From Here To 1137 AD; Plummer and Howton At Granville's, Episode 19

This is episode nineteen of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Plummer and Howton At Granville's 

Before Tom grabbed the door handle to Granville’s, he heard the sounds of laughter and rock music. He opened the door and walked in. 

‘It sounds more crowded than it really is,’ he thought. 

It wasn’t a weekend crowd, but definitely an after-work crowd. It was half full. It was clean; a turn of the 20th century bar and backbar. The rest of the exterior matched.

‘Brain, find  Walter Plummer and Jason Howton for me.’

‘Third booth on your left.’

‘Thanks, Brain.’

Tom walked past a couple of tables and stopped at Plummer’s and Howton’s booth. 

“Are you Plummer and Howton?” Tom asked.

A thin-faced man with oily black slick hair said, “Who wants to know?” 

Brain interrupted, ‘That’s Howton.’

“I’m Edgar Bales’ brother, Tom.” Tom tossed the bags on the benches, one next to Howton and the other next to Plummer.

Behind Tom was an empty table. He grabbed a chair and set it in front of the booth, and he sat on it.

The waitress came.

Tom reached into his pocket and handed her a $20 bill. “We don’t want anything.”

She raised her eyebrows, smiled, and walked away.

“What’s this all about?” Plummer asked. He was a round smooth faced boyish looking man. 

“You two are bottom-feeding blood suckers,” Tom said.

“Hey, Clem,” Plummer said sarcastically, “we can take this outside, if you want.”

“Believe me, pal,” Tom said, “you don’t want that.”

“Careful,” Howton said, “Jethro may have a whittlin’ knife.”

“What’s in the bags?” Plummer asked.

“Money,” Tom said. “$50,000 in each bag. It’s yours.”

“For what?” Howton asked.

“To get lost,” Tom said. “I know you don’t believe me. Before going further, look in the bags.”

They unzipped the bags and looked in. Their eyes widened. They took deep breaths as they looked at each other.

“Okay,” Howton said, “you have our attention.”

They relaxed.

“Believe me, my friend,” Plummer said, “that isn’t near enough. That might get me an upgrade in an apartment, and that’s about it. Jason and I live pretty well.”

“When I’m done here, I go and see Frankie Grasso,” Tom said. “I’m going to give him a large sum of money. He’ll be happy to receive it. Grasso will soon figure out that the money I gave him was his own, taken from his safe deposit box. I happen to know that box is a drop-off. He has a key. The bank has a key. And one of you has a key. He’s going to think one of you, more likely both, gave the money to me to pay off my brother’s debt.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Plummer said. 

“Crime doesn’t make sense, does it?” Tom said.

“How many times have you defended someone and said to yourself: ‘Why did they do that, it doesn’t make sense?’”

“What’s your point?” Howton asked.

“The point is, you have chosen to slip into bed with a criminal,” Tom said. “He knows guys who associate with him are criminals. They are willing to take risks. He’s going to figure you guys were willing to take a risk. Risk comes with rewards. Risk can come with disaster. No matter what you say, he won’t believe you. He will think you were taking a risk—a risk with his money. You know him and his type better than most. You take his money is like taking one of his family members. What do you think the response will be?”

“We’ll just take the money to him and tell him the truth,” Plummer said.

Tom grinned. “Did you hear that? Truth! How do you think he will process that information? Let me help you. These guys stole a hundred thousand, hoping to make a killing with it. He will probably think you guys could buy $100,000 in coke and triple or quadruple your money. The deal fell through, and all the money was lost. You begged, borrowed, stole, and scraped enough money together to pay him back.”

Howton and Plummer stared across the table at each other. They knew that’s what Frankie Grasso would think.

Howton sullenly looked at Tom. “How do we know that’s Grasso’s money? How could you possibly get a hold of it?”

“I’m going to give you some advice,” Tom said. “You can take it or not.”

“What is your advice?” Plummer said. “Assuming what you are telling us is true.”

“Fifty thousand isn’t a lot to you two,” Tom said. “I mean, it’s a lot, but not when compared to your potential.” 

“Get to the point,” Howton demanded.

“Go home and pack,” Tom said. “Go to any ATM and clean out your accounts. Go to a bus station, train station, or airport. Go somewhere and start a new life under a new name. Because tonight, I’m going to meet with Frankie Grasso. I’m paying off Edgar’s debt. It will be paid off with the money I took from him. That means tomorrow, when he takes this cash to his safe deposit box, he’ll see money is missing; money, in his mind, that only one of you could have taken. He’ll feel as if somebody has taken advantage of him. And you know who that is.”

“None of that will happen,” Plummer said.

Tom stood. “Take the money and have a good time, or take the money and run.”

He turned slightly toward the door and stopped. “I almost forgot; how did I get the money from the safe deposit box? An alien intelligence source transported me inside the safety deposit box room and out again. And just so you believe I’ve been there, the box number is 247.”

Tom walked out of Granville’s and back to the alley.

“Brain,” Tom said, “Have you been tracking Frankie Grasso?”

“Yes,” Brain said.

“Where is he?”

“He’s at what the police call a mob bar in Brooklyn,” Brain said. “It appears he has been there for twenty-one minutes.”

“Is there a similar vacant alley close to the bar?”

“There’s one on the same block,” Brain said.

“Can you look around for hoodlums this time?” Tom said.

“You handled the situation admirably,” Brain said. 

“Thanks,” Tom said.

“Are you ready for the transfer?” Brain asked.

“One more thing,” Tom said. “Can you Instaport the other bag of money?”

“Yes,” Brain said.

“Then, I’m ready.”

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 18, 4H

This is episode eighteen of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

4H

“Brain,” Tom said, “what other bank safe deposit boxes does Frankie Grasso have money in?”

“That can’t be determined with certainty,” Brain said. “However, I was running a scan on an auxiliary system and found there is a large sum of money in a storage locker on Long Island.”

“Replicate two leather bags with zippers,” Tom said.

“What?” Brain asked.

“Each about half the size of a feed sack.”

“They’re being replicated as we speak.” 

Tom slipped on his coat. He grabbed the two leather bags from the replicator next to the Instaport station. Tom stepped into the Instaport station.

“Transport me to the storage locker where Frankie Grasso has his money stashed.”

A moment later, Tom was in a dark storage locker. 

“Brain,” Tom said, “I’m gonna need some light.”

Instantly, a portable light appeared and lit up the storage locker. 

Tom looked around the 12’ X 12’ locker. There were two large Army-type barracks bags and three stacked foot lockers.

Tom opened the top of one of the bags. It was stuffed with strapped 50-dollar bills. He stuffed ten straps of bills into each bag and zipped them.

“Brain,” Tom said. “Transport me to an alley near Granville’s bar. I don’t want to be seen all of a sudden showing up. It’s liable to cause a stir.”

“Ready when you are,” Brain said.

Tom grabbed hold of the handles on the bags. “Ready.”

A moment later, he stood in a dark alley with the two bags of money. 

Brain spoke telepathically. “If you walk out of the alley to the street closest to you and turn right, Granville’s will be a block and a half away.”

Tom relied telepathically. “Thanks, Brain.”

“What is your intention with the money?” Brain asked.

“I’m giving Walter Plummer and Jason Howton a golden opportunity. When I step into the bar, give me directions to them.”

“I can do that,” Brain said.

Tom left the comfort of the alley that shielded the wind and was warmed by exhaust fans. He walked toward Granville’s, holding tightly to the handles of two leather bags. 

Three men wearing hoodies approached from his rear. 

The MAS that Tom wore immediately detected a hostile movement. It clenched Tom’s hand, and as it did, Tom also clenched. At the same time, something pushed him from the rear. Again, MAS immediately sensed the aggressive force and took prompt action.  

Tom jerked the bags away from the men on both sides. 

The three men surrounded him.

“Give us the bags, and nothing happens.”

“Yeah, ya won’t get hurt.”

One young man smiled and looked amusingly at Tom’s attire. “What’s goin’ on, a 4H convention in town?”

Tom tried to step around the man in front of him. He shoved Tom back.

“Ain’t nobody around ta help ya.”

“Actually,” Tom said, “I was wondering where your help was.”

“What have we got here, a regular comedian, funny guy?”

“Yeah, like Jay Leno or somethin’.”

“Let’s just cap him now, grab the bags, and go.”

“Whoa, gentleman,” Tom said. “I’m going to be straight up honest with you. I have $50,000 in each bag, that’s a $100,000. I’m going to assume you figure that’s worth killing for. In fact, you’d probably kill for a lot less. I don’t think I’d die for this money. I could just hand it over and let the chips fall where they may. Or, I could hurt you bad enough that you would never forget this time, and it might teach the three of you a lesson.”

The man on Tom’s left removed an automatic pistol from behind him that was tucked in his pants. He held it to Tom’s head.

“Do it!” One man said. 

Tom used the quick reflexes of the MAS. With his left hand, he grabbed the man’s wrist while removing the pistol from the man’s hand with his right hand. Then, with his left hand, he reached up and grabbed the man behind the neck and squeezed. With the pistol in his right hand, he pointed it at the two other men.

Fear flashed across their faces.

“You’re crushing my neck!”

“Not until you hear the bones crack,” Tom said.

“Look, man, we wasn’t gonna shoot you.”

“Don’t believe you,” Tom said, “but this is your lucky day. I got some immediate business to tend to. And that’s kind of taking up a lot of my thinking. And there are just too many moral imperatives to filter through for the time being. So, should I let you off with just a warning, or should I put a bullet in each one of you? How ‘bout this, just thought of it; one of you made a joke about me being the 4H. Actually, I am. There are three of you and one of me, that’s 4, and there are 4 Hs. They stand for heart, hand, head, and health. One bullet in one of you guys’ hands, another in the heart, and another in the head. It’s sort of poetic.”

Each man looked as if he wanted to beg for his life.

“I’m messing with you guys,” Tom said. “Get lost.” He waved them away with the pistol. Then he dropped the pistol in a storm drain. 

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 17, Planning For Frankie Grasso

This is episode seventeen of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Planning For Frankie Grasso

After breakfast, Tom returned to the captain’s chair and continued to read Frankie Grasso’s dossier. He focused on Grasso’s responses to being challenged. He wanted to know his habits, routine, and what triggers him. 

Two hours passed.

“Brain,” Tom said.

“Yes.”

“Call my brother,” Tom said. “And make it sound like a phone line.”

Tom listened to the phone ring twice, and he picked up.

“Hello.”

“Edgar, this is Tom. How are you?”

“Where are you?” Edgar said. “You sound like you’re in the next room.”

“Must be a good connection,” Tom said. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Edgar said. “Are you close by?”

“I’m on my way,” Tom said. “I need you to sit tight.”

“How soon will you be here?” Edgar asked.

“Look, Edgar. I called only to check on you. I can’t tell you anymore than that.”

“What’s going on?” Edgar sounded panicked.

“Stay calm,” Tom encouraged. “Everything is under control. Tell me where you are.”

“I’m less than a half mile off the William Floyd Parkway. It’s called Four Seasons Bed and Breakfast.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “Stay there. I should be there before midnight.”

“Are you flying?” 

“Just leave it to me,” Tom said. 

“You know my life is worthless, don’t you?” Edgar said.

“It’s not worthless,” Tom said. 

“There’s only one way I can make it all right,” Edgar said. “That’s, be their man.”

“How can they use you?” Tom asked.

“I set up shell corporations for them, for one,” Edgar said. “I bill one corporation and run it through a dozen more. I bill them a lot and lose it gambling. Which I have done, but I use their money to lose it to them—kind of.”

“To the best of your knowledge, are you clear under 18 U. S. C.?”

“What!?” Edgar exclaimed. “What do you know about that?”

“It’s not important what I know,” Tom said. “It’s important that you have protected yourself.”

“Have you been consulting with another lawyer or the law?” Edgar asked forcefully.

“No,” Tom said. “I read a lot.”

“You have help,” Edgar said. “If the law is mixed up in this, I may lose my license no matter what 18 U. S. C. says.”

“I’ve read opinions and some cases,” Tom said. “I’m sure you have been coerced. Does anybody in your firm know?”

“Is this being wiretapped?” Edgar said.

“Absolutely not,” Tom said,

“I can assure you that I have not talked to another person about this,” Tom said.

“You’re too naive to lie,” Edgar said. “I’m not sure, but there may be a couple of other lawyers in on this.”

“Let me guess,” Tom said, “they were the ones who helped exploit your weakness for gambling.”

“Look, Tom,” Edgar said, “I never played so much as penny ante poker in school. It’s not a weakness. I got played.”

“Forgive me for pointing this out,” Tom said, “but who is the naive one, now?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Edgar said, “trying to fit in.”

“No,” Tom said, “because I’ve never had that need.”

“Lucky you,” Edgar said.

“We’re going to get out of this mess,” Tom said. “There’s something I need from you.”

“What’s that?” Edgar asked.

“The names of the two lawyers whom you suspect,” Tom said.

“I can’t do that,” Edgar said. “And why would you want to know?”

“First of all,” Tom said, “don’t claim some sort of collegial honor. If those guys are mixed up in this, they are dirty—dirtier than you. And I want to know. Maybe they can be helped, too.”

“Walter Plummer and Jason Howton,” Edgar said.

“Okay,” Tom said. “Stay put. Call if you need me.”

“When did you start using words like ' collegial?” Edgar asked.

“Nice,” Tom said, “I’m glad you caught that. I’m really trying to impress you.”

Edgar hung up.

“Brain,” Tom said.

“We have some work to do,” Tom said. “Walter Plummer and Jason Howton are lawyers in the same law firm as my brother. Find out what you can about them. Did they start crooked, or were they coerced into being crooked? Can you do that?”

“That should be no problem, Tom.”

Tom walked back to the food cloner. “Cup of black coffee, Sumatran, fine grind.”

The cup appeared, and coffee filled the cup from a spout. Tom removed it. He sipped it on his way to a lounge chair. “Ahh, that’s good.”

“Excuse me,” Brain said, “I have some information for you.”

“Go ahead, Brain.”

“Walter Plummer and Jason Howton met at high school in Scarsdale, New York,” Brain began.  They graduated in the top ten percent of their class and went to Harvard.  Their tuition was paid for by Andrew Porcelli. He’s a mob lawyer. When they graduated, they didn’t go into his practice, but both were hired at the same firm, which your brother eventually got a job with. They defend a lot of mob associates. The firm looks the other way. Messages that I’ve opened between them indicate that your brother was unwittingly brought into a relationship with Frankie Grasso.”

“Thank you, Brain,” Tom said.

“By the way, did you happen to notice where they will be after work?” Tom asked.

“They are scheduled at the office until 6:00,” Brain said. “Receipts indicate that tonight they will go to a pizza restaurant. Receipts indicate that normally they will be at a bar on 53rd Street called Granville’s.”

“I’ll want you to transport me there later on,” Tom said. “What about Grasso’s itinerary?”

“He will go to his home and have a meal with his family,” Brain said. “After that, he normally goes to the back room of a bar in Brooklyn. Guys come in with money and leave with whatever their percentage is. It is about four guys a night. Then he goes to another bar. He sits at the second table on the right, entering the bar. A guard sits on each side of him, and there is an empty chair across the table in front of him. The seat is usually left open for new clients or business partners. On Saturdays, he arrives at 10:00 and leaves about 4:00. He is very predictable.”

“Can I just walk in and sit down?? Tom asked.

“Normally, all contacts are made by appointment,” Brain said.

“How do you get all of this information?” Tom grinned, “Or is it all based on probability?”

“I was able to access law enforcement files,” Brain said. “They take very detailed notes.”

“How long did it take you?”

“I can be in their system, access and collect what I need, and be out in three to five minutes,” Brain said. 

“What takes you so long?” Tom quipped.

“Oh,” Brain assured, “it is not me. Their systems are antiques. Their equipment to me is like stone age utensils are to you.”

“What time does he get to the bar?” Tom asked.

“Between 7:15 and 7:25,” Brain said.

“That’s all I need to know,” Tom said.