Sergeant Smack, page 33
Meanwhile, two days later and thousands of miles away, former Lucas employee Warren Sims was talking to the authorities. Sims told them that he had bumped into Martin Trowery in the witness protection unit in a Chicago prison while they were both incarcerated. Sims telephoned the New York Special Prosecutor’s Office and claimed that Trowery admitted to him that he had killed Ford on orders from Lucas. For the first time, Sims revealed that he and Lucas had a similar conversation three years earlier in which Lucas had admitted his involvement in the Ford killing. The new evidence from Atkinson and Jackson, on one hand, and from Sims, on the other, added to the information the authorities had in 1975. Lucas and Trowery were both indicted for Ford’s murder.
But they both dodged a big bullet. As often happens at trial, the jury did not believe the testimony of convicted felons. Martin Trowery was found not guilty in July 1980. On November 26, Lucas was also found not guilty in New York state court in Manhattan, New York City.
In June 1981, Lucas walked out of jail a free man, after spending a mere five years in jail. The authorities revealed that Lucas would enter the Federal Government’s Witness Protection Program because of threats against his life. “He was unofficially in the program for years, living in the Protected Witness Section of the MCC (Metropolitan Correction Center) in New York City while in jail,” recalled Jack Toal, a retired DEA agent who interrogated Lucas during that period.
This meant a new identity and a new place to live for the man once described by a Federal prosecutor as “unbelievably vicious.” Still, the authorities believed the deal with Lucas was worth it. They credited Lucas with supplying information leading to the successful prosecution of seventy drug traffickers, 34 of them in North Carolina.
Meanwhile, Ike was in prison at the Federal Corrections Institution in Otisville, New York, serving his 44-year sentence that would not end until 2020, unless he got early parole.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Revival
LIKE A SHARK in a search of its prey, the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation (SBI) pursued what it believed were the remaining members of the Ike Atkinson drug ring. By the time the SBI concluded its investigation in the late 1970s, more than 40 people (Atkinson relatives and friends, as well as lawyers and drug trafficking associates) were indicted. The SBI cast its investigative net as wide as possible, so many of those arrested did not get much prison time. “My grandmother Rosetta was indicted,” recalled Wade Atkinson, the son of Ike’s brother Edward who, himself, was indicted by the state in 1978. “Why? I don’t know. She could not tell a joint (of marijuana) from an ounce of heroin.”
The state of North Carolina even indicted Luchai “Chai” Ruviwat, who, after being sentenced by a San Francisco court in December 1975 to three decades in prison, was serving time in a Federal prison in Washington State. “We flew Luchai cross-country and took him down a North Carolina back road to jail,” recalled William Slaughter, a retired SBI agent who worked on the state investigation. “We stopped the car by the side of the road so one of the agents could get out. It was really dark out, and I guess Luchai had watched too many movies. His eyes got really big and it looked as if he was going to wet his pants. For a moment, Chai actually thought we were going to take him out of the car and kill him.”
The North Carolina investigation did not come cheaply. In fact, it cost a small fortune and strained the North Carolina state budget. As a result, state travel funds were scarce for a while. The cost, in fact, became one of the major reasons why the state of North Carolina closed down the investigation.
A SIGNIFICANT FACTOR in making the state case was the cooperation of Frank Lucas and his brother Shorty. Frank Lucas had set up the sting that led to the seizure of 13.3 pounds of heroin at a Holiday Inn in Selma, North Carolina, and the guilty pleas of most of the fourteen people indicted in the 1978 case. For Ike, the snitching by Frank and Shorty was a bitter pill to swallow, but he also learned that William Herman Jackson, his partner and best friend, also had been flown to North Carolina from the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary, not to be indicted but to be a potential witness for the state. “Jackson cooperated with us, although he did not take the stand,” confirmed Steve Surratt, a retired SBI agent who worked on the North Carolina drug conspiracy investigation.
In return for Jack’s cooperation, Sterling Johnson, Special Narcotics Prosecutor for New York City, recommended to the U.S. district court in Colorado in 1980 that Jackson receive special consideration for a reduction in sentence because of his testimony against Frank Lucas and Martin Trowery in the 1980 murder trial.
In the letter, Johnson wrote: “Although the trial resulted in an acquittal, it was the view of this office that Mr. Jackson was truthful, cooperative and most helpful during the course of his cooperation. Additionally, the fact of that cooperation’s discovery by others in the prison system poses a clear potential danger to Mr. Jackson, since he testified in part about revelations made to him by another inmate in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.” Johnson noted: “It is my understanding that Mr. Jackson is completing part of his cooperation with officials in the state of North Carolina.”
“After I was indicted (in1978), I learned that Jack had turned against me,” Ike recalled. “He sent me a note saying he was sorry but that he was going to do it.” Remarkably, three decades later, Ike feels no animosity toward his old friend, “Jack did what he had to do,” Ike explained. “Man, he was crazy about his woman, Nitaya.”
AFTER THE TRIAL, the authorities returned Ike to Marion Federal Penitentiary, but on April 28, 1981, after spending a little more than three years there, he was transferred to the Federal correctional complex at Terre Haute, Indiana. Terre Haute is currently the home of the only death chamber for federal death penalty recipients in the United States, where they receive death by lethal injection. When Timothy McVeigh, the “Oklahoma City Bomber,” was executed at Terre Haute in 2003, he became the first prisoner executed by the U.S. government since the moratorium on the death penalty was lifted in 1976.
Ike wanted to get out of Marion, but his transfer to Terre Haute illustrated the old adage: Beware of what you wish for—it might come true. Ike’s incarceration at Terre Haute morphed into the worse prison experience of his life. Members of Illinois street gangs infested the prison, and they were always fighting and trying to kill each other. The prison seemed to be in perpetual lockdown. “Man, you were always concerned about being in the wrong place and getting in the middle of those fools,” Ike recalled. Fortunately for Ike, he did not have to endure the U.S. federal penitentiary system’s version of Dante’s Inferno for long. On April 27, 1981, he was moved to the new Federal prison at Otisville, a medium security facility for male offenders located in the southeast part of New York State, close to Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and northwest of New York City. Opened in May 1980, the Otisville penitentiary looks like a campus and its low-rise buildings are built around a grassy area. “The Federal prison system was looking for volunteers willing to transfer to Otisville,” Ike recalled. “Given where I was, I jumped at the chance to move.”
As always when behind bars, Ike’s charismatic personality made him many friends, and he was popular among inmates, young and old. He bonded with Steve Baker and Steve Monsanto, two young protégés of Robert “Big Robbie” Stepeney, the legendary Harlem drug lord and so-called “Godfather of Harlem.” Stepeney was known as the “money man” in Harlem to whom even big-time drug dealers came for financial assistance. Ike also became friends with Clarence Jackson, who was nicknamed “Scoop” because he always seemed to be on top of the news. Scoop played handball, but Ike got him to walk and they became walking buddies.
Indeed, Ike fit in well, no matter where the Bureau of Prisons sent him. Although Ike was not a Black Muslim, the Black Muslims invited him to one of their meetings and gave him an award for essentially being a nice guy. Native American prisoners invited Ike to “sweat” with them in their sweat lodge, a ceremony that is an integral part of the religious life of many Native Americans. At the sweat lodge ceremony, Ike watched as coals were put in a pit and a fire started by using scraps of wood from the prison factory. When the coals turned white hot, Ike would take off his prison uniform and, dressed only in his briefs, he would get on his hands and knees and crawl into the sweat lodge. The purpose of the religious exercise is to cleanse the mind, body and spirit. ”It was such an honor to participate,” Ike recalled. “You feel like a new man when you come out of the sweat lodge.”
BUT WHILE IKE endured prison life, he also pondered his future—that is, his life after serving time behind bars. By 1985, his drug ring was dead and his finances tapped out. The feds closed down his personal bank account, which amounted to a little more than $100,000, before he went to the pen in 1976. John McConnell had been Ike’s bagman to the Cayman Islands, and he told authorities about the offshore accounts. The authorities closed them down, too.
Then in July 1985 the U.S. Parole Commission denied parole to Ike, in fact, keeping intact a sentence that would keep Ike in prison until the 21st Century. Joe Kovitsky, a U.S. Department of Justice spokesman, told the press that the Commission’s decision was influenced by “new adverse information” in the Atkinson case. Kovitsky would not say what the “new adverse information” was.
Ike would be well into senior citizenry before he got out of prison, but what kind of life could he have without money and any employable skills? And Ike was the first to admit that he missed the excitement of the drug trade, the camaraderie, and the stature of being a big-time drug lord. And as wild as it may sound, Ike wondered if he could still beat The Man.
AT OTISVILLE, IKE got along well with Max “Babe” Ruth, a loquacious, heavy-set White man who was incarcerated for bank robbery and who fancied himself an expert jailhouse lawyer. From prison, Babe wrote a lot of legal briefs that challenged the legal system. Ike noted that Babe often talked with another inmate named Norbert, a blond, stocky German whom Ike heard was in the pen on a smuggling conviction. Ike observed Norbert and liked the way Norbert carried himself.
One day, Ike asked Babe what he knew about Norbert.
“He seems to be well connected,” Babe said.
“In what way?” Ike asked.
“Norbert says he has a great contact, a German diplomat who’s got diplomatic immunity. I think he may be his cousin. Norbert says his contact can get anything into the country. Nobody can stop him.”
“Really?” said Ike. “Can Norbert’s contact get dope into the country?
Babe laughed. “If money’s involved, I’m sure he can.”
The next day, Ike made a point of “bumping” into Norbert at the mess hall where he worked in the kitchen. The two cons became friendly and soon were chatting up a storm. One day, after making some small talk, Ike laid it out for Norbert. “I’m looking for a way to import heroin from Thailand to the U.S.”
Norbert smiled; Ike’s bold confidence did not seem to surprise him. Through the prison grapevine Norbert had heard about Ike, the legend, who had used the military to smuggle hundreds of kilos from Thailand into the U.S.
“You mean smuggle don’t you?” Norbert said. Ike laughed.
“How much are we talking about?” Norbert asked
“I’d say about 200 to 300 kilos,” Ike replied.
“I can do it through Germany,” Norbert replied. “But gee, Ike, how are you going to finance it? “You’re in prison.”
“I got a distributor in DC who has made a lot money in the drug trade,” Ike explained. “He has two record companies that are set up to launder money, but he can’t launder all of it. So he’s looking for other ways to invest it.”
“Well, I can help you,” Norbert said. “I’ve got a well-connected friend in the West German consulate who has diplomatic immunity.”
“Really?” Ike said, not letting on he had already been briefed about Norbert’s contact. “Can you set up a meeting with him?”
“Let me get back to you,” Norbert said. “I think we can work something out.”
IN REALITY, NORBERT did not have a well-connected diplomat friend and he was not whom he appeared to be. Yes, Norbert was charismatic, slick and smooth-talking, but he did not have enough sense to stay out of trouble with La Cosa Nostra. He owed a big gambling debt to the Mob and was afraid that a wise guy would kill him. While Norbert did not have a German diplomat friend, he thought he might have a big fish on the line that could help him out of his fix with the Mob. Scared and desperate, he approached the FBI (the Federal Bureau of Investigation) to see if the Bureau was interested in working out a deal that could catch a big-time drug trafficker trying to make a comeback. The FBI was interested, but since the case involved international drug trafficking, the Bureau contacted the U.S. DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration). Of course, the case interested the DEA. The DEA knew Ike Atkinson, the biggest American drug dealer to ever operate out of Asia, and knew it would be bad news if Ike could revive his network, even if he was in prison and still had a lot of time to serve. They knew that Ike Atkinson did it before and could do again.
The two Federal law enforcement agencies worked out a plan. First, they would need to get Norbert out of danger. So as not to attract attention, they transferred him to a halfway house. Next, they needed to find someone to play the role of Norbert’s German diplomat. Special Agent Wolfgang Preisler would be the DEA’s man. Of German ancestry and fluent in German, Preisler, a deliberate, no-nonsense type of guy, had been with DEA and its predecessor agency, the BNDD (Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs), since the late 1960s. He was at that time a group supervisor in the DEA’s intelligence division and had worked undercover numerous times both overseas and in the U.S., including Miami, one of the U.S. most dangerous cities. With the West German Embassy’s cooperation, the U.S. authorities established a bogus office at the West German consulate for Preisler.
Norbert contacted Ike and gave him the name and address of the German diplomat and said his friend would be contacting him. Excited, Ike got on the prison phone and called his nephew, Wade, who by then was out of prison after serving two-and-a-half-years on the 1978 North Carolina drug conspiracy case. After his release, Wade lived in Queens, New York, and was working with computers at the Chase Manhattan Bank. Ike told Wade about Norbert and the plan he had to revive his heroin network.
“How much do you know about this Norbert?” Wade asked.
“He’s a real nice guy,” Ike said. “I’ve got a good feeling about him. But it’s okay. Let’s be safe. Why don’t you go and check him out. See if his contact is working at the (West) German consulate.”
“Okay, but I think you should be careful,” Wade advised. “You don’t know too much about this Norbert guy.”
When Wade went to the West German consulate, he was stopped at the security gate. He gave his name to the guard and said he wanted to see Mr. Wolfgang Preisler. The guard said to wait while he went to see if Mr. Preisler is available. The guard made a call at the checkpoint and returned. “I’m sorry. Mr. Preisler isn’t in his office today.” So there is a German diplomat, Wade concluded. At least that part of Norbert’s story checked out. Wade decided to do no further investigation; he was just too busy. He reported back to Ike; “Yeah, Unc,’ there is a German diplomat.”
WHILE THE DEA and FBI put their plan into motion, Norbert was working out his own deal with Ike through Wade whom he had contacted. By now, Norbert was out of the Otisville prison and in a halfway house. Using money from his DC distributor, Ike gave Norbert $100,000 in return for the assurance that his German “diplomat” friend would arrange the transport of several kilograms of heroin from Germany to the U.S. Between April 15 and 18, 1986, Wade called the halfway house three times, trying in vain to reach Norbert, but he had disappeared with the $100,000.
THE DEA WAS out a CI (Cooperating Informant), and Ike was out a lot of money. Wade’s hunch had been right; Norbert was not the real thing. It looked as if Ike’s misplaced faith in Norbert had dashed his big plans to revive his heroin smuggling network. But the DEA and FBI still believed they could keep their sting going. Preisler was instructed to contact Ike’s nephew directly and offer his “services.”
On April 25, 1986, Preisler called Wade. “How did you get my number?” Wade demanded.
Preisler kept his cool. “Norbert gave it to me. Do you know what happened to Norbert? I’ve been looking for him.”
“We can’t find him either,” Wade said.
“I would like to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it over the phone,” Preisler said. “Can we set up a meeting?”
“Let me get back to you,” Wade said. Preisler gave Wade his phone number.
On April 27, Wade went to the Otisville prison and met with Ike in the visiting room for two hours and forty-five minutes. He told his uncle about the diplomat’s call. “I tell you Unc’, I don’t get good vibes from this thing,” Wade said.
“Yeah, okay, but let’s listen to what he has to say,” Ike said.
Wade called Preisler to set up a meeting. The call was routed to Preisler at the DEA’s New York headquarters. They agreed to meet at the swank Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Park Avenue, a fitting place for a DEA undercover agent posing as a diplomat to have a meeting. It was a pleasant meeting and Wade was impressed with the German diplomat, but he still did not completely trust Preisler and the situation. To Preisler, Wade seemed like a nice kid who obviously respected his uncle and would do what he said. Wade told Preisler that he had given Norbert $100,000 for a “package” (of heroin). The money belonged to several associates, Wade explained, and they were interested in finding Norbert. Preisler said he would check and get back to him.
Priesler did just that. “I’m afraid Norbert is a con man and he’s probably taken off with the money,” Preisler later told Wade. The undercover agent then suggested that they might still be able to work out a deal.
The same day that Preisler was to meet with Wade, a New York State judge was signing a court order authorizing the wiretapping of Wade’s home phone in Queens for 30 days. The order was then extended for 30 days on June 7th and again on July 7th. On May 9th, Wade visited Ike again to report on his meeting with Preisler. Again Wade voiced his suspicions, but Ike decided to move forward and employ the “services” of the “German diplomat.”
But they both dodged a big bullet. As often happens at trial, the jury did not believe the testimony of convicted felons. Martin Trowery was found not guilty in July 1980. On November 26, Lucas was also found not guilty in New York state court in Manhattan, New York City.
In June 1981, Lucas walked out of jail a free man, after spending a mere five years in jail. The authorities revealed that Lucas would enter the Federal Government’s Witness Protection Program because of threats against his life. “He was unofficially in the program for years, living in the Protected Witness Section of the MCC (Metropolitan Correction Center) in New York City while in jail,” recalled Jack Toal, a retired DEA agent who interrogated Lucas during that period.
This meant a new identity and a new place to live for the man once described by a Federal prosecutor as “unbelievably vicious.” Still, the authorities believed the deal with Lucas was worth it. They credited Lucas with supplying information leading to the successful prosecution of seventy drug traffickers, 34 of them in North Carolina.
Meanwhile, Ike was in prison at the Federal Corrections Institution in Otisville, New York, serving his 44-year sentence that would not end until 2020, unless he got early parole.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Revival
LIKE A SHARK in a search of its prey, the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation (SBI) pursued what it believed were the remaining members of the Ike Atkinson drug ring. By the time the SBI concluded its investigation in the late 1970s, more than 40 people (Atkinson relatives and friends, as well as lawyers and drug trafficking associates) were indicted. The SBI cast its investigative net as wide as possible, so many of those arrested did not get much prison time. “My grandmother Rosetta was indicted,” recalled Wade Atkinson, the son of Ike’s brother Edward who, himself, was indicted by the state in 1978. “Why? I don’t know. She could not tell a joint (of marijuana) from an ounce of heroin.”
The state of North Carolina even indicted Luchai “Chai” Ruviwat, who, after being sentenced by a San Francisco court in December 1975 to three decades in prison, was serving time in a Federal prison in Washington State. “We flew Luchai cross-country and took him down a North Carolina back road to jail,” recalled William Slaughter, a retired SBI agent who worked on the state investigation. “We stopped the car by the side of the road so one of the agents could get out. It was really dark out, and I guess Luchai had watched too many movies. His eyes got really big and it looked as if he was going to wet his pants. For a moment, Chai actually thought we were going to take him out of the car and kill him.”
The North Carolina investigation did not come cheaply. In fact, it cost a small fortune and strained the North Carolina state budget. As a result, state travel funds were scarce for a while. The cost, in fact, became one of the major reasons why the state of North Carolina closed down the investigation.
A SIGNIFICANT FACTOR in making the state case was the cooperation of Frank Lucas and his brother Shorty. Frank Lucas had set up the sting that led to the seizure of 13.3 pounds of heroin at a Holiday Inn in Selma, North Carolina, and the guilty pleas of most of the fourteen people indicted in the 1978 case. For Ike, the snitching by Frank and Shorty was a bitter pill to swallow, but he also learned that William Herman Jackson, his partner and best friend, also had been flown to North Carolina from the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary, not to be indicted but to be a potential witness for the state. “Jackson cooperated with us, although he did not take the stand,” confirmed Steve Surratt, a retired SBI agent who worked on the North Carolina drug conspiracy investigation.
In return for Jack’s cooperation, Sterling Johnson, Special Narcotics Prosecutor for New York City, recommended to the U.S. district court in Colorado in 1980 that Jackson receive special consideration for a reduction in sentence because of his testimony against Frank Lucas and Martin Trowery in the 1980 murder trial.
In the letter, Johnson wrote: “Although the trial resulted in an acquittal, it was the view of this office that Mr. Jackson was truthful, cooperative and most helpful during the course of his cooperation. Additionally, the fact of that cooperation’s discovery by others in the prison system poses a clear potential danger to Mr. Jackson, since he testified in part about revelations made to him by another inmate in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.” Johnson noted: “It is my understanding that Mr. Jackson is completing part of his cooperation with officials in the state of North Carolina.”
“After I was indicted (in1978), I learned that Jack had turned against me,” Ike recalled. “He sent me a note saying he was sorry but that he was going to do it.” Remarkably, three decades later, Ike feels no animosity toward his old friend, “Jack did what he had to do,” Ike explained. “Man, he was crazy about his woman, Nitaya.”
AFTER THE TRIAL, the authorities returned Ike to Marion Federal Penitentiary, but on April 28, 1981, after spending a little more than three years there, he was transferred to the Federal correctional complex at Terre Haute, Indiana. Terre Haute is currently the home of the only death chamber for federal death penalty recipients in the United States, where they receive death by lethal injection. When Timothy McVeigh, the “Oklahoma City Bomber,” was executed at Terre Haute in 2003, he became the first prisoner executed by the U.S. government since the moratorium on the death penalty was lifted in 1976.
Ike wanted to get out of Marion, but his transfer to Terre Haute illustrated the old adage: Beware of what you wish for—it might come true. Ike’s incarceration at Terre Haute morphed into the worse prison experience of his life. Members of Illinois street gangs infested the prison, and they were always fighting and trying to kill each other. The prison seemed to be in perpetual lockdown. “Man, you were always concerned about being in the wrong place and getting in the middle of those fools,” Ike recalled. Fortunately for Ike, he did not have to endure the U.S. federal penitentiary system’s version of Dante’s Inferno for long. On April 27, 1981, he was moved to the new Federal prison at Otisville, a medium security facility for male offenders located in the southeast part of New York State, close to Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and northwest of New York City. Opened in May 1980, the Otisville penitentiary looks like a campus and its low-rise buildings are built around a grassy area. “The Federal prison system was looking for volunteers willing to transfer to Otisville,” Ike recalled. “Given where I was, I jumped at the chance to move.”
As always when behind bars, Ike’s charismatic personality made him many friends, and he was popular among inmates, young and old. He bonded with Steve Baker and Steve Monsanto, two young protégés of Robert “Big Robbie” Stepeney, the legendary Harlem drug lord and so-called “Godfather of Harlem.” Stepeney was known as the “money man” in Harlem to whom even big-time drug dealers came for financial assistance. Ike also became friends with Clarence Jackson, who was nicknamed “Scoop” because he always seemed to be on top of the news. Scoop played handball, but Ike got him to walk and they became walking buddies.
Indeed, Ike fit in well, no matter where the Bureau of Prisons sent him. Although Ike was not a Black Muslim, the Black Muslims invited him to one of their meetings and gave him an award for essentially being a nice guy. Native American prisoners invited Ike to “sweat” with them in their sweat lodge, a ceremony that is an integral part of the religious life of many Native Americans. At the sweat lodge ceremony, Ike watched as coals were put in a pit and a fire started by using scraps of wood from the prison factory. When the coals turned white hot, Ike would take off his prison uniform and, dressed only in his briefs, he would get on his hands and knees and crawl into the sweat lodge. The purpose of the religious exercise is to cleanse the mind, body and spirit. ”It was such an honor to participate,” Ike recalled. “You feel like a new man when you come out of the sweat lodge.”
BUT WHILE IKE endured prison life, he also pondered his future—that is, his life after serving time behind bars. By 1985, his drug ring was dead and his finances tapped out. The feds closed down his personal bank account, which amounted to a little more than $100,000, before he went to the pen in 1976. John McConnell had been Ike’s bagman to the Cayman Islands, and he told authorities about the offshore accounts. The authorities closed them down, too.
Then in July 1985 the U.S. Parole Commission denied parole to Ike, in fact, keeping intact a sentence that would keep Ike in prison until the 21st Century. Joe Kovitsky, a U.S. Department of Justice spokesman, told the press that the Commission’s decision was influenced by “new adverse information” in the Atkinson case. Kovitsky would not say what the “new adverse information” was.
Ike would be well into senior citizenry before he got out of prison, but what kind of life could he have without money and any employable skills? And Ike was the first to admit that he missed the excitement of the drug trade, the camaraderie, and the stature of being a big-time drug lord. And as wild as it may sound, Ike wondered if he could still beat The Man.
AT OTISVILLE, IKE got along well with Max “Babe” Ruth, a loquacious, heavy-set White man who was incarcerated for bank robbery and who fancied himself an expert jailhouse lawyer. From prison, Babe wrote a lot of legal briefs that challenged the legal system. Ike noted that Babe often talked with another inmate named Norbert, a blond, stocky German whom Ike heard was in the pen on a smuggling conviction. Ike observed Norbert and liked the way Norbert carried himself.
One day, Ike asked Babe what he knew about Norbert.
“He seems to be well connected,” Babe said.
“In what way?” Ike asked.
“Norbert says he has a great contact, a German diplomat who’s got diplomatic immunity. I think he may be his cousin. Norbert says his contact can get anything into the country. Nobody can stop him.”
“Really?” said Ike. “Can Norbert’s contact get dope into the country?
Babe laughed. “If money’s involved, I’m sure he can.”
The next day, Ike made a point of “bumping” into Norbert at the mess hall where he worked in the kitchen. The two cons became friendly and soon were chatting up a storm. One day, after making some small talk, Ike laid it out for Norbert. “I’m looking for a way to import heroin from Thailand to the U.S.”
Norbert smiled; Ike’s bold confidence did not seem to surprise him. Through the prison grapevine Norbert had heard about Ike, the legend, who had used the military to smuggle hundreds of kilos from Thailand into the U.S.
“You mean smuggle don’t you?” Norbert said. Ike laughed.
“How much are we talking about?” Norbert asked
“I’d say about 200 to 300 kilos,” Ike replied.
“I can do it through Germany,” Norbert replied. “But gee, Ike, how are you going to finance it? “You’re in prison.”
“I got a distributor in DC who has made a lot money in the drug trade,” Ike explained. “He has two record companies that are set up to launder money, but he can’t launder all of it. So he’s looking for other ways to invest it.”
“Well, I can help you,” Norbert said. “I’ve got a well-connected friend in the West German consulate who has diplomatic immunity.”
“Really?” Ike said, not letting on he had already been briefed about Norbert’s contact. “Can you set up a meeting with him?”
“Let me get back to you,” Norbert said. “I think we can work something out.”
IN REALITY, NORBERT did not have a well-connected diplomat friend and he was not whom he appeared to be. Yes, Norbert was charismatic, slick and smooth-talking, but he did not have enough sense to stay out of trouble with La Cosa Nostra. He owed a big gambling debt to the Mob and was afraid that a wise guy would kill him. While Norbert did not have a German diplomat friend, he thought he might have a big fish on the line that could help him out of his fix with the Mob. Scared and desperate, he approached the FBI (the Federal Bureau of Investigation) to see if the Bureau was interested in working out a deal that could catch a big-time drug trafficker trying to make a comeback. The FBI was interested, but since the case involved international drug trafficking, the Bureau contacted the U.S. DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration). Of course, the case interested the DEA. The DEA knew Ike Atkinson, the biggest American drug dealer to ever operate out of Asia, and knew it would be bad news if Ike could revive his network, even if he was in prison and still had a lot of time to serve. They knew that Ike Atkinson did it before and could do again.
The two Federal law enforcement agencies worked out a plan. First, they would need to get Norbert out of danger. So as not to attract attention, they transferred him to a halfway house. Next, they needed to find someone to play the role of Norbert’s German diplomat. Special Agent Wolfgang Preisler would be the DEA’s man. Of German ancestry and fluent in German, Preisler, a deliberate, no-nonsense type of guy, had been with DEA and its predecessor agency, the BNDD (Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs), since the late 1960s. He was at that time a group supervisor in the DEA’s intelligence division and had worked undercover numerous times both overseas and in the U.S., including Miami, one of the U.S. most dangerous cities. With the West German Embassy’s cooperation, the U.S. authorities established a bogus office at the West German consulate for Preisler.
Norbert contacted Ike and gave him the name and address of the German diplomat and said his friend would be contacting him. Excited, Ike got on the prison phone and called his nephew, Wade, who by then was out of prison after serving two-and-a-half-years on the 1978 North Carolina drug conspiracy case. After his release, Wade lived in Queens, New York, and was working with computers at the Chase Manhattan Bank. Ike told Wade about Norbert and the plan he had to revive his heroin network.
“How much do you know about this Norbert?” Wade asked.
“He’s a real nice guy,” Ike said. “I’ve got a good feeling about him. But it’s okay. Let’s be safe. Why don’t you go and check him out. See if his contact is working at the (West) German consulate.”
“Okay, but I think you should be careful,” Wade advised. “You don’t know too much about this Norbert guy.”
When Wade went to the West German consulate, he was stopped at the security gate. He gave his name to the guard and said he wanted to see Mr. Wolfgang Preisler. The guard said to wait while he went to see if Mr. Preisler is available. The guard made a call at the checkpoint and returned. “I’m sorry. Mr. Preisler isn’t in his office today.” So there is a German diplomat, Wade concluded. At least that part of Norbert’s story checked out. Wade decided to do no further investigation; he was just too busy. He reported back to Ike; “Yeah, Unc,’ there is a German diplomat.”
WHILE THE DEA and FBI put their plan into motion, Norbert was working out his own deal with Ike through Wade whom he had contacted. By now, Norbert was out of the Otisville prison and in a halfway house. Using money from his DC distributor, Ike gave Norbert $100,000 in return for the assurance that his German “diplomat” friend would arrange the transport of several kilograms of heroin from Germany to the U.S. Between April 15 and 18, 1986, Wade called the halfway house three times, trying in vain to reach Norbert, but he had disappeared with the $100,000.
THE DEA WAS out a CI (Cooperating Informant), and Ike was out a lot of money. Wade’s hunch had been right; Norbert was not the real thing. It looked as if Ike’s misplaced faith in Norbert had dashed his big plans to revive his heroin smuggling network. But the DEA and FBI still believed they could keep their sting going. Preisler was instructed to contact Ike’s nephew directly and offer his “services.”
On April 25, 1986, Preisler called Wade. “How did you get my number?” Wade demanded.
Preisler kept his cool. “Norbert gave it to me. Do you know what happened to Norbert? I’ve been looking for him.”
“We can’t find him either,” Wade said.
“I would like to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it over the phone,” Preisler said. “Can we set up a meeting?”
“Let me get back to you,” Wade said. Preisler gave Wade his phone number.
On April 27, Wade went to the Otisville prison and met with Ike in the visiting room for two hours and forty-five minutes. He told his uncle about the diplomat’s call. “I tell you Unc’, I don’t get good vibes from this thing,” Wade said.
“Yeah, okay, but let’s listen to what he has to say,” Ike said.
Wade called Preisler to set up a meeting. The call was routed to Preisler at the DEA’s New York headquarters. They agreed to meet at the swank Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Park Avenue, a fitting place for a DEA undercover agent posing as a diplomat to have a meeting. It was a pleasant meeting and Wade was impressed with the German diplomat, but he still did not completely trust Preisler and the situation. To Preisler, Wade seemed like a nice kid who obviously respected his uncle and would do what he said. Wade told Preisler that he had given Norbert $100,000 for a “package” (of heroin). The money belonged to several associates, Wade explained, and they were interested in finding Norbert. Preisler said he would check and get back to him.
Priesler did just that. “I’m afraid Norbert is a con man and he’s probably taken off with the money,” Preisler later told Wade. The undercover agent then suggested that they might still be able to work out a deal.
The same day that Preisler was to meet with Wade, a New York State judge was signing a court order authorizing the wiretapping of Wade’s home phone in Queens for 30 days. The order was then extended for 30 days on June 7th and again on July 7th. On May 9th, Wade visited Ike again to report on his meeting with Preisler. Again Wade voiced his suspicions, but Ike decided to move forward and employ the “services” of the “German diplomat.”
