Apaches - Lorenzo Carcaterra [76]
They faced a dark future, one crammed with regrets, memories, and could-have-beens.
Boomer knew it.
He was betting they would too.
“Dead babies,” Boomer finally said when every face in the room was still enough to focus only on his answer. And his answer got everyone’s attention.
“How?” Dead-Eye asked quietly.
“She finds a baby any way she can,” Boomer said. “After our experience with Malcolm and Junior, we know there’s no shortage of scum out there willing to lift a kid.”
“The dealers work the runaways,” Rev. Jim said. “Always have. Turn ’em on to the junk, then throw ’em to the streets to earn what they spend on smack. Some of the girls get pregnant, they carry through and sell the kid. But that market’s not big enough to supply a whole team of mules.”
“This crack shit’s changed all the rules,” Boomer said, standing and resting his hands on the table. “And Lucia’s got every space covered. She’s got the runaways, but instead of having ’em turn tricks, she has her crew get them pregnant and hand the babies over to her.”
“Probably buys whatever else she needs on the black market,” Mrs. Columbo said. “You could move five, maybe ten thousand babies a year that way.”
“At the least,” Boomer said. “And when all else fails, she lifts them. Home invasions, backseat of a car, front end of a stroller. Anywhere, anyplace, Lucia’s crew will make the grab.”
“How much she moving?” Geronimo asked. “Cash wise.”
“The feds put a rough estimate on it of at least two hundred and fifty million,” Boomer said.
“A year?” Pins asked.
“A month,” Boomer said.
There was a respectful silence before Dead-Eye asked, “What about the babies? How’s she work that angle?”
“She keeps the kids until they’re about six, seven months old. Then they kill them.”
“I don’t know if I want to hear this part,” Mrs. Columbo said, downing her scotch and wishing she had another.
“Didn’t warm my insides either,” Boomer said. “But it’s what’s out there and what’s gotta be stopped.”
“They use the dead babies as mules,” Rev. Jim said. “Cut ’em open, empty them out, fill them with cocaine for the flight up, and cash for the flight down.”
“You knew about this?” Pins asked, putting down his empty bottle of beer.
“I’ve heard rumors,” Rev. Jim said. “Never knew if they were legit.”
“They’re legit all right,” Boomer said. “You get on a plane sitting next to a woman holding a sleeping baby in her arms, you don’t even think twice.”
“Probably smile and tell her what a beautiful baby she has,” Dead-Eye said. “Don’t even notice that the baby slept through the entire flight.”
“I grew up with hard people,” Nunzio said. “Tough people. Some were criminals, ran numbers, owned brothels, couple shot a guy or two. But I don’t know any who would turn this way.”
“Where are the feds on this?” Mrs. Columbo asked.
“They’re on it,” Boomer said. “As best they can be. But you can’t convict what you can’t nail down. And it’s not the mules they want. It’s Lucia.”
“What do we know about her?” Dead-Eye asked. “Besides her little habits of killing babies and burying husbands.”
“I’ve got private access to whatever they have,” Boomer said. “And through them, the locals too. Files, surveillance, taps. What I get, I’ll pass on to each of you. It’s not a lot, but it should be more than enough to get us started.”
“Started on what, Boomer?” Geronimo asked. The muscles in his face were rigid.
“On bringing Lucia and her little crew of babysitters down.”
There was another silence in the room. Then Mrs. Columbo gave out with a mirthless laugh.
“There are cops out there for this,” she