Long Way Down

by Paul Carr

  Lenny ran his fingers through his hair and pushed away from the desk, as if distancing himself from the gold.

  “I don’t know. I need the money, but this kind of thing....”

  “Ten thousand dollars, and you can keep what’s left of the gold bar.”

  Lenny leaned forward. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  He considered that for several seconds, said, “Okay, I guess it’s worth a shot,” and then chuckled at his own joke.

  “I need it by eleven tonight.”

  Lenny glanced at a clock on the wall and then at his shop through a glass window next to the desk. One person stood out there, operating some type of machine.

  “Yeah, I think I can manage that. I’ll send my employee on some errands and tell him to go home from there.”

  “One other thing,” Sam said, “You can’t damage it in any way.”

  “There won’t be a scratch.”

  They talked a couple more minutes and Sam went out the door.

  “See anybody suspicious?” Sam said as he got into the car.

  “No. Lots of cars went by, but nobody turned in or even slowed down. What did you give the guy to do the plating with?”

  “The gold bar.”

  J.T. nodded, his face solemn in the glow of the morning sun. “That’s worth, what, thirty thousand?”

  “Maybe. It’s a pretty small bar. Don’t worry. We’re going to get a lot more than that from La Salle if everything works out like it should.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s just make sure it does.”

  “Swing by the bank,” Sam said. “We need to get some money.”

  At the bank where Sam had rented the deposit box they removed enough cash to pay Lenny, plus some extra to cover expenses they knew they would have, and deposited the remaining gold pieces they’d found on their dive.

  They got back into the car and Sam said, “We’ll split what’s left after we give Candi her part.”

  J.T. nodded, glanced out the windshield, then back at Sam. “What about the statue?”

  “What about it?”

  “If we’re giving La Salle a fake, that means we’re going to keep the real one. Like I said, I can find a buyer for it.”

  “Let’s get this done and then we’ll talk about it.”

  J.T. held Sam’s gaze for a couple of seconds, as if Sam might be pulling a fast one, then nodded and said, “Okay, that’s cool.”

  They drove to a computer store so J.T. could get another laptop. Sam got in the driver’s seat when J.T. got out and said, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  He located a public library and went inside and asked a middle-aged woman behind the desk about using a computer for an Internet search. The woman entered his first name into a log and pointed to a work station. Sam immediately found references to Aztec artifacts, and a few minutes later a photograph of the statue he’d left with Lenny Berne popped up on the screen. It had been discovered outside Mexico City in 1882 by an English archaeologist named Branson. A reference in an archaeological journal said Branson deemed the statue an important symbol to the Aztec people that somehow had escaped the plundering of the Spaniards in the sixteenth century. The statue disappeared from public view a couple of years later. Rumored to have been traded by wealthy collectors around the world, at one time in the early twentieth century the value had been placed at more than ten million dollars. Finally, an anonymous person sent the statue home to a museum in Mexico City in 1951. It remained there for more than half a century, until stolen only a couple of years ago.

  Sam found little relating to the current monetary value of the statue, other than it being “priceless.” He supposed that might mean the statue could actually fetch a hundred million dollars if offered to the right collector.

  Sam thanked the librarian and left. He picked up J.T. at the computer store and they drove to a restaurant in Coconut Grove where they sat at an outside table, had beer and burgers, and planned how Sam would exchange the statue for Candi and the cash. Sam would call J.T. on his cell phone and leave the call open as they had done before, then go inside the fence at the airstrip with the fake statue and meet La Salle. J.T. would remain in the car until Sam returned with the money, unless Sam said the word “double-cross,” and J.T. would come running.

  “Sound okay to you?” Sam asked.

  “Sure, fine with me.”

  Their plan worried Sam a little, since the real statue would be left in the car with J.T. Sam had known he could be faced with a situation like this since the time J.T. came onto the scene, but he felt as though he would be in control. Now, the way things had worked out, it didn’t look as if he had any choice.

  Candi also worried him. She’ll sell you out for a lot less than the value of that statue. Jack’s words. However, as Sam had told J.T., Jack would say anything to get what he wanted. Sam had promised to help Candi, so he would follow this mess through to the end. If she sold him out, he would deal with it.

  They spent the rest of the day lining up an easy getaway in case things went badly. Sam knew a man with a fast boat that would transport them to anywhere in the Caribbean, no questions asked, no passport required. They dropped off a retainer with the man in the late afternoon, with the agreement that they would show up at the meeting place by 2:00 AM. If they didn’t show, he could keep the retainer.

  ****

  LENNY COMPLETED the work by eleven, as promised, and Sam came out of the shop with his bag in his hand and got into the car. He took out the two statues and J.T. clicked on the map light and took one of them. After examining it, he took the other one and grinned.

  “I can’t tell the difference.”

  “Let’s hope La Salle can’t, either.”

  “I don’t see how he could. The gold looks so real.”

  “It is real. The only way anyone will know it isn’t gold through and through is to cut into it. Or maybe X-ray it. I don’t think they’ll be doing either.”

  “Hey,” J.T. said, “the important thing is you know which one is real.”

  Sam glanced at J.T. and clicked off the light.

  “Don’t worry, I know. Let’s get going.”

  THEY TURNED into the airstrip parking lot at 11:45. A floodlight illuminated the area. An old Honda Civic sat inside the fence next to the hangar. Probably belongs to the night watchman.

  Sam took out his cell phone and punched in the number for J.T.’s phone. J.T. answered and Sam turned on the speaker, put the phone into his shirt pocket and buttoned the pocket to keep the phone from falling out. He took the fake statue from his bag and put the bag in the trunk, then eased to the gate and spoke to the air in front of his face: “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” J.T. replied.

  Closing the gate behind him, he gripped the gun in the pocket of his jacket and walked around the corner of the hangar. The doors stood open, the hangar empty. An old man with keys hanging from his belt stepped out of the office.

  “Waiting for a flight to come in,” Sam said.

  The old man touched his index finger to his forehead and waved in a mock salute.

  Floodlights radiated from the rim of the airstrip like a nighttime ballpark. Sam stood inside the edge of the hangar and waited. The heat, oppressive for that time of night, rose beads of perspiration inside his shirt. His pulse fired in his ears, and he wondered if the heat might be just his imagination.

  Mosquitoes buzzed somewhere nearby. When the buzzing got louder, Sam realized it hadn’t been mosquitoes at all; instead, a propeller driven airplane arrived from the east. He watched the small craft land and taxi back toward the hangar. It stopped about fifty feet away, and the pilot cut the engines.

  Candi exited from the hatch on Sam’s side and La Salle followed, carrying a large metal case in one hand. He still had the limp, and probably would for a long time. Candi, beautiful as ever, her eyes electric in the incandescent lights, didn’t look like someone who had been mistreated. She wore a thin jacket and s
tretch pants, her hair pulled back in a pony tail.

  Sam stepped over to meet them and nodded toward the metal case. “Is that the money?”

  “Yes.” La Salle curled back his upper lip in a sneer and glanced at the airplane. “I had to sell my jets.”

  Sam looked at a man still in the airplane. “I told you to come alone.”

  “He’s just the pilot.”

  Candi stepped over to Sam’s side and looked back at La Salle. She had her hands in the pockets of the jacket.

  “Okay,” Sam said, “turn over the case and I’ll hand you this little guy.”

  La Salle looked at the statue for what seemed like a couple of seconds too long, then glanced at Sam. “All right, but it had better be authentic.”

  They made the exchange. Sam set the heavy case down next to Candi and asked her to check out the cash.

  La Salle held the statue up to the light and ran his fingers over the gold surfaces. He turned it over and examined the base, scratching it with his fingernail, and glanced at Sam. Sam tightened his fingers around the stock of the gun in his pocket.

  “It’s quite exquisite,” La Salle said, almost smiling.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Candi laid the case flat and opened it, and Sam heard her thumb through several of the stacks. “It looks like it’s all here.” She snapped the lid shut and stepped away.

  “Then our business is concluded,” La Salle said. He turned toward the plane and took a step, then turned back and said, “Take the case, Candi, and let’s go.”

  Sam glanced at Candi. She held a small caliber gun in her hand pointed at Sam’s chest.

  “I halfway expected a double-cross from him,” Sam said, “but not you.”

  “Nothing personal, Sam. This is strictly business.”

  Then she turned and shot La Salle in the head. The gun popped like a toy, its sound lost in the vastness of the airstrip. Blood spurted from La Salle’s hair, his eyes full of surprise as he crashed to the tarmac.

  Candi stood in the same position for several seconds. Sam had his gun out and pointed at her, and wondered if J.T. had heard the signal. Then Candi looked at Sam and put the gun back in her pocket.

  “Sorry about that. I didn’t have any way to let you know.”

  Sam took a deep breath and hung the gun by his side.

  She stepped close and kissed him on the lips for what seemed like a long time, and her eyes glistened when she pulled away. “Call me in a couple of days. I have to go back to the island and pick up a few things that belong to Philly.” Then she smiled and sauntered toward the airplane.

  “Don’t you want the money?”

  “No, you keep it. It’s a lot less than its supposed to be.”

  She got onto the plane and the pilot started the engines, taxied to the runway and took off. They flew east, leaving La Salle lying there in the same condition he had left Candi’s father months before.

  “You look pretty bummed out,” J.T. said from behind Sam.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I heard you say the magic word, but by the time I got to the hangar Candi had shot La Salle. You had your gun out and looked like you had things under control. I stayed around the corner of the hangar, figuring I might get you killed if I came out there.”

  That seem pretty logical, the only problem being that Sam had been ready to believe J.T. would make a run for it. The fact that he hadn’t made Sam feel a little guilty.

  “Yeah, okay, let’s get out of here.” He stepped over to the body and pulled the statue from La Salle’s fingers.

  The sound of a helicopter sputtered in the distance and Sam said, “I hope that isn’t the cops.”

  “I don’t see how it could be. That gunshot couldn’t have been heard more than a quarter mile from here.”

  J.T. picked up the metal case and they hurried back to the car. The satellite phone Sam had taken from the man on La Salle’s island lay on the top of the Acura. Sam vaguely remembered putting it in his bag, and hadn’t thought about it again until now.

  Sam laid the statue on the driver’s seat and picked up the phone. “Did you use this?”

  “Yeah. Mine was tied up with your call, and I wanted to check on some things while I waited. Why?”

  Sam glanced up at the helicopter closing in fast.

  Chapter 26

  THE THUMPING of helicopter blades filled the night sky, and a spotlight swept the area around the hangar. A black van screamed down the highway and slid to a stop, blocking the entrance of the parking lot. Sam and J.T. watched with their guns in their hands, standing next to the Acura. There was no place to run, and within seconds four men armed with automatic weapons surrounded them. Sam recognized them as the same ones who had taken the gold artifacts from La Salle’s island.

  Renaldo, the tall leader with graying hair, said to the man with the scar on his face, “Take their guns.”

  Sam saw no future in resisting; he would see how it played out. The last time this happened, they had let them go free after they got what they wanted. This time he was pretty sure they wanted the statue.

  Sam glanced at J.T., hoping he wouldn’t do anything stupid, and said, “Give it up.”

  J.T. nodded.

  Scarface stepped forward and took their weapons.

  The helicopter landed in the parking lot, and its blades slowed to a stop. A man with a familiar face exited and sauntered toward them. His white hair stood up a couple of inches on top, and he had a thin black mustache. He wore safari khakis, as if out for a hunt, and reminded Sam of an aging movie actor, still waiting for the big role. He held up his hand and the men with guns moved back.

  “So, we meet again,” the man said when the noise of the helicopter quieted. “You do remember me, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sam said, “Gideon Barge.”

  Barge looked at J.T. “And this is your partner, I presume.” It didn’t seem to be a question and no one said anything. “He doesn’t look all that dangerous.”

  Sam tried to stay cool. He knew this guy as a businessman. Maybe he’d listen to reason. He glanced at J.T. “That’s the way people look when surrounded by other people with automatic weapons.”

  Barge snorted a laugh and said to Sam, “You have something that belongs to me, and I hope you will turn it over without a fuss.”

  Sam nodded, reached into the car and picked up the statue. He handed it to Barge. “No fuss.”

  Barge motioned for one of the men who held a flashlight to come closer. In the light he examined it. Satisfied that he had the real thing, he said, “You do know it was stolen from me by Mr. La Salle.”

  “And before that, you stole it from a museum in Mexico City.”

  Barge’s face stretched into a smile. “Why, yes, indeed I did. You must be smarter than you look.”

  “You’ll find La Salle lying on the flight line with a bullet in his head.”

  “Really? How disappointing. I planned to do that myself. But I must say, it will be a lot less trouble. I understood you were going to trade him the statue for the freedom of your girlfriend.”

  “That’s right.”

  Barge leaned down and looked inside the Acura. “What happened to your girlfriend?”

  Sam sighed. “I’m afraid she ran away with the pilot.”

  Barge made a clicking noise with his tongue and shook his head, then turned to the man with a tattoo on his neck and told him to go check out Sam’s story. Tattoo trotted off toward the airstrip. The other three men kept their guns trained on Sam and J.T. while Barge took the statue to the helicopter and handed it to someone inside. He came back and stood in front of Sam.

  “Now, what should I do with you?”

  “I did return your statue.”

  Barge grinned. “I suppose you were on your way to give it to me.”

  “That’s right.”

  Barge crossed his hands behind his back and looked around as if studying the situation. Tattoo returned from the airstrip and nodded to Barge.<
br />
  Barge looked at Sam and narrowed his eyes. “Kill them, but do it somewhere else and get rid of the bodies.” He turned, ambled toward the helicopter, and said over his shoulder, “Get rid of La Salle, too.” The helicopter spun its blades as he boarded and took off a few seconds later.

  “Barge got what he wanted,” Sam said to Renaldo, “and La Salle is dead. Just let us go and you won’t ever hear from us again.”

  Renaldo smiled. “Sorry. You would already be dead if Mr. Barge hadn’t thought you would get the statue for him.”

  J.T. spoke up. “You do everything he says, even kill people?”

  Renaldo shrugged. “He pays us well. Now, shut up or I’ll shoot you right here.”

  Two of the men went out, got La Salle, and tossed him onto the floor in the rear of the van. Renaldo told Sam and J.T. to get in with the body. Climbing over La Salle, they sat on the floor in a cargo area separated from the rest of the vehicle by reinforced glass. Sam turned and peered through the glass. Two captain’s chairs sat behind the driver and front passenger seat, facing the front. The space where Sam and J.T. sat, the body just inches from their feet, would measure about five feet between the glass and the rear double doors. There were no handles on the inside, meaning the rear doors could be locked and unlocked only from the outside. A vehicle for carrying prisoners. After securing Sam and J.T. inside, Renaldo got into the driver’s seat and the others got into the remaining seats. Renaldo turned the van around in the road and headed toward Miami.

  Sam’s pulse thumped in his ears and his skin felt clammy. He didn’t know where they would go, but he knew it would be bad, no matter the place. He wished he had a weapon so they could have some kind of chance. Maybe he and J.T. could kick the doors when they opened and knock the men down. But what if all four men stood outside the doors? They couldn’t knock all of them down. Still, it might be their only chance. He whispered the plan to J.T. and J.T. nodded.

  They rode for a half-hour and slowed down. Sam had been following their route and knew they were headed toward the loading docks for cargo ships. He turned and peered through the glass. A security station and a sign that read “Barge World Freight” came into view. A guard stepped out and waved them through. They probably planned to take them out on a boat, shoot them, and drop them in the ocean. Sam glanced at La Salle, who lay on his side, his legs bent to fit inside the van. Something nagged at Sam. A moment later it crystallized and he glanced at J.T.