Chapter 12

I consider the episode with the FBI as the point where my civility dwindled into complete and utter contempt of the law enforcement community. I suppose if Susan Kay was still someone I dealt with on a regular basis perhaps the slide wouldn't have been so quick and so complete.

But with the Whitney Danvers of the world as my only point of reference for the police it was easy to let myself go.

I am equally as certain that if the Conroys had remained a portion of my life I would have done my best to remain above the fray. But the shot of me being led from my home in handcuffs was enough for Janet to completely cut me out of her life. Lila was no longer permitted to visit me and it was only a few weeks later that I received an e-mail that thanked me for all the help I'd given but informed me that Janet had accepted a nursing position at a hospital in another city.

I should point out that the e-mail did not mention which city that might be.

I saw this as the last sign I needed to devolve completely. I am certain that there are other excuses I could use. But they would be just that — excuses. I was fully aware of the decisions I was making and I was fully aware of their possible ramifications.

I simply didn't give a shit any longer.

There are portions of my empire that had troubled me since I took over. There were people who worked for me — directly and indirectly — that I didn't feel that I could trust.

The Federal District Judge had given Danvers and the U.S. Attorney a dressing down that left them unwilling to even stand on the same side of the street as me. That, along with my newfound lack of remorse, freed me to clean up my organization without hesitation.

I started with the loan-sharking industry. Although it is true that most of the usury had been stopped, there was always someone who refused to play along. I knew of three men like this off the top of my head. I had Marcus and his associates pay them a visit and relay my disappointment at their fees.

I knew the warning would fall upon deaf ears. In fact, I was counting on it. A few weeks later, all three men disappeared. This time it was not for re-education.

I filled the gap with trusted associates who were willing to play things my way.

I used the disappearances as a bludgeon over the head of a series of low-level pimps who kept encroaching on my territory — without permission and without compensating my organization.

I re-entered the whore business a month or two earlier, intent upon changing it. Thing had gotten out of control during my absence. Under my regime the prostitution industry had been revitalized. I was adamantly opposed to using street-walkers. It presented a bad image of the area and it served to depress the property values in areas that I owned.

Instead we used the electronic marketplace. Our advertisement was done via word-of-mouth at several high- and low-end bars and hotels. Our out-call workers were routinely screened and always had a handler with them.

The john was expected to use a condom unless the worker chose to allow him to go bareback. The handler negotiated the original fee — of which 65 percent went to the worker. Any "extras" could be negotiated with the worker.

We also set up a series of brothels within the city. The clients were screened beforehand and we allowed no "walk-in" customers. Even regular clients had to call ahead before bringing a friend.

In all, it made for a safer, more lucrative business for the workers. Almost all sex workers were screened monthly for STDs and illicit drugs and the "house" provided forms of birth control, including pills, patches, spermicidal foam and the "morning-after" contraceptive.

But as with the drug trade, as soon as my people were off the streets, other people moved in. The $20 blowjob was alive and well in several inner-city alleyways and vestibules and for $75 you could find some poor heroin freak to fuck you in your car.

It became necessary for my people to run the street whores and pimps off every few months. Not surprisingly, it was the same enterprising young men who had taken over the drug trade that attempted to corner the pussy market too — using girls who either owed them money or who were willing to fuck for meth in lieu of cash.

I decided to kill — literally — several birds with several stones. I know, a poor analogy but it is perhaps more true than I care to admit.

But, as with all good plans, there were complications.

Regardless of what you see on television, organizations such as mine are not omnipotent. We cannot and do not act with impunity. We cannot kill at will.

Certainly it is easy to kill a man who is not expecting it and is not defending himself. Children have accomplished this feat.

My personal security lay entirely in two facts: Everyone knew that I was on constant alert and minimized my exposure; and a threat to my life was very likely to be dealt with preemptively and harshly.

A whispered word stood the possibility of finding someone who would find me and then the whisperer's life — and possibly his family's and friends' lives — would cease quickly.

Of course the fact that other people reacted the same way and protected themselves similarly was not lost upon me.

I was not under the illusion that I existed in a vacuum. Still, I was surprised how quickly word of the increase in organizational violence reached the ears of people I wished it hadn't.

The visits came within hours of each other.

Det. Susan Kay was the first to grace my office. It was perhaps only the second or third time she had been there. Simply put, if she wanted to see me it usually was at her office.

Her visit, however, was not of the professional nature.

"Michael?" she asked once she had seated herself across from me.

I felt like a 7th-grader called to the principal's office. I used some of the teenaged petulance I had witnessed from Lila and Amelia upon occasion.

"Detective," I replied, choosing to greet her salutation as a statement rather than the open-ended question it obviously was.

"This needs to stop," she replied.

I set my mouth in a firm line and tried to remove all emotion from my answer.

"If I knew what you were talking about I would tell you that it will stop when I decide to stop it," I replied. "But since I don't know what you're talking about I'll simply shrug."

Det. Kay looked at me for a few moments.

"You're getting sloppy, Michael," she said. "You're not watching your people closely enough and you've brought in some outsiders who can't be trusted."

In my mind I knew she was correct. I had skated precipitously close to the edge and acted hastily. In my anger I had gotten hasty. Marcus had tried to warn me but a man such as I sometimes believes he knows better than anyone else what needs to be done.

"Howso?" I asked. I wondered how much information Susan Kay was willing to provide.

"If you take a step back from your mission, you'll see pretty quickly," she said. "There are others who are starting to take notice. You think you've gotten a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card and to a certain extent you probably have. But let's just say you've used that card up. Danvers and her crew are gone. The new folks at the Federal building are solid and they're good.

"Washington put them there for the sole purpose of getting to you after you humiliated them. You're making their job too easy. I can tell you that a federal judge has twice turned down warrant tries that were valid. That was the Feebies punishment for the stunt Danvers pulled earlier. But I can also tell you that the timeout is over."

I stared hard at Susan who sat silently.

"Michael, the rumor is they have someone inside your business," she said while looking at her hands. "The rumor is that they'll be seeking — and getting — a wiretap warrant on the information the insider is giving them.

"I don't want you to think that I'm talking out of school. The agent-in-charge over there is a pragmatist like I am. He understands the rules of the game and knows you understand them too. I think he sort of likes you, from what he's told me."

Susan blushed and I wondered if it was perhaps pillow talk.

"But you're way outside the rules, Michael," she said. "And you're way outside your element. You need to pull your head back in before someone chops it off."

Det. Kay left without another word from either of us.

It wasn't two hours later that Linda and Amelia Cardelli were ushered into my office.

We exchanged greetings and Amelia took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet.