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.

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 16, Getting Some Cash

This is episode sixteen 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.

Getting Some Cash    

Tom slung on his coat and slipped into his work boots. He jogged to the location of the invisible pod. He entered.

Tom sat in the captain’s chair. He looked at the various digital instruments. He mentally asked how to operate the pod. His brain quivered gently, and for an instant, he felt as though he lost consciousness. Then he knew all about the pod. 

“Brain,” Tom said, “How soon can I get to New York City?”

“We can get there in minutes,” Brain said.

“How many minutes?” Tom said.

“Depends on how many minutes you want to take,” Brain said.

“Fifteen minutes?” Brain asked.

“Yeah,” Tom said. 

“Any particular part of New York City?” Brain asked.

“Here’s what I have in mind,” Tom said, “I want to use the Instaport to place me inside Frankie Grasso’s safety deposit box room of the Manhattan Fidelity Trust Bank on Broad Street. Do we have the technology to open his box?”

“A device can be provided to disable any type of lock,” Brain said.

“Good,” Brain said. “How soon can we get underway?”

“Just give the command,” Brain said.

“Brain,” Tom said, “you’re in control. Take us about one hundred thousand feet over Frank Grasso’s bank. Go!”

Tom felt a slight movement. It was his first flight in the pod. There was no sensation of movement or flight. He glanced out the forward windshield. It looked like a cloudy blur with speckles of tiny flashing white light. 

A plan rolled around in his mind. He reworded and honed the plan to fit different possibilities. 

“Brain,” Tom said. “Give me the dossier on Frankie Grasso.” 

A hologram white screen appeared in front of Tom. Information about Frankie Grasso appeared on the screen. Tom asked a series of questions, and the answers appeared on the screen. He read over them as they travelled.

“We have arrived,” Brain announced.

“Check the room where Grasso’s safe deposit box is located,” Ton said. “Is it empty?”

There was a pause.

“If you are Instaported now, you will have thirty minutes before it is open for depositors,” Brain said. “In fact, no one can enter; its lock is set on a timing device.”

“But we can?” Tom asked.

“With no difficulty,” Brain said.

“That’s perfect,” Tom said.

Tom stood and walked back to the Instaport dock. 

The Instaport docking area was the portal where objects could be invisibly transported from one location to another. It could be activated from anywhere on the pod, but it was like using the door to walk in, even though the garage door was already open. Tom stepped into a doorless room about the size of an elevator. 

“Brain, you have my location?”

“Yes.”

Tom waved his hand over an activation scanner on the wall. In a blink, he was gone and suddenly in a room full of safe deposit boxes. 

He looked around the room until he found box 252. That box belonged to Frankie Grasso. He held the unlocking device over the keyhole. He heard and felt a click. Grabbing the handle, he pulled open a drawer about the size of a desk top.

It was full of strapped one-hundred-dollar bills.

Tom counted twelve straps and placed them in a leather briefcase. The safety deposit box was closed and locked.

Tom stepped back. “Brain, retrieve me.”

In an instant, Tom was back aboard the pod.

He stepped out of the room. “Cloner, I’d like breakfast. Two eggs, over easy, two strips of bacon, hashed brown potatoes, and Sumatran coffee—strong.”

Tom dropped the bag of money next to the Instaport dock's doorway. Next to it was a small opening in the wall with a tray containing the breakfast. He removed it and walked forward to where a chair and a dining table waited for him.

Tom sat and began eating breakfast. 

“Brain,” Tom said. “I don’t know how it’s done, but this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Especially better than the ones I prepare. That Cloner is incredible. I think everyone should have one. However, it doesn’t match my mother’s love.”

“And it never will,” Brain said.

“Brain, you really know how to make a guy feel better, don’t you?”

“It’s what I do.”

“I have a question,” Tom said. “We here on earth, for as long as I can figure, have, at times, named inanimate things. For example, we name things we use: The Queen Mary, The Spirit of St Louis, Gemini, and so on. My dad had a hammer he called Brutus. Does this pod have a name?”

“No.” Brain said. “It has been called Pod Two.”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “A number is so impersonal. I’d just like to give it a name.”

“That is your decision,” Brain said. 

“And I don’t want any help,” Tom said. “I don’t want you manipulating me and outsmarting me into a perfect name.”

“Only if I’m asked,” Brain said.

“I got a name,” Tom said. “I want to call this pod, The North Forty.”

 “A wise choice,” Brain said. “A rugged Midwestern bucolic sound to it. It matches who you are.”

“I knew you would agree,” Tom smiled and continued eating breakfast. 

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 15, Checking on Edgar

This is episode fifteen 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.

Checking On Edgar

Tom returned to the house. He went to bed, but he did not sleep much. He plotted a strategy. 

He thought while staring at the illuminated digital clock across the room.

“Billy McElroy was a bully. In my freshman year, he backed me against the wall in the boys’ restroom. His buddies were all with him. He wanted my writing tablet.’

‘I remember thinking, it’s a writing tablet today, a pen tomorrow, and money the day after that. I wasn’t about to enable Billy’s nicotine addiction.’

‘I knew that without his friends, he was weak. I worked on a farm. I’d stacked bales of hay all day long. I’d birthed calves. Billy’s only accomplishment was smoking cigarettes and creating a monstrous wave of hair on his head.’

‘He wore confidence that hid his cowardice. “You will have to rip this tablet away from me. And the next time I see you, you better not be alone.” He smirked and walked away. Every one of them was a coward, but the biggest was Billy McElroy.’

‘It’s a funny thing. We never said a word to each other the rest of our time in school. I don’t even remember exchanging looks with him. On graduation day, he came up and shook my hand and said, “No hard feelings.” It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about. I guess cowards have a conscience too.’

In the middle of one of the scenarios of thinking about the meeting with Frank Grasso, he fell asleep.

The 5:30 AM buzzer from the clock across the room sounded. Tom got out of bed and turned it off. The day began. He dressed and went to the barn. He forced the cattle out of the barn and shoveled manure. When he was done, he laid down hay for the cattle. 

Back at the house, he made coffee and breakfast, and waited for Edgar’s eight o’clock call. He sat at the kitchen table and watched the second hand arrive at the twelve.

Tom mentally said to Brain, ‘Brain, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Brain said.

“Can anyone else hear you?” 

“No.”

“So if I should carry on an audible conversation with you, nobody else will hear, right?” 

“That’s right.”

Tom thought.

“Is something wrong?” Brain asked.

“No, not really,” Tom said. “It makes me wonder about all those folks walking the streets, and talking to themselves.”

“They are mentally ill,” Brain said.

“But I am not, right?” Tom asked. 

“No,” Brain said.

“Thanks,” Tom said. “Is it possible to locate my brother? He’s supposed to be in a bed and breakfast in Mastic Beach, Long Island.”

“He would have to do something that I could track,” Brain said. 

“You have no idea where he is?” Tom asked.

“Your phone is about to ring, and it’s from Mastic Beach,” Brain said. 

The phone rang, and Tom hurried into the dining room.

“Hello, Edgar?”

“Hi, Tom.”

“I was just starting to worry about you,” Tom said.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Edgar said.

“Do you have anything planned?” Tom asked.  

“I don’t have a car, and a taxi brought me here,” Edgar said. “I’m kind of locked in to what I can do.”

“Did you pay cash or credit card?” Tom asked.

“Cash.”

“Good,” Tom said.

“Are you going to drive here and get me?” Edgar asked.

Edgar’s tone seemed strange to Tom. It was not that long ago that he appeared brash and arrogant. Now he seemed like a child lost in a crowd. Tom thought, ’He always has been dependent on Dad, Mom, and me.’

“Tom, are you there?” Edgar panicked.

“Yes, yes,” Tom said, “I’m here. I was trying to think of something.”

“Are you coming to pick me up?”

“No,” Tom said, “well, maybe, but for now, can you stay put for at least a couple of days? You should be fine.”

“What are you going to do?” Edgar’s voice quivered.

“Edgar,” Tom said assuringly, “you don’t need to worry. Just stay where you are. You are safe there.”

“This is strange,” Edgar said, “but somehow I believe you.”

“Listen,” Tom said, “if you need anything, call me, okay? I have to go now. Thanks for calling. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” Edgar said and hung up the phone.

Tom called Debbie.

“Hello,” Debbie said.

“How are you doing this morning?” Tom said.

“I’m fine,” Debbie said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It kind of makes me wish I had something planned,” Tom said. “But maybe we can plan something for next week.”

“I feel like I’ve guilted you into something,” Debbie said. 

“No,” Tom said, “not at all. I was hoping to talk to you or your brother.”

“Steve has already caught the bus for high school,” Debbie said.

“Okay,” Tom said, “I’ll run this by you. I may be gone for a couple of days, and I need somebody to look in on the cattle and toss some hay down for them.”

“I’ll say something to Steve,” Debbie said. “And if he can’t do it, I will,”

“You’re the best,” Tom said.

“Where are you going?” Debbie asked.

“I’m going to visit Edgar,” Tom said.

“You got to be kidding me,” Debbie said, “after the way he treated you?”

“He’s my brother, and he’s in a jam,” Tom said. 

“You’re being too good to him,” Debbie said. 

“Debbie,” Tom paused, “you’d do the same for your brother.”

“Not if he won’t look in on your cattle and feed them,” Debbie said.

“How’s school going for you?” Tom asked.

“I'm doing well,” Debbie said. “A little hard at first, but I’m catching on.”

“What about you?” Debbie said. “Did you enroll?”

“No,” Tom said, “we’ll talk about it when I come back from Edgar’s.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Debbie asked.

“You know where the house key is,” Tom said. “While I’m gone, you could do a load of laundry for me—just kidding.”

“Goodbye, Tom. Have a safe trip.”

“I’ll call when I’m back.”