Rage of Angels

“Very little went on there that I did not know about.”

“And criminal activities were involved?”

“Yes, Senator.”

“Would you describe the nature of some of those activities?”

For the next two hours, Thomas Colfax spoke. His voice was steady and sure. He named names, places and dates, and at times his recital was so fascinating that the people in the room forgot where they were, caught up in the horror stories Colfax was telling.

He talked of murder contracts given out, of witnesses killed so they could not testify; of arson, mayhem, white slavery—it was a catalogue out of Hieronymus Bosch. For the first time, the innermost operation of the largest crime syndicate in the world was being exposed, laid bare for everyone to see.

Occasionally, Adam or Robert Di Silva would ask a question, prompting Thomas Colfax, having him fill in gaps wherever necessary.

The session was going far better than Adam could have wished when suddenly, near the end, with only a few minutes left, the catastrophe occurred.

One of the men on the grand jury had asked a question about a money-laundering operation.

“That happened about two years ago. Michael kept me away from some of the later stuff. Jennifer Parker handled that.”

Adam froze.

Robert Di Silva said, “Jennifer Parker?” There was a bursting eagerness in his question.

“Yes, sir.” A vindictive note crept into Thomas Colfax’s voice. “She’s the Organization’s house counsel now.”

Adam wanted desperately to quiet him, to keep what he was saying off the record, but it was too late. Di Silva was going for the jugular vein and nothing would stop him.

“Tell us about her,” Di Silva said tightly.

Thomas Colfax went on. “Jennifer Parker’s involved in setting up dummy corporations, laundering money…”

Adam tried to break in. “I don’t—”

“…murder.”

The word hung in the room.

Adam broke the silence. “We—we have to stick to the facts, Mr. Colfax. You’re not trying to tell us that Jennifer Parker was involved in a killing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. She ordered a hit on a man who kidnapped her son. The man’s name was Frank Jackson. She told Moretti to kill him and he did.”

There was an excited murmur of voices.

Her son! Adam was thinking: There has to be some mistake.

He stammered, “I think—I think we have enough evidence without hearsay. We—”

“It’s not hearsay,” Thomas Colfax assured him. “I was in the room with Moretti when she called.”

Adam’s hands under the table were pressing together so hard that they were drained of blood. “The witness looks tired. I think that’s enough for this session.”

Robert Di Silva said to the special grand jury, “I’d like to make a suggestion about procedure…”

Adam was not listening. He was wondering where Jennifer was. She had disappeared again. Adam had repeatedly tried to find her. But now he was desperate. He had to reach her, and quickly.

52

The largest undercover operation in law enforcement in the United States began to move ahead.

The Federal Strike Force Against Organized Crime and Racketeering worked side by side with the FBI, the Postal and Customs Services, the Internal Revenue Service, the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, and half a dozen other agencies.

The scope of the investigation included murder, conspiracy to commit murder, racketeering, extortion, income tax evasion, union frauds, arson, loan-sharking and drugs.

Thomas Colfax had given them the key to a Pandora’s box of crime and corruption that was going to help wipe out a major part of organized crime.

Michael Moretti’s Family would be hardest hit, but the evidence touched dozens of other Families around the country.

Across the United States and abroad, government agents were quietly questioning friends and business associates of the men on their lists. Agents in Turkey, Mexico, San Salvador, Marseilles and Honduras were liaising with their counterparts, giving them information on illegal activities taking place in those countries. Small-time crooks were pulled into the net, and when they talked they were given their freedom in exchange for evidence against the top crime figures. It was all being handled discreetly, so that the main quarry would have no warning of the storm that was about to break over their heads.

As chairman of the Senate Investigating Committee, Adam Warner received a steady stream of visitors at his home in Georgetown, and the sessions in his study often lasted until the small hours of the morning. There was little doubt that when this was over and Michael Moretti’s Organization was broken, the presidential race would be an easy victory for Adam.

He should have been a happy man. He was miserable, facing the greatest moral crisis of his life. Jennifer Parker was deeply involved, and Adam had to warn her, to tell her to escape while she still had a chance. And yet, he had another obligation: an obligation to the committee that bore his name, an obligation to the United States Senate itself. He was Jennifer’s prosecutor. How could he be her protector? If he warned her and it was discovered, it would destroy the credibility of his investigating committee and everything it had accomplished. It would destroy his future, his family.

Adam had been stunned by Colfax’s mention of Jennifer having a child.

He knew he had to speak to Jennifer.

Adam dialed her office number and a secretary said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Adams, Miss Parker is not in.”

“It’s—it’s very important. Do you know where I can reach her?”