Read Online Killing The Rat (An Organized Crime Thriller) by Dani Amore - Free Book Online
Authors: Dani Amore
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a missing businessman. So Tommy had been smart enough to book the hotel on a stolen credit card that had never been used since its acquisition, but it hadn’t mattered.
The system used by FBI for tracing stolen cards was similar to the systems used by the credit card companies themselves. If a card was reported stolen, the minute it was used, authorities were contacted and told exactly when and where and for how much the card had been swiped. It was a simple process, really. And seemingly obvious, but many felons found that out the hard way.
Rierdon was at her desk, poring over transcripts of her interviews with Abrocci when the call came in. She was angry, tired and frustrated. The notes hadn’t given her any ideas she didn’t already have. And it all reminded her what an absolutely shit of a human being went by the name of Tommy Abrocci.
She was, however, slightly surprised by the turn-of-events. She had figured Abrocci, although clearly a stupid asshole, was at least smarter than this. If he had truly wanted to get away from the FBI, to disappear, the first thing he should have tried to do was to get a fake i.d. and then new credit cards under those false identities. The FBI would have no record of those cards. Unless, of course, they already knew about the identity.
Amanda got over her surprise quickly enough, and found the humor in the situation. Tommy fucking Abrocci, fugitive from the FBI, running from one of the most feared Mob bosses in the country, just ambles into a hotel in Ann Arbor—the Prescott no less—Amanda saw on the printout she’d been handed, and starts running a tab. She chuckled at the idea. It was one of the best parts of her job. Wiping the smug expressions off of criminal’s faces. She imagined Tommy was wearing a shit-eating grin a mile wide right now. God, it was going to be fun and satisfying to throw his fat ass into the can.
No wonder the prison system was packed to the gills. Most of these guys were incredibly stupid.
Amanda realized she had to get a noose around Abrocci fast. Even though it looked like he was settling in for the night at the Prescott, she wasn’t about to take any chances. It was time to slap this Italian sausage on the fryer.
She was just picking up the phone when Vawter walked in. In his hand was a matching copy of the printout on her desk. She groaned inwardly. Here it comes.
“Fortuitous,” he said.
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
“It’d be a great way to ring in your promotion- bring down Vincenzo Romano, the elder statesman of the Detroit mafia.” His grin was one hundred percent synthetic, as unnatural as a tattoo.
“Something I can help you with, sir?” Rierdon asked, her best efforts to keep the sarcasm from her voice falling well short of their mark.
“You lost Abrocci once, don’t lose him again.”
“Care to detail how exactly I lost him the first time? He bolted, but not while under surveillance.”
“Why not?’
“Sir?”
“Why wasn’t he under surveillance?”
“Put surveillance on a snitch? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“It’s been done before.”
“Purposely?” The sarcasm was out in full force now. She couldn’t help it. This guy was left over from the old boy system of the sixties and seventies. Like grout on bathroom tile that just couldn’t be removed no matter how much they scrubbed the public image of the Bureau. You just have to rip the tile out at this point.
“Why didn’t you bring him in sooner?” he asked.
“We were about to.”
“But...?” he said.
“But nothing. He was wrapping things up. He had the final set of tapes he’d made and was ready to turn them over. We were supposed to meet and he never showed. The Romano compound looked like a wasp’s nest tipped upside down.”
Vawter shook his head. “What’d he do?”
“No way of knowing until we bring him in.”
Vawter nodded. “Good luck, Amanda,” he said. “A lot’s riding on this.”
“I’ll try to remember
The system used by FBI for tracing stolen cards was similar to the systems used by the credit card companies themselves. If a card was reported stolen, the minute it was used, authorities were contacted and told exactly when and where and for how much the card had been swiped. It was a simple process, really. And seemingly obvious, but many felons found that out the hard way.
Rierdon was at her desk, poring over transcripts of her interviews with Abrocci when the call came in. She was angry, tired and frustrated. The notes hadn’t given her any ideas she didn’t already have. And it all reminded her what an absolutely shit of a human being went by the name of Tommy Abrocci.
She was, however, slightly surprised by the turn-of-events. She had figured Abrocci, although clearly a stupid asshole, was at least smarter than this. If he had truly wanted to get away from the FBI, to disappear, the first thing he should have tried to do was to get a fake i.d. and then new credit cards under those false identities. The FBI would have no record of those cards. Unless, of course, they already knew about the identity.
Amanda got over her surprise quickly enough, and found the humor in the situation. Tommy fucking Abrocci, fugitive from the FBI, running from one of the most feared Mob bosses in the country, just ambles into a hotel in Ann Arbor—the Prescott no less—Amanda saw on the printout she’d been handed, and starts running a tab. She chuckled at the idea. It was one of the best parts of her job. Wiping the smug expressions off of criminal’s faces. She imagined Tommy was wearing a shit-eating grin a mile wide right now. God, it was going to be fun and satisfying to throw his fat ass into the can.
No wonder the prison system was packed to the gills. Most of these guys were incredibly stupid.
Amanda realized she had to get a noose around Abrocci fast. Even though it looked like he was settling in for the night at the Prescott, she wasn’t about to take any chances. It was time to slap this Italian sausage on the fryer.
She was just picking up the phone when Vawter walked in. In his hand was a matching copy of the printout on her desk. She groaned inwardly. Here it comes.
“Fortuitous,” he said.
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
“It’d be a great way to ring in your promotion- bring down Vincenzo Romano, the elder statesman of the Detroit mafia.” His grin was one hundred percent synthetic, as unnatural as a tattoo.
“Something I can help you with, sir?” Rierdon asked, her best efforts to keep the sarcasm from her voice falling well short of their mark.
“You lost Abrocci once, don’t lose him again.”
“Care to detail how exactly I lost him the first time? He bolted, but not while under surveillance.”
“Why not?’
“Sir?”
“Why wasn’t he under surveillance?”
“Put surveillance on a snitch? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“It’s been done before.”
“Purposely?” The sarcasm was out in full force now. She couldn’t help it. This guy was left over from the old boy system of the sixties and seventies. Like grout on bathroom tile that just couldn’t be removed no matter how much they scrubbed the public image of the Bureau. You just have to rip the tile out at this point.
“Why didn’t you bring him in sooner?” he asked.
“We were about to.”
“But...?” he said.
“But nothing. He was wrapping things up. He had the final set of tapes he’d made and was ready to turn them over. We were supposed to meet and he never showed. The Romano compound looked like a wasp’s nest tipped upside down.”
Vawter shook his head. “What’d he do?”
“No way of knowing until we bring him in.”
Vawter nodded. “Good luck, Amanda,” he said. “A lot’s riding on this.”
“I’ll try to remember
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