It is on the opposite side of the street from number
45. Once there, Jack opened the drivers door, stepped out, and
walked to the rear of the taxi. He opened the trunk lid and I took out
my carry-on. I handed him three one dollar bills. This was supposed
to simulate fifty dollars: two twenties and a ten. The payment is acted
out in the unlikely event that Mo is waiting for me in the lobby of
45. MO would see me pay the taxi driver for the trip from Newark Airport.
taxi drove off, leaving me on my own. I crossed the street and entered
45. I walked to the bank of three elevators. Waiting with me were two
people, one of them was an agent. When the elevator door opened, we
walked into the car. I pressed eight, the floor where the travel agency
is situated. The doors closed and the car rose to the eighth floor.
the elevator, I turned left toward the office. I noticed another agent
in the hallway. I am seeing agents all over, and this gave me a strange
sense of security. Reaching the office door, I turned the door knob
and pushed into the office, or at least that was what I tried to do.
The door wouldnt budge. It was locked. I knocked on the door,
all the while wondering what was going on. Because I got no answer,
I began thinking that MO was not in the office. I didnt know what
to do. I was angry, furious! I spoke into the wire.
screwed up! My words were vitriolic. Your fucking UPS agents
made him skittish! Hes bolted! MO is gone! I am outraged
at this point.
deciding to cooperateagreeing to make a controlled delivery, flying
from Chicago to New York, making two monitored phone calls, wearing
a wire, participating in the planning, and mentally preparing myself
for the physical danger inherent in this operation, MO was gone! The
plan is kaput.
there, feeling like a total fool, I recalled what a friend told me years
ago: The more intelligent a person is, the more he has to adjust.
I felt that I was adjusting all over the place but getting no relief.
But thinking about what he said to me gradually assuaged my anger, my
fury. I walked to the elevators, punched in the down button, and spoke
into the wire.
Perhaps MO went out for cigarettes, or a bite to eat, I said as a way to calm myself down further.
going downstairs and wait in front of the entrance.
spoke into the wire. Peter? Im going to beep MO and try
to locate him. If you dont want me to, have an agent pass by and
tell me so.
agent approached me. I felt that Peter was taking a chance. I mean,
how did he know that MO and I did not have a contingency warning system?
He couldnt know this. He was gambling. On what? My honesty?
I walked to a public phone on the sidewalk curb in front of the building. I beeped MO and pressed 45 * 34, indicating to MO that I was at the office. Ten minutes went by. No contact.
the security person at 45 came out of the building and walked slowly
just called. He wants you to meet him on 5th Avenue and 37th street.
see you later.
began walking slowly toward 5th Avenue. I relayed the message and meeting
place to Peter in case he didnt catch it over the wire. I repeated
again that if Peter didnt want me to go to the rendez-vous to
have an agent pass by and tell me so. Again, no contact. I felt ill
at ease with the change in delivery procedure. It was the first time
in four successful heroin smuggling trips originating in Frankfurt that
it did not come to closure with a delivery to MO at the travel office.
The anomaly was quite disquieting.
reached 5th, turned left, and proceeded uptown towards 37th street.
I walked slowly in order to give the agents an opportunity to reposition
themselves at the 5th and 37th site. I reached 37th. MO was nowhere
in sight. Damn it. Five minutes of waiting. It was 2:00
pm. Still no sign of Mo.
I stood on the corner waiting, I spoke into the wire. I hope you
guys are around. I havent seen you. Either you are all very good,
or youre not there. I hope its the former.
the same time I was thinking, people seeing me talking to myself must
think Im just another wacko New Yorker.
thought that all I was doing was a waste of time until I saw it. I spoke
into the wire, very excited.
see it! The car! Its MOs car! Its a black Honda Accord
with blue and ivory Jersey plates.
The car was at 38th Street, traveling very slowly due to the congested traffic. Its coming to 37th, I continued into the wire. You guys better be around! I really dont want to get into that car!
that makes me sane, because Im afraid.
Accord pulled up to the curb. MOs facial features were carved
in ice. He opened the left rear door without saying a word. I entered
the car, the fear of failure driving me on.
Sitting directly behind MO, I said, What the hell is going on? as I handed him the carryon.
Suddenly, I heard a dull thud at the front end of the car. Shook, I looked up and saw an unbelievable sight: an agent lying on the hood of the car, his arms stretched out in front of him, and his hands together grasping a handgun. The handgun was aimed at Mo.