it. Wouldn’t you agree, sir?” O’Malley’s calm demeanor kept pace with Johnson’s growing anger.
The pent-up tension of the room became even more restrictive, and some of the men were embarrassed that their weekly meetings had come to heated exchanges. Everyone remained silent. Johnson felt he had no choice. The federal employee slammed his briefing folder shut, stuffed it into his bag and headed for the door.
“Sir, I have a full agenda, and no time for childish ideas. I’ll read a copy of the mimeo on the rest of the meeting. Good day, gentlemen.” Johnson made a grandstand exit.
O’Malley remained sitting with his hands folded in front of him on the conference table. A second civilian, sitting at the far end of the table, broke the silence.
“Sir, I know Frank Hogan’s office as well as anyone. I don’t know that they’re going to be in a big hurry to reveal their mob sources. Stoolies are their primary source of success in the courtroom. That’s how Dewey got to Dutch Schultz and it’s the only way he could nail Luciano.”
“Jim, do you think the prosecutor’s office will work with us?” MacFall had already come to the conclusion that it was worth a shot.
“Sir, they are very protective of their sources of information. It gives them tremendous leeway in the court room. But, given how critical our situation is…” O’Malley left his sentence hanging as he realised the direction it was taking.
“Very well. Are there any other suggestions, gentlemen? Lady?” MacFall asked, as the meeting pressed on.
“Yes, sir.” It was the Commander. “I’ve drawn up a plan, along with a rotating schedule for a surveillance operation, that I’d like you to look at, sir.”
“What is it?” asked the Captain, as he was handed the folder containing the details of the proposed operation.
“It’s a plan to place agents on some of the strategically located skyscrapers overlooking the waterfront. They’ll be issued binos and a hand radio, and pull six-hour shifts. They can watch for any suspicious activity and radio it in.”
“What happens at night when it’s too dark to see, Commander?” asked MacFall, as he flipped through the plan outline.
“Uh… they, er, pack up and go home, sir,” came the resigned answer. Nobody laughed.
“Sounds like a good stop-gap measure, Commander.” He handed back the folder. “See that it’s put into action.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else?”
The agents sensed the end of the meeting was at hand, and began to pack up. The Captain called one last time for input and then reminded various members of the group of different details requiring attention, before adjourning.
“Tomorrow, zero seven, sharp. O’Malley, need to talk to you.”
As the men filed through the door, MacFall came up behind O’Malley, who was last in line, and spoke to him. “Lieutenant, I’m heading across town, walk with me to the elevators. I want to talk to you.”
The puzzled young officer complied, and when the duo were clear of the office and out of earshot of the secretaries, O’Malley spoke first.
“Sir, I apologise. I know I was out of line, but that dumpy bastard really gets my goat with his bureaucratic attitude. I don’t mean to ruffle feathers, it’s just…”
He was cut off in mid-sentence as the CO raised his hand, displaying the same smile he had worn half an hour ago. “I’m glad you ruffled his feathers, Jim. Johnson doesn’t make much of a contribution, but we’re stuck with him until he retires next January. Just don’t make it a habit.”
“Thank you, sir, I won’t.”
“Anyway, that’s not why we’re talking.”
“What is it, sir?”
“If we’re going to do this thing, we need to approach Hogan’s office in the right light. At all costs, they must not know how grave the situation is. Someone from here will have to contact someone from there. We’ll have to do it fairly soon, and I’d like that someone to be you.”
O’Malley
The pent-up tension of the room became even more restrictive, and some of the men were embarrassed that their weekly meetings had come to heated exchanges. Everyone remained silent. Johnson felt he had no choice. The federal employee slammed his briefing folder shut, stuffed it into his bag and headed for the door.
“Sir, I have a full agenda, and no time for childish ideas. I’ll read a copy of the mimeo on the rest of the meeting. Good day, gentlemen.” Johnson made a grandstand exit.
O’Malley remained sitting with his hands folded in front of him on the conference table. A second civilian, sitting at the far end of the table, broke the silence.
“Sir, I know Frank Hogan’s office as well as anyone. I don’t know that they’re going to be in a big hurry to reveal their mob sources. Stoolies are their primary source of success in the courtroom. That’s how Dewey got to Dutch Schultz and it’s the only way he could nail Luciano.”
“Jim, do you think the prosecutor’s office will work with us?” MacFall had already come to the conclusion that it was worth a shot.
“Sir, they are very protective of their sources of information. It gives them tremendous leeway in the court room. But, given how critical our situation is…” O’Malley left his sentence hanging as he realised the direction it was taking.
“Very well. Are there any other suggestions, gentlemen? Lady?” MacFall asked, as the meeting pressed on.
“Yes, sir.” It was the Commander. “I’ve drawn up a plan, along with a rotating schedule for a surveillance operation, that I’d like you to look at, sir.”
“What is it?” asked the Captain, as he was handed the folder containing the details of the proposed operation.
“It’s a plan to place agents on some of the strategically located skyscrapers overlooking the waterfront. They’ll be issued binos and a hand radio, and pull six-hour shifts. They can watch for any suspicious activity and radio it in.”
“What happens at night when it’s too dark to see, Commander?” asked MacFall, as he flipped through the plan outline.
“Uh… they, er, pack up and go home, sir,” came the resigned answer. Nobody laughed.
“Sounds like a good stop-gap measure, Commander.” He handed back the folder. “See that it’s put into action.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else?”
The agents sensed the end of the meeting was at hand, and began to pack up. The Captain called one last time for input and then reminded various members of the group of different details requiring attention, before adjourning.
“Tomorrow, zero seven, sharp. O’Malley, need to talk to you.”
As the men filed through the door, MacFall came up behind O’Malley, who was last in line, and spoke to him. “Lieutenant, I’m heading across town, walk with me to the elevators. I want to talk to you.”
The puzzled young officer complied, and when the duo were clear of the office and out of earshot of the secretaries, O’Malley spoke first.
“Sir, I apologise. I know I was out of line, but that dumpy bastard really gets my goat with his bureaucratic attitude. I don’t mean to ruffle feathers, it’s just…”
He was cut off in mid-sentence as the CO raised his hand, displaying the same smile he had worn half an hour ago. “I’m glad you ruffled his feathers, Jim. Johnson doesn’t make much of a contribution, but we’re stuck with him until he retires next January. Just don’t make it a habit.”
“Thank you, sir, I won’t.”
“Anyway, that’s not why we’re talking.”
“What is it, sir?”
“If we’re going to do this thing, we need to approach Hogan’s office in the right light. At all costs, they must not know how grave the situation is. Someone from here will have to contact someone from there. We’ll have to do it fairly soon, and I’d like that someone to be you.”
O’Malley
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