by J. A. Marley
Ciaran spent the next fifteen minutes riding around, trying to find a vantage point from which he could watch the house. He cursed the fact that he had chosen to follow on a bike. You could slump down and watch from a parked car. You couldn’t do that on the back of a Harley. Then, he had a moment of inspiration. He rode to the nearest strip mall, which was only a half mile away, and parked up the bike. He then jogged back to the street. The car was still there. Opposite, there was another house. It had a big Chevy Suburban parked there on the drive. Ciaran had to take a risk, but it might be worth it. At least this was a bit of excitement, given the tedium of the last two days.
Once settled under the big car, Ciaran began to do what he did best. Sweat. The heat of the day swirled around him, reflecting off the brick-paved drive he lay on and bouncing back down on him from the underside of the car. He was wearing his Mickey shorts and a T-shirt. He could feel moisture gathering around his head and slowly making its way down his face, ending in a drip from the end of his bush-like beard. Come on, ye fecker… Don’t keep me under here long…
Marvin did keep him waiting, at least another forty minutes. But when he finally emerged, Ciaran was ready. He snapped the binoculars straight to his eyes when the door opened. And what he caught a glimpse of made his heart soar.
Ye dirty wee fecker, Marvin, thought Ciaran.
In these same three days, Danny had been doing a similar job. But he had bigger prey to track. Ines Zedillo. He’d made his way to the Delano Hotel on the first day, again using his paparazzi persona. He once again found the young bellboy who had helped him out before.
He established that Ines was not in residence, but she was due back the next day. Danny took the rest of that day to drive all the routes around the Miami Urban Convention Centre, familiarising himself with all the alternate ‘ins and outs.’ Where did the major roads lead to from the complex? Where did they intersect with other major routes to take you away to the north and south of the Florida peninsula? He drove them all. Spending nearly an entire day behind the wheel, he drove home to receive an update of tedium from Ciaran and fell asleep on the deck of his house, a half-drunk Blanton’s in his hand.
Day two was better. Ines Zedillo arrived at the Delano at exactly the time the bellboy had said she would. Three black Mercedes SUVs heralded her arrival, the hotel staff fluttering around her and her team, showing the right amount of deference to a lady who really did have clout in this town.
Once inside, Danny caught his bellboy’s eye, nodding towards the street that ran down the side of the hotel. The bellboy responded by flashing five fingers at him, once, twice and a third time. He would be on a break in fifteen minutes. That worked for Danny just fine.
“She’s here for two nights. That’s how long she normally stays. Tomorrow night is a bit different, though. You’ll have plenty of use for your camera.”
Danny handed the bellboy a fifty-dollar note. “Oh, really? How come? An event?”
“Yep. Big charity fundraiser. Ms Zedillo is hosting. The great and the good of Miami Beach are gathering. There’s a dinner, an auction, Mariah Carey singing – the whole nine yards.”
“Celebrities?” Danny was trying to still sound like an actual pap.
“Oh sure. Nicki Minaj, Ryan Seacrest is in town for it, Will Smith… It’s a big deal. It is for Ms Zedillo. She’s got a stylist coming tomorrow afternoon with a bunch of dresses for her to choose from. She’s gotta look a million dollars. I’m on duty tomorrow, so I know. I’ve been told to bring up the dresses.”
“Who’s the stylist? If I can get a shot of the dresses, I might get a fashion scoop. I could sell it to Miami Online.”
“I dunno. But I do know they are due to arrive at two-thirty.”
“Can you get me next to them, the dresses?”
“I’m not sure, man…”
The flash of a one-hundred-dollar bill seemed to clear the bellboy’s mind.
“Be here tomorrow at two. And bring a couple more of these.” The bellboy waved the money at Danny.
“For sure.” Danny would be back the next day. He couldn’t believe his luck.
The next day, Ciaran waited under the Chevy Suburban. What he had seen when Marvin had emerged from the house the previous day made him think that he might have a shot at entering it sooner rather than later. His hunch paid off. He glanced at his watch. It said two twenty-five. A car pulled up, a red corvette, all shiny and sleek. It parked where Marvin had. Ciaran scrambled out from his hiding place.
A middle-aged, balding man climbed out of the sports car. He was old enough to make Ciaran think mid-life crisis.
As the man beetled his way to the door of the house, Ciaran half jogged until he was right behind him. Staying light on the balls of his feet to avoid detection, the Irishman made his move as they reached the door to the house. Ciaran stuck the muzzle of a gun into the base of the guy’s spine.
“What the fu—”
“Now, you listen to me, loverboy. Yer gonna ring the doorbell, and as soon as herself in there opens the door, yer gonna get the fuck away from here as quick as ye can. Geddit?”
Ciaran dug the gun into the man’s back to emphasise his point.
“I…I geddit… Don’t hurt me man… I’ll do it…”
Ciaran pushed him to the door. Crouching down behind him, he kept the gun firmly at his spine.
He rang the doorbell, and after a second, the door opened, the person shielded by it. Ciaran pulled the man to one side and quickly stepped through, his gun raised at ninety degrees from his chest.
The woman behind the door let out a scream. Ciaran convinced her to be quiet by bringing the gun closer to her face. He put his fist against the inside of the door and punched it closed.
The woman was in her forties, a brassy-looking bottled blonde. She was dressed in a matching black bra, suspenders and stockings, her high heels shiny as fresh liquorice.
‘I don’t have any money. Mister, I swear it, please don’t hurt me.”
“Calm down, woman. I’m not here to hurt ye. I just want a little info and maybe some help. Yer mistake was to give me a flash of stockinged leg when ye let the last punter out.”
She was starting to calm down a little. Her look of abject terror was abating slightly.
Ciaran gestured with the gun towards the inside of the house, and she took the hint, leading him into a lounge that was lit almost entirely by candles. Seductive music was playing. Ciaran thought he recognised it, but he couldn’t quite remember the singer’s name.
In the middle of the room was a massage table covered in towels, a hole in one end for a person’s face to recline into.
“I… I only do massage… Nothing else.”
“Dressed like dat, love? Who ye kidding…”
“I do happy endings… Let them touch me a little but nothing else!”
“Put yer dressing gown on, love. I’m not here for any of dat.”
The blonde did as she was told while Ciaran went and turned off the music.
“I want to be fair to ye… How much would that man at the door have given ye?”
Now she was really puzzled. ‘I don’t… I…”
“How much business have I just cost ye?”
“Oh… erm… two hundred bucks.”
Ciaran pulled a wedge of cash out of his back pocket and peeled off four fifty-dollar notes. He handed them to her. “Now, I’ll give you another five hunnerd if ye tell me all about one of yer customers… His name’s Marvin.”
The blonde woman’s eyes went wide, and she started to talk as quickly as she could.
At roughly the same time, Danny was in the loading bay at the back of the Delano hotel. He had arrived as instructed and his favourite bellboy had shown him in through a staff entrance.
The plan was this. The bellboy was to help unload the dresses. They came on large castered dress rails that were draped in heavy canvas covers from top to bottom. They would be put into a service elevator and brought up to the penthouse, where
the stylist would let Ines Zedillo try them on. Adjustments, if needed, would be done there and then by the stylist.
The bellboy had told Danny he would have about a minute alone with each rolling rail while he went to fetch the next one. He would distract the stylist on Danny’s behalf, allowing him to take some pictures.
At least that’s what the bellboy thought the plan was. But as soon as he went to retrieve the third rail, Danny wheeled the first two into the service elevator himself. He then ducked under the canvas of the first rail, balancing himself on the bar that ran along the bottom while holding onto the top bar for stability. He was soon squeezed into place amongst the couture dresses.
When the bellboy came through with the final rail, he seemed surprised not to see Danny. He didn’t have time to wonder what had gone on, because the stylist came directly behind him, shooing him along to push the last trunk into the elevator.
As the doors on the lift closed, the bellboy must have assumed that Danny had taken as many pictures as he’d wanted and left.
Danny had to tense his core muscles all the way up in the lift to be careful not to slip off his precarious hiding place. He heard the lift doors open and the stylist greeting someone on the other side.
“May I have some help rolling these in, please?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The voice was deep. Danny assumed a bodyguard was about to help. There was a grunt as the guard was taken a little by surprise at the weight of the first rail.
As soon as the rail was left in place, Danny slowly lowered himself out from under the canvas. He was in the bedroom of the Delano suite. His luck was holding… He was alone. There was a closet on one side of the bedroom. He climbed into it as quickly as he could. He left the closet door open a crack so he could watch what was happening.
Once the rails were all in place, the stylist went about peeling off the canvas covers. The dresses were all bagged in heavy plastic, zipped bags. She proceeded to open each one, turning the dress outwards on their hangers. Each rail had five dresses, fifteen to choose from in all.
When Ines Zedillo came into the room, Danny held his breath. He was going to have to pick his moment carefully. He was struck by how elegant she was, how she carried herself, poker-straight posture, head held high. Her manicured nails blazed red, her long legs lean and tanned.
Ines and the stylist spent the next forty minutes debating the gowns. She dismissed five straight away. Colours or details not appealing to her. She then tried three on. Each time she disrobed, Danny looked at his feet. He was uncomfortable at the voyeuristic nature of what he was doing, but he knew needs must.
The final dress Ines put on was a shimmering, emerald green one. Off the shoulder on one side, fitted to the waist with a lavish skirt which splayed out to form a long train at the back. Danny had to admit it was stunning, and she only made it better.
Ines agreed, as did the stylist. They discussed possible tweaks and shoes to match. They had their winner. Ines asked the stylist for some shoes from the Gucci store.
“Have them sent over. They know my size. I have an account.”
“I’ll go phone them now, Señora Zedillo.”
The stylist left the room, and Danny saw his chance. He produced an ugly-looking Sig Sauer pistol from the waistband of his jeans and stepped out into the room, careful to do so before Ines could start to undress.
“Good afternoon, Señora Zedillo.”
She gave a startled gasp and was about to shout when Danny waved the gun at her, placing a finger over his own mouth.
“Shhhh. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
She considered him for a second, then her face flushed with anger. “I know who you are. You are the thief.”
“I am. And I’m not surprised that you know who I am. You were having me followed. Until I broke your man’s leg. Then, I decided to become a little more vigilant.”
“Are you surprised that I wanted to keep tabs on you? I have an investment, no?”
“An investment in me is one thing. Poking around in my private life is another.”
“Ahhhh. The woman. You are worried that we saw you with a woman.”
Danny held his breath. He wondered if that was all they knew about Amparo. Ines answered that for him with her next breath.
“A little cavalier, consorting with a policewoman, Danny. I have to say I was surprised.”
Danny’s heart sank. “There is no need to involve her. She knows nothing.”
“And I’m to believe that? I’m to take the word of a thief? Muy loco…”
“We are not enemies, señora. I just want to establish some ground rules. Boundaries.”
“No enemies? Yet here you are in my hotel bedroom pointing a gun at me.”
“This is about respect. I have things I wish to keep separate from our arrangements. You have a need for those arrangements to go off as planned… without hiccups. By showing you I could get in here at will, that is just my way of illustrating my level of expertise and… commitment.”
“Are you threatening me, señor?”
“No. Rather I’m showing you what I’m capable of.”
Danny then played out a hunch. He lowered the gun, replacing it in the back of his jeans.
“Tell me, señor. Tell me about the robbery. You will hit the armoured cash van, I believe.”
“Yes…that’s the plan. Harkness shared that with you, then?”
“Sí, sí. What do you make of our Señor Harkness?”
Danny thought before he answered. He decided honesty was the only way to proceed. “I want to kill him. He wants to do the same to me.”
“Ah… bueno. Is he a threat to the success of your plan?”
“Not the robbery itself. But after… perhaps.”
“Shall I have him killed?”
“To be honest, I think that is probably best left to me. I have some thoughts on the matter.”
Ines laughed at his choice of words. “So, what do you want from me ahora, señor? You have cojones for getting in here like this.”
“Stay away from the lady cop. Stay out of my life, and I will deliver the money and the Cardells to you.”
“Your amigo, Harkness, has already promised that to me…”
“And do you believe him? Do you believe he will deliver?”
“He smiles like an alligator. He also wants a cut of the moneda.”
Danny looked at her with a steady gaze. “I have enough money. No cut for me.”
Ines raised an eyebrow at him.
“I will walk out of this suite now, untouched. Leave my life and my friends untouched. Let me do my work and deliver the money and the Cardells to you. And then…”
“Then, señor?”
“I kill Harkness, and I disappear.”
She took a moment. He knew she was making a choice. He hoped it would be the right one. She crossed to the bedside table and wrote a number down on a piece of paper.
“When your plans are set, call this number and tell the man who answers every detail. Do not disappoint me. Comprende? Ahora, I will walk you out myself, Señor…?”
“Felix. Danny Felix.”
“I will escort you to the door of the suite myself, Señor Felix. But the next time we see each other, you had better be delivering all those promises you just made.”
“Muchas gracias, Señora Zedillo.”
Ines pointed towards the door, and Danny’s heart rate began to return to somewhere near normal.
Danny was already on the porch in his favourite chair, savouring his Blanton’s, when Ciaran’s bike came roaring down his drive. The Irishman took little time to join his friend, pouring himself a shot from the bottle that sat on a little table next to Danny.
“Mission fecking accomplished.”
“Really? What did Marvin have to offer us today, then?”
“You’ll never guess. He goes for a wank at lunchtime every Wednesday and Friday. A woman called Anastasia. She dresses all sexy like, swe
ars she doesn’t do anything but the oul’ five finger knuckle shuffle.”
“Ah… and the wife is none the wiser, I presume.”
“Not even a hint of it. He tells Anastasia his wife doesn’t understand. He’s been going to see Anastasia for about two years. Buys her flowers now and again. Tries to push his luck.”
“Do I want to know how you gathered all this intel?”
“No one was hurt in the making of this scenario. Promise, scout’s honour, on my sainted white-haired mother’s life.”
“So, all we have to do now is front poor old Marvin?”
“And I know exactly where and when. It’ll be grand. With what he does for a living and with what I know about his lunch breaks, he’ll help us pull this job, no bother.”
“I hope you’re right, Captain Gingerbeard.”
They clinked glasses. Danny finished his in one gulp.
“How’d ye get on yerself, like?”
“Oh… about as well as you. I think.”
“Really? Share wit’ the group?”
“I met Ines Zedillo today. The boss of the cartel we’re about to rip off.”
Ciaran almost dropped his glass. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and panicky. “Ye did wha’?” He involuntarily crossed himself.
“Some Catholic you are. You just blessed yourself with the wrong hand.”
“I’m holding me drink! Anyway, feck dat. Why’d ye go and see her?”
“Harkness. He’s playing all the angles. So, I thought we’d better, too. She knew all about the armoured van… the back road. He’s been sharing everything.”
“Aw, Holy Mother of God. These things are hard enough to pull off.”
“Oh, there’s no need to worry. I have most of it worked out. I just need one more player to help us. Just one more.”
“Who’s dat, then?”
“I better tell you the plan first, hadn’t I? At least then, you’ll know why I need them.”
“Aye, right enough.”
“Have you ever wondered how to pull off a robbery where there isn’t a robbery?”
“Ye’ve gone a bit mental on me there.”
