Chapter 2: The Wise Guy Husband

Two days later, at about 7:30 in the evening, Joshua Abati was sitting in a swivel chair mounted in the back of a 1997 Grumman Route Star aluminum step-van, staring at the output on a computer monitor in front of him. The van was painted white, and had some magnetic signs on the side the identified it as belonging to the Beverly Hills Electrical Services company, one of a dozen such fictitious companies they had magnetic signs for in the step van.

“Still yuh doin’ the chase work I dunn like, Acky-luh,” Josh said into his Nextel, “Dangerous this meshugaus can be.”

Akilah sighed, sitting in her Volvo, and put her Nextel to her mouth, “It is ok, Josh, you just want me in the van with you. Right?”

“Of course in the van I want yuh to be,” Josh came back, “But if not in the van in the car chasing all over the city do I want you to do? Always the crazy exciting things you want to do. A mother you are!”

Jill was sitting next to Josh in the step van, rolling her eyes, looking at another monitor, when she jumped, “Hey, love birds, quit the chit-chat. There’s some action happenin’ at the gate.”

The van was parked slightly down the street from the Mendalbaum’s large estate on Summit Dr, watching what was going on in the house.

“Which car is it?” George called back on his Nextel, “They have several.”

“Dark the car is,” Josh told him over the Nextel, “Benz, big coupe.”

“That’s his car,” George replied, “Be ready.”

Josh got up out of his seat, while Jill buckled in to hers; Josh stood behind the curtain ready to get into the driver’s seat. Jill looked at him admiringly. He was not too tall, not a mountain like George was, and quite skinny. His mop of slightly shaggy black hair framed his thin face, and his thick glasses. He was a nerd, but a very cute nerd. His huge nose, large ears, brown eyes, and his attitude marked him out as the Brooklyn Jew that he was.

“Ya know what, it’s pullin’ out now,” Jill replied to George.

“Which way is it going to?” Akilah replied, her fingers reaching to the ignition key on the steering column of her Volvo. She was parked on Cove Way, facing Summit Drive.

“He’s goin’ left,” Jill replied.

“I got him. Be ready, Acky,” George said, starting the diesel engine on his 1995 Mercedes E300 Diesel. He was parked on Benedict Canyon.

Starting her Volvo, Akilah replied, “I was born ready, George.”

Mendalbaum’s Mercedes left the house, continuing straight on to Chevy Chase, bypassing George’s Mercedes.

“Damnit, he went straight,” George growled.

“I got this,” Jessica came on from her 1993 Toyota Corolla.

“What the hell are you doing here?” George growled.

“Being back up, what else?” She had been parked on Chevy Chase.

“Jess,” Jill called out, “We freakin’ promised your mom you wouldn’t get involved in stakeouts, remember?”

Jessica followed behind the Mercedes coupe, a CL600, “I’m 18, I can do what I want.”

“A license you don’t have,” Josh transmitted on his phone as he started up the Grumman to follow the tailing party.

“Jill doesn’t have a license, either.”

“I’m just a secretary,” Jill responded, “And I ain’t drivin’ no chase car, neither.”

George was too busy to weigh in on this, racing down an alley off Benedict Canyon called Roxbury Dr, finally saying, “Ok, Jess, when you get to Ladera, follow him if he keeps on it, I’ll take over if he goes down Whittier, and Acky, you take over from Jess if he turns left on Sunset from Ladera. Ok? We’ll argue this out later.”

“Why is Acky taking over for me? I can turn left on Sunset!”

“It’s a rotating tail, Jess,” Jill replied, “Nobody turns left on Sunset from Ladera, the car behind him doing that would be suspicious, we rotate, you want to join us, you follow the rules!”

Mendalbaum’s CL600 turned on to Whittier, and George took over.

“Jess, you turn left on Sunset; Acky, you hold back in case he turns right on Sunset and heads your way,” Jill called into her Nextel, keeping a close eye on Akilah’s Volvo and George’s Mercedes on her map display. “Man, I wish I had Jess’s car poppin’ up on this map too.”

The tale continued like this, the cars rotating as Mendalbaum continued down Sunset past the Beverly Hills Hotel, down West Halloway, onto Santa Monica Boulevard, and on to the 101 freeway.

“He’s going 90!” Jessica called into her nextel, “What do I do?”

“I got him,” George replied, the diesel straight six barely able to handle the speed, and grumpily, at that.

“I have him also,” Akilah came back.

“For us do the holding back,” Josh told her.

“Yeah,” Jill added, “We’re only a mile behind you.”

A few minutes later, “Eye Ten,” Akilah called to them.

“Got it,” George replied.

“Excuse me,” Akilah continued about five minutes later, “Does he have one of those get out of jail cards? He’s doing a hundred and ten!”

“Tell me about it!” George replied, “I mean, Pamona, really?”

“He’s fallin’ off my map,” Jill chimed in after a while, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. “You guys almost in Palm Springs?”

“Just passed the exit,” George confirmed, “He’s still going. I’ll update you every few minutes.”

“State 86,” Akilah chimed in a bit later, “Indio.”

“He’s still freakin’ going!” George chimed in a bit later.

“He is getting off 86,” Akilah chimed in as midnight turned over, “Brawley, I think, First Street. I am going past.”

“I got him,” George continued.

“Turn right right now, Acky!” Jill called out, her voice filled with a sense of urgency. “Limited chance to join later.”

“Don’t worry, he’s turning into a parking lot, thank god,” George added, “How far out are you two?”

“Three,” Jess chimed in.

“Oh brother,” George replied, “How far?”

“Forty minutes,” Jill said flatly.

“Shaitan,” Akilah cursed.

“Grocery store, Acky.”

“I see it. It appears to be abandoned, yes?”

“Yeah. You be ready, I’m going in.”

“Check that,” Akilah replied

“40 minutes out we still nearly are,” Josh squawked, “Blind we will be for a while.”

“At least 15 minutes,” Jill added.

“Can’t be helped,” George said in to his Nextel, nosing his car into a parking spot in front of the closed grocery store Mendalbaum had driven behind. The trip had taken four hours, and a man doesn’t leave his mansion for meeting in the middle of the desert behind a closed grocery store at midnight without a damned good reason.

George got out of his diesel, and shut the door softly, moving swiftly but silently along the side wall of the store and peering behind it. Mendalbaum was pounding on a back door of the store, apparently to some kind of office area with windows. George waited until Mendalbaum was invariably let inside the building, and then crept closer and peered into the window. It was dirty, but he could see in.

Mendalbaum had sat in a chair facing a desk in what looked to be a overly elaborate office for the backroom of an abandoned grocery store in the middle of nowhere. There were three other men in the room, one of which looked like a heavy, one looked like a nerd, and the third, who was sat behind the desk, gave the impression of authority. The man behind the desk was talking, occasionally pausing to let Mendalbaum speak.

This was confusing to George. Mendalbaum was a wealthy, powerful, influential man. This looked like an underling going to see a boss, an unruly child being lectured in the principals office. As the meeting went on the ‘Boss’ stood up and started to lecture, and then growing impatient, pacing around, talking in a manner that seemed grandiose yet angry. Mendalbaum almost seemed a bit flippant.