "if you could just give me their names so I could add them to the manifest?"

Special Agent Aimes answered with the information.

"Do you need me to spell any of that for you?" Eddie asked.

"I can double check it with them. Are they outside with the others?" the lieutenant responded.

"They're driving in from the Loop. They should arrive about the time the plane's ready," the Chicago taskforce boss answered.

Twenty-five minutes later, Phil and the rest of the group were airborne for Ohio, about a forty-five minute flight.

"The cavalry is here," Danny teased as Phil stepped off the stairway and onto the tarmac.

"Let's get out of this wind and I'll introduce everyone," Phil said, firmly grasping Danny's hand as they walked briskly into the ops building.

In a few minutes, the officers from the two taskforces had been driven to an administration facility, where a temporary workspace had been set up in a conference room. The first two FBI agents from Chicago and the FBI agent from New Orleans were waiting there with the Amalfitano cousins, who stood up as soon as the new group walked into the room. Danny introduced Phil, first to the agents, then to Buddy and Silvio.

"Your picture is about to get a whole lot bigger on Sam's radar," Silvio told Phil as they shook hands.

"What's he going to do next?" Phil began.

"He's already killed my best friend and wounded a second close associate, thinking he was going to kill me. This guy may be your former boss, but we're the United States Justice Department. This base belongs to the Strategic Air Command, the entity that controls most of the nuclear weapons in the whole world.

"Besides, we've got you and your cousin. Perhaps it's Giancana and Morello who ought to give serious thought to their situations," Phil answered sternly, looking Silvio Amalfitano directly in the eye.

Buddy gave out a short laugh that seemed to be telling his cousin, "I told you so."

"Zip always told us this guy was a real player, a man worthy of respect," Buddy said.

Next, Phil turned slightly to Buddy and shook his hand. He made direct eye contact, but the expression on his face relaxed indicating concern.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way for you," Phil said.

"It's okay. They told us when we took our oaths that we were signing up for life"

"This may be hard to understand, but the only thing I regret is that I can never again be with my friends, my brothers," Buddy said.

"True, but you're going to be the closest thing to a winner this situation will produce. You'll be with your family and you'll be a free man. Maybe not in New Orleans, but you won't be staring at iron bars and stone walls all day, either," Phil responded.

"I don't think Zip's going to let that happen," Buddy said.

"That could be," Phil said, "but Zip's a very smart man. He already knows, that even if he escapes the death penalty for murdering Aubrey Braud and Billy Fitzmorris, he's going to spend the rest of his life in jail."

"Just because he's in jail don't mean that he can't send someone to kill a rat," Buddy countered.

"Buddy, we're whittling down Zip's manpower. There are fewer soldiers to send every day or so," Phil said in an almost gentle tone.

"I told Danny what I thought," Buddy said.

"Yeah, he told me," Phil answered.

The FBI agent from New Orleans walked up to Phil when the exchange was over and whispered in his ear. Phil turned to Mo and Ben.

"We need to go talk with the base commander," Phil told them.

"Excuse us," Phil said to the others.

"What's wrong?" Mo asked Phil when they were out of the conference room, walking toward the commander's office.

"The colonel wants Buddy and Silvio in cells when they're not being actively questioned," Phil answered.

Colonel Tommy Peterson seemed tentative as he shook hands with Phil, Mo and Ben. Phil guessed that the commander of Wright-Patterson felt that the Strategic Air Command had more important things to do than help Louisiana fight its battle against organized crime. As for Chicago, the lanky Virginia patrician left no doubt about how he viewed that city. Degenerate, he called it a few seconds after everyone had said hello and Phil had thanked the colonel for his hospitality. Phil decided not to ask the commander what he thought of New Orleans.

"I needed an overcoat in there," Mo said as they started the walk back to their conference room.

"It was a little chilly," Phil admitted.

The whole meeting had lasted around three minutes. The colonel had formally informed Phil of his orders that the prisoners, as he had called Buddy and Silvio, were to be in cells at all times when they were not being actively interrogated.

"And at no time are they to be seen in the Officers Club," Colonel Peterson had declared.

The commander had only asked one question, which apparently was mostly a comment, because he had not waited for an answer.

"They actually got to your witness in the SAC Command Center?" he had observed.

Phil had nodded slightly and that had led Peterson to shake his head in disbelief.

Phil composed himself before calling Harry Angelelli at Barksdale.

"Nobody can stand that guy," Phil's friend responded after he heard Phil's account of the meeting with Tommy Peterson.

"He used to tell everyone that he was the great grandson of a Confederate general, named Ewell. One of my buddies got so sick of hearing the story that he looked the guy up in a military history. Turned out General Ewell's nickname was Old Bald Head, which finally got Tommy to stop talking about his blueblood family.

"He's a great combat pilot, though. He had a B-29 shot out from under him over North Korea and he got every member of his crew safely back to Seoul even though they had to bail out over the north."

Harry's story made Phil laugh and revived his spirits.

"I think I may have an answer to your problem. Let me make a quick call and I'll get right back to you," Colonel Angelli said.

In just under an hour, a C-121 carrying a group of noncoms back to Omaha and Mountain Home from training sessions at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland made an unscheduled stop in Ohio. Phil's group boarded quickly and took seats near the rear of the plane, where the interviews could continue away from the hearing of the other passengers. Silvio Amalfitano was impressed.

"So you just call somebody and tell them to have an Air Force plane land and pick you up?" he asked.

Phil laughed, but Buddy didn't. He was wondering pretty much the same thing. Phil spoke in a conversational manner, much as he would to someone sitting on the stool next to him in a bar.

"Actually, you have quite a bit to do with this," Phil began with a smile.

"Thanks in no small part to you and your friends in Chicago, I have to live on an Air Force base in Louisiana for my own safety. But again, thanks in part to you, even that is not enough to keep me safe. So now, I'm hiding out at another Air Force base with a protected witness, Vinny Gennuso, a member of the Morello family."

"Yeah, I know we've taken a couple a shots at you, but how does that explain the curb service with the airplanes?" Silvio asked.

"As this thing has progressed," Phil began, "we've made a lot of contacts with the Strategic Air Command. They've got planes on training and transport runs all the time. In the case of this particular ride, I just called a friend in Louisiana, explained my problem and he had an easy answer. He had some of his people at the same training sessions the other guys on this plane were in up in Maryland. He just checked for a flight headed to the same destination as we were and asked if they could stop at Wright-Patterson and pick us up."

Silvio nodded his head, pretending that the whole issue had been cleared up for him, then asked another question.

"What about those guys up there?" he asked referring the sergeants sitting closer to the front of the cabin.

"Do they have any idea who we are and why we're riding with them?"

"Maybe," Phil admitted.

"They certainly don't know your names. But since in the past we've visited both of the bases they're stationed at, there's a pretty good chance they've guessed that you're probably protected witnesses. And I'm sure they've made these other guys for cops."

"And they think you're what, a lawyer?" Silvio asked.

Phil looked at his wrinkled clothes.

"Who knows?" he answered.

"They all think he's a cop. Everybody does. Besides, even when he was a sheriff, he still dressed this badly," Mo teased.

"You used to be a sheriff?" Silvio asked in disbelief.

"For a short time," Phil admitted with a laugh.

"And now you're a big wig with the justice department in Washington? Wow," Silvio said before turning to Mo.

"And you're a state trooper and you're his bodyguard?"

"Used to be on the governor's security detail," Mo confirmed, nodding his head.

Phil sensed the time was right and maintained his same conversational manner as he asked his question.

"So how high up did the discussion of the planning for the Shreveport hit go?" he asked.

"To Sam," Silvio replied easily.

"And you were in the room when Giancana was talking about having me killed?" Phil asked.

Silvio shook his head.

"But my captain was. And I was in the room when my captain made the travel arrangements to get the Italian guys down from Canada and got them tickets for Little Rock. I was also there with him a couple of days later when he told those guys how to buy the cars at some little place, I forget what it's called," Silvio said.

"Texarkana?" Phil suggested.

"Yeah, that's it, Texarkana," Silvio agreed.

"And these were the old cars the Italians used to block the road in Shreveport so they could stage the shootings?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, but apparently they got things all screwed up, because they were supposed to block the escape. And they were supposed to pop this guy first," Silvio said looking at Mo.

"You mean trooper Melancon sitting next to me?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, Mo," Silvio confirmed.

"How did they know who he was and what he looked like?" Phil asked.

"Cause Buddy brought up a picture and told me about you two looked and he brought me a picture of you, too," Silvio smiled, then looked down at his shoes for a moment.

"What else did Buddy bring?" Phil asked.

"A map with the route from the air base to the courthouse and a bag of money," Silvio answered.

"Did Buddy give the money to your captain?" Phil asked.

"No, he gave it to me," Silvio said.

"And what did you do with the bag of money," Phil asked.

"I gave it to Mario," Silvio replied.

"Who's Mario?" Phil asked, still just as conversationally as before.

"Mario is my captain," Silvio said.

"What's his last name?" Phil asked.

"Barbato. My captain is Mario Barbato and I gave him the money and the map and the pictures," Silvio said, putting the pieces together without being prodded.

"And was Buddy present for any of this?" Phil asked.

"No, he was in the other room having coffee and a cannoli. Buddy told me and I told Mario. That's how we do things.

"Compartmentalize, huh?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, that's what they called it," Silvio agreed.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 16

2009-12-11T11:48:00.002-06:00

"What'd we do?" Albert asked the other members of the Morello crime family as he sipped iced Coca-Cola from a tall paper cup.

"That T-man said something like we weren't really prisoners, we was just material witnesses. Said they had talked about moving us to a hotel, but they couldn't figure out how to handle the security. Said we'd be safer here," the last witness Danny had questioned that evening reported to the rest of the group.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd just as soon Zip not think I was on the feds' tab at a hotel. That might give him the wrong idea," Buddy Amalfitano announced, still chewing pizza and trying to avoid spewing it out as he laughed.

The others joined the laughter, understanding immediately that Buddy's assessment was right.

"I don't know about that guy Hodge," Albert said.

"He started off by telling me that Vinny had fingered me as the go-between in these shootings up here, said the boss sent me to Chicago to set things up with Sam the Cigar. And I know that ain't right, because I never even been to Chicago. And the only time I ever seen Giancana was when the boss had that big deal for him at Moran's restaurant."

Immediately, heads began nodding all around the room.

"Me too," most of the guys agreed.

Even though Buddy was one of those who voiced protest, a light came on in his head. Buddy knew that all of the rest of the guys would soon figure out that he was the one that Morello regularly sent to Chicago, sometimes with Zip and sometimes on his own. Buddy immediately began stealing glances at the other men, searching for recognition from someone who might have made the connection. But the mood in the holding area was cheerful as the guys gulped all the pizza and then the ice cream.

"Sorry to break this up," the deputy said about thirty minutes later, "but lights out has already occurred in the rest of the jail. And even though you fellas are not technically prisoners, it will cause us problems with the inmates if we don't put you to bed, too.

"Take the same cells you had last night, please. That will help us keep track of you. We're responsible for your safety in here.

Buddy was careful not to let the relief he felt as a result of the lights out announcement show on his face. He was glad to be locked up, because he had been concerned that the guards were going to let the New Orleanians sleep in the open holding area. Buddy struggled all through the next morning to conceal his anxiety from the other gangsters until his turn finally came for the second round of questioning.

As soon as Buddy entered the interview room, he pointed to the lawyer.

"I want him out of here, right now," Amalfitano demanded.

Danny was stunned, but only for a moment. To his surprise, the lawyer immediately stood and began walking toward the door.

"I'll go to the US Attorney's office and ask them to send an assistant to go with me to Judge Hawkins," the lawyer announced.

Danny could tell from the look on the attorney's face that he was relieved to be fired. He was probably so pleased to be finished with his unpleasant task of defending a mobster's rights that he wouldn't mind if Judge Hawkins put him in lockup for contempt. The young lawyer had been terribly afraid. The explanation was that simple, Danny thought.

"Do you want the judge to appoint another lawyer for you, Mr. Amalfitano?' the attorney asked as he opened the door.

"No, just get out," Buddy responded.

"And the woman with that machine, she needs to leave, too. Sorry, Ma'am, but I just want to talk to the cops."

Danny nodded and she began to efficiently pack her equipment and was out of the room in just over a minute.

"I want protection. I never want to see those other guys again," Buddy told Danny and the FBI agent when the others were gone.

"Take me somewhere safe right now and go get my family before Zip does," Buddy said.

"The others guessed that you were the one Vinny identified?" Danny asked.

"I don't know, but they will figure it out if they haven't already. You and Vinny put a death sentence on my head," Buddy said.

"So you're going to tell us what you did in Chicago, who you met with, who you paid? You going to tell us where the other shooters are?" Danny asked.

"Who knows where they are, Canada, Italy? Nobody told me.

"And get my cousin in Chicago right now. You know where to find him?" Buddy asked.

"When you've got him and my family, I'll tell you everything I know, who I met with, who I paid, what Zip told me to do, the whole thing. But you got to get my cousin and my family safe and you got to get me out of this building right now."

Danny thought for a moment. He wanted to make sure he had enough leverage left if he met Buddy's demands to make sure Buddy would still tell his story.

"Stand up and put your hands behind your back," Danny said before quickly clicking handcuffs on Amalfitano's wrists.

Danny opened the door and called to the deputy.

"Is there a phone you can bring in here?" he asked.

In a moment, the deputy entered with a telephone, which he plugged into a jack on the wall and set on the table in front of the treasury agent.

"Would you quickly go lock those other witnesses down and keep everyone away from them, lawyers, trustees, other deputies? Then come back as quickly as you can. We're going to take this witness out of here and we want as few people seeing us as possible," Danny asked.

"How do you know Zip's not paying that deputy?" Buddy asked as Danny dialed the phone.

"I don't, but Zip is going to know what we do anyway," Danny answered.

"Eb," Danny said into the phone, "we've got to get one of our witnesses out of this building. I need a plainclothes deputy and an unmarked car at the sally port as soon as possible. Could you do that for me, please?"

"How about a DA's investigator? That would be faster," the special prosecutor suggested.

"Five minutes?" Danny asked.

"Give us ten just to make sure your man is not left exposed," Eb answered.

"We'll be there," Danny said, hanging up the phone and dialing again.

"Richard, it's Danny," he said into the telephone.

"Is Sorrento still in the lawyer's office?" the treasury agent asked.

"Yep," the FBI agent responded.

"Take another agent, go over there and bust him for attempted murder of a federal agent. I just got the information from one of our witnesses and I'll write it up as soon as I get this witness secured. I want to get Zip in custody before he hears his man has fingered him. If we let him out of our sight, he'll be out of the country before we can blink. Clear?"

"Done," the FBI agent answered.

Danny had to make his final call through an operator.

"Ken, it's Danny," he said when his boss came on the line.

"Amalfitano has given Sorrento up for the hit on Mac and Richard's on his way over to arrest Zip right now. Buddy's coming into the program and he wants his family picked up as soon as possible. Can I put him on the phone so he can tell you where to find them?" Danny asked.

Danny held the phone to Amalfitano's ear while Buddy told the taskforce chief how and where to locate his family.

"He wants to talk back to you," Buddy said to Danny when he was through talking with Ken Reilly.

"Yes sir," Danny said into the phone.

"You can fill me in later on the changes, but it sounds like we've hit a home run," Ken said.

"I hope so. Things are moving pretty fast. That reminds me. Amalfitano wants his cousin in Chicago arrested and protected. Do the boys up there have an eye on him?" Danny asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd better talk back to Amalfitano to get information just in case they don't," Ken answered.

A few minutes later, the FBI agent with Danny checked the sally port area and instructed a trustee to leave the area and not come back for five minutes. When the man was out of sight, the agent called clear and Danny moved Buddy to the waiting car.

"I want you on the floor," Danny told Amalfitano as he helped him into the backseat.

The FBI agent closed the back door. The DA's investigator got behind the wheel and when the FBI agent was seated up front, the investigator called to the deputy to open the door. In less than fifteen minutes, the car from the district attorney's office pulled to a stop in front of the guest house at Barksdale Air Force Base. It was time for Danny to call Phil.

"I guess this is a case where the best laid plans are meaningless," Phil responded when he was told how Buddy Amalfitano had taken control of events.

"I'm not sure what all the ramifications are, but we've got Zip Sorrento dead to rights on attempted murder of a federal agent and probably on some conspiracy charges as well," Danny offered.

"How's our man taking his new status as a federal detainee?" Phil asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Danny answered.

"Things have happened really fast. As soon as I get off the phone with you, I'm going to put enough on paper to meet the basic requirements that will see to it that Zip doesn't make bail in the next few hours. Then, I will be ready to fly him to Little Rock Air Force Base. A major here has volunteered to take us up there in a Cessna that is kept on base and belongs to a Barksdale flying club. That way there won't be any FAA flight plan or charter records or anything like that.

"I hope to keep Buddy in Little Rock long enough to get some sworn statements that we can use to keep Zip locked up and seek indictments. You should also know that we're arresting Buddy's cousin in Chicago on a federal material witness warrant for the cousin's protection and that could lead to some other things as well."

"So far nothing ties Morello or Giancana directly to the shootings or any conspiracy surrounding them, I suppose?" Phil asked.

"No and don't hold your breath. I suspect, unless we get a surprise gift from some player in Chicago, Zip's the only shot we have at doing that. I'll let you make your own guess as to how likely Zip is to roll on his boss," Danny answered, unable to stifle a slight laugh.

"What do you need from me?" Phil asked.

"Work with Ken and John Brinker to come up with a plan for finding more secure homes for Buddy and his cousin. I think you also need to talk with Ken about a couple of other problems. First, we need more manpower in Shreveport, investigators and attorneys. Second, we need to get the Chicago taskforce tuned in to what we're doing and I think that's really a Washington show," Danny suggested.

"I'll get on it," Phil answered.

After Phil made his calls, he went to brief Vinny and Detective Sam Boerne.

"And Buddy just caved?" Vinny asked in disbelief.

"As clever as we thought we were being," Phil said, "it's pretty obvious that we were drawing a direct a big target on Buddy's forehead.

"Unless he could convince Morello to smuggle him out of the country, he was clearly a dead man."

"They would have fed him to the fish in little pieces," Vinny said.

"Is he coming up here?" Vinny asked.

"Not a good idea, Vinny," Phil responded.

"We've got to spread y'all out and make the Morello family work as hard as possible to find you, which brings up an interesting question.

"With Zip locked up, who does Carlos turn to arrange things?" Phil asked.

"That's tough," Vinny said.

"He'll say his little brother is acting number two, but that won't mean much. None of the guys respect Anthony. All that guy does is spend the money we make for the family and try to kiss up to the civilian swells in New Orleans.

"The boss is going to have to rely even more on Chicago. But with both Zip and Buddy out of the picture that's going to be harder too. He could also possibly ask for help from Miami," Vinny suggested.

"I know you think New Orleans is a big thing, but it's really small potatoes among the American families. All we got is vice and gambling and politics to make money. These days, the real money's in drugs and we don't have enough customer base to do much there. Besides, Morello's one the old guys who don't want anything to do with drugs.

"Also, we ain't got much in the way of labor unions to work with. In Chicago, New York and other places, that's a big source of income. But we don't get much out of that."

"So, we should be on the lookout for some new guy, probably from Chicago?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, makes sense. You know, guys like me, we don't know the contacts. Another thing, if Zip's really out of the picture, that's going to seriously mess things up with the politicians. The old man kind of handled the Orleans DA, but most everybody else is used to dealing with Zip. Plus all the heat y'all are bringing down. Lotta changes," Vinny predicted.

Phil went to the phone to call Ken.

"It might be smart to start watching all the flights coming in from Chicago," Phil recommended, laying out the speculation he'd just heard from Vinny.

"Sounds reasonable," the taskforce chief agreed, "and I think I'll call Chicago and ask for someone from that taskforce to come down right away. We don't have anyone who knows what those guys look like."

Both men started laughing at the same time.

"Well, I suppose they all do look alike, but it would be a good idea to have someone here who knows the players' names and profiles," Ken added.

"We may have made some real headway against these guys," Phil told Sam a few minutes later as the two walked in the sunshine.

"Could be, but a whole lot of this stuff runs along without guidance from above. These bookies don't need special instructions to make their collections unless it's something extraordinary like killing someone who won't pay. As for manpower issues, there's an endless supply of street punks who hang around these guys. They live for opportunities like this.

"Still, I concede that if we really can keep Zip locked up and keep him from running things from his cell, it will make a significant difference," Sam said.

"How does Zip communicate, through Johnny?" Phil asked.

"Very unlikely. Jails are sieves. Zip tells a guy, who tells his wife who makes a call. Someone shows up with a hundred dollars for her. Jail deputies are poor as church mice. They're probably not going to take a message ordering a hit on someone, but most of these communications could be made to look pretty innocent.

"Remember, these are the same guys who got that newspaper addressed to Vinny into the Strategic Air Command bunker in Omaha. Did we ever catch who did that?" the detective asked.

"All mobsters, especially ones like Vinny, deal in hyperbole. It's part of their trade," Sam said.

Phil's bubble was only diminished, not burst. Around an hour later, Patty came to the Officers Club for lunch. She and Phil got their own table. Ann Marie, Mo and Sam ate at another table, while Ben kept Vinny company back at the group's makeshift office.

"This place is beautiful, but I've never been so cold in my life," Patty said, squeezing Phil's hand.

"Hey, I talked with Jean just before I came over and she said that she heard on the radio that Zip had been arrested again."

"Yeah, things got crazy this morning. One of the guys we arrested on a material witness charge fingered him for attempting to murder Mac. Danny says the case is solid," Phil said.

"That's great," Patty said, giving Phil's hand another squeeze.

"Are they going to be able to keep Zip in jail? Can we go home?" she asked.

Phil smiled, not wanting to dash her hopes, but he knew she was probably in more danger than before. Phil understood that Morello might be getting desperate enough that he would be willing to try just about anything. But those were thoughts Phil needed to keep to himself.

"Yes, it look's like Zip's going to stay in jail and no we can't go back to Shreveport. We're having too much fun here," Phil teased, drawing a light slap on the hand from Patty.

"I want to see the kids," she said, "besides I miss work."

"What you mean is that you miss your adoring fans on the police force. After all, you're still getting paid," Phil taunted.

"Yes, but I can't spend the money anywhere. What good is that?" Patty responded in mock pout.

"That's not what I heard," Phil said, knowing that Ann Marie and an Air Force security officer in plain clothes had taken Patty, Angie and the colonel's wife into Boise to shop the afternoon before.

"Shhh," Patty chided.

"You weren't supposed to know about that."

"I'm the boss," Phil replied.

"I'm supposed to know about everything," Phil said as their salads arrived.

Patty changed the subject.

"Are we going to go visit with Vinny's family this weekend?" she asked.

"I doubt that's a very good idea. I can't tell you specifics, but we've got a new crop of people for the witness protection folks to take care of. They're likely to be too busy for a trip this weekend," Phil answered.

"I doubt Vinny's going to like that," Patty said.

"I think he'll understand, if I explain to him that a visit might not be safe for his family," Phil responded.

"You mean that there will be a lot of Mafia guys out trying to find where people are being hidden?" Patty asked.

Phil nodded.

"How long before they find us and find Vinny?" Patty asked.

"A long time, I hope," Phil said.

"I don't know. I thought it might nice if we got sent to a base in Florida near the beach," Patty teased.

Phil laughed.

"Can I go see Vinny?" Patty asked when they had finished lunch.

"Why not?'" Phil replied.

"Hey, Little Sis," Vinny called when Patty walked in.

The mobster was clearly very glad to have a visitor who wasn't a cop and said so.

"Oh, but you're wrong. I work for the Shreveport Police Department," Patty teased.

"Let me see your gun," Vinny teased back.

"I don't have one, but Phil does," she responded.

"Yeah, he told me, but he also told me he'd lost it," Vinny said.

"Just misplaced between moves," Phil interjected.

"I wish we could all go visit my family this weekend," Vinny said to Patty, "but it's probably not a good time, too dangerous."

"Yeah, I said the same thing at lunch," Patty said, smiling.

"Maybe we'll get to go before too long," she added.

"I don't know," Vinny said, no longer smiling, "too many bad people out there looking for someone to hurt."

Patty sat down next to Vinny and took his hand.

"I know what you're thinking," he said.

"Actually I don't know. I don't know whether you're thinking I'm not one of the bad people or whether you're thinking I am one of the bad people.

"Well, we both know I am one of the bad people. Thank God my kids don't know yet, but they will. And when they do, it will break their hearts. And every time they miss out on something that all the other kids can do in life, they'll know that it's my fault, that it's because of the things I've done."

The room was quiet for a moment. Then, Patty smiled at Vinny and Vinny smiled back.

"Your kids love you very much and you have been a good father to them. I could see that very clearly when we spent time with them. They're great children," Patty said, patting the top of Vinny's hand in a gesture of reassurance.

"And when they get older, they'll be proud because you did the right thing. They'll know you had the courage to stand up against the wrong things your former friends were doing," Patty said.

"I hope they see it that way," Vinny said, "but in my heart I will always have to live with the truth.

"I didn't have the courage to stand up. I just came over to this side because I knew my friends would kill me if I didn't cross over."

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 15

2009-12-03T12:15:00.005-06:00

"Good morning, Maria," Phil said as he began his second phone call of the day.

"You sound pretty alert for someone who spent the night flying across most of the country," she answered cheerily.

"What time did you get in?" Maria asked.

"A little before two-thirty local time, but we were all up early and I got to have breakfast with my girlfriend, a nice omelet at the Officers Club," Phil reported.

"How's she holding up? She must have had a pretty terrible day, yesterday?" Maria suggested.

"She was in great spirits this morning, except for one thing," Phil answered.

"What's that?" Maria asked.

"She's jealous of you," Phil teased.

"I'm flattered. Did you tell her I'm old enough to be your mother and a grandmother on top of that?" Maria continued.

"I've tried, but she's not buying it," Phil answered.

"The judge is not here. He's up on the Hill again, but I have numbers. He doesn't have to testify today. It's just meetings, so I think you should hear from him in ten minutes or less," Maria said.

"He's very anxious to talk to you, but he didn't want to risk waking you earlier.

"Don't tell him I told you this, but he couldn't sleep last night and I didn't get much sleep either. You put quite a scare into all of us," Maria said.

"I am surprised you were able to sleep," she added.

"Surprisingly, I slept pretty well," Phil admitted candidly, "and Patty fell asleep on the plane.

"I called the hospital in Shreveport before breakfast," Phil continued, "and Mac is hurting pretty badly, but there's no infection. His vital signs have remained good since surgery. So, his doctors are encouraged."

Phil began his conversation with John Brinker recounting the visit of Judge Hawkins to the hospital.

"I'm very sorry we don't have any evidence tying Carlos Morello to Mac's shooting. Based on what I heard last night, even a hint would be enough for the judge to lock him up and throw away the key. He took the ambush as a personal attack on his hometown," Phil said.

"We are all just grateful that MacGregor is going to recover and that you weren't hurt," Phil's boss said.

"As to getting evidence on Morello, patience is the key. We all have the tendency to regard these thugs as supermen. But just like all the rest of us, they make mistakes. Morello's no different. If you keep him engaged long enough, you'll get the evidence you need to put him away. He'll make the mistake. And when he does, you'll be right there to nail him."

It was a lesson that Phil had heard before, but Phil was glad to hear that his boss had so much faith and confidence in Phil's ability.

"This is a little awkward," Phil began, "but it's something I need to ask.

"I understand that most of the people in the office up there call you Judge. Is it all right if I do?" Phil asked.

John Brinker laughed.

"Why don't you just call me John?" the assistant attorney general suggested.

Phil thought for a minute.

"I'm not sure I would feel comfortable with that. Is Judge all right?" he asked.

"If that's what you prefer, I'll feel honored by it," Phil's boss replied.

Phil's next call was to Eb. The state's special prosecutor had trouble believing what Phil told him about Judge Hawkins visit to the hospital.

"I've never heard anything like that about the old man before," Eb said, "but everyone I've spoken to since the attack has had pretty much the same reaction. Most people are ready to shoot Morello on sight."

Eb had nothing new on the search for the living suspects or on the identities of the two dead thugs and neither did Danny when the two talked a few minutes later.

Patty, wearing a borrowed Air Force flight jacket, and Angie were escorted into the place where the investigators' makeshift office space had been set up.

"Good morning," Phil called to Angie as he approached Patty with a kiss and hug.

Phil also received a hug and kiss of the cheek from Angie. Phil's girlfriend and Colonel Angelleli's wife had spent the night in the home of the base commander.

"So how's your new roommate?" Phil teased in a question to Angie.

"Does she snore?

"I'm afraid all that's out is coffee," Phil said to Patty, not waiting for an answer to his playful question, "but I would guess we could find you a cup of hot chocolate somewhere on this base."

"I had another cup after our breakfast, but I'm still cold," Patty replied, giving herself a slight hug to warm her hands and pull the bulky jacket closer to her skin.

Phil offered chairs to the ladies, topped off his own coffee cup and sat facing Patty and Angie.

"Harry said there was nothing on the news or in the papers this morning about the case that he hadn't heard last night. Do you know anything more that you can tell us?" Angie asked Phil.

"I'm afraid not. I spoke with Eb earlier and with Danny just a few minutes ago. These guys have just vanished. The news from the hospital is good, though. Mac's in a lot of pain, but there's no sign of infection yet.

"One piece of business I should probably pass on," Phil continued, "we keep our bags packed and closed in case we have to make a fast exit. I'm afraid it is usually just a matter of days before Morello's guys find us. At least, that's been the pattern so far.

"We suspected as much and have our bags ready for a quick escape," Angie explained.

"By the way, you're invited for lunch at the base commander's house."

Phil frowned apologetically.

"I'd better phone in my regrets. I have to have lunch with my best friend Vinny," he explained.

Vinny was overjoyed when the two sat down for their meal, going on at length about how glad he was Phil had survived the attack unhurt.

"I should call Mac's wife," the protected Mafioso said.

"Might be better if you had your wife do it," Phil suggested.

"We can set it up after lunch."

Phil was happy to see Vinny in such great spirits and decided the time was right for his big question.

"Who other than Morello and Sorrento would have been likely to know about the arrangements for the ambush?" Phil asked.

The expression on Vinny's face turned cold and serious and a period of silence began, but Phil looked straight at Vinny. Phil was prepared to wait for his answer and the expression on Phil's face told the mobster that Phil was entitled to an answer.

"When I tell you, you gonna give the guy the same kind of protection you're giving me?" Vinny asked finally.

"We're certainly prepared to do that, but we hope we don't have to. We want to be smarter in this matter than we were the day we showed up on your front porch. If we do it right, we hope that Morello and Zip won't know who gave up the operation," Phil said.

"How you gonna do that? There's nothin' Zip don't know," Vinny challenged.

"We're going to arrest Morello and Sorrento. We'll use federal material witness warrants. Have you ever heard of those?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, but maybe you better explain some more," Vinny responded.

The rest of lunch sat in front of the two getting cold.

"Material witness warrants are like nuclear weapons we have in Mafia cases. We go to a judge and tell him that we have good information that certain people have information about a crime that we need to make a case. The judge issues a warrant, and in this case the judge will go along with whatever we ask because he's pretty upset about these guys who shot up his town. We arrest the witnesses and lock them up and the appeals courts have given us wide latitude in keeping them in jail.

"In this particular case, you will give us one name, but we'll probably arrest five other people in the organization who don't know anything about the ambush in addition to the guy whose name you give me. Morello and Zip will figure we're just fishing. Eventually, when they make bail and everyone gets out it should be impossible for Morello to know who we were really after.

"But if we have even a hint they know, and keep in mind we've got wires and lots of sources in and around the organization, then we hold the real witness and put him in the program just like you," Phil said, then waited again for Vinny to answer.

"Zip figures it out and the guy gets popped," Gennuso challenged.

"Let's get real. There's a pretty good chance this guy's already set up to have an accident. Am I right?" Phil asked with a smile.

Vinny smiled back.

"After all, from Morello's point of view, this whole hit went terribly wrong. This guy's already in deep water for that," Phil added.

"Buddy Amalfitano," Vinny announced.

"He's the guy they always send to Chicago when the boss doesn't go himself. He's got a cousin whose one of Sam the Cigar's bodyguards. I'm not sayin' he knows. But if I was a bettin' man, he's the one I'd put money on," Vinny said.

Phil walked to the door, cracked it and called to Mo.

"Can you get Danny, please?" Phil asked.

In a couple of minutes Danny entered holding a folded sheet of paper. He sat down at the table.

"Buddy Amalfitano," Phil told Danny.

A big smile came over Danny's face.

"I knew it," he said and began unfolding the paper and removed a mechanical pencil from his shirt pocket.

First, Danny placed a check mark by Amalfitano's name on the paper, then checked two other names.

"These guys rank pretty close to Buddy?" Danny asked Vinny.

"Yeah, pretty much," Vinny confirmed.

"All right, pick me two more guys who you think are the most clueless on the list," Danny requested.

Vinny laughed, then pointed at two names.

"These guys are so stupid we can't send them for coffee," Vinny said, laughing again.

"That's how Zip will know we're fishin'," Danny explained.

"We're not even going to question Carlos or Zip," Danny continued, "which will probably mean they'll make bail first.

"All the others, we're going to tell them that you fingered them, that you said that Morello would never make a move without them. Amalfitano we're going to tell that we told the others the same thing, that you fingered them. Then we're going to tell him that we told them that just to give him cover, that we know he's the guy who made the arrangements, that if he doesn't play ball then and there we're going to charge him with conspiracy to murder a federal agent.

"We'll also tell him all the other crimes we have him on that we think we can make a case on. And we'll tell him if he doesn't cooperate, we'll leave him in jail when all the others make bond and we'll leave him unprotected in the general population.

"I suspect we'll also tell him that unless he cooperates, we'll arrest his cousin in Chicago and hold a press conference where we'll announce the cousin is under investigation in connection with the Shreveport shootout. Then we'll release the cousin," Danny said.

All the color had drained from Vinny's face. Danny knew he had the right strategy and left the room to put the plan into motion, but there was news from Shreveport only a few minutes later.

"What's up, Eb?" Phil asked the organized crime special prosecutor after being summoned to the phone.

"I'm sitting with Father Damien of St. John's cathedral. He brought two overseas wires with him. The first is a letter confirming that our two dead shooters are from Italy and identifying them by their first names. The letter states that both men lived in the Campania Region, which includes Naples. It also requests a Christian burial for the two and the presence of a priest.

"The second wire is a money order for ten-thousand dollars to pay for funeral costs and church expenses. The two wires were sent by an order of nuns in Rome. They say that the money and instructions were delivered by a man dressed in black who simply handed the envelope to a novice at the gate to their convent. All the money delivered to the nuns was cash. In addition to the ten-thousand dollars sent in the money order, there was an additional thousand dollars to pay for the wires. The money left over from the thousand was given to the poor," Eb said.

"I'll call Washington and give them the information, but two common first names of men from one of Italy's largest regions is not likely to be very helpful. As you will find out in a few minutes, our taskforce friends from New Orleans are likely to be too busy for a while to get involved with this, but let's settle this issue before we get into that," Phil responded.

"Can we legally release these bodies based on these wires? They don't seem to have any connection to the men's family's," Phil continued.

"I'll have to have someone research that," Eb admitted, "but it looks like these guys could be headed for a city pauper's burial. Father Damien says he's prepared to read scripture and say prayers at the gravesite, but he won't perform a Requiem Mass and his church won't accept any of the funds from the wire. He called it blood money."

"I guess we should also research whether any government entity can claim the money if St. John's is not willing to," Phil suggested.

"My guess is we can't and I'm not too interested in spending resources to find out, but we can set that aside until later," Eb answered.

"My inclination is to write the nuns a letter and ask them if they want the money back," Eb continued.

"That's an excellent idea," Phil agreed.

"Does Father need to speak to me?" Phil asked.

When the answer came back no, Eb told Phil he would call back in a few minutes to discuss the other business, then led the priest out of his office and thanked him for his communication and help.

It took less than two hours to round up Morello, Sorrento and their five underlings. Lawyers in Shreveport and New Orleans protested to judges for most of the seven hours it took to drive the Mafioso to Shreveport. By two a.m., all seven of the material witnesses were sound and secure in the Caddo Parish Jail.

Word spread quickly among the other inmates, but Morello and his men were kept separated from the rest of the jail population. Technically, they were being held for security purposes, not as criminal suspects.

At three o'clock that afternoon, Marcel LeClaire was in Judge Hawkins' court representing the United States. Seated at the other table with the seven witnesses were Johnny Pisanti and Billy Ruby. Among other things, Pisanti's and Ruby's clients were petitioning for bail. Judge Hawkins made a dramatic point, lifting a pile of legal filings about two feet high and dropping them loudly to his right on the bench.

"Mr. Ruby, Mr. Pisanti, that's all the stuff you've filed with this court since five o'clock yesterday afternoon," the judge announced.

Then, the old man reached down a second time, retrieved a slightly shorter stack of papers and plopped them on the left side of his bench. The crusty judge eyed both stacks of papers, then turned his attention to Buster LeClaire.

"Mr. LeClaire, I guess I'd have to use a ruler to be sure, but it appears the petitioners have outworked you a bit. Their pile of garbage appears a little taller than your pile."

The judge glowered down on the courtroom, daring anyone to so much as smile and leaving no doubt that he would jail for contempt the first person who did. The silence inside the room was complete. The only noise came from the streets outside.

"Gentlemen," the judge began after what seemed like several minutes, "this is not New Orleans and I'm not about waste my time reading all this gibberish you charged so handsomely for writing.

"These citizens are federal material witnesses. They're in Shreveport because I signed their warrants, an act I committed in full belief that they had knowledge of that Gunfight at the OK Corral that occurred only a few blocks from here just the other day.

"You two," the judge said pointing at Ruby and Pisanti, "seem to think I didn't know why these men in front of me were locked up, that I should let you bail them out. Let me make it clear. They're in jail to make sure they live long enough to tell the FBI what they know about those shootings and to make sure they don't run off somewhere to protect themselves from getting murdered before they talk.

"It's quite simple. After they've told the government everything they know on the record, they'll be free to go if they choose. If they'd rather remain under government protection, I'll arrange that as well. So you see, we have absolutely nothing to talk about here this afternoon," Judge Hawkins announced.

Billy Ruby was on his feet in a flash, knowing that the judge was about to rap his gavel and close the proceeding.

"My clients have told me this afternoon that they have been subjected to questioning that would constitute self-incrimination, your honor," Ruby protested.

"Sit down, Mr. Ruby," Judge Hawkins ordered.

"Respectfully Judge, I want to be present when my clients are questioned to make sure they don't accidentally say something that could be used against them in court," Ruby said, standing his ground.

The judge scowled with an expression of deadly menace until the mob lawyer was seated.

"Mr. Ruby, you know as well as I do that it's the responsibility of this court to protect the Fifth Amendment rights of these material witnesses and that I would never permit anything they might say in their capacity as a material witness to be used against them. However, in the name of fairness, I am prepared to go to the extreme.

"You, Mr. Ruby may sit with your client Mr. Morello whenever he is questioned, but you may speak only in protection of self-incrimination and for no other reason. You, Mr. Pisanti may be with your client Mr. Sorrento, but only for the same purpose. Otherwise you may not speak.

"For each of the other five witnesses, I will appoint a qualified member of the local bar to represent them during questioning under the same conditions," the judge, gavel in hand, concluded.

In the middle of the word "conditions," Judge Hawkins slammed the gavel.

"We are adjourned," he added before rising with amazing speed.

By the time those in court were on their feet, Judge Hawkins was passing through the door out of the courtroom. Buster LeClaire smiled at Eb, who had been seated on the front row of the gallery, picked up his leather satchel and headed for the door and the airport. Morello and his men would be spending another night in jail. Phil was elated when Eb recounted the details of the hearing over the phone.

Danny, an FBI agent with the taskforce, a stenographer and Billy Ruby were already in the interview room when Carlos Morello was led in by Caddo Parish deputies the next morning. Danny identified himself, then everyone else in the room for the record.

"Mr. Morello, have you ever met with or spoken by phone with Sam Giancana of Chicago, Illinois, or anyone associated with Sam Giancana for the purpose of arranging the death of Inspector Phil Adley of the United States Department of Justice?" Danny asked matter-of-factly, looking directly into Morello's murderous eyes.

"I," Ruby began before being quickly interrupted by Carlos Morello.

"I can do this, Billy," the mob boss said almost casually.

"I claim my privilege against self-incrimination under the rights granted to me by the US Constitution," Morello added in the same confident tone.

"That will be all, Mr. Morello. Your client is free to go, counselor," Danny said, turning his attention to Billy Ruby.

Fifteen minutes later, Zip Sorrento was led into same room and most of the scene was repeated. Danny's question was exactly the same and Sorrento's answer closely resembled that of his boss. When Morello and Sorrento met just before noon in Johnny Pisanti's conference room, it was decided that Morello would be driven back to New Orleans.

"You stay here," Morello told Zip, "and keep an eye on the jailbirds. This thing don't smell right."

When field agents reported to Danny that Carlos Morello had gone back to New Orleans without Sorrento, the treasury agent asked Detective Sam Boerne to arrange surveillance on Zip. City detectives would be used until Danny could bring up agents from New Orleans to watch the underboss and track the comings and goings. Danny wished he could get a wiretap; but so long as Sorrento was holing up in his lawyer's office, that was out of the question.

A fairly large common area at the jail was cleared and the five Mafioso from New Orleans were allowed to eat lunch together. One of the deputies told the group that their bosses had been questioned and released. It was two o'clock before Danny called in the first dummy witness. With all five, he would use scripted questions.

"I don't expect to get anything useful," he explained to Phil in a phone call.

"I just want them to all have the same information to talk about at dinner."

The five had regular jail food for their first meals in Shreveport. But for their evening meal, Danny had pizza sent in.

"Courtesy the United States Department of Justice," the deputy quipped as he handed over the hot pizzas around eight o'clock, after the last witness had been questioned.

"Sorry there's no wine, but there is some ice cream when you're finished," he said before leaving the Morello men to enjoy their special dinner.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 14

2009-11-25T15:52:00.000-06:00

Patty wanted to comfort Joyce, but suspected there was too much of an age barrier. She walked into the reception area and made a quick call. In less than thirty minutes, Angie had arrived. With extensive experience helping the families of missing or wounded airmen and dealing with the new widows of those killed in action, Angie knew exactly what to do.

When the primary surgeon came to the conference room at seven-thirty, Angie stood on Joyce's left as Phil stood on her right.

"I'm sorry it took us so long," the doctor began, "but there is an excellent chance your husband will make a complete recovery."

"Thank God!" Joyce exclaimed, then her knees buckled and she began to fall.

Angie and Phil helped to support her until Mo was able to slide a chair in behind her.

"Relax for just a moment," the doctor told Joyce.

"The explanation is gong to take a little while," he added as Mo provided a second chair for the surgeon, who sat in it.

Phil and Angie continued standing beside Joyce, one of each side and Angie cupped the woman's left hand in both of her own.

"We spent most of our time reconnecting the blood vessels that were large enough to repair and we cauterized as many of capillaries as we could. We wanted to make sure we had cut off all of the flowing blood before we closed the leg up.

"We also thoroughly cleaned the kneecap and the area around it, picking out all the fragments of bone and cartilage we could find. For much of that, we had to use a magnifying glass. Much of the debris had the properties of extremely fine sand. There were probably three thimbles full of that material and of course a significant quantity of bigger pieces as well.

"We covered the kneecap area with a temporary metal plate, but that area is going to need specialized attention in a few weeks, reconstruction and a significant amount of plastic surgery. With some more good luck, your husband will have substantial everyday use of his right leg. He won't be able to play tennis or run, things of that nature, but it's entirely possible that he will have something very close to normal mobility when he walks."

The surgeon paused for breath and to allow Joyce time to process the information he had already presented, then resumed.

"We're going to watch him very closely for infection for the next twenty-four hours and tomorrow the neurologist wants to do some more substantial tests. But everything he saw this afternoon was encouraging. There's no sign of brain damage at this point and no obvious signs of nerve damage. But as I said, he wants to take a more thorough look when your husband has recovered from some of his immediate trauma.

"If every thing goes all right for the next thirty-six hours, we'll move him over to Shumpert where we can make him and you a little more comfortable. But for the time being, your husband is in exactly the right place. The intensive care unit here is the best in the city," the doctor said.

"When can I see him?" Joyce asked.

"I want you to get something to eat, and in a couple of hours I'll be back to get you. At that point, your husband should be alert enough for a few words and he might be able to squeeze your hand," the surgeon said.

As if on cue, there was a gentle tapping at the partially open door to the conference room and Giuseppe Cangelosi stuck his head into the room.

"Is this a good time?" Giuseppe whispered to Phil.

"Perfect," Phil answered.

"We've just had the most wonderful news. Mac is going to be all right and the doctor has just ordered his wife to eat," Phil said with a relieved smile on his face.

Giuseppe and two of his people began setting up the conference table for a full meal.

"I brought enough for the doctors and everyone in the operating room as well," the chef said to the surgeon.

"As soon as we're all set here, I'll find out where the hospital administration wants me to set up for your meal. We have wonderful veal, shrimp, chicken, several kinds of pasta, appetizers and two kinds of cheese cake," Giuseppe announced to everyone.

"That's Giuseppe Cangelosi, one of our finest chefs and owner of Ramone's, a great place to eat," Angie whispered to Joyce.

Phil couldn't wait for the meal to start before making his phone call to Washington. In seconds, he was on a telephone in the reception area passing the great news about Mac on to John Brinker.

A few moments after Phil had begun eating, Danny showed up.

"Anything urgent?" Phil called to his friend and got a shake of the head in response.

"Then sit down and eat. Can we talk after supper?" Phil requested.

Phil, Danny, Mo and Captain Porter moved into a corner of the reception area when the four had finished their meals.

"We didn't expect to find any local matches on the prints of those two thugs who were dead at the scene," Danny said, keeping his voice at a low volume so he wouldn't be overheard.

"We've flown the prints to Washington, but there's no realistic hope of an ID there, either. Their jackets and shirts had Italian labels, so they're both likely to remain John Does."

"What about the ones who got away?" Phil asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"We've got various counts on them from two to four. Some of the guys thought some of the suspects might have been wounded. Nobody saw a car. With all that shooting, there is almost nothing to go on. Both the dead perps used shotguns. They were the closest to our cars. At least some of the other shooters had pistols. But, there was just too much chaos.

"We haven't found any stolen cars or abandoned rental cars in the area, so that’s another dead end. We've canvassed four blocks in all directions and found no one who saw a group of men walk up to the ambush site.

"The cars that were used to block the road were traced back to two separate used car lots in Texarkana. Purchasers paid two-hundred dollars each for those cars. They were average looking men with local accents, didn't look Italian to either one of the car salesmen.

"There's no description on the car that rammed the rear car in our convoy. One of the deputies said the driver left the scene when the shooting started. He said he didn't get a good look at the driver. Might have been wearing a hat.

"We're checking airports in Dallas, Houston, Monroe, Little Rock and Memphis," Danny said.

"Bus," Captain Porter said.

"That would be the easiest way to go unnoticed, leave from a bus station in a big city. Memphis or Dallas would be good bets. From there they get to Cleveland or Milwaukee, then maybe fly back to Europe from Toronto or Montreal."

"Yeah," Danny agreed.

"That would make good sense. Maybe we could get the RCMPs to start watching flights to Rome from Toronto and Montreal. But even that would be a long shot. Once they get into one of those big airports, they'll blend in. Plus, they could fly to Amsterdam or Frankfort.

"Fact is, unless we get something from an informant or unless these guys run into some local law enforcement before they get out of the region, we're not likely to turn up much," Danny admitted.

Phil shook his head.

"I can't get over it. These guys just show up, start a war and melt away again. And once more, there's nothing we can do about it," he said.

"Don't look at it that way," Captain Porter cautioned.

"Less than two miles from here, you've got half a jail full of Morello's soldiers. And after the shootout this morning, no one made bail and they're not likely to. It's a good bet most of them will do serious prison time. And no one else has ever done anything like that before," the state police officer said.

"He's right, Phil," Danny agreed, "and for the first time ever we've got good evidence against Sorrento and Morello. We've also got a place where juries are not afraid to lock them up and judges who won't turn them loose when they're convicted."

A man tapped Danny on the shoulder as soon as he finished talking.

"Are you Special Agent Hodge?" the man in the tan Palm Beach suit asked.

"Yes," Danny replied extending his right hand.

"I'm Deputy Marshal Ben Rheinhardt from Phoenix," he said as he shook Danny's hand.

"They sent me in to take over the security detail until Inspector MacGregor is back on his feet. He is going to be all right, isn't he?" Ben asked.

"I'm Phil Adley," Phil said moving to shake hands.

"The doctor told us less than an hour ago that Mac would recover. But from what he said, that could be some time.

"Thank you for coming. I hope you're prepared to stay awhile," Phil said, smiling.

Phil introduced Mo, then Captain Porter.

"There is a wonderful catered dinner in here, Ben," Phil said to the new head of his security detail as he led him into the conference room.

"Everyone," Phil announced to those who were just finishing their desserts, "this is Ben Rheinhardt. He comes to us from the marshals service in Phoenix and he'll be coordinating security until Mac is back in action.

"Sit down, eat," Phil said to Ben just as the phone at the other end of the table rang.

Mo moved quickly to answer it.

"It's Vinny," he told Phil from across the room.

"You want to pick it up on one of the desks in the reception area?" the trooper asked Phil.

Phil headed back into the reception area, punched the blinking line and picked up the phone.

"Hey, Vinny," he answered, then listened to a question from the mobster.

"I'm fine. Thanks to your advice, they hit the decoy convoy instead of the one I was riding in. Mac was very seriously wounded in the shootout, but we just heard from the surgeon that he's likely to make a complete recovery."

Phil paused to listen to another question from Vinny.

"No, all we've got is two dead shooters. They carried shotguns and their clothes had labels that lead our people to believe they came from Italy," Phil answered, deciding not to give Vinny any information about what was being done to find the thugs who had escaped alive.

"Witnesses are pretty scarce, Vinny," Phil responded to Vinny Gennuso's follow up question.

"Thanks for your concern. I'll see you in a couple of days. Can I talk to Sam for a minute?" Phil asked.

Sam covered most of the same ground during his part of the conversation, but Phil answered differently when Sam asked about the suspects still at large.

"Let me talk to you about that when Vinny is out of earshot, okay?" Phil responded to Sam.

"Yeah, witnesses have a bad habit of melting away in things like this," Sam said, understanding what Phil wanted.

"Look, there's another very important thing," Sam continued.

"Vinny is really worried about your safety and he wants you up here with us," the detective said.

"What do you think?" Phil asked after a moment of silent deliberation.

"Vinny was right this time, so I suppose he could be again," Sam replied.

"We just got a new security guy in from Arizona a few minutes ago, so let us talk about it here. Then, if we are inclined to agree, I'll call the assistant attorney general. And I guess I would also need to go see Judge Hawkins. After all, he summoned me to his chambers and I never showed up. He's really not the kind of person to be ignored," Phil said, giving in to laughter at the mention of the crusty federal jurist.

"You've got a point," Sam agreed, also laughing a little as well.

"Call us back, would you?" Sam finished.

The contact with Judge Hawkins was made through the marshals service. And as unlikely as it seemed, the federal judge showed up at the hospital a little more than an hour after Vinny first expressed his concern. The judge went first to Joyce MacGregor, sat down beside her and took her hand.

"I am so glad to hear your husband is going to be all right," he told her.

He turned his attention to Phil, who was surprised when the judge appeared to recognize him.

"You, young man," he said, "need to be on a plane to wherever it is you've got that protected witness stashed and I'll be happy to order the marshals to take you there if I need to."

"No, Your Honor. That won't be necessary. I'll go voluntarily," Phil replied, struggling to keep laughter from erupting.

"Fine," the judge said.

Then, Judge Hawkins looked first at Patty and next at Ben Rheinhardt.

"And this beautiful young lady needs to be on that plane as well, Marshal," he said.

"We've had enough shooting around here to last for awhile," the judge pronounced.

Patty spoke quickly and without thinking of the circumstances.

"But Judge, I've got to work. I can't just fly off to some unknown place like that," she protested.

"You can and you will," the judge answered as if he were talking to one of his granddaughters.

"I'll tell the Shreveport Police Department what I've just ordered. As a matter of fact, I'll put it in writing to the commissioner first thing in the morning. I'm not about to have your precious life on my old conscious. Do we understand one another?" the judge asked her, casting a stern stare at Patty.

"Yes, Your Honor," Patty answered.

"Whatever we need to say to one another, we can say over the phone," Judge Hawkins said, turning his gaze back to Phil.

"This whole business is outrageous. And if that Morello fellow thinks he can send a bunch punks into my town and shoot it up like this, he'd better think again," the judge said.

"Mrs. MacGregor," he said, turning his attention back to Mac's wife, "again, you have my deepest sympathy. And if there is anything you need at all, and I mean anything, you call and it will be taken care of."

With those words, Judge Hawkins walked over to Joyce, gently touched her shoulder, then turned and left the room.

"I'll come with you," Angie whispered to Patty after the judge had gone.

"Joyce," Angie said aloud, "I know you'll want to stay at the hospital tonight, so I'm going to call one of the ladies in our support group at the base to come and stay with you after we leave.

"We may be flying out tonight. This is actually the busiest time of the work day for the Strategic Air Command," Angie explained.

"I'm also going to arrange for you to stay in your husband's room at our guest house on base. But I'm sure you won't want to go there for a couple of days after he's had a chance to heal a little."

Mrs. Angelelli's prediction was accurate. A little after eleven-thirty that night, a KC-135 with Phil's party onboard lifted off the runway headed for Idaho.

"Ben, I certainly have some warmer clothes than that suit you're wearing," the colonel's wife teased.

"This is exciting," Patty whispered to Phil as the big tanker jet climbed out over Bossier Parish.

"Mamma and Daddy's house is probably under us," she added as she squeezed Phil's hand.

Phil looked at Mo. They missed us again, good friend, Phil thought. Then he squeezed Patty's hand in a delayed response. It was good to be alive and it was also good not to be in Mac's shoes. That was enough. Phil needed to change the focus of his thoughts.

"How cold will it be up there?" Phil asked Angie.

"And don't tell me it's a dry cold," he teased.

"Well, it is," Angie protested with a little laugh, "and the sun shines most of the time. So when you're out in the sunlight, it's pretty nice. On balance, it's not all that much different than Altus, maybe ten or fifteen degrees colder and the mountains in the background are much bigger and covered with snow."

Patty's face lit up.

"We're going to see snow?" she asked in disbelief.

"Can we play in it? Can we build a snowman?"

Everyone laughed.

"I'm afraid that's not my department," Angie responded.

"You'll have to take that up with the man in the Palm Beach suit," she added, looking at Ben.

"Please?" Patty begged, looking directly at the new security chief.

"I'll try," he answered, forcing a smile onto his face and attempting to mask the overwhelming sense of perplexity and pressure he actually felt.

"But let's get up there first and get the lay of the land. Give me a chance to talk with some of the Air Force people. I don't even know how far the mountains are from the base."

Mo was trying to become invisible, fearing that Patty would turn her irresistible charm on him. Patty looked at her favorite trooper for a moment, but let him off the hook.

"Do you know where we're going to stay?" she asked Angie.

"Do they have a guest house like you do?"

"I don't know. Barksdale's not unique in the Air Force that way, but it is known as kind of a country club," her friend answered.

"One thing I'm sure of, you'll turn it into an adventure for all of us."

Angie's answer brought laughter to all the passengers.

Despite all the excitement, five minutes after the plane reached cruising altitude, Patty was sound asleep.

"Stress," Angie whispered to Phil.

"She was sure you were dead this time."

Phil's expression said everything. It was a request for a promise from Angie to take care of Patty if anything did happen. Angie's knowing smile was all the answer Phil needed and her presence on this trip to safety was the reassurance that sealed the silent communication between the two. Phil nodded to the other men and Ann Marie. The four of them moved a few feet away where they could talk in whispers loudly enough for them to hear one another, but quietly enough that Angie and Patty would not be able to hear over the engine noise.

"I'm frustrated," Phil began, addressing his remark mostly to Ben.

"Mac almost gave his life to protect me today, but it seems like there is nothing we can do. We just have to wait, hide and watch until they come after us again.

"I kind of got thrown into this," Ben said, using the same type whisper as Phil, "but it's a pretty familiar pattern in my assignments in Arizona. We have a witness and his family that can put some unknown thug in New York or Connecticut away. We hide and we move and we do everything we can not to draw attention to ourselves, but sooner or later we're located.

"Usually there's no attempt, and I must tell you that I've never seen anything as dramatic as what happened today, but they've gotten close enough to one of my protected witnesses to take a shot. Another time, we had a bomb blow up a car when one of our agents keyed the starter.

"I'm afraid it's just part of what we have to deal with."

"I am very tempted to have Morello busted for attempting to murder a federal agent. But the last time we arrested him, we couldn't even keep him in jail overnight," Phil said.

"Let's say the judge plays ball with you. And from what I saw a couple of hours ago, there's a pretty good chance that he would and that he would probably order this guy held without bond for as long as he could. But even if we got those things done, would that stop the family from coming after you?" Ben asked.

"I know you're right. I know that if we busted Morello and Sorrento, it wouldn't stop the attempts. I know that just like I know that we're not going to be at Mountain Home for over two days before they know we're there. So, we'll be off somewhere else," Phil agreed.

A big smile crossed Phil's face.

"You know what I'd like to do?" Phil asked looking directly at Mo.

"I'd like to fly to Chicago tomorrow. We'd get Danny to tell us where to go and the three of us would walk right in on whatever Sam Giancana happened to be doing. Mo would put the cuffs on him and we'd tell him straight to his face that he had two choices. Either he could butt out of our business in Louisiana or we'd fly him to Shreveport right then and there."

"Would it do any good?" Ben asked.

"Probably not," Phil answered with a muffled laugh, "it would probably only add to our problems.

"But this is something Mo and I have talked about over and over, something we talked about with Aubrey. There is just this feeling of futility about what we're doing most of the time," Phil said.

"Did the feeling go away when you arrested Morello before?" Ben asked.

"For a few hours, until the judge released him on bail," Phil answered, laughing softly.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 13

2009-11-19T12:21:00.002-06:00

"We have never had a time like that," Patty told Angie when the two were having lunch Monday at Ramone's, "and your friend Denise is exactly like your sister, just the way you had said."

Patty had landed just a few minutes earlier and Angie had sent word through the marshals service that she wanted to meet Patty and Ann Marie for lunch before Patty had to get ready for work.

"Denise treated me just as if I were your daughter," Patty continued.

"She fixed a wonderful dinner for Phil and I last night that was just the perfect ending to a exquisite trip."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to meet Raymond," Angie said.

"He and Harry are just like brothers."

"Me too," Patty said, "but the way Denise put it, 'he was off bombing someplace.'"

Angie laughed along with Patty.

"Yes, that does sound more exciting than 'he's on a training mission,'" Angie said.

"And the kids," Patty resumed, "it was just like spending time with my nieces and nephews, except Jenny's children are a little older.

"And Jenny could have been my cousin or a young aunt. I keep finding myself wondering whether she could actually be married to someone in the Mafia. And for that matter, I just couldn't get it into my head that Vinny was really a mobster. He's so funny. He kept us laughing all the time and he's a completely wonderful father. He loves his kids so much and they completely adore him."

Angie was having the best time listening to her new 'daughter' go on and on. The young woman was so excited that her complexion just seemed to glow.

"And we got to go to mass in the base chapel," Patty said, making it sound like she had just visited the moon.

Angie realized that for a Baptist girl from Plain Dealing, a Catholic mass probably was as exotic as space travel.

"It [the mass] was so beautiful and they had incense and the priest wore amazing garments. I want to go again and next time I want to go again and next time I want to go to the cathedral. Will you take me?" Patty asked her friend.

Angie reached across the table and took Patty's hand.

"Of course I will, Dear," she said.

"Now I want you to promise me something," Angie added.

"Of course," Patty agreed with complete trust.

"The next time you know in advance that Phil's going to be stuck with his witness on some faraway airbase for the weekend you will tell me. Will you do that?" Angie asked.

Patty was puzzled, but nodded her head that she would comply.

"I know that Phil has important friends in Washington who can do all sorts of things, but Harry is the commander of a Strategic Air Command base. And inside the United States Air Force that means there is absolutely nothing he can't get done," Angie said.

"Does that mean I might be able to go on some more trips?" Patty asked, excitedly.

"That's exactly what it means," Angie answered as she stole a glance at Ann Marie.

Angie was looking for some hint of disapproval, but saw none.

The US Marshals Service had been given the task of relocating the Gennuso family as a unit, including Vinny, for the next week. John Brinker had insisted that something be done to get Phil back to Shreveport for the week. State and federal grand juries in at least two jurisdictions were expected to hand down a large number of indictments and the assistant attorney general wanted Phil in Louisiana to oversee the process. And, he wanted Phil free of the possibility of emergency calls to baby sit Vinny. Brinker had laid down the law to the marshals service and the marshals responded by flying the Gennusos to Mountain Home Air Force Base in Idaho with three intermediate stops in the west. There might not be anywhere in the world to hide completely from the Mafia, but this was as close as anyone in the justice department or Air Force could think of.

When the two Mafioso arrested in Flagstaff were brought to Shreveport, Judge Hawkins had ordered them held without bail. But when his bailiff reported the courthouse rumor that the Western District of Louisiana courts were about to face a flood of organized crime suspects, the judge hit the overhead.

"We're not equipped for this kind of circus," he screamed at the bailiff.

"Get the US attorney in here, now."

Branford Stanfield was used to getting tongue-lashings from Judge Hawkins. That was true for everyone who practiced law in Shreveport. Indeed, the judge sometimes called new attorneys just admitted to the bar into open court and made them stand in front of the bench while he harangued them mercilessly on how they were expected to conduct themselves in his court. US Attorney Stanfield ducked some of the verbal beating he was given by telling a partial truth to the raging judge.

"But judge, I've only got two people in this district that we're going to seek indictments against. Most of the rest of the charges that I have any direct knowledge of are supposed to be brought in state court," the US attorney pleaded.

On Wednesday when the judge learned that fourteen suspects were about to appear before the US magistrate to face arraignment, the jurist was so mad he couldn't speak.

"Get that damned Banfield [Judge Hawkins often got names confused] in here and the US attorney for the eastern district, that fella from New Orleans and that young cowboy from Texas who thinks he's taken over this courthouse. I want all of 'em in here right now," Judge Hawkins boiled.

Phil was working from a makeshift office he had set up in the guesthouse at Barksdale when Danny called to report on the judge's explosion of temper. Mac hadn't planned on taking Phil to his office at the federal building until just before the arraignments were scheduled at two o'clock. Mo had been unnerved for several days because he thought this whole roundup and the subsequent arraignments were being forced into too narrow of a timeframe. The whole process had become chaotic. And just like during the last days of a political campaign, the kind of turmoil surrounding the arrests and court appearances made for a huge security nightmare. Mo insisted that there be a decoy motorcade in addition to the one Phil would ride in and Mac agreed.

The first group of three cars from the marshals service turned right on Barksdale Boulevard about twenty minutes after Danny's call. The two cars in the second group passed through the west gate of the base four minutes later. Those cars were just crossing the Shreveport-Barksdale Bridge over the Red River when the urgent call came over the two-way radio. The first group of cars was under attack at the bottom of the Texas Street Bridge on the Shreveport side of the river. Numerous shots had been fired at the first motorcade.

The two cars in the second group accelerated dramatically. In less than two minutes, those cars had made the turn onto Youree Drive and were flying north toward downtown. Tires squealed when those cars burst into the parking lot of Shreveport's federal building. The two deputy marshals opened the front doors of the car to join the other two deputies who were already out of the lead car and surveilling the area.

"Clear," one of the deputy marshals called out loudly.

"Okay, I'm going to let you up and we want to move into the building very quickly," Mo told Phil.

As soon as the first report of shots came over the radio, the trooper had pushed his friend to the floorboard between the front and rear seats and shielded Phil with his body. They had ridden all the way from the Shreveport-Barksdale Bridge to the parking lot in that fashion.

"Are you all right?" Mo asked Phil as they entered the building.

Phil, far from a fastidious dresser was smoothing his clothes.

"Yeah," Phil answered after a moment.

"Was anybody hit?" he asked.

"We'll find out when we get you in the office," Mo answered.

By the time Mo and Phil reached the elevator, they heard the tires on the two cars in their group peeling out as the deputy marshals raced to the scene of the shooting to assist Mac's group.

"One of our guys was seriously wounded," Mo reported to Phil a few minutes later after a call to the dispatcher at state police Troop G.

Mo's car was parked at the house on Barksdale Air Force Base where it mostly stayed these days. After a quick check around the building, Phil and Mo found only one extremely busy FBI agent, so they arrived at Confederate Memorial Hospital about ten minutes later by cab. The wounded deputy marshal had been taken there because the public hospital had North Louisiana's finest and by far most experienced trauma unit.

Phil was barely inside the first double door of the emergency room when he spotted Patty running toward him at full speed. By the time he had passed through the second set of doors, she had leapt at Phil, who caught her in his arms as she began kissing him all over his face.

"Thank God you're all right," she gasped.

"It was the decoy group that was attacked," Phil explained, then quickly followed with a question.

"Where's Ann Marie?" he asked.

That question intensified Mo's concentration. The state policeman had already begun scanning the faces in the crowded waiting area, searching for someone who might be there to finish the job that had been botched at the Texas Street Bridge.

"She's in the back checking on the wounded deputy marshal," Patty answered.

"They broke in on television and said that a convoy of cars occupied by federal law enforcement officials had been attacked by gunmen in downtown Shreveport and that the wounded were being taken here. I just knew it was you.

"Thank God, it wasn't," she gasped.

The three of them moved cautiously into the waiting room. In less than five minutes, Ann Marie emerged from the big double doors with 'No Admittance' painted on them in big red letters.

"Who was it?" Patty blurted out, when the deputy marshal was still ten feet away.

"Mac," Ann Marie answered.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but he's alive."

"Is he going to make it?" Phil asked.

"Too soon to tell," Ann Marie answered.

There was quiet among them for almost a full minute.

"You left her alone," Phil said quietly, but very sternly.

"I told her to go," Patty responded at once.

"They wouldn't let me through the doors," Patty explained.

But Phil's words of rebuke still hung in the air and might just as well have been written on Mo's face.

Remembering his days as a journalist, Phil ushered the group of four across the waiting room to what appeared to be a closet. The door was cracked and Phil looked in to see the extremely small room was empty. They all squeezed in and Mo closed the door behind them. There was one chair, a small countertop attached to the wall and a red telephone. On the wall behind the phone was a rectangular piece of poster paper with a single word written in black marker ink. 'Press' the sign said. Phil picked up the phone and placed a call.

"Thank God you're all right," Phil heard Maria say into the phone.

"Just a minute, the assistant attorney general is right here," she added before turning over the phone to their boss.

"God am I glad to hear your voice," John Brinker said after both men had said hello.

"How many of our people were shot?" the assistant attorney general asked.

"The only one I know about is Special Inspector Preston MacGregor. He was badly wounded and we don't know whether he will live," Phil answered.

"What about the shooters?" John Brinker asked.

Phil repeated the question out loud and Ann Marie answered.

"Two dead and at least four at large. Some of them might be wounded," the deputy marshal answered.

"Did you hear that?" Phil asked, then paused to listen to another question.

"Mac led the decoy cars and they left the base before we did. Our group took another route four minutes after the first cars pulled out. We heard the report of the shooting on the two-way just after we left the base," Phil answered.

"I guess we owe your life to Gennuso," the assistant attorney general suggested.

Phil agreed.

"He certainly warned us what they would do," Phil said.

"We need more people here," Phil told John Brinker after a momentary pause.

"Most of the Shreveport Police Department and Caddo Parish sheriff's deputies are out looking for these suspects along with every federal law enforcement officer in North Louisiana. We've got fourteen suspects set for arraignment in federal court and fifteen in state court. We also have the most arrogant and senile US district judge in America running completely amok.

"As a matter of fact, if Judge Hawkins hadn't ordered me into court, this ambush would probably have never happened," Phil said, then paused and fell silent for a moment.

"Let me take that last part back," Phil said after the silence.

"Judge Hawkins could just as easily have saved my life. If he hadn't called me to court early, Morello's people might have had more time to set up their people for the assault. The change in timing might have caught them off guard," Phil said.

"I suppose we'll never know," Phil's boss said.

"I'm just grateful you're all right and I hope MacGregor recovers.

"As to the manpower, we've gotten a plane from the Air Force and we're rounding up people to send now. We're hoping to be wheels up from Andrews in no more than two hours. Maria's also calling Houston, Dallas and Oklahoma City looking for more manpower.

"Good luck with your judge. I'll make a call and offer to pay expenses to bring in a judge to help with the hearings and offer to send some more clerks to help with the motions, but ultimately it will be up to Judge Hawkins to decide whether he'll accept the assistance," John Brinker finished.

"I'll call you back as soon as we know more," Phil said.

"We've got to get out of here," Phil said to the other three when the phone call was finished.

"The television cameras will be here any minute and that's the last thing I need right now."

Seconds later, Mo thrust the door open and the four burst back into the waiting room. Mo spotted a janitor, flashed his badge in his face and ordered him to lead the way to the hospital director's office. The first TV camera entered the waiting room just as Ann Marie passed through the door on her way out of the emergency area.

In a few minutes, Phil's group was set up in the director's conference room and the director's secretary had been designated to assist the visitors.

"Could you go down to the emergency room and get us an update on the condition of Special Inspector Preston MacGregor of the US Marshals Service?" Phil asked the secretary.

Next Phil called Nita to report that he was okay and had not been attacked.

"Is Patty there?" Nita asked after she became convinced that Phil had not been hurt and seemed to be safe.

"Yes," Phil answered hesitantly.

"May I talk with her, please?" Nita asked and Phil handed the telephone receiver to Patty.

Phil was puzzled by what his life had become; but he had too much to do to continue dwelling on those thoughts. Phil called Maria to check in and report his new location and temporary phone number.

"Judge wants to talk with you," Maria said after Phil had passed on his information.

"Who?" Phil asked.

"The assistant attorney general," Maria said, pausing for a laugh.

"The girls in the office call him Judge. He was a state supreme court judge in Pennsylvania before he came to Washington," Maria explained.

"Anything new on MacGregor?" John Brinker asked when he picked up the phone.

"We're waiting to hear," Phil answered.

"I just sent someone down to check."

"I just got off the phone with the attorney general," Phil's boss said.

"It seemed he had just hung up from talking with your Judge Hawkins. The way he told it, the judge did the talking and he mostly listened."

Phil couldn't contain his laughter.

"He said the man kept getting people confused, including you and Reilly and his own US attorney. One minute, the judge would complain about cases from the eastern district being assigned to his court. Then the next, he would swear and vow that he was going to lock up every last one of those gangsters.

"What the attorney general wants to know is can we count on this judge to conduct trials that are likely to stand up on appeal? And can we rely on him to try the New Orleans cases and not bump them back to the eastern district? Do we need to get a special judge assigned down there?" John Brinker asked.

"As crazy as he sounds, his trials are rock solid. He may be senile and crazy acting in his dealings with lawyers and others around the courthouse, but I've covered a number of trials in his court and he's as good as I've seen.

"My guess is that shootout on Texas Street probably hit him pretty hard. It's my firm opinion that if we bring good cases into his court we'll get convictions and maximum sentences. That said, I can't promise you he won't become a thorn in the attorney general's side. Judge Hawkins has been around so long that he has convinced himself he invented the law," Phil said.

"I'll pass it along. He doesn't seem too much worse than a lot of other federal judges I've known," the assistant attorney general said.

"Hold on just a minute. We're getting an update on Mac. Do you want me to call you back?" Phil asked.

"No, I want to wait," his boss answered.

Phil listened to the secretary's report, then repeated the information into the telephone.

"The doctors have him stable enough for surgery. There's a slight chance he could lose a leg and he's still listed as critical, primarily based on the amount of blood he lost. The operation could take as long as three hours," Phil said.

"We're going to stay here until the surgery's finished at least," Phil added.

"How much security do you have?" John Brinker asked.

"We've got Ann Marie, the deputy marshal assigned to Patty and Mo," Phil answered.

"I want you to call the state police and get two more troopers over there to secure the area where you are working. And if it's possible, we'd like to have two armed men guarding the operating room where MacGregor is.

"Will you do that right now, please?" Phil's boss asked.

"Yes," Phil responded.

"Tell the state police we'll replace their men with the first federal officers who reach Shreveport, okay?"

After he hung up, Phil called Captain Porter.

"I'll be right over," the state police captain said, "and I'll bring three men with me."

The troopers were replaced by deputies from the US Marshals Service around four in the afternoon, but Captain Porter stayed. An hour later, two more deputies from the marshals service arrived with Mrs. MacGregor.

"Is he still alive?" Joyce MacGregor asked Phil as soon as they were introduced.

"He is and I was told about ten minutes ago that his vital signs were still good, but I must tell you that the surgery has lasted much longer than we were initially told that it would. We were told that the surgery was late getting started because they wanted the two best surgeons in Shreveport. It took a few minutes to get them here," Phil explained.

Joyce was quiet for a moment, but Phil sensed there was something she wasn't saying.

"What is it you want to ask me?" Phil coaxed.

"I'm sorry, but is this the best place for Preston to be? I'm sorry to ask its just …,"

"I understand," Phil answered.

"This hospital has the best trauma center in North Louisiana. Officers don't get shot around here very often. But when they do, they're always brought here because it's the place that gives them the best chance of survival," Phil continued.

"But the name, Confederate? I'm sorry I didn't see all the name, but that word just sent a chill through my spine," Joyce said.

"I apologize," Phil offered.

"Confederate Memorial Hospital is part of the Louisiana charity hospital system. Public hospitals here are run by the state, not by the county as they are in most places. The name is unfortunate and I know that walking through the emergency room area doesn't inspire confidence, but believe me Mac is getting the absolute best care available around here.

"And just to make sure nothing is missed, Governor McClellan has his official plane on the ground in Houston and ready to fly in case any specialist available there is needed up here. I owe Mac my life and he's going to get the best available. I promise," Phil said.

Joyce fell into Phil's arms and was immediately overcome by her own sobs.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 12

2009-11-10T15:33:00.008-06:00

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.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 11

2009-11-05T12:31:00.005-06:00

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.

Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 10

2009-10-28T10:42:00.003-06:00

"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."