The Inside Man Page 2

  Levi hustled back to the kitchen and smiled to himself as he thought of the beautiful half-naked woman in his living room. It was strange for him to share private aspects of his life with someone. His biological family knew nothing of what he’d just shared, and his mob family only knew small pieces.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what the future might hold for the two of them.

  ###

  Levi stood at the back of the common room in Harlem’s YMCA with Carmine and Paulie, watching Madison leading her class. She wore a white gi with a black belt cinched around her narrow waist, and she was putting a group of nearly two dozen neighborhood kids through several basic martial arts forms. Her students ranged from around five years old to late teens, and represented the rainbow of races and cultures that made up the neighborhood and New York City itself.

  To Levi, Madison was the personification of grace and beauty in a slim five-foot-ten-inch package.

  He had to admit, their relationship was complicated. To say they were friends was to make too little of it, but to say they were a couple ... well, it wasn’t quite that either. They didn’t even live in the same state—she lived in DC, he lived in New York City.

  But it was their jobs that truly made their relationship complicated. After all, she was a covert operations officer for the CIA ... and he was one of the leading members of a prominent Mafia family. She didn’t know that part, but she did know he was involved with some less-than-savory characters. And that was enough to make things awkward from time to time.

  They’d met nearly a year earlier while Levi was overseas, taking care of some private business. He found himself in a situation that ended up forcing him to cooperate with people who turned out to be agents of the CIA—including Madison. He’d been smitten from the moment he first saw her.

  It was hard to imagine a more unlikely pair. He wasn’t sure where their relationship was going, but she had his undivided attention. That was undeniable.

  “You know,” said Carmine next to him, “if she really wants to teach kids, I could probably find her a nicer place uptown.”

  Carmine and Paulie were the mobsters who’d accompanied Levi here.

  “Nah,” said Levi. “She knows the guy who runs this place and wanted to do him a favor. The way I understand it, this guy saved Madison from an orphanage in Okinawa back when she was a kid. He got her together with her grandma who lives out in LA.”

  “Okinawa? She doesn’t look Japanese ... no, you know, I take that back. I guess I kind of see it now. I figured she was Hawaiian or something. You know, like one of those hula dancer types.”

  Levi smiled. “Not even close.”

  His friends had certainly been surprised when he showed up yesterday at the mob-run apartment building with a girlfriend on his arm. They were naturally curious about her, especially since Levi tended to keep that side of his life fairly quiet, but he hadn’t really talked to any of them about her yet.

  “I think her mom was Japanese and her dad was a black GI,” Levi explained.

  “Nice,” Carmine said, though following his gaze, Levi wasn’t sure if he was talking about Madison or about the group of Latina moms who were across the room watching their kids practice karate.

  “Is this what she does, teach karate?” Paulie asked.

  Levi craned his neck to look up at Paulie, who stood nearly six foot ten. “This is just a hobby, something she’s been doing since she was a kid. She works out of DC doing political analysis and stuff.” Political analyst was Madison’s official cover, since her real job title was strictly confidential. “We don’t talk too much about work. It saves some awkward questions, if you know what I mean.”

  Paulie nodded. “Yup, it can be tough. My Rita and I have been married for almost ten years, and she still thinks I’m an accountant. It’s just easier that way.”

  A door opened and a tiny Asian girl walked in. She couldn’t have been more than five years old, and she wore a yellow dress with a wide black belt and puffy sleeves. Her black hair was pulled back into two ponytails, each of which was tied with a matching yellow ribbon. In her hands, she carried a small box tied with red ribbon. She scanned the room, and when her gaze landed on Levi, she walked directly to him.

  Curious, he knelt so that he was eye level with her. “Hi there. Is there something I can I help you with?”

  With a serious expression, she bowed and began speaking in rapid Japanese.

  Levi blinked with surprise and wondered how she knew he’d understand her. After all, with his dark-brown hair, blue eyes, and a rather pale complexion, nobody would have confused him for Asian. But he had lived in Japan for a handful of years and was fluent in the language.

  Levi smiled as the tiny doll of a girl related her memorized message.

  “Yoder-san,” the girl said, “my name is Kimiko and my father wishes you good health and prosperity. He hopes to invite you to visit so that you and he can talk in private.” With both hands, she presented the box to him.

  Levi took the box, returned her bow, and said in Japanese, “Thank you, Kimiko.”

  He untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and a rolled-up parchment. Levi thumbed through the stack of money and whistled with appreciation. Then he unrolled the parchment. It was a formal, handwritten letter, its Japanese calligraphy gorgeously done with a brush, in a traditional style.

  Yoder-san,

  I have contacted Don Vincenzo Bianchi, and he has given me permission to reach out to you.

  I am Mr. Shinzo Tanaka’s US representative and would very much like to have a meeting with you. I would not ask this unless I felt the cause was justified. There is an innocent life at stake, and I humbly request your assistance on behalf of my superior.

  I’ve enclosed something to compensate you for your time. I hope to hear from you tonight.

  Sincerely,

  Ryuki Watanabe.

  The rest of the note was repeated in English, and gave an address and a time later that evening. It was signed with a reddish-brown thumbprint whose hue resembled the color of dried blood.

  Levi looked at Kimiko with curiosity as she tapped at Paulie’s leg. “Sir?” she said, staring wide-eyed at the large man.

  With an amused expression, Paulie leaned down. “Yes?” He spoke very softly, with a warm and friendly tone.

  “You’re very tall,” she said matter-of-factly, in perfect English. “Can I sit on your shoulder so I can touch the ceiling?”

  Levi watched with wonder as the giant man engaged with the guileless little girl. For a man who could tear a person apart limb from limb, Paulie was very gentle with Kimiko as he lifted her onto his right shoulder and stood.

  Kimiko reached up, touched one of the ceiling tiles, and let out a peal of high-pitched laughter. “I did it!”

  Laughing, Paulie carefully set her back on the ground.

  She held out her hand with a serious expression and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mister. I’m going to tell everyone at school about you, but I don’t think they’ll ever believe I saw a giant.” Then she shifted her gaze to Levi and again spoke in Japanese. “I have to go. My dad’s driver is waiting for me. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

  “It’s possible,” Levi replied in Japanese.

  The girl ran out of the common room just as the class began to disperse.

  Levi felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Madison smiling at him. “You made a new friend?” She nodded toward the exit.

  “I suppose so.” He shrugged and gave her a peck on the lips. “We all done here?”

  “Pretty much.” Madison snaked her arm under his suit coat and around his waist, giving him a squeeze. “Though I think next time, you should teach the class with me.”

  “I don’t know, I kind of like watching you do it. So—what time do you need to be at Penn Station?”

  “I’ve got an early day tomorrow, so my train’s scheduled to leave at t
hree.”

  They walked toward the exit, and the YMCA staff began moving the furniture back into place.

  Levi glanced at his watch and sighed wistfully. “Maddie, these weekends go by too quickly.”

  She tightened her grip around his waist and leaned her head against his. “I feel the same way. But hey, unless something happens, I should be off for two weeks right around Christmas. If you think you can deal with me for that long, we should plan something. It’s only a little over a month away.”

  Carmine had already gone ahead to get the car, but Paulie had hung back and now chimed in. “You know, the wife and I had a really nice time at the Poconos for our fifth anniversary. The resorts are all probably booked, but I know a few people. I can probably get you guys into one of those two-story champagne tub suites and stuff. It’s nice and romantic.”

  Madison bumped her hip against Levi’s. “Hmm, romantic sounds nice.” She gave Levi a quick kiss on the cheek. “Let me go change and I’ll be right back.”

  Levi’s gaze followed her as she darted past a few people talking in the hallway. He imagined what it would be like to be with Madison in a hot tub filled with bubbles.

  He looked up at Paulie. “Okay big guy, if you have some strings you can pull, I’d appreciate it.”

  Paulie grinned. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you two look good together. I think you guys should make a more permanent arrangement.”

  Levi laughed and shook his head. “It’s complicated.” He pictured the giant mobster playing the role of Yenta, the matchmaker from the Broadway play Fiddler on the Roof.

  He glanced again at his watch. “Hey Paulie, can you go out there and make sure Carmine knows we’ll need to head straight to Penn Station before going to the Helmsley? I’ve got to talk business with the don, and Madison can’t be around for that.”

  ###

  Driving along Park Avenue, the sedan rolled just past East 86th Street and pulled up to a stately old building with two marble columns on each side of the entrance. The words “The Helmsley Arms” were emblazoned in gold leaf above the ten-foot doors.

  As Levi hopped out of the car, the cool damp of the late fall in New York City hit him. The earthy smell of fallen leaves and exhaust filled the air, an unmistakable signature of when and where he was.

  The doors opened as he approached the building’s entrance, and Frank Minnelli, the head of security, appeared in the doorway. He was in his early forties, the same age as Levi, and was dressed in an almost identical tailored suit.

  He motioned to Levi. “Come on. We’re waiting on you.”

  Together they walked past the two burly mobsters who were guarding the entrance, across the building’s marble-floored foyer, and into the elevator to the top floor.

  “So,” Levi said, “I’m guessing someone reached out to Vinnie?”

  The elevator doors slid open, and they started down a short wood-paneled hallway.

  “You better believe it,” Frankie said with a snort. “But I’ll leave that for Vinnie to tell.”

  Two more mobsters hopped up from their chairs and opened a set of double doors. Frankie and Levi walked through into Don Bianchi’s parlor.

  Levi couldn’t help but be amazed at how far up his friends had come since they all started out together in Little Italy over twenty years ago. The huge room had two fireplaces, was finished with ornately carved wood paneling, and was well-appointed with beautiful paintings and a museum-quality marble statue of the Venus de Milo.

  At the far end of the room, Don Vincenzo Bianchi, the head of the Bianchi crime family, sat at his large mahogany desk, wearing reading glasses and poring over a sheaf of papers. As the two men walked in, he motioned for them to approach.

  “Come in, guys. Frankie, you and I need to talk about a few things, but first let’s all get this Tanaka syndicate business out of the way.”

  Levi took a seat in one of the two reddish-brown leather armchairs in front of the desk, and Frankie sat in the other.

  “Vinnie,” said Levi, “what’s this about someone getting your permission to reach out to me? Who are these people? Are they some new Asian outfit?”

  “They’re hardly new.” Vinnie removed his reading glasses, tossed them on the desk and rubbed his eyes. “Frankie, how many made men and connected guys do we have right now?”

  Frankie frowned. “I think with Carlo Moretti last month, we’re at a hundred twenty-seven made men, and I’m not sure on the complete number, but we’ve got right around one thousand earners in total.”

  The don drummed his fingers on the desk and turned back to Levi. “I got a call this morning from the number two guy in the Tanaka syndicate. They’re a pretty serious group out of Japan. In the last handful of years they’ve expanded beyond the island and have been muscling in on some of the Tong businesses on the West Coast. Heck, they even have a presence here in the city.

  “Levi, you and I have both agreed that it’s best you not be part of the day-to-day business dealings of the family, especially with some of the stuff you’ve been doing with the feds. But you know what we’re dealing with when it comes to these other groups. Let’s just say this Tanaka syndicate has ten times our manpower, and they’ve got resources everywhere.”

  Vinnie leaned forward and poked his finger in the air for emphasis. “They’ve made us an offer contingent on your helping them out with something. And it’s a really serious offer.”

  “The message I got said something about an innocent life,” Levi said. “Do you know what they want from me?”

  Vinnie shrugged. “I have no idea. What I do know is these Yakuza types are vicious when angered, and I’m not interested in sending you into a meat grinder. This Ryuki guy, the syndicate’s number two, he said that he’d guarantee your safety—that he just wants an opportunity to have a sit-down with you. He was extremely polite, like a lot of those Asian types are. But frankly, I don’t like it.

  “Levi, you and I go back to the beginning. I love you like a brother, and I’ll tell you, I don’t know what to make of this. This guy was really vague—he wouldn’t even tell me why he was looking for you specifically. So what I’m saying is, if you don’t want to go, you’ve got my complete backing on that. It’s your call.”

  Frankie cleared his throat and frowned. “Levi, I did a little checking on this Tanaka syndicate—or tried to. Their main guy is a man named Shinzo Tanaka, but there’s almost no record of him. I can see that he was denied entry into the US a handful of years ago, but that’s about it. The man’s a ghost. This Ryuki guy, his number two, is the same. No record. No beef with the local or Japanese law.

  “But that’s official records. Word on the street is different. There, everyone knows these two. And the word is, stay away from these Yakuza nuts. These guys make us look like choirboys.” He jabbed his finger in Levi’s direction. “So be careful. I can’t read this one, and that makes me a little crazy.”

  Levi heard their warnings, but his curiosity was gnawing at him. Why did they want to talk to him specifically? How did that little girl manage to pick him out of a crowd of people at the YMCA? And how did she know he understood Japanese?

  He looked at Vinnie and smiled. “Is the offer they gave for my help worthwhile?”

  Vinnie returned the smile. “I wouldn’t have told him how to reach you if it wasn’t a sweet deal.”

  Levi hopped up from his chair and rapped his knuckles on the desk. “In that case, I guess I shouldn’t keep the man waiting.”

  Chapter Two

  With a sense of trepidation, Levi stepped out of the elevator on the eighty-sixth floor of the Freedom Tower, now known as One World Trade Center. He strode past a large sitting area with Western-style decorations—plush leather chairs and a coffee table with business magazines and a neatly folded issue of the Wall Street Journal—and stepped up to the receptionist’s desk.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but when he’d mentally prepared to meet one
of the top men in a notorious Japanese crime syndicate, he hadn’t expected to meet them in a place that looked like a banker’s office. Yet this was clearly the right place: “Tanaka Industries” was emblazoned in large silver letters on the wall behind the receptionist.

  She gave him a brilliant smile, and bowed ever-so-slightly. “Mister Yoder, you’re a bit early. Mister Watanabe hasn’t arrived yet.”

  She had only the slightest accent—likely she had been born in Japan but came to the States as a young teen. She was in her mid-twenties, tall, had a willowy build, and her pale skin resembled fine ivory. And she was beautiful.

  Levi glanced at his watch. He was fifteen minutes early. “I suppose I’ll just—”

  The elevator doors opened again, and two Asian men stepped out.

  The receptionist’s eyes widened, and she motioned to the two men with an open hand. “Here comes Mister Watanabe.”

  The men looked a lot alike—they were clearly related—but the one on the left looked a bit older, a bit richer. His suit was custom-tailored, while the other’s looked like it had been purchased off the rack. An expensive rack, but still.

  “Mister Yoder?” The man on the left extended his hand, and Levi shook it. “I’m Ryuki Watanabe.” He spoke in heavily accented English.

  Levi responded in Japanese. “Please, call me Levi. Was it your daughter that delivered the package?”

  The man’s eyebrows raised, and he smiled. A beaming sort of smile that betrayed an inner pride. “It was.” He motioned toward the man standing to his left. “This is my younger brother, Yoshi.”

  Yoshi shook hands with Levi and said in unaccented English, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ryuki turned to the receptionist and he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese. “Hiromi, is my conference room prepared?”

  “Hai.” Hiromi nodded curtly. “Everything is ready.”

  Ryuki extended his arm toward a corridor leading past the receptionist’s desk. “Please, Mister Yoder, let’s talk in private.”