Chapter 43

 

The Cracker Barrel was one of more than a dozen eateries clustered around the Fields-Ertel Interchange on Interstate 71. It was an alternative to the burger and chili fast food joints that dominated the area. Anyone willing to invest an extra half hour and a few additional dollars could enjoy something closer to real food; maybe not mom’s home cooking, but a cut above its “eat and run” competitors. In front of the restaurant a covered porch was lined with rocking chairs for sale, but also available for the comfort of restaurant guests, if there was a wait to be seated inside. The front door opened into a large, brightly lighted gift shop featuring a variety of country craft type items. The family style restaurant was more than double the size of the gift shop, and located directly behind it.

The FBI crew arrived at five o’clock and arranged for a table in a rear corner of the dining room to remain available to seat the three subjects. A “bug” was installed in the decorative hurricane lamp. A back-up device was secured to the underside of the table. Once the microphones were set and tested, the technician returned to the white Ford Econovan with the name Otto J. Heiss, Master Plumber painted on its sides, and prepared to monitor and record the subjects’ conversation. 

Half an hour before the scheduled meeting, a male and a female FBI agent were positioned two tables away from the subjects’ table. Two male agents in jeans, one wearing a Cincinnati Bengal T-shirt, the other wearing a black Harley Davidson tee, completed the team. Once the subjects were seated, the two male agents would be seated at a table close to the restaurant entrance, to intercept the subjects if they became suspicious and bolted.

If all went according to plan, all three would incriminate themselves, Belsky for money laundering and possibly espionage, the other two for extortion. Normally the extortion wouldn’t have been a federal offense, but since Duggan had crossed state lines specifically for the commission of the felony, and the crime had been set up with an interstate phone call, it now fell within the FBI’s jurisdiction. In the case of Belsky, they hoped to cut a deal for more complete information regarding Caspian’s dealings with the Soviet Embassy and the recipients of the laundered money. The Bureau would gladly trade Belsky for the potential of busting an entire spy network. If he gave them what they wanted, they would quietly deport him, without his having to stand trial or serve any prison time. It was the type of trade they were always happy to make.

Belsky arrived at almost the same time as Boni and Earl. The FBI spotter nodded to the manager who then directed the trio to the prearranged table. The three sat in awkward silence until their order was taken and the food delivered. Once the waitress departed, Belsky began insisting Boni and Earl were wrong.

“What we are doing for the Soviet government is legal. Boni is wrong saying we are paying spies. I never told her that because it is not true. She does not know what she is talking about.” 

“Okay,” Earl said, “if what you’re telling me is so, why don’t Boni just call the Feds tomorrow? If everything is on the up and up, like you say, it shouldn’t cause you no problems.”

Faced with exposure, Belsky tried a different tack. He admitted what they were doing was not wrong but might not be totally within the law. He pleaded that his resources were limited and he could not involve his partner, because his partner would kill all three of them if he discovered Belski had told Boni about their operation.

“I don’t have a lot of money put away, but I could give you ten thousand dollars, and no one gets hurt.”

“You know, Boni, I think your friend here is very much full of shit. What do you think?”

Boni smiled sweetly at Belsky. “You know, lover, I hate to say it, but I do believe Earl is right.”

Earl sensed an opportunity to bully Belsky. “Know what, Rusky, instead of going to the Feds, how about I have Boni call your partner and tell him what she knows? That work better for you?”

Belsky’s voice trembled. “Don’t be a fool. If you talk to Kalakov we are all dead. Not only me, but both of you, too.”

“This partner of yours is a pretty fierce guy, huh.”

“You smile now like is big joke, but wait, I will tell you about him. We came to America with a large amount of money. That is how we started in business.” Belsky fidgeted with the ashtray. “You know how he got the money?”

Duggan smiled. “No, I don’t know how he got the money and I’m not really sure I give a shit. But you’re gonna’ tell me, ain’t you?”

“Yes, I will tell you. He was tank commander. Three times during the Hungarian uprising he took his tank and crashed into bank vaults. Each time, he and his crew took money and jewels from the vault. When they were finished, they put cannon fire into the banks and destroyed them and killed all who were inside, so no one could tell what they had done.”

Duggan chugged down the last of his cola. “Is that it?”

“No, there is more.” He let go of the ashtray and started nervously moving the hurricane lamp back and forth. 

The FBI “couple” held their breath.

“There are five people in his tank. He has no wish to share the money with them. One morning, when they are scheduled to go outside Budapest for shooting practice, he goes to the hospital, sick.” Belsky let go of the hurricane lamp and gripped the edge of the table, leaning toward Duggan. He spoke in a hoarse whisper.

“That day, he is in the hospital with very bad headache. His tank goes to gun practice with a different commander but the same crew. They load the cannon and fire, but the breech flies apart and, boom!” He released the table and threw his arms upward, like a child describing something very big. Several people stared. Self-conscious, Belsky lowered his arms and his eyes. “No more tank, no more crew, no one to share with.”

“Great story, Rusky, but if he had all that fucking money and he didn’t want no partners, how the hell come he hooked up with you?”

“He needed me. I was Army financial officer in Budapest, so I could get the money and jewels out of Hungary and into Switzerland. For this he made me a twenty-five percent partner.”

“So why doesn’t he just kill you now and take back his twenty-five percent?”

“He still needs me. He knows little of finance. I keep our records in a way so only I can understand them. That makes me safe, but if he finds out about this, nothing can make me safe; and nothing can make you safe.”

“If he finds out, it’ll be your fault. So don’t make it happen and we’ll all live happily ever after. Right, sweetie?” Earl smiled at Boni. She nodded and smiled back, but the tension that developed in her face as she listened to Belsky’s story remained.

“What do you want?” asked Belsky, fighting unsuccessfully to control the tremor in his voice.

Earl looked at Boni. “What do you think, kid? Maybe half a mil? Say sixty percent for me and forty for you?”

“Sounded good till you got to the sixty-forty thing, Earl. The number’s good, but we split right down the middle.” 

“That’s crazy,” protested Belsky. “I can’t get that …”

“Can’t don’t work here,” Earl interrupted. “You got till Friday to deliver. If you ain’t got the money by then, you’ll get screwed by Boni one more time, but I promise you, this time you ain’t gonna like it.”

Belsky was sweating heavily and trembling. “Okay, okay, but not by Friday. I have ten thousand dollars with me. If I give that to you now will you give me one week to get the rest? It will take me that long to get so much money. Please.”

Boni looked at Earl, who nodded in the affirmative.

“You got yourself a deal, lover.” Boni said. “You deliver with no problems and, who knows, maybe we can get together one more time, kinda for old times sake. Or maybe I can set you up with Carla.”

“Enough of this love shit, kids,” said Earl. “Where’s the ten grand?”

“It’s in my car.”

“Well guess what, I ain’t going to your fucking car. We’ll walk out and wait on the porch. You get the money and bring it to us. Got it?”

When they rose to leave, the two male agents seated at the front of the restaurant left ahead of them. They stopped at the register and Belsky and Earl waited behind them. When Belsky got to the register, the agent “couple” waited behind him. Belsky paid and walked onto the porch, followed by Boni and Earl.

 As soon as all three were outside, with the door closed behind them, Belsky reached under the back of his jacket and withdrew a short barreled 38 caliber revolver from his belt, turned and fired twice. The first shot hit Earl in the throat. The second found Boni’s hip, spun her around and slammed her against the front of the building. The next four shots came from the two FBI agents already in the parking lot. Three found their mark, and Belsky fell lifeless to the porch.

The FBI’s plan was as dead as the two men sprawled on the bloody porch floor, next to the maple rockers. Boni’s shattered hip would require several operations and months of intensive therapy before she’d be able to walk without a walker or cane. When she completed her prison sentence, she would leave the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary with a repaired hip and a limp that would be her companion for the rest of her life.