Read Online Campanelli: Sentinel by Frederick H. Crook - Free Book Online Page B

hair from his forehead.
                  “James Antony,” Frank said, drilling his eyes into the lawyer’s face as he searched for some type of reaction. The man did not give  so much as a blink, as if the man knew exactly who the policemen were there for and had steeled himself for it.
                  “Antony is my client. I processed his bail the other day. What’s he done now?”
                  “Same incident, only now we have him on attempted murder. His bail’s been revoked as you probably already know.”
                  “Really?” Beritoni exuded in surprise. “I had not heard.”
                  “When’s the last time you saw him?” Williams asked.
                  “Well now,” Gianfranco sat back as his eyes searched the ceiling, “I’ve not seen Mister Antony since Friday morning, nor have I spoken to him since that time.”
                  Frank eyed the man steadily and though Beritoni blinked a few times, he wore a mild mannered, calm expression upon his face and did not look away from him. Campanelli detested attorneys and he felt that this one was simply a good actor and was leaving out quite a bit of truth.
                  “Did you have many dealings with the man, Mister Beritoni?”
                  “None,” the lawyer stated flatly, “he was a new client.”
                  “ Was ?” Frank stepped upon. “Don’t you mean is ?”
                  Beritoni blinked again, harder this time and shifted his eyes to Williams then back to Campanelli. “Semantics, sir. We do not typically represent career criminals. I assumed that it was a one-time assignment.”
                  “Why did you take his case, Mister Beritoni? Why are other attorneys from this firm representing his two accomplices?”
                  “Not that I have to answer that, detective, but it was a directive from a named partner.”
                  “Del Taylor,” Campanelli provided, not just guessing but outwardly stating it as a fact. “He just called you in the dead of night and sent you off to bail him out in a matter of a couple hours. That’s some service for a new client.”
                  “He had the money to put up. I merely represented him.” Beritoni refolded his hands upon his abdomen, tilted his head contemplatively to one side and rocked gently in his chair.
                  “Your employer is the personal attorney to Fillipo Ignatola, the boss of the Chicago Mafia,” Frank spoke deliberately, measuring each syllable before punching it out to his listener.
                  “All right,” Gianfranco bellowed and stood, “that’s enough of this. I have no knowledge of any client of ours being in league with organized crime.”
                  Frank remained seated as did Marcus.
                  “Perhaps that’s a topic for another time,” Frank said after a moment of staring hard into Beritoni’s face. He stood and reached into his sport coat pocket. “This is my card,” he said and placed it on the desk. “If you hear from Antony, advise him to turn himself in then call me.”
                  “I would do that in any case,” Beritoni proclaimed firmly and wished them a surly ‘good morning’.
                  Frank and Marcus stepped slowly back to the elevator and headed down. Both men knew better than to speak aloud in a building suspected of being connected to organized crime and were aware that devices existed that could snatch the transmissions of bio-electronic implants right out of the air. They were expensive, especially these days, and older models were preferred as they were superior in quality. Admiring the old structure’s beauty on the way out, the two did not communicate until they reached the