by Matt Lincoln
Clyde shook his head and set the book on a dresser.
“They still haven’t returned the evidence I collected.” He scowled. “I would’ve gone through the identity and who knows what else if they hadn’t confiscated it.”
“I’ll get Yoani to push for them to get a move on.” I paced the width of the room. “If they aren’t going to play, we’ll send you home with Birn tomorrow afternoon. We’ve been wasting your time.”
Birn cleared his throat. “I’m not going back tomorrow. They got me cleared to stay on until this thing is closed. The story is that you’re asking your security guy to hang around. After all, this is shady stuff.”
“Sylvia must be spitting nails,” Holm said with a snort. “How is that investigation going, anyway?”
“We’re a long way off from resolving it.” Birn rubbed his face. “We both need a break, but she won’t take one.”
Maybe that was why Diane put Muñoz in charge of keeping tabs on Mike. Sometimes a step back from a slow-grind was how to refresh. Some cases were a series of hurry-up-and-wait scenarios.
“Where are you at on whether they’re doing more than car smuggling?” Birn asked.
“Not far,” I admitted. “Yoani planted a seed by bringing up people who have left the island for Miami. González seemed interested but didn’t offer a bite. Given his involvement with the club scene, he could be a player in bringing in drugs, but that’s not our concern so much as smuggling cars or people.”
“They didn’t find illegal substances on Talmadge’s boat,” Holm said. “If they’re smuggling, it wasn’t them.”
I shook my head. “Wrong kind of boat. They would’ve used that for smuggling people maybe, but not drugs. Those would go on the speedboats. Let’s keep our focus on the cars for now. If they bite on drugs or people leaving the island, we’ll deal with it then.”
I didn’t have anything against people wanting to escape a totalitarian regime, but I had a big beef against the bastards who profited from cramming dozens of people into confined spaces. They didn’t care whether those people made it as long as they got paid. Preying on desperation was worthy of one of the deeper levels of Hell.
“Think González will get pissed if we bring Lamarr?” Holm asked. “He didn’t say not to bring anyone new, but he’s pretty damned cautious.”
“Best not to go too far on that count.” I crossed my arms and gave Birn a long look. “You can Arturo can watch from a distance and back us up in case things go sideways. The location is next to a good-sized woody area and some hills. We’ll go over the topography before Arturo gets in tonight.”
“I’ll get photos while I’m out there.” Birn gestured to the suitcase he’d brought in addition to the one with the money in it. “I packed the good camera just in case.”
“Sounds good,” I said. Arturo was going to be on camera duty while watching over us, but it couldn’t hurt to have that backup on site. “I’m hitting the bunk in a few. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Birn laughed. “What’s the matter, Marston? Getting old?”
“Happens to the best of us.” Holm clapped my shoulder as a yawn overtook him as well. “And I’m one of the best.”
Clyde snorted and moved away. He’d been so quiet that I’d almost forgotten his presence. He shifted and settled into one of the room’s two chairs. He opened his book to the sticky note he’d used to mark his page, but rather than dive in, he caught my eye.
“Since I’m not serving a useful purpose, I’m going to catch up on more reading.” His pales cheeks colored. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
I felt bad for the guy. We’d dragged him out of his comfort zone only to provide him with little to do. He’d shown little interest in exploring the area with us earlier. The lab tech was always more comfortable in the lab with his partner, Bonnie.
“Tomorrow morning, I want you to get online with Bonnie,” I told him. “Go over the findings from that boat. Make sure there wasn’t anything interesting that might help us get more on these people. Last I heard, we still don’t have a definite cause of the explosion that took it down.”
“Bonnie would have called,” he said with a sharp edge. “When they know, we’ll know.”
“I believe you.” I sat on the bed next to his chair. “The thing is, you and Bonnie work best when you’re together. It never hurts to have extra eyes on test results. You know that.”
He frowned and nodded. “I won’t be able to log into our system from here, but I can have her go over the data with me.” Clyde brightened. “I’ll do that first thing.”
I clapped my hands once.
“Looks like we have a game plan.”
CHAPTER 23
There was something about getting up at the asscrack of dawn that always appealed to me. Whether I was in a city or out in the country, the air always smelled fresher, and the first rays of the sun were like being kissed by the sky.
We trundled out for the long drive as the night’s last whisper faded. I drove the Emgrand with Holm and Yoani. Arturo and Philippe rode with Birn. Philippe had insisted he stay because the twelve-hour mark for the guards’ shifts would surely pass while we were away.
“Think your buddy is getting any sleep?” I asked Yoani as we passed a tiny village. “It’s a bumpy road.”
“Your friend isn’t as talkative as you and Robbie,” she mused. “Arturo is a quiet one, as well. As long as Philippe is left alone, he can sleep through anything.”
I tried not to focus on how she knew that little tidbit. All I’d wanted to do was poke some fun at Philippe to amuse Yoani, and she’d given me more of an answer than I’d anticipated. Go me.
“As long as he’s rested for when they switch shifts,” Holm said from behind us.
I didn’t mind Philippe or Arturo, but their setup with shift changes at noon and midnight wasn’t ideal.
“How’s our VIP?” I asked Holm.
“Agent Cash is strapped in and waiting.” He patted the case next to him. “I’m not a fan of riding around with this much money, though. González knows we’re carrying it. It might be tempting to throw down against a couple of rich boys and run with the cash, especially with meeting in such a remote location.”
“That’s the other reason we have our own goons in the other car,” I pointed out. “Their extra muscle will come in handy if that happens.”
The conversation died out at that point. Holm wasn’t wrong, and it had occurred to me as well. On the other hand, they wouldn’t get to sell those cars. No, the scheme was too elaborate for it to be about stealing cash.
Our meet up was in the middle of the boonies, as we’d figured from the location given over the phone. Arturo split off from us a few miles before the narrow, dirt road that led to the meeting point. I had to slow way down because the access road had more divots and craters than actual driving surface.
A small car sat alone at the edge of the field at the end of the ragged lane. There was a thirty-foot span between the edge of the field and the treeline. González was out of the car and leaning against it while smoking a thin cigarette. He dropped it in the grass and smashed it out with his toe as we drove up. I opened my window. Hot, dry air flooded the cabin along with a cacophony of countless farmland insects.
“Where are the cars?” I demanded.
“They aren’t far,” he answered. “Do you have the money?”
“If you have the cars, we have the money.”
González gave a sharp nod. “Good.” He came over and pointed to where Yoani rode shotgun. “I’m going to ride with you. She can sit in the back with your friend.”
I tightened my left hand on the steering wheel.
“You didn’t say we’d be changing locations.” I wanted nothing more than to grab the guy by the collar and make him spill on why, but that wasn’t how playboy Ted would roll. “What’s going on?”
“It’s an extra security step,” González said. “Let’s go. They are waiting.”
&nbs
p; Yoani got out and went around the back of the Emgrand as González went around the front to where she’d been sitting. She got into the seat behind me. The money case ended up wedged between Yoani and Holm.
“Go back to the last intersection,” González instructed. “We will turn right on that road.”
I hoped Birn and the two guards wouldn’t overreact to our departure. Birn wasn’t the one I worried about as much as the other two. Philippe seemed a bit excitable, but Arturo had kept a level head so far. As long as they followed Birn’s lead, everything would be fine. I hoped.
True to González’s word, the secondary site wasn’t far from the initial meeting point. The back roads led to a small homestead with a simple farmhouse and barn that was more like an oversized shed. Two trucks, a Howo Sinotruk and a Kenworth of indeterminable age, were parked on either side of the barn. The Sinotruk had a box trailer, and the Kenworth had a long trailer that looked long enough to haul two cars. Two men lingered by the Kenworth and straightened as we pulled up.
“I take it we have three cars to look at,” I said to González.
“Yes. I wish we could have brought all four.” His genial smile took the edge off a twinge of disappointment. “We are very careful with our stock and have strict policies. You understand.”
“Yeah.” I parked by the open door of the barn and saw two sparkling grills and fenders. A darker shadow revealed a third vehicle out of the sun’s light. “What did you bring?”
“Come and see!” González’s ear-to-ear grin was that of a happy schoolkid. “I think you will both be pleased.”
As we exited the Emgrand, I cast a subtle look at the area surrounding the homestead. There were no clear site lines from the nearby hill, and the nearest trees made a privacy line. If our men were to keep watch, I didn’t see many options that wouldn’t require camo that they didn’t have on hand. Birn was a resourceful guy, though. He’d find a way to get those photos.
Yoani stayed close to me once we were out of the Emgrand. I wished she’d tell me what made her uncomfortable around González, but it wasn’t my place to push. At least as long as it didn’t interfere with the case. Holm carried the case with the cash as we entered the barn and allowed our eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
A thrill skipped through my chest as laid eyes on the car I would’ve loved to take home for real. The 1957 Chevrolet Corvette convertible in bronze, or Aztec copper, as I’d learned during an online search the night before. The curves were as shapely as a woman’s leg past the hood up to her hips by the trunk. Its cream accent behind the front wheels swooped across the coupe doors, and the crisp whitewalls made her the prettiest car I’d seen in a long, long time.
“Damn, that’s a beauty,” I whispered.
Holm whistled, and I saw a twinkle in his eye as he took in the 1952 Mercedes-Benz 220A cabriolet. It was royal blue with big, round headlamps and a grey interior. Its smart front end grill spoke of power and gravitas while the rounded fenders hinted at good driving. Glowing wood trim on the doors and dash begged to be caressed.
The third car, a 1955 Bel Air that was out of the direct sunlight, was almost as pretty as the ’Vette. The photos in the catalog hadn’t done its coral and dark grey color scheme justice. Its stocky body brooked no nonsense, and yet I imagined it racing down a coastal highway with the wind in my hair. This was Holm’s second pick, and I had to give him props.
“You gentlemen appear pleased.” González broke the silence with a soft tone that could fool most people into believing he was there as no more than a friend doing a favor. “They informed me this morning that for an extra two thousand each, we will be able to ship them without disassembly. We have a new transport crew, and they have the means to safely stack the cars.”
I perked up at that. The notion of breaking babies like this down never appealed to me. If the smugglers wanted two grand extra for that, who was I to argue? MBLIS was watching our pennies, but this particular expensive was justifiable, as far as I was concerned. I only needed one more detail before I signed over my part of the deposit.
“You said these all run,” I said. “I need to see the engine, hear it, and drive it.”
“Same,” Holm added. “In addition, I want a mechanic to check everything over before I take delivery at home.”
“Of course.” González led us outside. “You may drive slowly around this property. The grassy area is a little bumpy, but not like the road.” He gave us each a warning glance. “Do not go out to the road. It will damage the cars, and then our drivers will damage you.”
He pointed to where the men now sat on lawn chairs in the shade of a tree next to the house. Each driver had an assault rifle across his lap. They appeared alert but relaxed as they chatted with each other.
“Señor Sutton, would you like to go first?”
“Hell yeah.” I grinned and held out my hand. “Twice around the grounds?”
González nodded and pulled two sets of keys from his pocket. He handed one to me with a leather-tooled keychain with a Corvette emblem. The second key had a similar keychain with the iconic Mercedes-Benz logo, and he handed it to Holm.
“You may look at the engine while your friend drives with me,” he said. “I trust you will not do anything foolish.” He nodded toward the armed drivers.
“I’ll just look, I promise.” Holm pointed at the Bel-Air. “What about that one?”
“Appreciate the Mercedes first.” González put a hand on Holm’s shoulder. “I have a feeling it suits you better.”
The Benz also cost more. If González received a commission, that increased payday would be a hell of a boon to him in a nation where the value of a dollar meant a hell of a lot more than it did in the States.
“We’ll see.” Holm accepted the key with a nod. He gestured for Yoani to join him as he opened the hood. “The six inline is a good start.”
“Not like a good V8,” I said with a laugh.
I slid into the car’s leather seat and started her. The engine thrummed to life. Whoever refreshed it after the decades it had been left hidden had done a great job, at least as far as it went by my ear. As I appreciated the Corvette’s happy hum, González lowered his voice.
“If you researched this vehicle, you will see that there were fewer than three hundred made in this color. Each one has been tracked, and a few were lost to time.”
“What does that mean for me if I buy it?” I asked.
“Should the others be found, there could be questions.” He closed the door and fastened the lap belt. “It is highly unlikely, but I prefer to be, as you say, transparent. This car was brought to Cuba with the correct documentation. Our people have taken extra care with its provenance.”
“I see.”
I suspected this was true of several of their vehicles. The tactic of getting a potential buyer behind the wheel was a smart move. If I was an actual black market buyer, I’d find it harder to say “no” even with the information.
“Will this be a problem?”
“It depends on how she drives,” I told him.
I eased the car into gear. The clutch was smooth as butter into first gear, and the car purred forward. My heart beat faster as I brought her into second gear across the driveway and onto the grassy area as instructed. Although I hated to drive her through a yard, I trusted the man to know what he was doing. He had plenty of incentive to keep these vehicles in prime condition.
The Corvette cut through the yard like a ribbon. Little bumps shook the car more than I liked, but all told, it was one of the sweetest rides ever. Had González brought the Impala, I wouldn’t have bothered to look at it.
Two laps around the property were all I needed to convince me the car was in good form. Higher speeds could tell another story, but a car collector like Ted Sutton would be more likely to stow her on a trailer under a tarp rather than drive more than ten miles to a show. Higher speeds would’ve been icing on a fabulous cake. I knew I’d miss the car as soon as I backed it into the barn.<
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“Let’s get a look at the engine.” I popped the hood before turning it off.
The V8 was a beaut, just like the body that held it. González’s people had a talented crew. Several years of dormancy were tough on a vehicle, let alone six decades. The car was over sixty years old, but she looked brand new.
“Whoever did the work to bring her out of hibernation did a hell of a job,” I said.
“We are fortunate to have knowledgeable mechanics.” González patted the Corvette’s fender with a loving touch. “This motor needed more attention than others, but you see the work is done quite well.”
I went back around and cut the engine.
“I want her.” Handing the keys back to González was a hell of a letdown, but that was how it worked. “How soon can I take delivery?”
“Two to three weeks,” he said. “Our shipping partner will provide the date, and we will provide the location and time.”
“How do you do it?” I kept my voice curious, as a buyer might want to know. This was the point at which I could get us into trouble if I wasn’t careful. I nodded toward where Holm still held onto the money case while inspecting the Mercedes. “I’d hate to lose my money on a car that never makes it to Florida.”
Some of the sheen faded from González’s poster-boy smile.
“Trade secrets and trust, my friend.” He handed me a card. “This is a number you may use to reach me for the next three weeks. After that, it will go out of service. This is the best I can offer.”
I took the plain card and flipped it over. The only content was a phone number with a Cuban access code. I tucked it into my back pocket. With an operation this organized, I suspected that the phone in question wouldn’t be so easy to trace and track.
“It’ll have to do,” I said with a few ounces of skepticism. “As soon as you’re done with Liam, I’ll give you my share of what’s in that case.”
González relaxed his shoulders and strode over to where Holm had turned off the Mercedes’s engine and now poked at various points. Holm looked up with an appreciative smile.
