The Brothers Page 23

  Chapter 22… The Brothers Assemble

  “How did you sleep?” Bob’s wife Laura asked. Without even asking, she dropped a mug of coffee down on the counter in front of him.

  Harry tried to rub what felt like a bucket of sand out of his eyes. “Not very well, I’m afraid.” He sipped his coffee. “I’m really sorry about imposing on you like this.”

  Laura pulled some dishes out of the cabinet and said, “You’re not imposing.” She took a moment and went on, “I had a long talk with your wife last night.”

  “And?” Harry asked, sensing that she had more to say.

  “Is it true about Hutch, and now you think the same people are after you as well?”

  It dawned on Harry that she might not be so happy about him being there. “Listen, I didn’t mean to put you in any danger. Denise and I will be out of here—”

  “Harry, stop,” she said, waving her hands. “That’s not what I meant.” She paused. “Is it also true that you and your fraternity brothers are trying to find out who did it?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Harry replied, not knowing where she was going with the conversation. “But I think my friends would like to back off and let the authorities handle it.” Laura pulled a pan out of the oven and the kitchen was suddenly inundated with cinnamon smell. “Are you concerned about Bob getting involved with this?

  Putting some silverware on the counter, she shook her head. “I’ve been married to Bob for almost thirty years and I’ve learned that Bob’s gonna do what Bob’s gonna do.”

  Still trying to figure out where she was headed, Harry asked, “Is that good or bad?”

  “In this case, it doesn’t matter what I think. This all about Suzanne. She deserves to know what happened to her husband, and I wanted to let you know that we’re here to help—both of us. I admire what you’re doing. Just don’t go out and get yourself or anyone else killed over it. I’d be pretty ticked off if that turned out to be Bob.”

  She took the long way to get there, but Harry finally got the message. Suddenly, Bob blew into the room with the family dog, a big, old-looking chocolate Lab.

  “Did you tell him?” Bob asked.

  “I was just about to,” said Laura.

  “Tell me what?” said Harry.

  “We took the dog for a walk like we usually do on Sunday mornings, and I remembered what you said about planting the cell phone inside the Audi.”

  “Someone was watching Audi?”

  “Someone was watching Hutch’s house. We’re sure of it.”

  Harry was all ears. “How do you know?”

  “Uh, the fact that they were facing the house and had binoculars pointed straight at it kind of gave it away. Good thing you didn’t go back there last night.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “We passed the car twice to make sure we weren’t imagining things,” said Laura.

  “What kind of car?” Harry asked. His nerves were tingling.

  “The first one was a BMW,” said Bob. “Just sitting there as if the guy thought he was invisible. I mean, he was really obvious.”

  “Damn it,” said Harry. “He’s here. Did you get a good look at the guy?”

  “Didn’t get that close,” said Bob. “Didn’t want to be blatant about it, you know?”

  “Yeah, of course.... Wait... what do you mean, the first one?”

  Bob grinned. “There was a second car parked further down on Clifton watching the house from that direction. It was like a ninety degree triangulation thing. I didn’t get close enough to see if it was a man or a woman inside, but there was a third car, Harry, and I’m pretty sure the person driving that one was a woman.”

  Harry took a moment and said, “Old, young?”

  “Couldn’t tell,” Bob replied. “But the second car is gone now. That’s where me and Snickers just came from.” He pointed at the dog. “I suggest you get your crew assembled.”

  * * * * *

  “Yes, Mushir, I am aware that this has gone on too long.... Yes, the team is being assembled as we speak.... No, I have not seen him, but by Mister Curlander’s own words we will see him tomorrow and we will have that laptop in our hands by one o’clock. If all goes according to plan, he will be dead shortly thereafter.... Brennan? He has not returned my calls and the people at the bank say he has not been at work for the last two days.... Yes, Mushir, I understand that he has outlived his usefulness, but don’t we need him to— Yes, Mushir, he will be next.... I understand, no more excuses.... Yes, I understand that there can be no witnesses.... Then they will all have to die.”

  * * * * *

  Fighting Al arrived at quarter to ten and did just as Ducky had instructed. He parked his car almost three blocks east of the Hutchinson residence and walked back to his destination at 88 Jackson Street. Knowing what he did about the situation, he didn’t question the stealthy procedure. Before he even got to the doorbell, some tall guy opened the front door for him and said, “Hi, I’m Bob .”

  Eyeing the guy’s Boston College baseball cap, Al said, “I’m Al Fiorello. Is Harry, uh....”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Al made his way in and the pleasantries went quickly. Taking a cinnamon bun when it was offered, he looked guardedly at Harry when Bob pulled up a stool and sat with them at the counter.

  “Al, it’s okay,” said Harry, taking a minute to explain. “He’s here to help us.”

  Just like Fish the night before, Al looked less than pleased. His voice a coarse whisper, he said, “Harry, what are you thinking, bro? Do you remember the last time we met?”

  “Al, I’m not senile. We met just the other day—at the ice cream shop.”

  “Right. And do you remember the initials of the government agencies that came up in that conversation? We can’t be bringing innocent people into this.” Al shot Bob a serious scowl and said, “Sorry Bob. I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, but hey... no offense, okay?” Bob said nothing, his eyes like stones. Back at Harry, Al went on, “What if this thing goes south? This isn’t like getting caught trying to fix a parking ticket.”

  Bob said, “Are you implying that our own government would come after us for trying to find out who killed Hutch?”

  Al didn’t reply.

  “Al, what’s going on here?” Harry asked.

  Al looked from side to side. “That burner phone, the one that was used to call Hutch just before he died?”

  “Yeah, the one that was being used by that agent Breckenridge....”

  “Right. I was able to get some other numbers that received calls from that phone around the time Hutch died.”

  “Well fuckin’ A, Al. That’s what we’ve been after!”

  Again, Al glanced at Bob. Not knowing how much he should say in front of the man, he said, “Harry, you’re not getting it, man. We tapped into some databases that aren’t exactly for public consumption to get that information. Some of those receiving numbers belong to other burner phones....” Al paused dramatically. “... and the calls went to Langley, Virginia.” Al let it sit there so that Harry could absorb the full scope of what he’d just revealed.

  Bob processed it faster and asked, “How many calls are you talking about?”

  “In the days before and after Hutch died, a lot.”

  Bob kept probing. “How did you get this information?”

  Al said, “I don’t know specifically, and I don’t want to know. All I can tell you is that it’s reliable.” He looked Bob in the eye. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t ask me any more questions about that.”

  Bob nodded but continued. “What about calls that weren’t made to people at the agency? What can you say about those?”

  Al pushed the cinnamon bun aside and pointed at Bob’s baseball cap. “Boston College?” he presumed.

  “Yeah, so?” Bob challenged.

  “Did you belong to a house there?”

  “Sigma Chi.�
��

  Al looked at Harry. “BC and a Sigma? Harry, are you sure about this?”

  “Stop messing with the man,” said Harry. “Bob and Hutch were tight.”

  “Whatever you say, Harry, but just knowing this information can be risky.” Back at Bob he added, “I don’t want to be putting you or your family into a situation you might regret later.”

  Bob took in Al’s intensity and said, “Eyes wide open, Al.”

  Acquiescing, Al said, “This is where it gets a little more interesting. There were other calls that didn’t go to the CIA but to another burner phone—located in Qatar.”

  “Qatar,” Harry and Bob both said at the same time.

  “Yeah, Qatar. As in state sponsored terrorism Qatar.”

  Summarizing for his own benefit, Harry said, “So we’ve got a CIA agent talking to his own people and to someone else in Qatar, all of it on untraceable burner phones.” He paused. “I wonder who was setting up whom.”

  Al said, “Whether he did it on purpose or not, Hutch got caught in the middle of it and paid the consequences.” Not able to shake his trepidation over Bob’s presence, he directed his attention that way once again. “It’s obvious that the people on either side of this thing don’t have a sense of humor about it. Are you absolutely sure you want to get involved?”

  Bob said, “I think if the situation was reversed and I was dead, Hutch would jump in up to his eyeballs.” It was answer enough and Al finally looked away. Bob, however, was unyielding. “Did all of the calls go to phones located in Langley or Qatar?”

  Ominously, Al replied, “All but one.”

  Harry said, “And?”

  “As of this morning, one of them is here... in Cambridge.”

  Harry bet himself a nickel that the phone Al was talking about was inside a black BMW.

  * * * * *

  Ducky and Fish arrived after Al and they came together at 11:00 a.m. Along with Harry, that made four brothers. The significant others, which were Denise, Monica, and Sally, made seven. Bob and Laura made nine. Thanks to Al, however, Harry was thinking that Bob and Laura shouldn’t play much of an active part in the operation outside of offering their home as a staging area. That in itself was proving to be valuable, but this was a brother thing. Some of them gathered over coffee in the family room while Bob and Laura ran a couple of errands as an excuse to give them some space. There was nothing to do now but wait, and none of them were good at it. It was a nice day and Monica decided to walk the dog. Al was flipping channels on the TV which was making Sally crazy; Denise was like a statue at the front window watching the clouds pass overhead; Fish finished reading one National Geographic cover to cover and picked up another one. Harry and Ducky were in the kitchen.

  “When do we go over the game plan?” Harry asked.

  “I say we wait to see if any of the other brothers show up,” Ducky replied as he watched Harry pace back and forth. “It would be better if we knew what the team looked like.”

  Harry nodded and said, “Right, gotcha,” but he continued to wear a path on the kitchen floor. “Do you think any of them will come?”

  * * * * *

  “I don’t think they’re in there,” Lopez said into his cell phone. “I’ve been on my share of stakeouts, and I’m telling you that house is empty. What about the Audi?”

  “It hasn’t moved,” said Pruitt. “I wonder where the hell Curlander and his wife could be.”

  “One thing is certain, we’re not the only ones looking for them. That BMW was coming and going and changing spots all night.”

  “Yeah, I’m looking at it right now,” Pruitt responded. “Whoever is in it probably had to go and find a place to pee every few hours. I’m tempted to go over there and roust the guy.”

  “You do that and you’ll be signing Curlander’s death warrant. They’ll just pick another time and place. Are you sure he’s in that house?”

  Her frustration evident, “Where else would he be?” Pruitt asked.

  “Maybe he’s been staking out the Audi. Wasn’t that your original theory? That he stuck his cell phone in there to lure his attackers into the open?”

  “It’s plausible,” said Pruitt, “but he would have had come back to the house at some point to pee, wouldn’t he?”

  Lopez said, “All this talk about peeing is making me float. I think I’ll take five and do that myself. There’s a McDonalds on the other side of the park. Where are you? Do you want me to bring you back a coffee or something?”

  “No, I’m fine. Go take your pee break.”

  “There you go again. And speaking which, here comes someone with that brown Lab dog again.” Lopez paused. Like most experienced detectives, he didn’t like anything that seemed out of the ordinary or at all coincidental. Things like that made him itch. “Tell me something, Pruitt. Do you have a dog?”

  “With the hours I work? No way. My daughter has a dog,” Pruitt added, figuring Lopez was driving at something.

  “What kind of dog?”

  “I don’t know, some mixed breed they got from the pound. Part retriever, part Lab, I think. Why?”

  “Big dog, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty big, I guess.”

  “And how often does your daughter’s dog have to pee in one morning?”

  “I think they take him out once in the morning and again in the afternoon. What’s up with the dog questions, Lopez?”

  “This dog I’m watching has been taken out three times since I’ve been in this spot, each time by a different person. Seems to me that dog has to pee a lot.”

  “So?”

  “So each person takes the dog past our surveillance house, but then goes in a different direction: one time into the park across the street, another time up Clifton Street, another time passing the house from the other direction. Then it’s always back to the starting point.”

  “Which is?”

  “That would be the house that backs up to our subject house, the one that had the big cookout party yesterday. Do you remember it?”

  “Yeah, sure, the one on the corner of Jackson and Dudley.”

  “And here she comes back again,” said Lopez. “Let’s see what she does. Okay... she stopped walking... now she’s waiting ... looking around... letting the dog pee in front of our house at 91 Clifton... looking around again... that’s it, take your time... let the dog sniff.... There’s definitely something going on with this dog walk thing, Pruitt. Where are you parked? Can you see what I’m talking about from where you are?”

  “I’m half a block down, “said Pruitt. “I’m starting the car now and heading up to that corner. I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

  Lopez waited. “Can you see them? Red top, blue jeans, big ass brown dog....”

  “Yeah, got it,” said Pruitt, adding quickly, “Oh... my... God.”

  “What is it?” Lopez asked.

  “The woman walking that dog does not live in that house,” said Pruitt.

  “How do you know?”

  “That’s Monica Brimton.”

  “Who the hell is Monica Brimton?”

  “She’s the ADA in my home district, and she’s married to one of Curlander’s buddies. We just found out where Curlander and his fraternity friends are located, Lopez, and you can bet they’re up to something, all right.”

  * * * * *

  Just as the clock struck noon, Harry said, “You wanted proof, right Monica, not conjecture. That’s what you said eight days ago at Quattro Fratelli. Now I know what you just saw is not proof that Hutch was murdered, but is it proof enough that someone is trying to kill me?”

  All eyes were on Monica, pressing on her. Ducky, however, was across the room messing around with his cell phone. “I’m getting there,” she said tactfully, “and I know that my burden-of-proof rhetoric is the last thing you want to hear, but will you allow me to ask you a couple of questions? Please?” she added when she saw the exasperat
ed look on Harry’s face.

  “I guess.”

  “First off, how sure are you that it’s the same car that ran you off the road in Point Pleasant?”

  “Oh c’mon, Monica. I didn’t actually check the VIN number if that’s what you’re asking, but a black BMW... with Jersey plates? It has to be the same guy, and he’s not here by coincidence. He’s here because he tracked my cell phone and he’s watching that house because he knows that’s where Hutch lived. Don’t you see? The phone signal is coming from a block away, but he’s putting two and two together and figuring that’s where I am. He’s here to try to kill me again, and it could be the same guy who killed Hutch.” Harry could see her hesitating. “What good are laws if they don’t protect people? Does someone else actually have to die first before you’ll consider doing something?”

  “Unfortunately the law—”

  “Screw the law for once, Monica. Are you in the protection business, or are you in the punishment business?” Ducky was hardly paying attention, Harry noticed, figuring he would try and defend his wife. No one else was saying anything either and it looked like Monica was on her own in this one.

  “I’m not sure I understand the point you’re trying to make,” she said.

  “I was hoping you could use the law to help protect me, but if you’re in the punishment business I’m not interested in dying first so you can punish someone for breaking it.”

  Finally looking up from his phone, Ducky said, “Harry, I’m sure that—”

  “Ducky, it’s okay,” Monica said to him, and she turned back. “What is it you want to accomplish, Harry?”

  Her voice was low and soft, and it caught him by surprise. “What I want....” he began, thinking this was the first time he’d actually thought about something besides revenge, “... is to finish what Hutch started. That’s what he would have wanted. I want to find a way to bring this whole thing crashing down and get all of the people involved in it to pay for the crimes they’ve committed. That’s what I want.”

  “Okay,” said Monica. “I got that out of you. What is it you’re asking me to do as part of that?”

  It dawned on Harry that she was asking two different questions. “Sally?” he called. “That IP address we discovered—”

  “It’s 66.221.137.945,” she called back from memory. “I’ll write it down for you.” She did and handed it to Harry.

  Harry choked back some emotion and said, “This IP address belongs to the person who hacked into Jerry Brennan’s computer at the bank and was monitoring his email. We know the general location of this address is Washington, D.C.”

  Monica said, “Okay.”

  “It’s my understanding that as a district attorney you have access to software that will give you this hacker’s exact name and street address. That person will be at the center of this whole affair and will likely know everyone else involved in it, including the person who is sitting in that BMW out there and trying to hunt me down.” Harry glanced at Denise as he uttered those last few words, then he handed the slip of paper to Monica. “Once we know this hacker’s name and address, we can give that information to Tushy Wilcox who will be more than happy to get the folks over at FinCEN to knock on his door.”

  Monica smiled. “And the probable cause for getting that to happen will be the hack through the bank’s firewall and into Brennan’s email.”

  “That’s right,” said Harry. “This is the setup for FinCEN we’ve been looking for, and it’ll be the biggest bust of your career.”

  As if they were watching a tennis match, all eyes turned to Monica. “But that’s not why I’m doing this,” she said to Harry.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do it, but not because of what you just said. I’m doing it because Ducky is my husband and if he was in the same situation as you, I think you would do everything possible to help him.”

  Harry looked at Ducky who still seemed to be ignoring them. “I would,” he said. “Without a doubt.”

  Monica said, “I’m not sure I understand it all, but you guys are lucky to have each other.” She looked at Ducky, expecting some reaction, but he was still tapping away on his phone. “Ducky, did you hear what I said?”

  “Huh? Yeah, lucky,” said Ducky. “Real lucky.”

  “Who the hell are you texting?” Harry called to him.

  Ducky looked up from his phone. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  * * * * *

  They came from all over. Of the seven additional brothers that had attended the reunion, six of them heeded Ducky’s call and dropped whatever plans they had for the Memorial Day weekend to lend a hand to a different sort of family, the brotherhood of Zeta Chi. Hutch had not died as a result of any myocardial infarction, Ducky had revealed to them—he’d been murdered. With the memory of the reunion and the image of Hutch’s body slumped over inside his Mercedes still vivid in their mind’s eye, he’d gone on to describe to each of them individually, in great detail, the incredibly complex tale of the crime that Hutch had discovered and how it led to his death. Sorrow, frustration, and anger all bubbled up in those conversations, but the primary emotion to surface was guilt, primarily because Ducky played Hutch’s death like the Ace of Spades—the death card—and none of them wanted any part of it.

  “Yeah, I know it’s not your fault that Hutch died,” Ducky had said when the conversation turned that way with each of them. “And I know you can’t help it that the medical examiner ruled it death by natural causes, but Harry’s neck is on the line now. Are we going to let him die too?” It worked. Doc Eisenberg took an early morning flight from Chicago. Bapple from Indianapolis. Zen Master took the train from Philly. Bones and Spike lived within driving distance and had come in the night before. Stokes was ninety minutes away from North Cambridge in Providence, and all of them were gathered in his family room late Sunday afternoon waiting for Ducky to call with instructions.

  “What do we know about this?” Spike asked as he watched Stokes’ eighteen-year-old daughter prance by on her way to the pool.

  “Hey, square ass, that’s my daughter you’re looking at,” Stokes warned when she cleared the room.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Spike. “I can’t believe that came from you. You’re starting to look like Rodney Dangerfield in your old age.”

  “She clearly takes after her mother’s side of the family,” said Zen Master.

  Stokes shot back, “Ya’ know Spike, I never figured you for the pony tail look. What shade of grey is that, by the way? Squirrel-tail or dirty snow?”

  Doc just shook his head. “C’mon guys, can we get serious here?”

  Bones was the first to admit it when he said, “You know, from the way Ducky described the situation, it sounded like there are some seriously dangerous people involved in this thing. Is anyone besides me a little nervous about what we might be getting into?”

  “What are we getting into?” Stokes asked. “I’m still wrestling with the idea that Hutch was murdered like Ducky said.”

  Doc said, “Let me tell you about a conversation I had with Harry a couple of days after the reunion. Harry called to give me the information about Hutch’s funeral.... He probably called all of you guys as well....” Grunts and uh-huhs all around. “Well, as part of that conversation he asked me if it was possible that someone like Hutch could die of a severe myocardial infarction out of the blue like that, with no warning signs whatsoever. I told Harry that sounded unusual all right, but I was a pediatrician and cardiology wasn’t my specialty. As you might imagine that went over like a lead balloon with Harry.”

  “Good old Harry,” said Zen Master. “He always was kind of single minded about things.”

  Resuming, Doc said, “Well, true to form, he leaned on me to check around with any cardiologists I might know and dig for an answer. Let me tell you what came from that. I guarantee this will creep you out.” Doc went
on to describe what he’d found out from Doctor Kadam and that he’d relayed the story to Harry the day after Hutch’s funeral. When he was done, the other five brothers were all looking at him as if he had two heads.

  Bones said, “You’re shitting me, right Doc? Are you really trying to tell us that Hutch was zapped by some secret spy weapon that made his heart stop?”

  Spike added, “Yeah, by little green government agents with big heads and yellow eyeballs.”

  Doc didn’t laugh and held up his hands in self-defense. “Okay, all right, you can all laugh your butts off if you want, but this is documented stuff and it came from someone who seemed to know what he was talking about. Do any of you have another plausible explanation?” No one did, of course. “I, for one, think it’s entirely possible that the technology exists that would make someone’s heart stop from outside the body. Furthermore, I agree with Harry that there’s no way Hutch died of a heart attack due to natural causes. Something caused it to happen.”

  Taking it all in, Zen Master tried to come to Doc’s rescue. “You know, I don’t think Ducky would get hip deep into this if he wasn’t convinced that Harry was right. He’s married to a district attorney, for Christ’s sake. There’s no way he’d call us in to help unless he and his wife were convinced that something really shady had happened.”

  Wearing his skepticism on his sleeve, Bones called from across the room, “Then why are we getting involved instead of the police handling it?”

  “Because this is now a brother thing as much as it’s a police thing,” Bapple called back. “We made a lifelong pledge to help each other if we needed it, didn’t we? We can’t let Harry risk his life trying to find Hutch’s killer without helping out in some way.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Bones responded, “but we were young and immature when we made that pledge, and I don’t think anyone of us had this in mind.” Bones looked around. “I know I didn’t.”

  No one spoke for some moments. “Does that mean you’re out?” Doc asked.

  Bones considered the question. “Listen, I’ve taken our brotherhood seriously as you all did, and I’ve helped other brothers many times over the years, just as you all have, but this is different.” He took a deep breath. “Is it all right if I say this is not something I want to risk my life over?”

  It was Spike who said, “I think you’re right, Bones, and I don’t think Hutch would ever have wanted us to do that and would never have put us in that position. But, speaking for myself, I’ve already pissed off my wife over this, and I’ve already spent the time and money to get here, so I’m going to wait for Ducky to contact us like he said he would, and I’m going to at least listen to what he has to say. You’ve all come this far; what’s another few hours?”