Roy Glenn - No More Tears In The End

“Okay,” CeCe said, but I knew it still wasn’t clear to her.

“You’re gonna tell the reporter about Mylo’s dealings with Cash. Then you’re gonna give him information about a meeting between Mylo and Masters discussing several murders, and taking over drug markets. Then you’ll give him the head man, Vinnelli, and information about his offshore accounts. That’s just the first part of the plan.”

I got up and stood by Travis. I looked at Monika. “How much is in those accounts?”

“Right now there’s $7, 562,753 in those accounts. It will be more allowing for interest-earned between now and when we make our move.”

“Thank you. Now, when that information becomes public, the government will freeze those accounts, but not before we take half of it.”

“Why just half?” CeCe asked.

“Because I want the government to have something to freeze. Monika, half is how much?”

“Roughly $3,781,376.”

“Which we split four ways. And that is?”

“That’s $945,345-each,” Monika added.

“Any questions?”

CeCe’s jaw dropped and we all laughed at her.

“Welcome to the big time,” Monika said to CeCe.

“You still want me to do something for you?” I asked, thinking that damn near a million dollars would be enough compensation for her part in my plan.

“Yes,” CeCe said definitely. “And a deal’s a deal. But I do have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“What if the reporter doesn’t believe me? I mean, that’s gonna be a lot to remember.”

“I’ll coach on what you need to say,” Monika assured CeCe. “And when you talk to him, you’ll be wearing a wire and an ear piece. Me and Black will be someplace close by listening and we’ll help keep you straight.”

“You in?”

“I already told you yes, and a deal’s a deals,” CeCe said.

“Travis. The money-”

“Like Black said, the money is in offshore accounts in different banks. So we can just roll in there and take it at gunpoint. In order for us to get it, I gotta access the network and get past a 128-bit encryption. Now accessing the secure cluster has to be done on a computer at a bank on the backbone of the network. I have a friend who works in investment and special services at a Bank in the Cayman Islands, which is part of the network.

“By placing a packet sniffer on a network I can capture and analyze all of the network traffic. Then I use a hydra which, for lack of a better definition, is a login cracker. I go in, pop the firewall, drop in the hydra and transfer the money into another account.”

The next morning Travis left for the Cayman Islands to wait for my call.

For the next two days, Monika and I drilled CeCe on what she would say to the reporter. By the end of the second day she was ready. I was impressed, but I knew I would be. There is much more to her appeal than the physical.

That night CeCe met the reporter at One if by Land, Two if by Sea, a restaurant on Barrow and West 4 thStreets. Monika and I were seated at a table near the one where New York Post reporter James Fremeno waited for her to arrive.

After Monika did a sound check on the equipment, CeCe went in. “Mr. Fremeno?”

Fremeno sprang to his feet when he saw CeCe coming. “I’m Cameisha Collins. Sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?”

“Not at all, Ms. Collins. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, tell me what I can do for you?”

“Well, a few months ago my boyfriend Steven was murdered in my apartment.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know who did it?”

“DEA agents.”

“That’s a very serious accusation, Ms. Collins. Do you have any proof that it was the DEA?”

“Yes, I do. My boyfriend Steven was a drug dealer who went by the name Cash Money.”

“I understand.”

“Do you remember a couple of months ago a DEA agent was killed at a parking garage and a few days later, another agent was found dead at his house outside of Philadelphia?”

“Vaguely.”

CeCe took out the pictures we gave her and pushed them in front of Fremeno. “That’s them,” she said, and told Fremeno about the meeting. For the next half-hour, Fremeno took notes and sat fascinated by the story CeCe was telling to him.

When she was done with her story, CeCe made one request. “I know that you need to verify what I told you, but before you go to print with the story, I know you have to call the DEA to ask if they want to comment on the story.”

“That’s right. It’s more of a courtesy than a requirement, but yes. ”

“All I ask is that before you do that you call me.”

“I can do that,” Fremeno readily agreed.

It was two weeks later when CeCe got the call from Fremeno. As soon as she hung up with him, CeCe called Kevon and he handed the phone to me. “It’s on.”

“Thank you.” I hung and called Travis. “It’s on.”

The story hit the paper that next morning.

I sat in my office at Cuisine that next morning and read the paper. Fremeno had written a very interesting article that took his readers step-by-step through Cash Money’s murder to Mylo and his meeting with Masters, and dropped the whole thing on Vinnelli, just the way I planned.

I looked at my watch. It was ten-thirty. If FedEx was as good as their word, Mrs. Vinnelli should have pictures of her husband with Eileen McManus, and details of their affair. Eileen McManus, on the other hand, should have pictures of Vinnelli with Pamela Connote. That by itself was enough to wreck his world, but it would be just the beginning.

Kevon came to the table with the phone in his hand. “It’s Travis.”

“Good morning, Travis. Tell me something positive.”

“I just left the bank with a check made out the way you asked, for three million, eight hundred thousand dollars.”

“Now that’s positive. Any problems?”

“None.”

“You take care of your people?”

“Yes, sir,” Travis said. I gave him a quarter of a million dollars to give his contact for her part in the plan. “I’m on my way to the airport now, so I’ll so you this afternoon.”

“Good man. I’ll have your money waiting for you when you get here.”

When Travis got back, I would have a million dollars in cash ready for him. I told Nick to find somebody else to baby-sit Jackie at the game. I could use Travis for other things on both sides of the house. Him and Monika were going to be very valuable people to have around.

When I hung up the phone Kevon came back in the office. “You never guess who is here to see you, boss.”

“Martin Marshall.”

Kevon looked at his watch. “More than an hour before you say he be here.”

“Show him in.”

A few minutes later Martin was shutting the door to my office. You know, for some reason, he didn’t look happy. He walked up to the desk and saw the paper.

“That your doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Martin. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

“Whiskey.”

“How do you take it?” I asked and got up to fix us both a drink.

“In a glass.” Martin picked up the paper from my desk and started mumbling as he looked at it.

“Here you go, Martin.” I handed him his glass and sat down.

Martin dropped the paper on the desk and leaned forward. “Fremeno could have only gotten this stuff from you,” he said and pointed to the article. “When I gave you that name I thought you would just take his money and kill him, not go running to the press with it.” Martin sat back in his chair. “When they start digging into this, Vinnelli will flip on me if it comes down to it.”

“You’ll be all right, Martin. I hear you’re Teflon. Nothing sticks to you. And besides, Vinnelli is gonna be too busy with his own issues to even remember your name.”