On the flight from Baltimore to Phoenix, Cara slept in a window seat while Tommy sat next to her reviewing FBI files on his laptop. It was a long night of tears and anger, reflection and regrets. Tommy had used every ounce of rationalization to help mitigate Cara’s grief, but the only time he knew she was out of pain was when she slept.
Now, her head was limp on Tommy’s shoulder, and he could practically feel the exhaustion drain from her body. The flight was fairly smooth, just the hum of the engines and a random bobble of turbulence.
Tommy read certain paragraphs of the FBI file two or three times to be certain he was understanding the depth of the Chechen Mafia’s financial acumen. Their leader, Khasi Zelman, had masterminded a digital empire using a credit card business as a front for his money laundering. He’d incorporated scare tactics to force business owners to use their credit card at a premium, sometimes threatening family members, but always using extortion as their main technique.
Zelman was a round figure of a man who didn’t look like someone who could rule a criminal organization, but Tommy could sense his power in the files. Millions of unanswered transfers using cryptocurrency to keep their balance invisible.
There was a sudden jostle as the plane hit clear air turbulence, startling Cara. She woke up with sad eyes at the realization that her nightmare didn’t go away when her eyes opened. Her face was flush with anguish and Tommy placed a hand on her cheek.
“I want you to hear something,” he said trying to divert her pain. He looked down and shut his laptop.
Cara stayed quiet.
“You were twelve when your second-cousin Devin was murdered. You didn’t find out until much later that it was the Mancini family who did it. It was Al Mancini’s crazy nephew who shot him.” Tommy shook his head. “Kid was always screaming for attention. Anyway, even though the whole world knew the kid acted on his own without Mancini’s approval, everyone in the Perrini family wanted revenge and they wanted it quick. Your father knew a war with the Mancinis would destroy both families. He hated violence, but he also knew if he didn’t react, it would be a sign of weakness and he would lose his stature with the family. Then some hothead might take over and . . . well, you understand. So he walked into Al Mancini’s office unannounced. Alone. Unarmed. Now, back then if you wanted a sit-down with a boss, you asked weeks ahead of time for permission. It was a sign of disrespect to do otherwise. Mancini’s men actually asked their boss if they should eliminate him right there.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. Mancini allowed him to live. They talked for over an hour. No one ever knew what they discussed. Except me.”
Cara’s eyes widened.
“Your pop knew that Mancini’s nephew had a screw loose and he was causing Mancini all kinds of headaches. But if the kid was found missing or killed after that meeting, everyone would’ve known your dad had the power and Mancini couldn’t afford that. So your dad did something ingenious. Before the meeting, your dad called a crew chief in Kansas City, an old boss who owed your dad a favor. He asked him to take the nitwit nephew and give him his own crew and the guy agreed. So Mancini tells his nephew that his kill was so famous that a Midwest captain wanted him to take over his own territory. Well, the kid was thrilled to be a boss. Couldn’t leave fast enough. Mancini got rid of his incompetent nephew and it looked like a promotion. Your father said as long as the nephew never returned to Phoenix, he promised there would never be retribution for Devin’s murder.”
Cara smiled at her father’s ingenuity.
“Sal told his family that he browbeat Mancini into deporting his nephew out of state in exchange for a larger territory downtown. Everyone went along for the ride. They trusted him.”
“I never knew this.”
“Ever since then, Mancini treated your father with the utmost respect. There was never any conflict that Mancini wasn’t willing to settle peacefully.”
Tommy pulled a flash drive out of his computer and slipped it into Cara’s laptop, then gestured for her to open the file. While she tapped the keyboard, Tommy said, “The Chechens came to Mancini first and asked him to put down your family. Offered him 5 percent of their business in perpetuity if he gave his crew the order.”
Cara was facing Tommy now, her finger frozen in place above the keyboard.
Tommy shook his head. “Mancini turned him down.” He pointed to her computer. “It’s all right there.”
She opened the file, then scrolled down, reading with extreme acuity, her face looking amazed at what she was seeing.
“I could write a great piece on these guys.”
“You’re funny,” Tommy said. “What you’re looking at is confidential and off the record.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious. I’m letting you see that so you understand just how powerful these Chechens are.”
Her eyes flew across the pages, as if Tommy might pull it away at any moment. “We have to stop this, Tommy.”
“Uh huh.”
They remained quiet while Tommy put his thoughts together.
“I mean, come on,” Cara murmured.
“Mancini will read the tea leaves. He owns a large dry-cleaning business in the East Valley. It’s only a matter of time before the Chechens force their credit card business on him. He must know that.”
Cara mumbled a response while continuing to speed read the file.
Tommy waited for her to catch up.
“An airport hangar?” she asked.
“Yeah, they own a private aviation company too. Pretty clever. They can come and go as they please without scrutiny.”
Cara tried to click open another file, but an icon popped up requesting a password. She looked at Tommy, who shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s as far as you go.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. However, a year or two from now, you’ll be writing a piece about something different and a memory will pop into your head. You will have forgotten where it came from. I can’t afford that to be implanted in your brain.”
Cara frowned, then pulled out the flash drive and handed it back to him.
The flight attendant pushed a squeaky metal cart down the aisle and asked if they wanted a drink. They both declined.
Cara looked out the window at the clouds passing below them. When she turned back, tears trickled down her face.
Tommy wiped one away with his thumb.
“They had finally transitioned everything into a legal corporation,” she said, pulling a tissue from her purse. “They ran the concessions for all the major sports teams in the state, including concert venues and outdoor festivals. It was all legit. Then this . . .” she waved her crumpled tissue, “this Chechen organization bullies my father . . . and . . .”
She couldn’t finish, but Tommy knew to shut up and let the grief pour out incrementally.
They flew on in silence until a series of severe turbulence jostled everyone around. The captain came on to inform the passengers they would have some rough air for the next thirty minutes. A couple of times the plane seemed to drop beneath them and Tommy’s stomach lurched upward. There were some toddlers crying in the rows behind them, and a teenage girl let out a yelp during one of the drops.
Tommy reached over and held Cara’s hand.
“You want to know something,” Cara said looking straight ahead, no expression on her face. “I’m not suicidal, but honestly, if this plane went down right now, I’d be perfectly fine with it.”
Tommy squeezed her hand. “Don’t, Sweetie. We’re too close to Heaven and your pops might hear you talking like that.”
As Cara’s shoulders quivered with a new round of sadness, Tommy considered just what he could do to alleviate her pain. And confronting the Chechens would be a great place to start.