Long Way Down

by Paul Carr

  About an hour after dark, J.T. said, “Well, if it isn’t the Casino King.”

  Sam picked up the glasses and watched La Salle’s Jaguar turn into the marina. La Salle was driving and Gino sat in the passenger seat. They parked under the large flood lights and headed toward the docks, La Salle still walking with a limp. The rain had slackened, so Sam got out and peered over the roof of the car for a better view. No street lights burned close to the Acura, so La Salle would be unlikely to see him, even if he looked his way. La Salle wore a gray suit and held a large umbrella above his head. Gino wore an unbuttoned raincoat with his hands stuffed in the pockets. Rain washed over his forehead, colored a deep shade of blue, still swollen and resembling the front of a bicycle helmet.

  They went directly to Sam’s boat and tried the hatch. It wouldn’t budge, and Gino glanced up and down the dock and then pulled a silenced handgun from inside his coat and fired three rounds into the lock. The hatch popped open and they went inside. Sam cringed, thinking it would take a couple of hours to fix that, if he could fix it at all. They stayed for a few minutes and came out, then went back to the Jaguar, sat there for awhile, and drove away.

  Sam got back into the Acura and wiped the rain from his face. He handed the glasses to J.T. and told him what La Salle and Gino had done. “They didn’t come here for Jack. Didn’t even glance toward his boat.”

  Sam and J.T. decided to get some more food, left their stakeout for about fifteen minutes, and returned with cups of hot chili and burgers. Nothing else happened until almost midnight. The rain had stopped and the streets looked like mirrors under the lights. Jack’s Mercedes passed them and Sam watched as he turned into the parking lot, got out and hurried toward his boat.

  “Let’s go,” Sam said.

  J.T. started the Acura and they rode to the marina and parked. They got out and strode down the dock toward The Clipper.

  Jack saw them as he opened the hatch, glanced beyond them to see if anyone else followed, and motioned with a nod to come inside. He closed the hatch behind them. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

  Sam shook his head and told about La Salle’s visit. Jack made drinks and they sat in the soft chairs of the big lounge.

  “I’ve been calling you for a couple of days,” Sam said. “Where’ve you been?”

  Jack sighed, loosened his tie and took a long drink from his gin and tonic. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  Sam waited for him to say more, but Jack just laid his head back and stared at the overhead.

  “I know about your scheme and NeoWorld, and about Uncle Dave, too.”

  Jack raised his head, smiled and glanced at J.T. “He’s a pretty smart guy, you know it?”

  “Quit stalling,” Sam said.

  Jack took a deep breath and another long drink. “Yeah, okay...I went to Grand Cayman, to try to keep this thing from falling apart.”

  “How much did La Salle invest in NeoWorld?”

  Jack looked at Sam for a few seconds before replying.

  “It’s probably better if you don’t have any more information than you need, Samuel.”

  “How much?”

  “About eighty million, and he’s supposed to come up with twenty more.

  J.T. whistled and Jack smiled.

  “But he’s already spent most of the money,” Jack continued. “We were just in it for the escrow.”

  “Escrow?”

  Jack nodded. “Dave told him he had to keep ten percent in escrow until the rest of his money came through. Of course, he’ll never see the escrow again.”

  Sam knew La Salle had lost all the gold. “Did the money belong to his clients?”

  Jack nodded, drained his drink and got up to make another round. “He planned to replace it with what he got out of the gold.” Jack handed out the drinks and returned to his seat. “At least I think that’s what he intended.”

  “You knew about the gold artifacts,” Sam said, more a statement than a question.

  Jack grinned. “Oh yes.”

  Sam sipped his drink. “So the rest of the NeoWorld assets are bogus, and when La Salle spends what he’s put into the company, minus the escrow, everything is gone.”

  “That’s the way this kind of thing works, Samuel.”

  “What about Danilov?”

  “Our deal was just with La Salle. I suppose Danilov might have helped him with his share, but we never dealt with him.”

  Sam considered that for a few moments and decided Jack could be telling the truth. “Is Dave doing all the front work?”

  “Sure. You know I never get involved any more than I have to.”

  “I saw you on La Salle’s island.” Sam said.

  Jack nodded. “La Salle wanted to discuss some details with Dave, and I went along in case he had problems, but La Salle never knew I was there.”

  “What kind of details?”

  “Well, it’s pretty complicated, but he wanted to make sure he has clearance to run a gambling establishment.”

  “Does he?”

  “He thinks he does.”

  Sam glanced at J.T. and grinned, then turned back to Jack. “When will he find out?”

  Jack winked and said, “You know, that’s the beauty of this business. By the time he finds out, it won’t matter anymore.”

  They remained silent for several moments. Ice cubes clinked in their glasses and new rain pelted against the portholes. Sam felt the gin beginning to soothe the raw nerves and wondered how they would get Candi, and themselves, out of this alive. Jack had said little that he hadn’t already guessed, and none of it would help Candi.

  “Tell me about the gold, Jack.”

  “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know everything.” Jack’s voice had an edge to it.

  Sam felt his forehead heat up and his pulse thump harder. He told himself to stay calm, even though Jack had caused him a lot of grief. “Okay,” he said. “I think you got the idea for all this when Carling asked you to check on La Salle. You discovered he stole that collection of artifacts, and wanted the face surgery so he could change his identity.”

  Jack’s eyes tightened into a smile.

  Sam continued: “You knew he had this source of money, and found out from Tommy Shoes that he wanted to build a casino. So you cooked up a way to make him think he could pull it off. I think you also knew who La Salle stole the gold from, and maybe made a deal to recover it and deliver La Salle’s head on a platter.”

  Jack’s smile stayed in place, but something sparked in his eyes, and Sam wondered if he had tripped over something important.

  “You know that isn’t my style,” Jack said. “I like to do the number and then slide out leaving the mark wondering what happened. And I could have done that here, too, except my inquiries got back to the man who lost the collection, and his thugs paid me a visit.”

  Jack took a drink and ran his fingers through his hair. He got up and fished a cigar out of a box, and asked if anyone else wanted a smoke. Sam declined and J.T. reached for a cigar. Jack sat down and they lit up.

  “You were telling us about the men who paid you a visit,” Sam said.

  Jack drew in the smoke, squinted, and blew a ring in the air above his head.

  “Oh, yeah, they visited, alright. Came in the middle of the night and boarded my boat. I didn’t hear a thing until the guy thumbed the hammer of the gun and stuck it to my temple. They wanted the man who stole the collection.”

  “Thomas Beeker.”

  Jack nodded, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “They had tracked him back to Miami, but ran into a dead end. Of course, he had a new identity by then and left no trail that would lead anyone to him.”

  “Who did they work for?”

  Jack frowned. “Well, they weren’t exactly in a talking mood.”

  “You already knew, didn’t you?” Sam said.

  Jack leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The fingers of one hand wrapped around his drink glass and his other hand held the half-burned cigar,
smoke drifting to the overhead. He looked as if he might be considering his options, and finally decided to say something.

  “Yes, Gideon Barge.”

  “The oil man?” J.T. asked.

  No one answered the question, and the silence hung in the air like stale breath. Gideon Barge, one of the richest men alive, in his sixties by now. To call him ruthless would be like saying Einstein had an interest in science. He had killed people to build his fortune, and got away with it every time. That someone had stolen something from him so valuable would make him furious. A rabid collector of anything rare, the gold artifacts had to be his most prized possessions. The rain started again and pounded the overhead.

  Jack glanced at Sam. “You did some work for him, didn’t you?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You know I did. As I remember, you did too.”

  Jack nodded and smiled sadly.

  J.T. took a puff on the cigar, laid it in the ashtray, and looked from one to the other. “You guys are kidding, right?”

  “So you made a deal with them,” Sam said, ignoring J.T.’s question.

  “Well, yeah, when someone is holding a gun to your head you tend to make a deal.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  Jack shrugged. “I gave them La Salle’s name and told them where to find him. I also told them he’d lost the gold on the bottom of the Caribbean, and if they would wait awhile, he’d retrieve it for them.”

  “And that’s how they knew when to swoop in and take it all back.”

  Jack sighed and said, “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Who fed you the information about La Salle’s activity down there?”

  Jack smiled, drained his glass and crunched an ice cube between his teeth.

  “Randy, the pilot.” He glanced at Sam’s bag. “You have the statue in there?”

  Sam knew they eventually would get around to it. “I suppose you want it so you can give it back to Gideon?”

  Jack nodded. “That would be the simplest solution.”

  Sam leaned forward in his chair. “What about Candi? La Salle said he’ll kill her if I don’t give him the statue.”

  Jack closed his eyes for a long blink and shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “They’re working together. You’re blind if you can’t see that. She’ll sell you out for a lot less than the value of that statue.”

  Sam had considered that possibility. Though difficult to read, Candi had been in a fix when she first came looking for Sam’s help. She had a bullet hole in her side, said La Salle wanted to kill her, and had convinced Sam of it. Could she have patched it up with La Salle, maybe come to an agreement about splitting the gold? “Why do you care what happens to the statue now?” Sam asked.

  “I got a call from Gideon himself when he didn’t find the statue in the crates they got from La Salle.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “Something like that.”

  Why would Gideon hold Jack responsible for getting the statue back? Sam thought he knew the answer. “Maybe you’re right about Candi.”

  Jack smiled and glanced again at the bag. Sam stood up with it in his hand and turned toward the door. “Thanks for the drinks.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you going? We need to resolve this.”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” Sam said. “Who knows, I might find a buyer for this baby and head off to South America with the cash.” Sam opened the hatch and he and J.T. stepped out into the rain.

  Jack followed them, but stopped under the awning and stood there with his hands in his pockets. “Don’t make a stupid mistake, Samuel.”

  They strode to the car, quiet as they left the marina, J.T. probably thinking about his share of the take if they sold the statue, Sam trying to make some sense of it all. Jack had been right about one thing, Sam didn’t want to make a stupid mistake.

  “Did you mean what you said back there?” J.T. said.

  “Which part?”

  “The part about selling the statue and going to South America. Because if you did, I can find someone who’ll pay top dollar.”

  Sam glanced at him and grinned.

  “No, I didn’t mean that. Just giving Jack something to worry about.”

  J.T. frowned and said, “But what about the stuff he said about Candi?”

  “Jack wants the statue. He’ll say anything to get it.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s his skin or Candi’s, huh?”

  “It might not be that simple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I did the job for Gideon Barge that Jack mentioned about three years ago. I tracked down an accountant who cheated him out of a lot of money. When I turned in the accountant and went to collect my fee at Gideon’s headquarters in Mexico City, I saw Jack. He and Gideon looked real chummy, and I’ll bet Jack knew about Gideon’s collection of artifacts back then.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “I think Jack is behind the whole thing.”

  Chapter 25

  THE PHONE woke Sam. He picked it up and mumbled a hello.

  “You up yet?” J.T.

  Sam looked at the clock by the bed: 6:35 AM. They had checked into the hotel only four hours earlier. He sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes.

  “I am now.”

  They met in the restaurant twenty minutes later and had a breakfast of eggs, sausages and home fries. When they left for the car, J.T glanced at Sam, an awkward look on his face. “You decide what you’re going to do with the statue?”

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “I thought we covered that last night. We’re going to spring Candi.”

  “Okay, just checking. You know, like, it was pretty late, and you were tired.”

  When they reached the car, Sam said, “Why don’t you drive. I need to use the phone.”

  They got in and Sam dug into his bag and found the napkin La Salle had given him at the Palma bar. He punched the numbers into his cell phone and waited for three rings before La Salle answered.

  “Find anything interesting on my boat?” Sam asked.

  La Salle ignored the question. “You’d better still have that statue.”

  “I want to talk to Candi.”

  Pause. “You think you have some kind of bargaining position, Mackenzie?” La Salle’s voice had an edge to it.

  “That’s right. Unless you want me to turn this statue into a sack full of commemorative coins.”

  Sam heard La Salle sigh, and then the phone went silent for several seconds, except for the sound of muffled voices.

  “Sam?” Candi whispered.

  “Yes. Are you all right?”

  “I guess so. They’ve had me locked up the whole time.” She sounded sleepy.

  “Where are you?”

  “I think we’re still--”

  Candi’s voice stopped abruptly and La Salle came back on the line.

  “Okay, so you know she’s alive. Meet me on the airstrip ramp at noon and we’ll make the exchange.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  La Salle remained silent for several seconds, and Sam thought he heard teeth grinding.

  “We had a deal.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said, “but you sent Grimes to kill us. That raises the ante.”

  “What do you want?” La Salle’s tone bordered on rage.

  “Three million cash, in addition to Candi.”

  “Three million? You’re insane. Why would I agree to that?”

  “Because the statue is worth a hundred million, that’s why.”

  “You still have the money you stole from me.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m keeping that too.”

  After a couple of seconds, Sam wondered if they’d lost the connection, then La Salle said, “All right, but it will take a few hours to get it together.”

  They agreed to make the exchange at midnight.

  “Only you and Candi at the airstrip,” Sam said
, “and don’t bring any bills less than a hundred.”

  Sam ended the call and J.T. said, “I like the sound of that.”

  “I thought you might. But you won’t like the next part; I’m giving Candi two million of it because that’s what La Salle took from her dad.”

  J.T. frowned and said, “I figured it was too good to be true. You should’ve asked for four or five million if that’s what you had in mind.”

  Sam ignored the comment and told J.T. to drive toward the airport. A half hour later, they turned in at a small commercial building with a sign that read “Custom Parts,” a place owned by an engineer named Lenny Berne, who operated a business of manufacturing unusual parts for airplanes.

  SAM SAT in a threadbare chair and drank a soda from a refrigerator behind Lenny Berne’s desk. J.T. waited in the car to make sure no one had followed.

  “Where did you get this?” Lenny turned the statue in his hands and ran his fingers over the ancient workmanship.

  “I found it.”

  Lenny looked up from the statue at Sam’s face and nodded. He put on his glasses and held the statue closer.

  “It’s solid gold.”

  “That’s right.”

  Lenny shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. I guess I could cast it using something to match the weight, but I don’t have anything for plating.”

  Sam pulled the gold bar from his bag and laid it on the desk.

  “Use this.”

  Lenny glanced at Sam and picked up the bar. He left his desk, came back a couple minutes later with a scale, and set the bar on top of it. His eyes widened. “Yeah, that’ll be plenty.”

  Lenny looked the statue over again. “Is this stuff hot?”

  Sam leaned back in his chair and smiled. “The police aren’t on my trail, if that’s what you mean.”

  “What about anybody else? If I do this, is anybody going to come around here with a gun looking for the Real McCoy?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Sam said, “but I don’t think so.”