A Naked Singularity: A Novel

by Sergio De La Pava

  At that moment Benitez must have felt that this fight would not differ in any meaningful way from his previous ones. To lose he would have to get hit and he didn’t get hit ergo et cetera; he would win. Except that in the next two rounds he did get hit. The quickness and speed of Leonard’s left jab was a problem that wasn’t going to go away. In the second, before another intermissionary staredown, a jab by Leonard landed clean and visibly knocked Benitez off balance. That was slightly embarrassing. More embarrassing was the jab near the end of the third that actually dropped Wilfred to the canvas. He jumped right up then smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t hurt and dodged everything the rest of the round but the point was made. Getting dropped by a jab is never a good sign for what it says about either a fighter’s balance or his ability to absorb his opponent’s power.

  Wilfred had given away some early rounds and even been down. Leonard had growing confidence and early momentum. Benitez needed to wake up soon. In the fourth he did, never getting hit significantly and landing some good left hooks. Nothing happened in the fifth save for Leonard employing the lame Angelo Dundee strategy of trying to steal a close round by impressing the judges with a meaningless feather fisted flurry in the last ten seconds. In the sixth, both fighters, neither of whom ever took their eyes off their opponent, leaned forward, eyes up, at the precise same moment, causing their foreheads to clash angrily. Benitez was cut, Leonard wasn’t. A bad situation had just gotten worse. Benitez seemed to realize this and it spurred him to his best moments of the fight to that point as he doubled and tripled up on his left hook showing his inhuman hand speed. At the end of the round he smiled with blood streaming down his face.

  The next few rounds were close with neither man establishing a clear advantage. For Wilfred it wasn’t going badly but it wasn’t going overly well either. Leonard just seemed slightly stronger, like he had to be less careful. In the ninth, Wilfred’s mouthpiece became visible. His mouth was open, he was tired. Leonard wasn’t. In the tenth, Wilfred’s tired hands were down when he wasn’t throwing wild, amateurish punches that further betrayed his fatigue. In the eleventh, he stuck his tongue out at Leonard in seeming recognition of what was happening. In belated response Wilfred caught a hard left hook that hurt him and sent him to the ropes where he stayed waiting for Leonard. A wary Leonard, perhaps remembering Palomino’s futility in a similar situation, hesitated repeatedly and failed to follow up with anything significant. Nevertheless, Benitez was now clearly losing a fight that was more than two/thirds over. He was tired but if he had trained properly he wouldn’t have been since the action to that point didn’t justify a twenty-one-year-old being that tired after eleven rounds. Fortunately for Benitez, the terms second wind refer to a true physiological phenomenon and in the twelfth he got his. He fought better, landed more punches with greater accuracy and showed more energy. The fight was closer.

  Going into the fifteenth, Wilfred and his corner knew he needed at least a big final round to remain champion. There had to be a palpable urgency. The man across from him was trying to steal a piece of him and make him less of a person. With the end of the fight quickly approaching, stamina and pacing would no longer be a concern for either fighter. They could leave it all in the ring as they say. In that last round, Wilfred approached his true ability level and had his best moments of the fight. He landed serious punches in combination that snapped Leonard’s head back and he did this without opening himself up too much. A determined Leonard responded in kind and the alight crowd bubbled over as the two men traded sizzling punches in the middle of the ring.

  With about twenty-five seconds remaining, Benitez got caught flush with a compact left hook to the top of his head. His upper body jerked back and then forward and he dropped to one knee. He got up, shook his head, and went to a corner. The cut on his forehead sent blood down his face slicing it into perfect halves. He smiled beneath it. He bled. To the referee he nodded yes meaning more. When the action resumed he stayed in the corner. Leonard rushed in and threw punches almost wildly, most missing. Wilfred moved his head as he had a thousand times before.

  More punches but not many. Suddenly, the ref steps between them and stops the fight. Leonard jumps up on the ropes. He is the New Champion. The old champion walks around the ring smiling. He is walking towards the jubilant Leonard who has been lifted up by his corner.

  He extends his arms as if to hug but is ignored.

  chapter 19

  This space intentionally left blank.

  “You realize of course that once we get this money none of what you just said will matter right?”

  “I know.”

  “No you sure? Because you maybe don’t sound like you mean it.”

  “No I understand.”

  “For example, you’re going to quit right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure?”

  “Hell so, what am I the janitor who goes back to work the day after the Lotto press conference where they hand you the oversized novelty check? Of course I’m going to quit. I’m going to move too. I’m not going to see anything that reminds me of anything else ever again.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Whatever.”

  We were sitting in my livingroom and it was noisy. The unpainted radiator in the corner that constituted the sole barrier in my life between clammy continued existence and rigorous mortis hissed furiously, its metal top hat on the side undulating wildly. The two front windows swelled inward barely barring the whistling wind. Spread out on a table between us was a lot of wrestling paper along with photographs and blueprints. Dane surveyed the scene then looked up at me.

  “That’s a lot of stuff isn’t it?” he said.

  “More than you would think could be generated in less than a week.”

  “And now we’re another less-than-a-week away. After tonight just six full days remain before we go in and, if I understand you correctly, you will be in Alabama for at least a part of four of those days.”

  “Yes.”

  “So how do you feel about it?”

  “Still concerned about DeLeon.”

  “I don’t think you need to be.”

  “Well, where is he then?”

  “We know where he is, he’s in Santo Domingo enjoying his big fifty.”

  “We don’t know that. You assume it.”

  “Fine, but it’s a strong assumption.”

  “I’m not sure it really rises to that level.”

  “Oh stop.”

  “I’m serious, I must not be as willing as you are to make assumptions when my life is on the line.”

  Dane exhaled a smile. “Listen, let’s review what we do know beyond doubt and why I feel it justifies me in making my assumption. First, we know DeLeon got out right? We know he’s not in jail anymore?”

  “Yes we know that.”

  “You’ve read the packet right, so we also know the drugs have arrived in this country, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And we know from DeLeon that he was to make $100,000 total, fifty when the stuff got in the country and another fifty after the deal was done.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “We also know that his plan was to take that first fifty and split before the deal came to fruition, agreed?”

  “Yes.”

  “So isn’t it highly reasonable to assume that after he got out he played his role in getting the stuff in the country, got his fifty, then split as he said he would?”

  “So how come we haven’t been able to confirm his presence there?”

  “Well that’s not all that surprising is it? We have limited time right now and one would certainly expect DeLeon to be laying low over there for many reasons, not the least of which is the necessity of staying clear of Flaco until at least next Wednesday.”

  “That’s part of the problem, part of what holds me up. You’ve only set forth that part of DeLeon’s plan that supports your theory. For example, you assume a correlation between DeLeon’s
release from jail and the arrival of the drugs about thirty-six hours later.”

  “Of course.”

  “However, as you know, DeLeon told me he lied when he told the cops the deal would not go off without his liberty when the truth was it would in fact go off with or without him.”

  “True and I believe that was the case. If he had stayed in jail, the deal would nevertheless have gone through without him. That’s why, as he also told us, he was in such a hurry to get out so he wouldn’t lose his fifty. That said, once he did get out I think Escalera astutely knew that here was the one guy who could call an untimely halt to the proceedings. I think at that point, at Escalera’s urging, DeLeon reached out to Flaco, helped seal the deal, and got his fifty in return. After that it was all according to plan and he split.”

  “Well there was more to the plan though, right? As he explained it to me, and I know what your response is going to be, he was then going to give the police the real information thereby ensuring that Escalera would be arrested and therefore unable to retaliate. This is not a minor issue. If he in fact did give the police the right information then we’re going to be in for a nasty surprise next Wednesday.”

  “I know what he told you but remember what he told me. Through my help, DeLeon came to realize the moral illegitimacy of vengeance. He realized that the best way to be free from the fear of retaliation was to avoid creating the need for it in the first place by allowing the deal to go through. Obviously to do that he couldn’t give the police the real information. Nor could he stick around here, not with the police looking for him. The best solution was for him to get his money and disappear immediately. Now he didn’t come to this conclusion accidentally. I, of course, led him to it by the nose every step of the way, but in a manner which allowed him to ardently believe he had come to it all by his lonesome. That’s how come I know he took his money and split without ever talking to the police again. Because when I left that day that’s what he was going to do.”

  “Except that when he left me he was going to do something entirely different. So we know he’s capable of changing his mind on this matter and we can’t foreclose the possibility that he did so again.”

  “But we also know that he has in fact disappeared and the police are looking for him, making it unlikely that he’s hanging around risking jail or that he in any way cooperated further after we parted.”

  “So we’ve gone from perfect to unlikely?”

  “No, remember what I said before. There’s a very simple way to test my theory. We know what the false information DeLeon gave to the cops was. All we have to do, and by we I mean I since you will be in Alabama, is go to the fake location at the fake time and see if there is any police activity. If there is that pretty much confirms my theory and we can proceed in calm.”

  “Obviously extreme care has to be taken Saturday right?”

  “Certain things go without saying.”

  “Don’t overstate what we can determine on Saturday either.”

  “I know, I know. The police could be in possession of two dates, including the correct one, and be checking out the Saturday one out of sheer thoroughness, but even you have to admit how unlikely that is.”

  “Yes.”

  “Bottom line is we’ll know quasi-definitively on Saturday, so let’s get to the actual plan.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Given the scarcity of time remaining I think we need to start by mentally eliminating those potential avenues we’ve been ruminating on but which, for whatever reasons, are not practical. Tonight we need to at least substantially narrow the universe of possible plans.”

  “I agree. On that note, as I said before, I think it’s going to be very difficult to locate the nephew for example.”

  “Yeah I don’t think we should waste any more time on that because even if we could discover that location and get the trunk before Wednesday there’s still the problem of how to turn it into money while also destroying its contents so that’s a dead end in my view.”

  “Well we need to talk about that last part but yes I agree that perfection requires we abandon that avenue. Likewise I feel that any further attempts to identify and possibly intercept the mule are similarly doomed.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which means we have to do this sometime around three a.m. next Wednesday.”

  “Right.”

  “You’ve studied up, right Casi?”

  “Extensively.”

  “So you’ll know everything I’m about to say, but here goes anyway. We know that at three there will be ten people in that building, nine of whom are profiled in the packet.”

  “Right.”

  “Three in the garage to start, one will stay with the mule, the other two will carry the chest up to the first floor. Waiting there will be Escalera, his financial partner Colon, and Grullon who will weigh and test the drugs. If Grullon gives the go-ahead, they’ll signal Ballena who will come down from the second floor with the duffel bag of money. The two will go back to the garage with the bag and give it to the mule consummating the deal.”

  “That’s eight.”

  “Right, plus the two lookouts on the roof make ten.”

  “That we know of.”

  “Well that’s all there is from that end, I’m sure of it. But I think you make a good point when you say it’s likely that people from Flaco’s end will be in the area to at least quickly snag the mule and get the money.”

  “You would think. Otherwise that’s a lot of money to entrust to someone getting a hundred and fifty dollars.”

  “At any rate, what is obvious is that the purchase money is going to have to arrive at 410, assuming it’s not already there, a strong assumption given that the house is still occupied by civilians, sometime before three. The idea therefore is that—”

  “No.”

  “What? You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “Look I know what you’re going to say. Here’s the problem. Several problems actually. First and foremost, if things get fucked up from their perspective, that is, we steal their money, before the mule arrives, then you can be sure they will hold her, torture her, and probably kill her, on the off chance she was involved. And even putting aside the considerable moral difficulty inherent in causing that to happen to someone who is getting a hundred and fifty dollars, a woman no less, there is the practical problem that the only time we can be sure the money will be there is at precisely three a.m. not two-thirty or some other time sufficiently in advance of the exchange to avoid complication.”

  “That’s your better argument.”

  “Fine, but this is certain, whatever the plan is it must encompass the mule’s safe exit.”

  “Okay I’ll give you that you stubborn fuck. And I gave you the crazy swords that are in this bag.”

  “The swords were your idea.”

  “Only after you proscribed guns, which any self-respecting malfeasant will tell you is a vital element of almost any successful heist.”

  “Almost, but who wants to be part of the murky middle right?”

  “I gave you all that, understand, but now is the time to concede that your proposed destruction of the drugs must promptly go out the window.”

  “No way.”

  “It’s so fucking impractical! It will be the death of this thing too.”

  “We just need to think of something.”

  “Listen, hear me out will you? There are going to be at least ten people, probably more, in the area of that money.”

  “The area is irrelevant because we have to do this inside the building.”

  “Fine, ten people then.”

  “Only nine of which will be interested in thwarting us.”

  “Nine and we are two. The only way, it seems to me, we can ever hope to overcome that discrepancy is to divide the house into its four zones: the basement, the two floors, and the roof. The best thing we have going for us is that seventy percent of their force is in the bottom half of the house and that the rel
evant zone, the third floor, has only one person.”

  “Ballena.”

  “Right.”

  “A single person entrusted with providing security for all that money and who not incidentally happens to be referred to solely by the Spanish word for Whale despite the fact that everyone agrees he is not obese.”

  “True, he’s no doubt large but he is nevertheless only one person whereas we are two highly motivated individuals carrying swords. Anyway you see where I’m going with this right? The drugs that you want to destroy—”

  “Have to.”

  “Those drugs are on the second floor surrounded by five people. Understand my concern now? See, you haven’t thought about it in terms of zones.”

  I reached into a folder on the table and handed Dane a sheet of paper. It was a copy of the blueprint he had included in his packet. On it, the house had been divided into four zones just as Dane had suggested with illustrations depicting the number of people in each zone and the approximate times of their presence. He looked at it, first smiling then concerned.

  “Well I see you have thought about it in those terms,” he said. “Which would only make it all the more baffling should you insist on entering the most heavily-fortified zone in the house to destroy the drugs.”

  “I know it’s tight,” I said rubbing my chin, laying back, and just generally trying to affect an air of genuine empathic concern for his plight. “But there must be a way and besides I’m not convinced we could even pull this off without implicating the two lower zones anyway.”

  “I think we can if we forget about the drugs.”

  “So you’re saying come in and leave from the top so we only have to deal with three guys?

  “Exactly.”

  “But they’re in communication with each other.”

  “That’s okay, we can disrupt that pretty easily.”

  “I agree we probably have to go in from above for several reasons.” I thought in silence. “The other major option is the garage.”