Chapter 14
“We’re here to see Mickey Bogasz,” Jack informed the guard at the state penitentiary.
Scott shivered. This is where he could have been sent if the charges against him hadn’t been dropped. It still chilled him to the bone when he recalled his weekend in jail. Yes, Afghanistan had been worse, but at least there he’d had his whole unit watching his back. In prison you were on your own.
Their identifications were checked and they were led into a small room with half a dozen tables in it. Guards stood throughout the room. Hopefully this guy could shed some light on why everything had been turning to crap since he’d bought the mill.
“Thanks for arranging this,” he said to his cousin as they sat on one side of a table near the corner of the room. “Not sure I’d want todo this solo.”
Shrugging, Jack said, “No problem. Luckily I still have some contacts in the field. Lots of them happy to help me out after the shit storm the Bureau put me through.”
A guard walked in with a skinny man in his midforties and led him over to the table. “Your visitors. You’ve got ten minutes.”
“Who are you?” Mickey grunted as he checked them out.
“Just want to ask you some questions.”
Sitting in the chair opposite them, he snarled, “And why would I want to answer them?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Because I have connections in the Bureau who could make things a bit easier for you if we like what you say.” Jack lifted his hand and a fifty dollar bill peeked from underneath.
“Tell me what you’d like then and I’ll say it.” The greasy hair on the man’s head flopped in his eyes and he shook it back. His hand crept along the table but Jack’s clamped backover the money.
“You were listed as the owner of a mill building on Prescott Street in Menatuck. What can you tell us about it?” Scott let Jack do the talking. As an agent he had experience questioning people.
The man’s face look confused. “I don’t own nomill building.”
“According to the town records, you purchased the place eighteen years ago.”
“Eighteen years ago. How the hell could I have afforded some big building at that age? I was mostly running errandsfor…a friend.”
“What friendwould that be?”
“Guess it don’t matter now ‘cause he’s dead. Come to think of it, he might have mentioned putting something in my name. Told me I didn’t have to worry about it though.”
“Who?”
“Victor Cabrini. He got whacked like six months ago or so.”
Jack’s eyes darkened. Cabrini was the reason Jack hadn’t seen Callie and his son, Jonathan, for over two years. Running with a target on his back had finally ended with Cabrini’s death.
“Cabrini owned the building. Do you know what he used it for?”
Mickey shrugged. “Nah, he never told me nothing. But he paid me a few thousand dollars at the time. Wasn’t gonna argue with that.”
Nodding at the guard, Jack stood. “Thank youfor your help.”
“Did you like what I said?”
“I’ll put in a word and get you a few benefits in here.” Jack left the bill on the table and Mickey scooped it up in lessthan a second.
“Come ask questions any time.”
The guard came to take Mickey away. Scott stood also and they left the building. “That makes sense now. Looking at the information Heather got, Mickey has been inside for almost four years and paying taxes this whole time. He only stopped in January.”
“Obviously Cabrini was paying the taxes until he died,” Jack replied. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say the building wasn’t being used for anything remotely legal.”
Scott laughed. “Really? Did Cabrini have any legal businesses?”
