Heading for the elevator bank, Dave made the decision to call Maxwell and inform him of the fiasco occurring at the Hilton. No one was yet aware of Dave’s relationship to “The Man”. Maxwell was, in fact, Pearson’s boss.
“The Great God” still lived on and thrived in Dave’s life
As David Wayne exited the elevator and walked through the lobby of the hotel, he held his cell phone in his hand. He quickly walked to the front desk where he motioned for a young spike haired clerk to come over.
“Can I help you, sir?”, the clerk asked.
Pulling his ID from his inner coat pocket, Dave flashed the government badge once more while delivering a penetrating stare. “DEA - Drug Enforcement Administration - I need you to call NOPD and have them send a narcotics unit and supervisor to the hotel. Tell them an agent will meet them in the front lobby”, he told the kid in a fast, clipped speech.
“Yes, sir, right away.” The kid answered right back, the usual fear coming alive in his eyes. Agents saw this all the time and, for the most part, it was amusing. “Is there a problem I should notify the manager about?” The clerk then asked him after a loud gulp.
“No,” Dave said, the eyes menacing, “did I tell you to notify the manager? Just be a good little **** and do as I say.” Dave sneered. Public relations was not his department - sorry. “I can always arrange for the unit to check you out when you get off. Understand?” He was getting tired of everyone questioning his direction.
“Yes sir, I understand.” The clerk hurried over to the phone bank and placed the call.
As Dave moved away from the desk, he noticed Al Meo coming in the front door.
It was Al’s misfortune to be blessed with a portly, short body. Standing at 5 foot 5 inches and weighing in at an easy 250 pounds, every effort seemed a great exertion. It was to this end that Al’s thick, jet-black hair, though clipped close, was slicked back with the greasy sweat that poured from his head and scalp, although the day was mild.
However, Al liked to dress in expensive custom tailored suits; wanting, of course, to look good; succeeding to look at the end of the day like a tacky, frumpish gigolo. Deodorant only masked the left over pungent smell of whatever greasy thing he had eaten, from whatever backstreet Italian restaurant he had visited that day. And, though he was Italian, he had a yen for onion rings and donuts, as well; as behooved his line of work. Garlic and grease.
David walked briskly to Al and, grabbing hold of the short man’s shoulder, directed him into a cove near the bell stand.
“What’s up.”? Al huffed, out of breath as always and following David with his usual waddle.
“Look, plans have changed.” He told Al calmly - all trace of evil now gone from his eyes. “Go to the car and get the heroin.” he instructed him, most agents used the slang, “tar”, but Dave thought different and refused to call it by that term “Take it up to Doyle then leave quietly by the stairway. I’ll meet you on the riverside after the NOPD leaves.”
“NOPD?, What happened?” Al asked, though sure he already knew the answer.
“Doyle **** up, again!” Dave said through tight lips. “I told him to wait until the target came down and we could get him on the street.” He explained. “But no, I don’t know ****.” He sulked. Al watched him as Dave shrugged as though unable to explain this breech of confidence that he had for Doyle Pearson.
“Well, here we are,” Dave went on, “security came to the room before he whacked the dude, so now we have to change plans again.
“I’m telling you, Al, you should decide where your loyalties are, Doyle’s on his way out.”
“Hey man, I go with the money. My old man used to tell me the difference between a ‘Dago’ and an Italian, is that an Italian has folding money in his pocket,” Al told him. “I ain’t no ‘Dago’.” Al reached into his pocket as he said this, removing a neat stack of folded bills as he gave him a toothy grin.
“Okay,” Dave said, smiling in return as he spoke; his eyes had softened just enough to give Al some assurance that he had made the right decision. “Just make sure you show that loyalty when the time comes, now get going.”
Dave wasn’t sure about Al, but knew that he’d go with the cash; greed was always a sure bet with the lower echelon.
As Al returned to the car to get the package, Dave stepped into the shadows and dialed Doug Maxwell on his private line.
“Yeah boss, it’s me.” Dave said softly into the handset, not wanting to be overheard.
“Go ahead, Dave.” Maxwell told him without reproach for Dave’s informality.
“We have a situation here.” Dave sighed his displeasure. “Doyle screwed up.”
“What happened?” Maxwell asked, seemingly not surprised.
“I requested that we wait until the guy left the hotel with his squeeze, so we could make a clean sweep.” Dave explained, knowing that Maxwell also knew the plan. “He didn’t listen.” He continued. “He had to do him here at the hotel and security walked in on us before we finished the assignment.”
Maxwell let out a sigh, “How sloppy is it, David?”
“Sloppy enough,” David informed him, “NOPD is on the way; we’re letting them process Jamie into the CLU,” that was the police lockup for the New Orleans area, “we’re using the product we had for that bust next week.” Dave reminded him. “The girl wasn’t here, so we have a few loose ends out there; it could come back and bite us on the ****.”
“Are you sure Doyle doesn’t know you’re calling me?” Maxwell asked uncomfortably.
“Yes, I thought you’d like to know what was going on, so I made the call on my own.” Dave smiled as he said this, thinking this would make him look good in Maxwell’s eyes.
“Good, listen.” Maxwell directed. “I’ll make sure the right paperwork is filed from this office so everything looks normal and we’ll talk about Doyle later. Where’s Al with all of this?”
“Al says he’ll follow the money.” Dave assured him.
“Good,” Maxwell said, with confidence returning to his voice. “We’ll talk later after the dust settles. I have something coming up in Mid-City for you.”
As Dave disconnected the line, he felt that things were now going in his favor. With Maxwell on his side, he would have control of the teams before Doyle knew what had hit him. If things went well, maybe Maxwell would let him take care of the wop, Al Meo, and Doyle at the same time. Man, he loved it when a plan came together. He started for the main lobby, when he looked back suddenly to see if anyone had been watching.
Doyle turned to Jamie and calmly told him, “Okay, here’s how it’s going to work. Al is going to bring back a little package. An ounce of ‘black tar’, - heroin, to be exact. We’ll turn you over to the locals; they’ll process you into CLU. You keep your mouth closed, you might get out in time to see your girlfriend Suzy, before she’s too old.” There was some little mirth in his otherwise cold, dead eyes as he spoke.
“That’s right,” Doyle informed him with a warm smile when Jamie jerked his head in frustration. He continued with his buzzard’s voice, “Suzy. We know it all. If you say anything - anything at all - we’ll finish what we started here today with Suzy tomorrow.
“Tell your brothers we want a million in the bank by the time you go to trial.” Doyle continued, offering Jamie an out. “I’ll be in touch with an account number. We get the cash, the evidence disappears, and you get off to continue your wedding plans. We don’t get the money, Suzy goes bye-bye, and we’ll get you or maybe one of your family later. Got it?”
Jamie nodded his head.
“Good…Remember; I’ll know if you **** with me.” The tall buzzard quietly informed Jamie; the sirens from the street growing louder. “New Orleans will have no where for you to hide. Now, roll over. Face down on the floor.” Doyle ordered. “You say anything to the cops and I’ll make sure you die resisting.”
Jamie fell to his knees and did as instructed. Talk, yeah right, he thought. He’d messed his pants. The only talking he was going to do was with his brother - after he was away from this crazy son of a bitch, that is.
He had to move quickly when he got to the lock up, and this **** Doyle was out of sight.
However, he wasn’t sure whom to call or what to do first. All he knew, at the moment, was that he had been humiliated and someone was going to pay.