Read Online Forced Entry by Stephen Solomita - Free Book Online Page B

have taken the buildings, only the Pakistani people have been evicted. Tell me why this is.”
    Rosenkrantz smiled indulgently. “Please,” he said. “Your name. What should I call you.”
    “Muhammad Assiz.”
    “Muhammad, I’ve been in this business for fifteen years and I have never been involved in a deal this big where the new landlord didn’t check leases. The first thing any landlord wants to know is who is living in which unit and are they living there legally.”
    “So he could get a rent increase,” Birnbaum snorted.
    Al Rosenkrantz accepted a cup of coffee and sipped at it gently, before answering. “A lease,” he began in his most reverential tones, “is a profound legal document. A lease is a contract that defines the conditions of a binding, long-term relationship. The lease is so important to urban life, that New York City has created a special court, the Tenant-Landlord Court, to enforce the provisions of leases. I tell you a landlord has as much right to require that his tenants live within the lease, as the tenants have to demand the landlord honor the obligations specified in the lease.” He paused, deliberately seeking out Myron Gold who was staring at Mike Birnbaum as if at a cockroach on his kitchen table. When he got a nod from Gold, an acknowledgment of his irrefutable logic, he began again. “But these are all problems associated with a new relationship. Believe me, six months from now every one of the empty apartments will have been rerented. A new super—one who can stay sober long enough to fix those locks when the savages break them—will be in place. Everything will be returned to normal and you’ll be laughing at your suspicions. Look at the other buildings on the sidestreets. We’ve brought them through the transition without a hitch. Just give it a little time.”
    Andre Almeyda, restraining his wife, spoke up first. “Mr. Rosenkrantz.”
    “Please, call me Al.”
    “No, Mr. Rosenkrantz. I am Cuban. Born in Cuba and I learn in Cuba that not everyone who shakes your hand is a friend. I want to know why you allow these whores to move into our building? I raise my little girls to believe in our Lord Jesus Christ and I don’t want them to see such things.”
    “Good. I’m glad you brought that up.” Accepting a slice of cake from Sylvia Kaufman, he flashed her a quick smile. He could feel the sweat forming in the roots of his thick, black hair; it was the one thing he couldn’t control. He took a quick bite of the cake, savoring the tang of the lemon icing, before answering. “When I first heard of these alleged prostitutes, I went into the files and personally checked the lease on 1F. The unit is currently rented to a man named Sal Ragozzo. One of our field men paid a visit to 1F just last week and found Mr. Ragozzo in residence. According to the lease, we cannot evict just because the tenant has roommates. Now, if the police make an arrest and get a conviction, we can have them removed without a problem. That would be a clear violation of the morals clause in the lease. But without some proof, I believe we’d lose in Tenant-Landlord Court.” Quickly, with a little sigh of disgust, he wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief. “Still, as a demonstration of Precision Management’s good faith, if you can bring us a petition with…let’s say twenty names on it, we’ll serve Mr. Ragozzo with an eviction notice and see if he decides to fight. Meanwhile, I do feel that you should demand police help. Put some heat on these scum right away. One thing I personally guarantee, Precision Management will double-check the references of all new tenants. There will be no repeat of this unfortunate situation, which, I should add, was inherited by Precision Management. Apartment 1F was rented to Mr. Ragozzo by Morris Katz three weeks before the closing.”
    Pat Sheehan watched Al Rosenkrantz’s performance with private amazement. Sylvia Kaufman’s assessment of Pat as gay was