Must Come Down

by Brett Baker

  Fabrice shook his head. “We’re not going to see Buster.”

  “All right. Then Li remains missing.”

  “So he does. So he does.”

  30

  Chapter 30

  Fabrice’s conversation with Driscoll took two minutes, during which Fabrice repeated the same question at least ten times. “Why would Buster lie about this?”

  “He’s got something to hide,” Driscoll said. “Either he found out that Li’s moving on without him, and he doesn’t want us to know that he knows Li was going to New York, or he had something to do with his disappearance and he’s trying to redirect our investigation. He knows that we can’t go to the police because we have to avoid scrutiny, but if the police came to him then he’s already involved. Best for him to just keep us at arm’s length, if possible.”

  Driscoll plotted his next move after his conversation with Fabrice. He needed to talk with Buster and try to convince him to tell him what he knew without revealing the purpose of the conversation. He had to address Buster with a nonchalance that wouldn’t alarm him. Despite his urgency to talk with Buster, Driscoll couldn’t call him in the middle of the night, so he went back to bed.

  As soon as he arrived in the office he dialed Buster’s number. He answered before the first ring ended.

  “Hello?”

  “Buster, I’m glad I caught you. This is Driscoll. I wanted to check with you to see if you’d heard anything about the shipment. I’m somewhat alarmed it hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Driscoll, I think it’s time to give up on the shipment. It’s not coming. I don’t know what Li did, but I’m pretty certain he’s gone another way. Seems to me that all of the evidence points to Singapore. So you can continue to ignore the evidence, or you can get on board with me and try to figure out what happened. Wringing your hands every morning because a shipment didn’t arrive won’t help. It’s not coming, and until we find Li we won’t know what happened to it. You just need to make sure that the rest of it doesn’t move. It needs to stay in that vault in New York.”

  “Li’s here,” Driscoll said. “He showed up last night, out of the blue.”

  Buster almost dropped the phone. He’d expected Driscoll to respond with some heightened defensiveness and explain that he knew what to do, and that this was his operation and he didn’t need Buster’s advice. He hadn’t expected Driscoll to lie. He couldn’t respond. When he opened his mouth nothing came out other than stunned silence. He began to sweat, and choked down vomit.

  “That’s great news,” he said. “So he can help you then?”

  “He doesn’t know what happened to the shipment. We’ve already discussed it. As you know, this operation doesn’t work without the transfers, but we can’t try to transfer anything unless we know the systems we have in place are secure. We need to put the whole thing on hold until we can figure this out.”

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Buster said. “Although I’d go a step further and say we need to shut it down.”

  “You mentioned that before but I assumed that was because you were worried that Li was selling us out. That’s not what’s happening. He didn’t run to Singapore. In fact, I told him everything you told me and he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. During our conversation he suggested that you’d benefit from shutting this down, and making us think that we’d have to reconsider the whole plan. Meanwhile, you take the gold out from the Under and go ahead without us, leaving us high and dry. Is that what you’re doing, Buster?”

  “How am I going to get the gold out of the Under? It’s dozens of feet below the street in New York City and I’m halfway around the world. I assume you don’t just leave it open for anyone to peruse. My understanding is that it’s among the most impenetrable spaces on earth. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m just relaying what Li told me. All I know is that we have a missing shipment, and you implied that Li might be responsible because you thought he ran off to Singapore, but he showed up here. So he’s not hiding anything. I know that I didn’t make the shipment disappear. You’re next in line.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Buster asked.

  “I’m not trying to say anything. I just said it. I think you’re trying to scam us on this. Li thinks you’re trying to scam us on this. And until the shipment turns up, then I can’t be sure that’s not happening.”

  Buster didn’t know how to respond. Other than his connections in Quanzhou who helped him the night of Li’s death, no one else in the world knew for sure that Li was dead. That also meant that no one else in the world knew that Driscoll lied when he claimed to have information from Li. No one else but Driscoll. Buster needed to call Driscoll on his lie without showing the impossibility of Li providing information to him.

  “Let me talk to Li,” Buster said. “You’re incapable of getting to the bottom of this, so I’ll do it. I know Li better than you. He’s a bullshit artist. Beneath everything else he’s nothing more than a second-rate con man. You can fall for his act, but I know him too well.”

  “Li’s not here. I’ll have him get in touch with you though.”

  “Actually, maybe I’ll just come out there. It might be useful for the three of us to sit down and hash this out. Maybe have the others there, too. It feels like this thing’s falling apart. We need to reestablish trust.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Driscoll said. “The sooner the better. Can you get here in a couple of days?”

  “Yeah,” Buster said, shocked that Driscoll agreed to meet with him and Li. With Li unable to attend, Buster expected Driscoll to try to talk him out of the meeting. “Let me see what’s available and I’ll let you know.”

  “Great. I’ll alert the others, too. I agree with you. With an operation this big, and so few people involved, it’s important that we all trust each other. I don’t care how connected the world is, nothing beats a good old face-to-face meeting.”

  Buster said nothing, as thoughts of Driscoll’s intent occupied his mind. Li wasn’t in New York, and when he didn’t attend the meeting Driscoll would have to explain his absence. If Buster demanded to talk with Li, Driscoll could never deliver, which would only strain the partnership between Buster and Driscoll even more.

  Driscoll’s obvious lie made Buster question his intent. Without Li, Driscoll had less clarity on the situation than Buster, since Driscoll still had to assume that Li might have run off to Singapore to arrange an alternate deal. Driscoll also didn’t know that Buster knew that Li had intended to go to New York and go ahead with the plan without Buster. Driscoll had agreed to shut Buster out of the whole thing.

  After a few seconds of silence as the possible outcomes of the situation flooded Buster’s thoughts, Driscoll interrupted the silence. “Buster, the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to get the names of those officers you talked to in Quanzhou. If they’re looking for Li then I’m sure they’d want to know that he’s safe and sound in New York.”

  “Li should call his wife,” Buster said. “She’s worried sick.”

  “Yes, he’s going to do that, but that’s going to be a difficult conversation. I told Li to handle his personal stuff and I’ll talk with the police to make sure they don’t have to investigate. What were their names?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Buster said. “Easier for me since I’m in town. Besides, how are you going to mention Li without them investigating your connections to him? You’re setting yourself up for problems.”

  “There are ways around that,” Driscoll said. “I’d like to have a conversation with them about this whole thing. I’m not sure I buy Li’s explanation that he had no plans for Singapore, given what you saw. Li says he doesn’t know anyone in Singapore, so he doesn’t know who told the police that he missed a meeting there. Something doesn’t add up.”

  “You’re busy, Neil. Just let me take care of things here.”

  “No, really, Buster. I need to talk to these guys. I appreciate your commitment to this, but since I�
�ve already talked to Li it’s important that I talk to the officers myself.”

  “Of course,” Buster said. “If you want to talk to them, you go ahead and talk to them. Tell them any fucking thing you want. Ask them to explain all of their secrets to you. Give away the whole fucking operation you fucking idiot.”

  “Is there a problem?” Driscoll asked.

  “Yes,” Buster said. “You’re the fucking problem. You’ve fucked up this operation. Half a billion dollars of gold is missing, thanks to you. The man who’s supposed to be in charge of operations in China is visiting you in New York, and now you want to get the police involved. Can you tell me how that makes sense? Although, before you answer that, I have a more important question. Why the hell is Li in New York? We’ve got more than two months until we start trading, all of the gold is still in New York, and Li’s responsibilities are in China, so what the fuck is he doing there?”

  “He doesn’t trust you, Buster. Li thinks that you’re undermining the entire operation from top to bottom, so he came here to talk to me about it. What does it say to you that he’s so worried about what you’re doing that he had to come talk to me about it in person, without telling anyone, alarming his family, taking steps to cover his trail, and without telling you? It tells me that he’s pretty fucking sure that you’re doing something wrong. And if someone’s that sure, then I’m going to take his word for it.”

  “What am I doing wrong?” Buster asked. “Has Li accused me of something?”

  “Get here so we can talk about it,” Driscoll said. “This is too much to handle over the phone. We need all parties in attendance for this. I don’t want a bunch of back and forth. Let’s just get it done so we can move ahead. There’s a shipment of gold that’s unaccounted for, and that’s what we should be thinking about. I wish we didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.”

  “You’re fucking right it’s bullshit.”

  “We’ll deal with it,” Driscoll said. “Just tell me the name of the officers you talked to about Li.”

  “Sun and Gao,” Buster said. “Quanzhou police. Call them and tell them about the whole operation, top to bottom. The gold, the markets, the currency. Fuck, you might as well give them the combination to the Under while you’re at. Let’s just unravel the entire thing and surrender everything to Sun and Gao.”

  “Relax. If all of this is bullshit like you say it is, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. As long as everyone’s being up front, this will all take care of itself. We’ve put a lot of work into this, Buster. If everyone does the job they’re supposed to, then we can pull it off. But if anyone jumps ship we’re fucked.”

  “You call Sun and Gao and that ship is going to sink with all of us aboard.”

  “Just get here,” Driscoll said, and hung up the phone.

  31

  Chapter 31

  A mile-and-a-half inland from the beach, away from the hub of celebrities and other beautiful people, Gabe Portnoy lived behind a row of bushes that shielded him from all passersby, although its location on a dead end street helped ensure that few people passed. Most citizens of Malibu appreciated the privacy and isolation available there, despite the high population density. Gabe didn’t purchase the small, unassuming house as a refuge from an intrusive public intrigued by his fame, but rather as a refuge from anyone who might have had an unsavory experience for which he was responsible during his time working in the rougher corners of New Jersey and Wall Street.

  Having never been in a position to take advantage of the witness protection program, his shack in Malibu served as the next best thing.

  Mia located the address that Martin from Polestar provided to her, and its modesty surprised her. With Portnoy’s background she expected a large, flashy house on a grand estate, or perhaps one that backed up to the Pacific Ocean. But when she turned off the Pacific Coast Highway just before the exit to Zuma Beach, and followed the road past privet hedges and other foliage designed to serve as a shield, she knew that Portnoy had chosen solitude over flamboyance.

  When she found Portnoy’s address she pulled onto the makeshift driveway, a slab of concrete squeezed between the road and Portnoy’s bushes. She couldn’t see Portnoy’s house through the bushes, and a similar arboreal wall protected property on both sides of the road. She double-checked the address, and then walked through a stone gateway. She expected a barrier to keep her from approaching the house, but instead she just followed the winding path for about thirty feet, passed through a narrow archway cut into a privet hedge, and approached the front door of the house.

  A wrought iron exterior door covered the entry door to the house, and Mia reached through and knocked twice. She’d thought little about what she would say to Portnoy, trusting that she’d think of something when the time came, like she always did. Since Polestar didn’t have updated information about Portnoy, Mia also prepared herself for the possibility that he might not even live there anymore.

  The door swung open, and a short man, well under six feet tall, greeted her without a smile, and eyes that seemed intent on cutting through her. He parted his thinning brown hair to the right, and had tanned skin similar to almost every other citizen of Malibu. He wore a blue t-shirt that had 101 in white numbers, and khaki cargo shorts that most stylish people in the town now scorned, but to which he remained loyal. He didn’t try to hide the slow, deliberate action of his eyes moving up and down Mia’s body, stopping for a second at her legs, tanned, strong, and athletic in a pair of denim shorts, and her chest, hugged by a black tank top.

  “Can you help me?” the man asked. He chuckled as if he’d just spoken the funniest, most original line he’d ever heard. “I mean, can I help you? I’m sorry. Your beauty confused me. Don’t get me wrong, we have beautiful women everywhere you look in this town, but you’re in another league.”

  “Thank you,” Mia said, unwilling to hide her annoyance at the man’s brutishness.

  Before she could say anything else, Portnoy interrupted her. “I’m sorry to say that the house is no longer for sale. I thought I wanted out, but I love it. I don’t want to let it go. I’m sure as you walked along the sidewalk you came to understand its appeal. It’s like I’m in another world back here. I’d be a fool to give this up. I’m sorry that it’s still posted online. I’ve asked my realtor at least half a dozen times to take it down, and she assures me that it’s done, but then some poor soul comes along to see it, and I have to make this same speech. Not that I mind. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do at this moment than look at you.” Portnoy chuckled again. “I mean talk to you.”

  “Oh, that’s disappointing,” Mia said. “I saw it online and it looks rather ideal. I’m looking for a retreat, and this place is just the right size and you can’t beat the location.” She traded the scornful look on her face from Portnoy’s initial examination of her, for a more pleasant, almost welcoming demeanor. “Maybe you can let me know if you ever choose to sell it?”

  “Of course,” Portnoy said. “I’d be happy to. Having a buyer lined up already would save me the realtor fees, which are not inconsiderable on a property like this, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Mia nodded in agreement. “Do you have a card or something?”

  “I don’t. Can I just give you my name and number?”

  “That works, too. Let me get something to write with. Do you care to come inside? I can show you around a bit if you’d like.”

  “So nice of you,” Mia said. “I don’t mind if I do.”

  “Please come in,” Portnoy said, standing to the side and sweeping his hand as if to direct her through the door.

  Inside, sunlight bathed the open area from all sides, and three skylights above. It seemed bright and airy, which surprised Mia considering the extent to which landscaping closed it in. Mia saw no signs of anyone else, and the house looked clean, well kept, and modern. In another life she might have wanted to live there.

  As she waited for Portnoy to find something to write with, a plan came together in
Mia’s mind. She knew that she operated best with her back against the wall, but she still often wondered whether she’d ever face a situation where nothing came to her. She assumed that if that ever happened it’d spell the end for her. But as Portnoy exclaimed with joy at finding the particular pen he searched for in a desk drawer, Mia knew how it would all come together.

  “Before we go any further, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Gabe Portnoy. This is my place. It’s not big, as you can see, but it’s just me so I like it. I don’t know your situation, but I like being alone here. Will anyone join you if I sell it to you?”

  Mia almost complimented his ability at finding out her marital status without asking her. She could tell this wasn’t Portnoy’s first rodeo.

  “Just me,” Mia said. “I like being alone. The solitude, the independence, the self-reliance. It suits me.” She shot a smile toward Portnoy that said, “Don’t even try it, asshole.”

  “I agree. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Mia Mathis.” Although she guarded her work with The Summit in order to maintain complete secrecy, Mia always used her real name. The Summit had taken countless precautions over the years to ensure that no one could link her with the organization, so she had no reason to hide her name.

  “Mia Mathis. I like that,” Portnoy said. “It’s got a poetic rhythm to it. Almost like someone just made it up.”

  “Well, I guess my mom did make it up,” she said with a smile.

  “I guess you’re right,” Portnoy said, laughing. “Now, how do I get in touch with you?”

  Mia gave him bogus contact information, which he wrote down, and then handed her a separate sheet of paper. “Here’s my phone number and e-mail address. If you’ve ever got some free time I’d love to get together for dinner. I can tell you about the house, life in Malibu, and whatever else you want to know.”