by Ed Teja
"Why is it so important that you find him?"
"A private business matter for a client. And you?"
"To have him sign some papers. He had been ignoring them and they are urgent. When he stopped returning calls, his partner in Grenada became concerned about his whereabouts."
"Then we share that concern."
All of this caught me off guard. Given that the business wasn't doing well, Walker seemed to be a strangely in-demand person. It hadn't occurred to me that anyone else might be hunting Walker, but then all I knew about him and his situation was from James' perspective.
If you think about it, people might have more than one reason to disappear. And, assuming they were trying to disappear, they might have more than one pursuer.
Simon sipped his drink, letting me digest my own thoughts. Then he grinned. "Look, this Walker person is of significant interest to my employer. He was holding something for him—a package, in trust. When he suddenly followed the urge to catch a breeze to parts unknown, giving no warning, we suspected that he might be betraying that trust."
"Money?"
He nodded. "I suppose there is no reason you shouldn't know. Yes. And a substantial sum of money, at that."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"First, so that you understand that the stakes are significant. Second, because knowing the facts will help you, and therefore me, find him."
"And you are in a rush to find him?"
"I am. He had negotiated a deal for my employer that required a cash settlement. The plan was that next week, on Tuesday, he would bring the money to its proper home, thus concluding the deal."
"Aren't you jumping the gun by panicking? As I understand it, he said he would be back on Monday. For all you know, he might be intending to return as advertised and do just that."
Simon looked sad.
"It's highly doubtful. You see, he had the money safely in his safe." He smiled delightedly at his own play on words. "When we heard he had left abruptly, we were concerned. You see, the money is gone as well. Sailing, one supposes, but I can't imagine that Walker was thinking that the money would be safer on his boat than in his safe."
"How do you know it's gone?"
He seemed to savor my naiveté a bit before answering. Perhaps he didn't encounter someone so out of touch often. He arched his eyebrows. "Meaning no offense, chap, but you truly are an amateur at this, aren't you?"
"An amateur at what?"
He grinned. "The game we are playing. Cloak and dagger. Spy versus spy."
Graham Greene, I thought. It isn't Somerset Maugham at all. "I wasn't aware that I was playing any game."
His smile became indulgent. "It's all perspective. Here, perhaps I can put your mind at ease a bit." He took another sip of his drink. I lifted my glass to my mouth and found that it had gotten empty somehow.
Simon noticed and ordered another round using international hand signals that serve you well in most bars around the world.
Despite the stiff drink, I felt alert. The night had become very interesting.
"I know the money was gone because I opened his safe and looked inside, of course," Simon said. "I popped in to check on the state of things in his absence and was distressed to find the safe quite empty."
We sipped our drinks quietly for a moment and I considered this new information.
"What on earth was Walker doing for your employer?"
"I have no idea," he said. "I deal with security and enforcement issues. The nature of any specific transactions does not fall within my purview."
"So, you were just asked to find out where the money went?"
Simon tapped the table between us, pointing to a list of facts that only he could see written there. "Billings, I am a professional. I am quite well paid to do what I do. In return, I am expected to produce results. As they say, failure is not an option. So no, I was not asked to find out where the money went. I was told that next week, I will show up with some sort of acceptable combination of Walker and the money, or Walker's scalp and the money. I can't tell you how tiresome any other result would be. Everyone would become quite irritable."
"And you want me to know this."
"Yes. Why not? Few, if any, people outside of you and I appear to know or care where Walker is or might have gone. We two have a vested interest in finding him. I wish to have an arrangement. I don't know what your business with him is and I don't care; but if we work together and locate him, I will allow you to conduct your business and then you will leave me to mine."
I thought about it. If I understood correctly, he wanted to make sure I didn't interfere with whatever he intended to do with Walker. I hesitated. Somehow it seemed like I was agreeing to a hit. Even though I didn't know the man, I didn't like the idea.
He paused and sighed. "These summaries are so tiresome. One explains the meat and then spends such a large amount of time answering questions that really haven't much bearing on the project at hand."
The waitress came over with our fresh drinks. Simon reached out and put his hand on her ass. She looked down at him with a tired smile that looked more bored than upset, then turned and walked away.
Simon took his glass by its stem and raised it to the light as if to honor the olive. Then he took an appreciative taste.
"This is, in many ways as dreadful a place as that restaurant you had dinner in, but Raul, the bartender here, does know how to mix a martini. He is a terrible person and should be locked up for his many crimes, but if there is justice in the afterlife, his martinis will be his salvation. I know I can find it in my own heart to forgive almost anything that he does, simply because of these martinis. If there is a larger form of graciousness, then when Raul arrives at the Pearly Gates, St. Peter will look in his ledger and say only: 'Thank goodness you are here. I can't tell you how desperately we need a good bartender.'"
My head still buzzed. "And you are including me in your business why?" I wanted him back on track. "What do you expect me to do?"
"I am telling you all this because, although I am actually quite resourceful, and good at what I do, I am also terribly lazy. Once I found that our goals were the same, at least to the point of finding Walker, I turned to my favorite strategy. I find that it saves an enormous amount of time and effort to sit down like proper gentlemen and say: 'look chap, here is what I know and here is what I am about.' This approach has the added benefit of potentially keeping one from getting caught in the unnecessary crossfire."
"Crossfire is a dangerous word, if you mean it literally."
"Unfortunately, I do. You see, I work for the mob. Well, a mob, at any rate. It is strictly a South American enterprise; however, they do have inflated pretensions to achieving greater things, and quite an aggressive marketing plan that will involve a fair amount of globalization efforts in the near term. Señor Walker had some minor dealings with them. He was to use their money to pay what you can think of as import duties to certain customs officials. When he took off, they became concerned that this runner of his might have something to do with a reluctance to part with that money. If that is the case, they would find his actions objectionable as it could prevent, or at least delay, an important transaction. As my employer finds that undesirable, my job is to locate him and apprise him of his folly."
"You are a mob enforcer?"
Simon chuckled. "Not exactly. I am a freelance operative."
"And you work for this mob?"
Simon nodded. "Among other clients. If you will excuse my poor Latin, this particular group is only e pluribus scumus, I am afraid, but a rather nasty specimen. However, that is life, mine, at least. I am not in an economic position to indulge myself in ethical snobbery. Nor is it seemly to complain about one's lot, when one had a large hand in creating one's own situation. This is a lucrative job, but as I mentioned, my employer is wedded to an extremely results-oriented style of management."
"His money back or else?"
A large smile crossed his face. "Precisely. In a nutshell."
In a bizarre way, I found myself envying Simon's casual familiarity with the ways and means of intrigue. Where I had to invent ways to unravel mysteries, to Simon the tradecraft was as simple and obvious as reading the daily news.
On my own, if Walker didn't turn up, I had no idea how to find him. Well, I had one, but if it didn't work, I was up a creek and I would need the help of someone with resources. I saw no reason not to work with him, at least for the moment. I suppose I had already decided to pretend that I felt he was on my side while it suited him.
That thought gave me a useful fiction for keeping my sanity. Besides, I had no useful information. I didn't know anything Simon hadn't worked out on his own, so our joint venture was extremely one-sided to my advantage. I could even pretend that whatever Walker's dealings with the mob (a mob) were, and despite James; connection to Walker, nothing obligated me to help Walker steal money. Not even from the mob.
As long as I got his signature, my job was done. No one had asked me to protect him from the consequences of whatever follies he was follying in.
"All I know at this point is that Walker left on his boat with a girl," I said. He nodded and I went on. "Until you told me about the money, I didn't have any reason to think that it was anything more sinister than calling in sick to spend some time happily ignoring the lack of business and cheating on his wife. But if he made off with some money, he might have decided to sail away from the country. It wouldn't be that hard."
Simon seemed to agree. "He didn't check out officially, according to the Port Captain, but it wouldn't be the first time a boat left Venezuela without doing so. I looked through Walker's office and apartment, and although he didn't take a lot of clothes, it appears that he did remember to take his passport." He looked off into the distance. "I doubt the Venezolana would even have one. I understand she is a poor girl from a barrio. Passports are expensive and getting them takes time and trouble."
"That wouldn't necessarily stop him from taking her along on a sail to another country. He could hide her on board the boat easily enough. Most ports of entry don't bother to physically search an arriving sailboat. If he wanted to play safe, since he apparently has plenty of money, he could probably get a fake passport easily enough."
"He hasn't inquired into a new one for himself or one for a local girl with the more popular local suppliers," Simon said. "I did consider that."
I smiled. "They could get by without them for a time. He could put her ashore somewhere before going through customs and immigration. All he needs is an anchorage outside of a city where he can put a dinghy ashore without a problem. He can do that for free. Then, he could either meet up with her after he checked in the new country, or simply leave her to her own devices. I don't know what kind of person he is."
"A crude one," Simon said. "But not stupid."
I considered what I knew.
Things didn't fit together well from the perspective of sailing away. "He doesn't seem to have planned to go very far, at least on the first leg of his trip. No one has mentioned seeing him take on provisions. And unless he fueled up a few days before, he didn't bother to before he left. The fuel dock isn't open at night. He could take on supplies and fuel in another port, but it would have been much easier to do it right here."
I considered the situation from a sailor's perspective, or more the way smugglers have to think about getting ashore.
"Of course, if he only intended to head for someplace like Trinidad or Grenada, he wouldn't have needed much fuel."
Simon shook his head. "My contacts tell me that he hasn't arrived at either place."
"Union Island?" Again, he shook his head. Then I stopped. "No, I don't think he left the country. Not yet. That wouldn't make sense."
"Why not?"
"Because if he has taken the money, we know he is a greedy man. And my business here would put money in his pocket rather quickly. He knows that all he has to do is sign some papers to get paid. I can't imagine he would want to leave the country until he arranges to meet with me and sign. He'll probably tell me to have James put money directly into an offshore account for him."
Simon wasn't convinced. "He might intend to go Grenada and sign the papers later."
It was my turn to throw cold water on an idea. "The whole point of getting him to sign the papers is so that James can shut down the business here right away. If he left the country without signing, James will get stuck cleaning up the mess.
"If he had to do that, then he won't bother to buy him out. He'd just shut the office down and call it a day—he wouldn't need to pay Walker a dime. If Walker did contact him later, James could shut the door in his face. Walker would have to come back here and sue him in Venezuelan courts."
"I see," Simon said. I could see that he followed the argument. "And then there is his wife, sitting in Margarita."
I considered her. "Seeing as he left without her, and we are fairly sure she isn't in on his plans, he most likely isn't planning on coming back. He left while she was gone and I would guess that he intends to call the office on Monday and arrange a meeting. He'll want to get the money without coming back to his own turf. "
Simon frowned. "Unfortunately, I think you are right...he wouldn't have left yet." He seemed upset about something. "So, your friend was ending their business relationship?"
"Yes. He wants out completely. James said that their original contract established the grounds that could be used to trigger a buyout and even has a way to determine the amount Walker would get for his share. It seems pretty smart. Apparently, once either of them decided it wasn't working, or that they didn't want a partner any longer, they had the right to buy the other out and they didn't have to haggle over the terms."
Simon rubbed his jaw. "Then I imagine Walker would want to collect that money." He smiled. "No one gives away free money. So, you see that my little exercise in following you has turned out to have been a brilliant strategic move. When he contacts you, then we will know where to find him."
"Unfortunately, there is no way that Walker can contact me before Monday," I pointed out. "Even if he knows I've arrived, he won't know what hotel I am staying at and the office is closed until then."
"My. I don't think that is soon enough at all," Simon said. "My employer will not be pleased."
I lifted my glass. "It isn't soon enough for anyone, it seems. So I'll start looking for Walker's boat tomorrow morning," I told him.
He looked at me. "Really? If the man went off sailing to parts unknown, how in the world is it possible to find him?"
I laughed. "When weekend sailors say they are going sailing, usually they simply mean that they are going off somewhere on their boat. Sometimes they don't sail at all, just motor out a ways and find a quiet spot to anchor. This area is riddled with beautiful bays. He led us to believe that he was intending to spend time with the new love of his life. That much might be true. If it is, he won't want to waste time underway so I don't think he will have gone far. If it was me, I'd head for a familiar anchorage where we could dine ashore and replenish basic provisions, like rum."
"How does any of this delightful information help you find him?"
"It means that there is a chance of finding him from the sea. I'll hire a small boat and start exploring the bays, looking for his boat. A local fisherman will know which bays have restaurants and a decent anchorage. He might even know of a boat that frequently anchors in one spot. I don't mean it will be easy or quick, but I can cover a lot of ground in one day. I might be able to find him, and spending my time trying beats the hell out of sitting in my room, waiting for Monday."
Simon scratched the bridge of his nose. "I think you are no amateur concerning those things. As I know nothing about them, I am convinced we make an excellent team. So we play to our strengths. As I am more information oriented, I will nose around the city and see if I can find out what information on sneaky gringos might
have come on the market recently, even exploring secondary passport markets. I'll get the word out to nearby cities as well, in case he has decided to show his lady the joys of other glamorous places."
I thought of every action movie I'd ever seen. "So, when do we compare notes and all that sort of thing?"
He took a slip of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table. I saw it had a telephone number written on it in ballpoint ink. "Call me when you finish your search. Whether or not you find him, we can get together for another session of sharing and caring."
I picked up the paper and turned it in my fingers. "Seeing as you are the professional, and I don't want to offend the protocols, I better ask: Am I supposed to memorize this and then eat the paper?"
"If you like," he said, sounding serious. "I know that I'd need another drink to get it down, though. In fact, I'd probably choose just to have another drink and keep the paper in my pocket, so I didn't forget the number. That's what we professionals usually do."
I knew James Bond would be proud. "I'll just keep it in my pocket then."
He nodded. "Good thinking. It pays dividends to be adaptable."
"I like dividends," I said.
Simon raised his glass. "Then we should drink to a successful working relationship."
We drank. Our conversation stopped for a time as we watched a thin reed of a woman come into the bar and take a seat a few stools down from us at the bar. Long black hair cascaded down the back of a short, light-blue summer dress that accented her stunning figure. She crossed long legs, accented in dark stockings, and lit a cigarette.
