DUMPSITE

  “Shouldn’t be much longer Maggie. With the bugs in place we should hear something soon.”

  Sean got in his limo. Maggie called a taxi and returned to the chateau.

  Back in Vegas, Noodles was looking into every crack he could find.

  “I got it!” yells an exuberant, Sky. “The receptionist is a college dropout named Annie Burns. Probably related to Maggie. She’s done her job.”

  “Good work Sky,” says Noodles, “how do you think she managed to add Burns name to the top of the list?”

  “Not sure yet, it wouldn’t be hard for the average hacker. Her college record shows she was studying computer science.”

  “Who isn’t these days,” adds Noodles.

  “Let me call the chateau, Dad, you know I want to talk to Mother about recording the songs I’ve written,” Sky asked with a bit of hesitation.

  “Well… okay go ahead, but don’t get too pushy.”

  “Me pushy? Come on Dad.”

  Noodles laughed to himself, although he thought the songs were pretty good and hoped they would be well received.

  Sky called and told Mother what he had found. Annie Burns, probably did the deed. She quit three weeks ago. They would give the details to Interviews Amalgamated.

  Sky smoothly worked his way to the subject of music and slipped in the fact he was a songwriter. Mother asked him to send the songs over and they would let him know what they thought about his writing abilities. Mother did all this before he even asked. Sky thanked him before they said goodbye. He wondered, did he know I was a songwriter. Don’t tell me dad told him. As he turned his head he saw the smile on Noodles face.

  “Thanks, dad,” Sky said, “I owe you one.”

  ~

  “What have you been up to today, Mother?” asked Mudd.

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that.”

  “So, you don’t want to tell me,” Mudd said with a hint of the nasty side showing through.

  “Listen Muddy, I looked for you earlier today, you were nowhere to be found.”

  “I’m supposed to be around for you whenever you need me, is that it!”

  “No! I tried to find you so we could sit down and talk. We need to weed out what bothers you about me,” Mother responded calmly, pulling no punches.

  “Oh, sorry I was out looking around the area where I once lived and took a walk on the Seaside Heights Boardwalk. Just looking at memories like seeing you at The Chatterbox without me in the band. After all the work you and I did getting the gig for the summer of 1960, I felt left out.”

  “It was your choice, Muddy!” a not too happy Mother said.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow, if you have time.”

  “I’ll make time!”

  Noodles had dug into Ms. Burns off and on all day. He called Mother but he was not answering. He would call back first thing in the morning.

  Noodles was still thinking. He had an idea but wasn’t sure he could pull it off without a red light going off in Gerald’s head. Should he try or should he not. Mother wasn’t answering his phone or he would run the idea by him. Solly, I’ll call him, he’ll know if I can get away with this mischievous thing.

  He called, “Hello Solly, this is Noodles. I have an idea I’d like to try but…

  Noodles explained all to Solly.

  “Could backfire, but I think it’s worth a try. Give me an hour, no make it two hours to set things up at this end and then you go ahead as you explained to me. I’ll ring you when I have all the marks set,” Solly said with a feeling of excitement. “This could bring everything to quick end. I’ll call Agent Weisman, run it by him; the same with the operative here at the chateau. Great idea, Noodles! Say, what’s your real name?”

  “Thanks, Solly, I’ll be standing by,” Noodles said, as he explained, “I don’t remember my real name anymore.”

  Mother still couldn’t understand the outbursts from Mudd. Well, he thought, tomorrow we’ll settle and move on.

  He wondered what Gerald had to do with Sean Malloy. It didn’t seem like a good fit, then again what did he know about such things. He hadn’t discussed the chateau’s waiting list and the tampering which took place with Solly but figured Noodles had already talked to him. Little did he know the fiasco about to stir the pot, early morning.

  Meanwhile, Solly was busy on his end setting up all Noodles would need. He did this as he continued to seat folks in the dining hall. It was a much quieter night as 28 of the residents had gone to a Broadway show produced by Mr. C.

  Agent Weisman, thought the idea would work and gave his support. The FBI was going to close in on Sean and his crew first thing in the morning. False information about Jonas Lundberg’s list of possible sites for the whereabouts of the case had been left in the open hoping the mole would show his face. There were six agents standing by to follow and arrest the mole as soon as he gave himself away. All this political correctness was driving Weisman crazy. In the old days the guy would already be behind bars.

  As Solly continued his walk around, getting things set for Noodles he noticed Maggie slithering around as if she was trying her best not to be noticed. He laid back in the shadows of the door out of her sight. Maggie was behind the front desk. She stepped on a chair reaching for, but not being able to touch the ceiling. Solly knew there was an audio device there; he immediately knew Maggie was the culprit. Should he arrest her, no that would tip off too many in the chain of felons, she would be caught after they were all in custody.

  Solly was ready on his end. He called Noodles, who put the plan into action. The final results would not come to fruition until morning but many things would take place this evening.

  Muddy had been unable to fall asleep so he watched TV with one eye. He wondered how to explain his misery to Mother without sounding like an idiot. Tell the truth, he said to himself. As he thought, the sandman took control of his mind.

  ThirtyOne — Trust? There Is None

  Jewel is thinking out loud.

  She imagines Gerald on a raft in the middle of the ocean screaming for help. She clearly sees him but pays no attention. Jewel is feeling the power, but to feel is not to have, and she wants it! What can she do to get over on Gerald? What can she do to get all the jewels for herself? If her father were still alive he would know. Now it was up to her. Suddenly an idea came. If she located the jewels she would have the upper hand. How could she get the information? The 125-million-dollar question. Maybe if she sleeps on it, the answer will come. Her father always did. In the morning the answer would be right there for the taking. Couldn’t be any easier? She decided to go to sleep.

  At the same time Gerald’s thoughts were going wild.

  He’s home going over all his devious plans before getting his six hours of solid sleep. He also believed sleeping on a thought or two or three always sharpens your senses by morning. He was as apprehensive of Jewel as she was of him. But he knew he had the upper hand and always would have the upper hand. He is a man completely in love with himself. A few years ago, he wanted to add a middle name to his birth certificate. Ego, yes Lucian Santana Ego Gerald. He never did; it didn’t stop his ego from growing.

  This night he was feeling a bit uneasy. He didn’t know why. All at the chateau seemed to be in place and he had a fix on Jewel, or so he thought. The diamond filled case was getting closer. He was getting a little antsy because the details about the case have not been delivered to him. Having the uneasy feeling he spent a little more time thinking about different scenarios which could possibly hinder his assault on the case. He thought the FBI could possibly catch his mole before he relayed the information to him. He would hope his step-sister Svetlana would know where Jonas left the case. He laughs to himself as he thinks back to when he first came up with the idea to have her become the fake Belle Stallings.

  ~

  Sean Malloy was still in the back room of his bar in Newark, New Jersey. There were a few customers still having their shot and b
eer’s as they sat conversing at the bar. A hand crafted solid wood bar which had been kept in near perfect condition. It was built in the late thirties and still resided in the original building where it had been placed some 70 plus years ago. The floor was made of small white tiles having been installed, according to the records, in the early ’50s. There were black tiles in a straight line all around the room about 12 inches from the wall and art deco style designs scattered at appropriate places around the bar room. The bar definitely showed its age, but in a good way, as the old timers who frequented the place loved to tell tales from back when. Baseball stories from the ’40s and ’50s and of course the occasional shootings.

  Sean wanted to close but he had to keep up the premise that he made his living from the corner bar. Tonight, however would make the time spent at his desk being bored to death, worth his while. A few minutes before one in the morning an associate knocked softly on the back door. It was a well-hidden door on the outside making the knock most likely a friend of Sean’s. He did put his hand under his jacket over his heart not far from the pistol he at times carried. He slowly opened the door. It was Mike, his longtime friend and co-owner of the drug operation.

  “Come in Mike, what are you doing up this late?”

  “We have a problem,”

  Before Mike had a chance to say anything else Sean went out to the bar and told Duffy, his longtime bartender to close up. Give a six pack to each of the customers and a shot of whatever they’re drinking, then lock up immediately. Duffy had done this many times before. He had the routine down to a science. He poured the shots and told his customers to help themselves to a six-pack of beer as they left, “emergency,” Duffy said. The last twelve customers cleared out faster then a flash of lightning.

  Sean told Duffy to go home, he would clean the place. Duffy thanked his boss and headed out locking the front door behind him, first the door handle lock and then the heavy duty bolt lock. He put the keys in his pocket and headed home without having to clean-up, he was feeling good.

  “Let me turn the sign off and dim some of the lights,” Sean told Mike, as they walked to the small office located in the back.

  Mike spoke first. “Sean, I have this information from a good source. There is a raid happening at the warehouse early tomorrow morning. We need to make some quick plans.”

  “What do you suggest, Mike?”

  Mike and Sean had been partners for over twelve years. Fifteen years ago, when Mike came from Ireland he immediately went to see Sean. Mike is a third cousin once removed. They hit it off and decided to partner. Mike had almost one million to put into the business, which made the partnership even sweeter. Mike was smart and a gentleman. He was able to talk to many people Sean didn’t want to waste his time with. He knew how to get into people’s minds. Mike was able to get information from important people for very little money. This had for a long time kept them locally able to function and conduct their illegal business without any repercussions.

  “Well some of the guys are going to get pinched. We can’t all be missing or they will realize we were tipped off. There are a few young guys who have no record, we can let them be arrested and they can plead innocent,” Mike explained. “But, on the other hand, one or two older guys need to be there as well. Who can we trust to do what is needed?”

  “You’re right if only young guys get caught they’ll suspect us of having known about the raid. I have two guys ready to go to jail for a couple of years if they have to. They’ll have a check mailed to their family’s every week; there’s a good chance they can get paroled for good behavior after the first year. Especially with the crowded jails we have today. Have you called the lawyer yet?”

  No, Sean, I didn’t know who you wanted me to call this time around.”

  “Call the big guy, if anybody can get them off he can, maybe get them a shorter sentence,” Sean told Mike. “I’ll call the guys we need at work tomorrow and also make sure the rest of the crew stays home.”

  “Let’s get out of here, Sean. I’ll go first with my usual get up and walk as if I had too much to drink.”

  “Good, I’ll clean up a little and follow in about ten minutes. I’ll go around the block, make sure no one is following and pick you up at the usual place.” They followed the plan and soon were riding away unnoticed.

  Margaret Sullivan Burns was having trouble sleeping. She was rolling from one side to the other. She had forgotten to pack her sleeping pills so she got up and started to drink brandy as she watched an old 1940’s flick on TCM. After about an hour of brandy and TV, she started to sing her favorite Irish song, Galloway Bay, at a loud volume. The walls were well constructed but the singing headed down the hall like a flood getting ready to fill an ocean. A few residents called the front office to complain, but there was no attendant in the middle of the night. As quickly as the singing started, it ended. Maggie had passed out.

  The night rolled along as the well laid plans of mice and men would commence in the early morning hours.

  ThirtyTwo — Sean Who?

  Sean Michael Malloy was born in 1961 at Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Paterson, New Jersey. He grew up with the family and learned early what he would be doing the rest of his life. He was a strong-willed man and smart. Nothing passed by him he couldn’t grasp. His father had been killed when he was in his late 40s, his body was pulled from the Hackensack River near the Marion Power Station in the Jersey City area. He was not a vigilant man and let many important things slip by which could have saved his life. Sean would not allow it to happen to him.

  His father never believed the case full of diamonds existed. Sean’s grandfather, Mike Malloy, told the story many times but also joked about it as he was somewhat annoyed he was unable to retrieve the case. Sean picked up what the old guy knew but as many times as Sean asked him, he denied knowing anything every time.

  Sean as a teenager happened to find a bill of sale for the case in the attic of a home his grandfather owned. The home has since been torn down along with the rest of the houses on the block where it lived, to make room for a local housing project. Sean’s diligent searching and listening to stories through the years made him a believer. When information the FBI and a diamond consortium from Holland, was making a concentrated effort to find the case he jumped into the pot, feet first. He had people in the local government on his payroll who were watching and listening. He knew there was someone else trying to get to the case as well. He suspected Gerald and a few other felons but had not been able to connect the dots.

  With the FBI breathing down his neck and their plans to raid his storage facility in the morning he was making plans to fall deep into the shadows. He was ready and able to get his hands on 125 million dollars, worth of diamonds. He needed the money now, as funds had been drained during the past six months due to the FBI and their anti-drug unit. Why were they picking on his business?

  ~

  Muddy woke at 4:30 in the morning. He wanted to get the feelings he had stored, organized; he would make sense of them before he met with Mother.

  He remembered a time when he had come to see Mother’s group play at The Crossroads, a nightclub in Little Falls, New Jersey. Mother’s group had recorded some songs on an up and coming label out of New York City and were making some noise around the eastern part of the country. It was 1969 and Muddy wished he was part of the action and a member of the group. He decided he would go and see Mother and hear the group himself. He arrived at the nightclub around ten in the evening. He had to fight his way in as the place was filled to capacity. The Popcorn Blizzard, as the group was called was playing Purple Haze, a Jimi Hendrix song. The people were dancing and drinking, the guys were looking over the babes and he was feeling empty.

  Mother noticed Muddy and acknowledged his presence with a point of his finger. Three songs later the band took a break and turned over the music to the jukebox. Muddy and Mother shook hands as they gave each other a huge manly back slapping hug. Mother ordered
a drink for Muddy; they started the usual banter. How are you? How’s the family? What are you up to? And all the rest of the sick questions. Mother never asked Muddy if he would like to sit in with the band for a couple of numbers. All Mother said to him was, “Good to see you, you’re looking good, stop back again when you have time.” Then he turned and called the band back on the stage. Muddy noticed one of the guys talked to Mother as they looked at him. It was the bass player who asked if it was his old drummer. He nodded his head after Mother said a few words to him.

  The band started the set with an old Chuck Berry tune he used to play with Mother in the old days. Roger, the guitar player was the singer and did a fine rendition of Roll Over Beethoven. Muddy was so busy talking with Mother he forgot to say, hi to Roger. He made his way over and got his attention. Roger smiled, not really the reaction Muddy wanted. He felt rejected. He had hoped to sit in with the band but Mother never asked. He decided to leave. He slowly made his way out the door, unnoticed by everyone except a few of the people he pushed his was through.

  He was devastated. How could they completely ignore him? He was the effervescent John E. Mudd and ready to interact with them, but it was not to be. Muddy sat in the car for a few minutes until someone yelled.

  “Hey stupid, you gonna sit there all night or are you going to move your car?”

  Muddy was ready for a fight, but thought better of it, he backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, gave the guy the usual finger of fate and headed home.

  It was the longest ride he could remember in many a day and he was sober, something he usually wasn’t on these late-night ventures. He has never forgotten how he felt; thinking it was Mother’s fault for not being more, how should he say, welcoming to the lonely drummer boy.

  A revelation crossed his mind. He had quit the band to marry his sweetheart of many years, why should Mother think he was anything but happy. He had never told his friend how much he missed the band. Wow, he thought, Mother doesn’t know how I feel. I was a happily married man, but I really missed the music and the fun we shared when we were on stage. But it was me who made the decision to leave, I was never pushed out. I left, Muddy said to himself. How the heck did I ever blame Mother for my decision.