A/N1: Pretty happy that Tony Acosta doesn't own Chuck. He seems like he's a bad dude.
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"Admiral Malone's office," said the woman answering the phone.
Sarah rolled her eyes. He was Director Malone now and the 'Admiral' title was no longer appropriate, but her guess was that his assistant was a holdover from his military service and used the title out of her own personal pride. "We'd like to speak to Director Malone, please."
"I'm sorry. Director Malone is in a meeting at the moment and can't be disturbed. If you leave your contact information, I'll be sure he gets the message and will call you back when he can." She spoke with the smug arrogance of a gatekeeper for someone of tremendous importance.
Chuck spoke, "Thank you. Please let him know that Charles Carmichael would like to speak to him when he gets a moment."
"Oh, oh, Mr. Carmichael," said the woman, suddenly sounding quite different, maybe even flustered. "Yes. Yes. Hold on a moment, Sir. Hold on. Just a moment, Sir."
Less than a minute later, Malone was on the speaker. "Hey, Chuck. What's up?"
"Sir, we are on speaker. I'm here with Sarah and Rachel Bernstein from our office," he said.
"Got it. Hey, Sarah. Hey, Rachel," he said.
"Sir," both ladies said at the same time.
"Sorry to get you out of your meeting, Director," said Chuck.
"No worries, Son. Standing orders in my office. All my staff know. No matter what else is happening there are three people who they will always interrupt me for. My wife, the President, and you. So, tell me what's up," said Malone.
"Wow," said Chuck, a little stunned by finding himself in that august company. "Um, ok."
Rachel said, "Chuck, perhaps you'll let me explain this one." Chuck nodded to her. "Sir, two LAPD detectives we've worked with before, Detectives Chen and Booker, brought us a lead on a national security issue. An investigative reporter here in Los Angeles was murdered a few days ago. One of the investigations he was involved in had to do with an American company possibly using a Vietnamese company as a cut out to transfer electronics to North Korea in violation of sanctions. We have no idea whether it's true or, if it is true, if that was the cause of his murder, as he was involved in several investigations. The detectives were told to give the matter to the FBI, but asked us if we could take it ourselves, having worked with us before. We'd like your authorization to look into it, Sir."
"Done. I'll have someone put it in writing for you," said Malone. "You need some FISA warrants or something to help you out?"
Rachel said, "Not yet, Sir. That's premature. We don't have enough to request FISA warrants against the American corporation. The reporter only had a single unnamed source inside the company."
"I thought you guys could get those warrants issued at the drop of a hat," said Malone, surprised.
"We have had tremendous success with our requests for them, yes, Sir. But the reason is that we always have rock solid back up for the request. I don't want to jeopardize our reputation with the Court by giving them anything less than that," said Rachel. "That would just make our lives more difficult going forward. When the time comes, I have the contacts at the Justice Department to get the applications submitted."
"Ok. That makes sense," said Malone.
"Our team can easily get into the computers of Binh Minh Trading Corp., the Vietnamese company. With the information we can access there, assuming there's anything to be found, we should be able to put together a decent request for a FISA warrant on the American company," explained Rachel. "But, Director, we might have to ask you for someone who can read Vietnamese and maybe North Korean if we can't rustle up someone up here."
"North Korean? Is that different than regular Korean?" asked Malone.
"Yes, Sir. The alphabets are slightly different," said Sarah, the linguistics expert. "Not big differences, but some."
"Ok. We can get you the experts you need if you can't find them locally," he said. "Just give me a call if you need someone."
"Will do, Sir. Thank you," Rachel said.
Chuck and Sarah looked at each other. This investigation was in good hands with Rachel and her team, obviously.
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Booker and Chen were five minutes early for their meeting with Captain Bill Wallace, a fixture in the famed Gangster Squad (more formally known as the Organized Crime Intelligence Division). He'd been assigned there as a detective early in his career and stayed there ever since, over thirty years. He was already at the job when both Booker and Chen were born. No one knew when he would put in his retirement papers and when asked would always reply, "What? You trying to get rid of me?" Younger members of the force would joke that they would likely end up retiring before Captain Wallace.
He was a gray-haired man in his sixties with a dad body and a world-weary air about him. Although most cops wore their 9mm pistol on their waist, he preferred an old-fashioned shoulder holster, the straps creasing his white dress shirt. From what they had heard about the man, he'd have preferred an old-fashioned .38 police special to a 9.
He waved them into his office, with a desk overflowing with papers and a couple of bookcases overflowing with books. A once-white coffee cup sat on the edge of the desk, stained from long use and infrequent washing.
"Come on in, guys. Sit down," he said.
"Thanks for meeting with us, Captain. I'm Detective Chen and my partner is Detective Booker."
The men shook hands. "Good to meet you," said Wallace. "You were there when Mauser was killed, right? Part of that clusterfuck."
"Yes, Sir. We were. But we were in another end of the building and didn't see what happened to him," answered Booker.
"Right, but word is you guys collared the only survivors," said the Captain.
"Yes, Sir. As it turned out, we did," said Booker. "Don't know what happened to those two afterwards, though. Feds took 'em and they disappeared. Last we ever heard about them. Some kind of intelligence matter, I guess." Together with Chuck and Sarah, this was the story they had prepared in case anyone asked them about Mauser and the homeless deaths. The truth, but not all of the truth.
"Yeah. Mauser was a good cop. It's a shame," said Wallace.
"Yes, Sir," said Chen, not meaning it.
"Anyway, Spangler tells me you want to know about the Acosta family. What's going on?"
"A journalist was looking into a transaction involving Acosta and a Swiss engineering company. He was murdered a couple of nights ago," explained Chen.
"I saw that in the papers. And you think Acosta had him popped?" asked Wallace.
"Don't know. It was one of several investigations he was working on and it could be any one of them that ends up connected with his death," said Booker with a shrug.
"Or an enemy from before with a grudge from an old article the vic wrote," added Chen.
"Jeez, you fellas got your hands full," said Wallace with a shake of his head.
"Yes, Sir. We could use any help we can get. At the moment, we were hoping you could tell us about the Acosta family. Save us from starting from scratch. Word is, you're the expert," said Booker.
"Yeah. I am. So, here goes. Joe Acosta was born and raised in Los Angeles and its environs more than a hundred years ago. Immigrant family. Mom and Dad from Sicily, first moved to New York and then did the whole cross-country thing. Joe, Guiseppe, was born here, but his older sister was born on the train on the way here. They say Kansas, but who the hell knows.
"Joe came of age during Prohibition and the Depression. Trying times for everyone. Like many, many people, they did what they had to in order to survive. Joe began moving booze. In the east, the booze was coming from the north, Canada. Here, from the south, Mexico. The border was porous – no shit, it's not much better today – and they could get large quantities of rum from the Caribbean through Mexico and tequila produced in Mexico itself into the country that way. Didn't take long for Joe to ally himself with other Sicilian families and set up a wide distribution network. Prohibition ended and World War Two happened.
"Joe joined the Marines and fought in the Pacific. Pretty clean military record. Commendations for valor. Wounded twice. Hero. Usual bullshit infractions. Drunk and fighting in town. Few days in the brig for overstaying a weekend pass with a Hawaiin call girl. Nothing any of us would be embarrassed about. Not at all.
"Anyway, Joe came back from the War and got down to business. He married a nice young girl shipped out to us from Chicago, Sicilian girl, Gini Gallo. So far as we know, no relationship to the East Coast Gallo crime family. Anyway, Gini started to push out Joe's babies. She had five before she died of cancer in 1974. Only two of the kids matter for the story, the other three are, or were, solid citizens and never had anything to do with their father's business.
"On the professional front, Joe used the money he'd made with booze to expand the businesses. Typical list of organized crime operations. Vice. Gambling, Extortion. Drugs. Arms trafficking. Smuggling. Money laundering. The normal shit. He got big and powerful and his son is now running the biggest crime family in Southern California.
"The two of Joe's kids that matter to the story are the two oldest, Guiseppe and Antonio, Joe, Jr. and Tony. Those guys were, early on, very interested in the business and wanted to take over from dad when he retired. Joe, Jr. joined the Marines like his dad and went to Vietnan. Died during the Siege of Khe Sahn along with a few hundred other Marines.
"Tony also joined the Marines – family tradition, I guess - and shipped out to Vietnam but was luckier than his brother and made it home from the war in one piece. Military record not as stellar as his dad's though. Got a dishonorable discharge for some dealings with a group of Laotian heroin smugglers. The military cops couldn't prove enough to lock him up in Leavenworth, but they booted him from the Marines anyway. He got married to a woman sent from Sicily in the early '70's, Nina Barbieri.
"Joe Senior died of a heart attack in 1980, leaving the business to Tony, who's been running it ever since. Same shit. Any crime he thinks he can get away with, he'll try. Latest is Medicare fraud. To be honest, I don't think he needs the money anymore. He's my age, mid 60's, and could retire peacefully. I think he just gets off on the thrill. He's got millions in legit investments to live off. Just loves getting one over on the normal chumps. It's like an ego thing, is what I've always thought. His way of showing to himself that he's still smarter than the system. Probably compensating for a really small dick or something." Wallace chuckled to himself.
"Has he ever been arrested? We ever nail him on something?" asked Booker.
"Yeah," said Wallace. "Once in the early '80's. Bullshit assault thing. He did a year out of a three year sentence. Seemed he was out again before the ink was dry on the conviction. We keep a really close eye on him, waiting for him to misstep, but his dad taught him well. He's pretty careful and we haven't been able to nail him yet for anything real."
"Any kids of his own? Next generation in the biz?" asked Booker. They knew a lot of this already from Peralta's file on Acosta, but that file had gaps.
"Four. Two of each flavor. The girls are straight and have nothing to do with the business, neither does the husband of the one girl who's married. The other daughter, Joan, doesn't even use the Acosta name. She goes by Joan Barbieri, her mom's maiden name. But the two sons, that's another story. They want into the business. Oldest is Michael. A fucking idiot. Seriously. Just plain stupid. The younger one is Peter. He's the one I worry about. Quiet. Studied finance at Wharton back east. Always seems to be watching without talking. Got the eyes, you know? The watchful eyes? Anyway, I expect him to be your challenge as the decades go by. Tony and I will both be long gone. It's you guys that will be facing Peter Acosta. Just a heads up, fellas." He shook his head sadly.
"As terrible as that concept is, thanks, Captain," said Chen.
"Connections to the national organization? The rest of the families?" asked Booker.
"Yeah. Normal stuff. Hasn't been a serious dispute between him and any of the other families since 1992 or so. And that one, we're told, was resolved without bloodshed by a Commission ruling. Seems to be one of the last things Gotti did before being locked up. Acosta is still represented on the Commission by the Chicago Outfit," said Wallace.
"What about this guy, James Robertson? What can you tell us about him?" asked Chen.
"Yeah. You heard about him," said Wallace, nodding his head.
"He was mentioned in the victim's file on Acosta," explained Chen.
"Yeah," said Wallace. "I've never met him. Supposed to be an Army vet. Reputed to be very dangerous. Very deadly. He's Tony's newest addition when he needs a tool of violence. We like him for a couple of hits over the last couple of years, but never got any evidence we could use. I tried to pull his military record but was told it's classified."
Booker and Chen glanced at each other for a moment.
Wallace continued, "What were the circumstance of the hit?"
"Back of the head at close range. Through a window from the backyard. Used a .45," said Booker.
"A .45?" said Wallace with surprise. "Yeah, that fits. The other hits we looked at for him were both with .45's. It fits. Can we compare slugs?"
"No matches in the system. Anyway, if he's that good, he'd be using a new weapon for each hit and tossing the last one," said Booker.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, he would," agreed Wallace, shaking his head in disappointment. "But sticking with a .45 is not exactly burying himself in anonymity. Everyone and their brother uses 9's now. A .45 screams signature."
"True enough," said Chen, nodding.
"Would Acosta order him to waste a journalist?" asked Booker.
"Sure. We suspect Tony for a dozen hits over the years. Again, never enough evidence to charge. Honestly, though, almost all are either rivals or internal guys," said Wallace.
"Internal?" asked Booker.
"Yeah," said Wallace. "Disloyalty has a high price to be paid in these organizations."
"Yeah," agreed Chen.
"But the journalist? Dude was a civilian. Would he still take him out?" asked Booker.
After a few moments' consideration, Wallace said, "I think he would, but it would have to be really fucking important to him to do that. Something like that generates a ton of heat, as you can see. Tony's not fond of heat. What was the guy looking into?"
"Joint venture with the Swiss company to buy a building in the Valley," said Chen.
"Buy a building? What the hell?" asked Wallace. "Since when is that something to murder a guy over?"
"No idea, Sir. Guess that's part of the investigation. We've read about the building and the partners to the deal. We can't see anything that smells bad," admitted Booker, with a shrug.
"Humm," said Wallace. He tapped his fingers on the cluttered desk for a few moments. "How about we go ask Tony?"
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A/N2: Not too much of a rabbit hole here, but...Korean is an alphabetic language, unlike both Chinese and Japanese. Those languages are pictographic, where a symbol represents a word. An alphabetic language, like English for example, each letter (generally) represents a phonetic sound. The North Korean alphabet varies slightly from the South Korean alphabet. I have to, one day, look into why the Koreans developed an entirely different written language system than their neighbors.
A/N3: The LAPD Gangster Squad is, as my long-time readers might expect, real. Formed in 1946, after the War, to keep the East Coast mobsters (Mafia) out of Los Angeles, it had only mixed success. Bill Wallace would have joined in the early 1970's, by all accounts a wild and wooly time in Los Angeles law enforcement. No wonder he's world-weary.
A/N4: At least according to the internet, there is still a Mafia Commission providing governance for and among the various families.
A/N5: Thank you all for the support reflected in last week's reviews. It was almost overwhelmingly positive and encouraging about this arc. I will do my best to keep this one interesting and not abuse your trust. Thanks. Keep in touch, guys. I do love it.