Once again the investigators got two major breaks.

First, they "broke" Irving Kantor. Kantor ran a family plumbing-supply business, but his role in the conspiracy came as head of a "dummy" concern, Kantor Supply Company. Kantor Supply supplied nothing-except cash. It was a check-cashing service, a "front" for converting the contractors' kickbacks into cash. Through this subterfuge, more than $911,000 in cash was generated-in addition to the $253,000 listed by Rigo! Through Kantor's cooperation, another key element in the case was locked into place.

At the time, Kantor, age 50, was dying of amythrophic lateral sclerosis, "Lou Gehrig's disease." "He was completely bedridden, paralyzed, unable to move a muscle," Stern says. "He could not even speak intelligibly.

"To say we `broke' him is wrong. We couldn't threaten Irving Kantor. How can you threaten a man who is dying? We couldn't even try Irving Kantor. There were no threats or inducements. Irving Kantor simply decided he'd made a mistake and wanted to help his country. It was a most courageous decision."

Kantor's cooperation was one of the most closely kept secrets of the investigation, but federal marshals stood guard around the clock outside the helpless man's hospital room . . . just in case.

"Then," according to Stern, "we got what I thought was going to be one of the greatest breaks ever received by law enforcement in this part of the country."

Stern was getting ready to attend the swearing-in of a new federal judge, when he received a call from Mario Gallo's lawyer, Dino Bliablias, asking if he could see the prosecutor as soon as possible. Stern "smelled what it was"; so he skipped the ceremony.

Sure enough, Gallo was ready to cooperate. At age 44, Mario Gallo was one of the largest construction contractors in New Jersey and a major manufacturer of pipe and supplier of asphalt and gravel, as well. "He had an empire," Stem says. His companies alone had funneled more than $576,000 through Kantor Supply.

Gallo was fearful of being seen with the authorities in New Jersey. Stern told Bliablias he'd be "happy to meet them anyplace they picked." A day or two later the date was set - 7:30 P.M., February 9. But neither Lacey nor Stern was told where until a few hours before. The place was a suite booked under an alias at New York's Americana Hotel.

The whole scheme of secrecy was nearly blown when Lacey walked into the lobby and encountered the vicepresident of a company he'd once represented.

"I'm afraid he still will not understand my rebuff of his offer to join him for drinks and dinner," Lacey says. "And I'm afraid he's still miffed at my vague and ambiguous response to what I was doing there."

For three hours Gallo sat with the federal prosecutors and outlined his information. According to Stern, "It looked as though we were not only going to solidify the Addonizio case, it had tremendous potential in terms of other cases."

At about 10:30 Gallo's lawyers asked to end the session because their client was exhausted. The meeting broke up with an agreement to meet again the next day, Bliablias to let the prosecutors know when and where.

The weather was so bad that Lacey stayed in New York overnight. The next morning he took a train back to New Jersey, picked up a copy of the Newark Star-Ledger at the Penn Station newsstand and glanced at the front page during the cab ride to his office. In the lower right-hand corner was a headline: "CONTRACTOR KILLED IN CRASH."

At about the same time, Stern arrived at the office. His secretary, unaware of the previous night's development, looked up and said, "Did you hear? Mario Gallo's dead." "I was just stunned," Stern says. Lacey calls it "the low point of our difficult battle against organized crime and corruption."

"Had he lived," Stern says, "we might have been where we are today a year or a year and a half earlier - but we got there anyway."

After the session at the Americana, Gallo had headed home alone. It was early morning, the roads were streaked with sleet, and the driver was tired. His car skidded and crashed into a stanchion. He was dead by the time help arrived. His secret meeting with the authorities quickly leaked out, and the newspaper accounts hinted of dirty doings. The FBI investigated the case thoroughly but found no evidence that Gallo's death was anything but accidental.

The incident added a macabre touch to an already sensational case. Another followed on its heels. A few days later Lacey and Stern were lunching near the courthouse, when a man Lacey will identify only as "an organized-crime figure" approached their table and told Lacey that his life was in danger.

Death threats are something any prosecutor must learn to live with. Lacey had previously received anonymous letters and so many threatening phone calls that he'd had to get his home number changed to an unlisted one. An assistant in the office received an anonymous tip that Lacey's son would be beaten. The Newark home of Lacey's mother was burglarized-though this was more likely the act of a petty thief than a message from the mob.