Joseph D’Antoni
Lethal Authority
Chapter 1
A year had passed since Wade Hanna returned from his perilous submarine deployment. Early school problems had already kept him back a year in grade school. The unexpected recent call to active submarine duty caused yet another three-month delay from reaching his goal of a high school diploma. School delays seemed behind him now as Wade relished the thought of finally graduating from high school and moving on with his life.
But Wade had more to worry about than final exams. His last year was spent working undercover as an inscribed agent for the New Orleans Police Department which put him squarely on the wrong side of now imprisoned New Orleans mob boss T.J. Coletta. He was on Coletta’s hit list and whoever remained of Coletta’s splintered gang had orders to shoot Hanna on sight. A handsome payout was waiting for anyone who brought him down. Wade went about his school classes and a few social activities in a quiet manner always looking over his shoulder for the unwelcomed intervention from the mob.
This was no way for anyone to live especially someone in their late teens. Wade knew his life had to change and one of those changes had to include less exposure to organized crime figures from his former undercover work. He realized he could no longer depend on luck and divine intervention to keep him alive. Whatever fate had kept him breathing to this point wouldn’t always be there to pull his butt out of the fire.
He had kept in touch with his now-friend and former handler Jake Pisano who headed up the Organized Crime Division of the NOPD. In his last conversation with Jake, he learned that mob boss T.J. Coletta was seriously ill in prison. Since Coletta was the reason why Wade’s name was on the mob’s hit list, perhaps his illness — or death — would soon remove this uncomfortable threat. All Wade had to do was wait for his problem to go away.
As Wade waited, Jake Pisano was busy on the other side of town investigating a new crime wave. A phone call from an old classmate suddenly brought Pisano back to an earlier time when he and Wade had worked on the same case
Pisano was deep in thought when his phone buzzed, breaking his concentration. It was his secretary on the intercom line.
“Assistant Prison Director Mark Elbray from Angola is holding on line two.”
“Hi, Mark, it’s good to hear from you. How are things at Angola?”
“I’m good, thanks. All the usual disgruntled inmates. The reason for my call is that one of our guests has requested to see you.”
“Who might that be?”
“Your old friend, T.J. Coletta.”
“He’s not my friend, but how’s he doing?”
“Not well. He has stage four stomach cancer. It doesn’t look like he’s going to last much longer. They operated last week and just sewed him back up. The cancer was too advanced to do anything.”
“How long does he have?”
“They’re talking a matter of a few days. He’s already been given last rites. Twice he’s asked to see you. Says it’s important.”
“What does he want with me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to confess, or maybe he has something useful for your old case. If you decide to come, let me know. I’ll have a pass ready for you at the hospital gate.”
“Okay. Let me give it some thought.”
From that moment on Jake’s curiosity stuck to him like molasses on cornbread regarding what Coletta had to say. There were lots of unanswered questions about where Coletta’s money had gone. The investigation and prosecution team had been able to trace the money up to a point, but were never able to discover the location of his stash. They’d never found any evidence of Coletta’s local political connections or been able to track the payoffs.
Unanswered questions had bothered Jake since the trial. He’d gotten his man, but was never satisfied because they hadn’t found the money or the larger supporting cast that had allowed Coletta’s operation to prosper.
Jake couldn’t let go of the thought that Coletta might now be willing to give up the last piece of that puzzle. When he called his friend Mark back at Angola, Jake had already rearranged his schedule so he could spend the day after tomorrow at Angola.
Coletta was a tough, hardened criminal, who had murdered dozens of people. He deserved harsher treatment than the easy life sentence he’d gotten by slick lawyering. The few years behind bars before becoming ill didn’t begin to pay for the crimes he’d committed. Pisano felt no sympathy for Coletta — only frustration that he hadn’t spent more of his life’s sentence in prison before his illness.
Jake reviewed the case file and made a list of all his unanswered questions, which kept rolling around in his mind the entire 136-mile drive to “The Farm.” The trip gave Pisano a rare opportunity to think in silence. He made good use of his privacy, reviewing the trial and the troubling unanswered questions that lingered. Where had the money gone? He wondered which politicians Coletta had in his pocket, and drooled over what evidence he might uncover to prosecute them. Who else of the out-of-state organized crime kingpins worked with Coletta, and what evidence did he have on them?
In addition to the questions and evidence, Pisano wanted several of his men removed from Coletta’s hit list, including his friend and former undercover operative, Wade Hanna.
Perhaps this trip would involve little more than listening to a long confession of Coletta’s sins, but he had doubts. He couldn’t see Coletta getting religious even in his hour of death. Coletta probably wanted something from him, but Pisano couldn’t imagine what that might be. Whatever game Coletta intended to play, though, Pisano wasn’t going to be a player.
The two hadn’t seen each other since the trial, and there was no love lost between them. It was Pisano who had stung his operation and brought the mobster and his organization down. It was Pisano and his cohort Hanna who had used Coletta’s wife to buttonhole other members and put them in prison for life.
Jake kept wondering what, if anything, Coletta might want in return for his cooperation. Coletta didn’t have any leverage and nothing to bargain with, or did he?
This visit would not be the first time Jake had seen criminals on their death beds. They often told the strangest of tales, including bizarre confessions, hoping to avoid eternal damnation. He was anxious to see what Coletta had planned.
The Farm hadn’t changed much since Pisano’s last trip three months earlier on another matter. Tall stalks of corn had been cut clear to the river. Jake gazed out at the landscape, realizing how beautiful this property must have been as a former cotton plantation at the turn of the century. Reflections flashed off the Mississippi River as it meandered like a silver ribbon down and across three sides of the property.
The river framed an almost perfect setting, except for the high barbed-wire electrified fences surrounding the prison buildings. Even if you ignored the fences, you’d still get a bad taste in your mouth from its notorious residents — the murderers, rapists, and thieves — who occupied those buildings.
As he approached the East Gate of the prison, Pisano’s mind was somewhere around the turn of the century. He enjoyed the afternoon sunset as he passed through the barbed-wire enclosure into what locals called the “Alcatraz of the South.”
As he headed toward the hospital building, though, Pisano’s mood changed. He thought about all the criminals he’d had a hand in putting in this institution. None deserved it more than T.J. Coletta.
Recalling Coletta’s vicious killings of nineteen innocent people, and the ordered hits of several dozen more, including some of his own men, caused Jake’s blood to boil. He wasn’t interested in seeing Coletta for any other reason than to get information on unsolved crimes, dirty politicians, and the money they never found before his trial. And, of course, getting the contract hits removed on his men.