by Rick Santini
“What are you, crazy? What the hell were you thinking? There has to be a half dozen narcs walking the streets around 14th Street, twenty-four seven. Do you think renting a car from Enterprise would fool anyone? Forget your license—forget your career. You could go to jail. The DA is no longer your best friend. After the remarks you made about him in open court, I guarantee he will prosecute you personally and with great pleasure.”
Marta never thought about that. She never thought about a lot of things.
“Are you a user? Are you hooked? If so, we have to get you in a very private rehab center, preferably one out of state, immediately.”
Marta could not look at Billy. She knew she had failed him; she had failed herself, and she put the firm in a world of hurt. She had never been so ashamed of herself. It was worse, far worse than when she told her father as a teenager that she needed to get an abortion and did not know how or who or where.
The fact was, she was late, not pregnant, but in the eyes of her father, she had committed a mortal sin. He could forgive but never forget.
Now she was standing in front of her law partner, one who had trusted her and given her the break of a lifetime, and she had to admit not only had she tried coke, not only was it given to her by her professed lover who happened to be their biggest client and the single largest distributor of hard drugs in New Jersey, but she was now addicted.
“Let me explain.”
Marta refused to make eye contact as she went through the entire scenario. Billy sat and listened. He did not interrupt.
“It’s not too late. I’m obviously not a doctor, and you’re still a rank beginner. You may have a craving, but from what you’ve told me, and I must assume it’s everything, you’re not an addict. Yet. Now listen to me and listen to me good.”
Billy Jo then proceeded to map out a plan—with no exceptions. Not a single one. Marta sat up like a schoolgirl in the principal’s office and listened to every word. He also suggested she take a week off, with no contact with anyone, especially Xiang Yeung. He was a smart man; he would get the idea.
Marta understood and agreed. She knew Billy had her best interests at heart. She also began to have a panic attack.
Billy said he would take care of everything. As far as Black Jack, the office staff, or anyone else was concerned, they had a new client who was based in Miami and was thinking of expanding his operation up north.
He needed to come up with some type of understanding with Mr. Yeung, and Marta would be the go between. No names, no locations, no nothing until there was a clear understanding. For all practical purposes, Marta was on a mini vacation and could not be reached.
The fact was, Marta was on a mini vacation to pull her shit together. To find a bungalow in the Keys and sit and come clean or at least shake the demons that now controlled her. The two of them set no timetable. When she was ready to come back, she would know it.
Only Billy would know where she was. He intended to call her three times a day, every single day. She was instructed to keep her cell phone on her person at all times, even when she slept. In an emergency, he could be down to help her at a moment’s notice.
Marta had no choice but to agree.
***
“Mr. Yeung, it’s Billy Jo Gibson. Marta needs some time to be alone. No, she’s not in a rehab facility. No thanks to you. We don’t think it’s necessary…yet. She will be unavailable for the next week to ten days. If you need anything, I mean anything, my private cell is on twenty-four seven. Please don’t hesitate to use it for any reason whatsoever. Yes, and thank you. You have been most understanding. I will certainly convey your best wishes. Goodbye.”
Bastard. Rich, slimy bastard. Why did he have to pick my law partner?
***
Yeung was more concerned than he let on.
I should have known. It was my mistake. I only wanted her to experience what I have felt for the past thirty years.
His thoughts were drifting between Marta and his little sister, who was now resting comfortably in the guest suite of his all too opulent home.
It appeared Marta was temporarily out of the picture. Ordinarily this would have caused Xiang great concern. As it now stood, Mei Ling appeared to be pleased with her new temporary living arrangements, and negotiations were moving along at a pace greater than Xiang had expected.
There was a group out of Chicago who had heard the Yeung Syndicate was for sale or at least the gentleman who controlled the import business was thinking of retiring. It was this gentleman who had all the connections in the Golden Triangle. This, plus the resources to safely bring product into the USA without so much as a ripple, was something that had considerable value. The figure fifty million had been thrown out to see if the deal was real.
A message from an associate of Mr. Yeung was short if not sweet.
“Mr. Yeung wishes to sell his business, not give it away. Any reasonable offer would be considered. A group out of Miami, originally from Venezuela, is most interested.”
Xiang was looking for a bidding war. It was in his best interest, only time was running short. The offer had to be verified and closed in a bank in Switzerland. He would give all parties one last chance to make an offer in writing, together with a non-refundable deposit of five million dollars. The winning offer would then have five business days to come up with the full amount, and all parties, including the suppliers, would meet in Zurich to complete the transaction. All other bids would automatically forfeit their deposit.
“The above terms are nonnegotiable.”
Xiang was bluffing. There was no Miami bidder. He had made it all up. He felt fifty million was giving it away. He put in close to forty years of his life building what he now had. It would be impossible to duplicate what he had done.
A figure closer to one hundred million would make him far happier.
The clock was now running.
Tick tock, tick tock.
CHAPTER 44
“Why the frown, my fair lady?”
The accent was definitely British.
Marta looked around to see who was talking and if the comment was directed toward her.
Standing behind and slightly to the side of her was a hunk. He was reasonably light skinned, possibly from Jamaica. He was a good six feet tall, chiseled jaw line, had bright, shiny teeth, and a terrific smile. The smile was now directed at her. He was wearing well-worn navy blue Bermuda shorts, a pale yellow t-shirt, and scruffy, woven sandals. He looked like he had lived there all his life.
There was near the Blue Dolphin Motel in Marathon, Florida, one of the largest of the Florida Keys. She had agreed with Billy that she needed an out-of-the-way place to relax and think. Nothing with a night life or too many tourists. She had a large one room bungalow, bed, dresser, rocking chair, and a small island kitchenette not twenty feet from the Gulf. Had she crossed US 1 and walked ten steps, she would have been in the Atlantic. The only thing separating the two bodies of water was the island of Marathon.
“Excuse me. Were you talking to me?”
Marta was not in the mood for idle conversation, yet she had talked to no one except the desk clerk and the waitresses at The Wooden Spoon and the Butterfly Café. The fact was, she needed to talk to somebody about something, even if it was only the weather or, in Marathon, were the sailfish and tuna biting.
“There is no one else at the bar that is as beautiful as you, and you look like you could use a friend. I have nothing to do for the next few hours, am completely harmless. I’m known by everybody in the Keys and am an exceptionally good listener.”
As Marta thought about it, the stranger signaled the bartender to freshen up her drink.
She forced a slight smile and replied, “One drink only. Nothing else. I’m here to relax and screw my head back on straight. Talking to a stranger may be just what I need. My name’s Marta. I’m a criminal defense lawyer from Jersey.”
The stranger shook the soft hand that had been extended to him.
“Wow
, that’s impressive. If I ever need a good lawyer, I know where to look. By the way, names Rodney. Rodney McGuiness. Originally from Dunn’s Falls in Jamaica. Now a charter captain here in Marathon. That’s my boat out there, the Happy Hooker. Been fishing these waters for the past twenty years. Ever want to come along for the ride, be at the dock by seven thirty sharp. I provide food, drink, tackle, and bait. For you, your company is payment enough. I’ll also clean and filet anything you catch.”
Rodney paused to see her reaction.
“Come to think of it, if you catch something worthwhile, I’ll pan fry it and supply a decent bottle of wine, providing you’ll join me for dinner.”
“Whoa, slow down, sailor. I told you two minutes ago, one drink, a quiet, generic conversation, and then I leave. All by myself. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Why did you leave Jamaica? I’ve been there, and it’s beautiful.”
Rodney sat back, relaxed, took another sip of his piña colada with real Jamaican 110 proof rum, closed his eyes for a minute, and began to talk.
One drink turned into two and finally three. After close to two hours, Marta learned he had been married once, had a nineteen-year-old daughter going to the University of Miami, and loved the life he was leading. Good pay, relaxed atmosphere, no pressure, no boss, no worries. He owned his home on a small key five miles south of Marathon, his five-year-old Jeep, and the Happy Hooker were all debt free. He took off for three months every year once the tourists headed back up north to sail down to the southern Caribbean.
He was pretty much a loner. No present girlfriend, no baggage.
She liked that.
“Thanks for the drinks and conversation, sailor. I have to get back to my room. If I run into you again before I leave, drinks are on me.”
Marta shook his hand again and headed back to her bungalow. Rodney stayed on his bar stool and watched as she walked straight to the Blue Dolphin.
At least I know her name and where she’s staying.
It was a start.
***
“Where are you? Is everything all right? I told you to keep your cell phone on twenty-four seven.”
“Billy, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. I was having dinner outside by the surf and didn’t hear the phone. It was stuffed in my bag.” She rolled her eyes.
“No, I’ve not had anything stronger than a piña colada and have been relaxing. No, I have not heard from Yeung. I have no intention of calling him, either. I’m going to bed now. Call me tomorrow if you think it’s really necessary. ’Night.”
Marta sat in the old wooden rocking chair facing the now open window and stared out at the starlit midnight blue sky. She knew one of the charter boats out there was the Happy Hooker.
Maybe I’ll take a walk tomorrow and see what she looks like.
Marta remembered all boats are female. They are “she,” not “it.”
As she lay in bed, tossing and turning, her thoughts went back to Rodney.
How can anyone take off for three months every year and just go sailing? What kind of life is that?
A pretty damn good one, she finally concluded.
***
The dock master informed her the Hooker had left more than thirty minutes ago. The captain had two couples aboard and was headed out about fifty miles. They were looking for the giant grouper, at least one hundred pounds. The captain should be back at the dock by three o’clock.
“Do you want to book a time? Just give me a name and phone number. I’ll make sure Captain McGuiness calls when he gets back. By the way, he could be the best fishing captain we’ve had here in years and years. Right smart fellow.”
“No thanks. I’ll take my chances of running into him later. He hangs out at Porky’s, doesn’t he?”
It was where she had been the night before.
“Matter of fact, he does. Have a nice day, Miss.”
The dock master took a long look at she walked away. He had other things to do than stare at short shorts and long legs.
If I were only thirty years younger, he thought.
Marta now had a good seven hours before Rod—she now thought of him as Rod—would be back at the dock.
I’ll give him a few hours to filet the fish, get paid, and clean up. I’ll take a walk by around five. He should be ready for dinner by then.
Marta surprised herself with her newfound interest in Rod. She had slept with Rik less than three weeks ago and with Xiang no more than seven days ago.
What am I? Some type of sex maniac?
She chose not to answer her own question. While thinking about Rod, her cell phone rang. It was Billy, who else. She was getting tired of being babysat by her business partner.
I made a mistake. I learned from it. Enough is enough.
“Hi, Billy. Before you say anything, I’m fine. I’m at the dock and may take an evening cruise. The cell may not pick it up out in the Gulf. I think another week here is all I need. Let’s figure I will be back in the office a week from tomorrow. And thanks for your concern and help.”
Before Billy could properly respond, Marta hung up.
I’m perfectly fine now. Why do I need another week?
The answer should have been self-evident.
CHAPTER 45
Xiang read the text. Then he read it again.
Final offer—seventy-eight million US dollars ($78,000,000. US) deposit of $5 million already wired to your account per instructions. Balance seventy-three million dollars ($73,000,000 US) to be paid, subject to verification and agreement with supplier, at UBS bank, 1 p.m. Parade plaza 6, Zurich, on 8 October. All necessary parties and counsel to be present at closing.
There was no signature. There was no question as to its validity.
Xiang smiled. Their first offer was fifty million. He had hoped for one hundred. Seventy-eight was more than acceptable. Actually, any amount would have been acceptable. He was already a billionaire, at least on paper. He had his sister staying with him, if only temporarily, and it was now time to get out. In fact, it was long past time to get out.
Xiang had an up-to-date passport and had already alerted his people in China that their presence would be required in Switzerland the following week. He would wire one million dollars to the usual account to pay for all time and expenses and any contingencies. It would insure the presence of all necessary parties.
A large private business jet could leave Tetterboro and be in Zurich, 3,900 miles away, a short seven and a half hours later. Yeung could well afford it. He would ask Marta, acting solely as his attorney and Mr. Salvatore Bonnonnos, as a sign of muscle, to join him. Both would be an intricate part of all future business.
Yeung thought about asking Black Jack Renaldo but felt it was overkill. Besides, why waste unnecessary money? As Xiang was all too aware, Jack did nothing for nothing.
***
“Mr. Gibson, it is Xiang Yeung. A most important meeting has been scheduled in Zurich, Switzerland four days from now. It is imperative I attend with counsel. When will Ms. Clarke return to the office? I would like her to accompany me. You can be assured your office will be well compensated, and I can assure you, this is one hundred percent business. I intend to be in Switzerland only one night and return the next day. I have made arrangements for a private jet to take us there. I will also be inviting Mr. Bonnonnos to join us.”
Billy did not like the sound of it. He did not like surprises, and this certainly could be classified as a surprise.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Yeung. Ms. Clarke is not scheduled to return to the office for another seven days. Can you tell me the nature of the business, where it will be, and who else will be there? I will then contact Ms. Clarke and see how we can accommodate you.”
Xiang did not like the tone of the inquiry. It was much too formal.
“The meeting will be at the headquarters of Untied Bank of Switzerland in Zurich. At that time, I will be divesting myself of certain non-liquid assets. The buyer, his attorney, and representati
ves will be there. There may also be business people from China. I would be most grateful if you can convey that to your associate.”
“Not a problem, partner. I’ll make the call in the next five minutes. Have a good day, Mr. Yeung.”
Billy Jo sat at his desk and replayed the conversation in his mind. Then and only then would he call Marta.
***
While Billy Jo was thinking, Marta was having a minor dilemma. She had nothing to wear. Or to be more precise, she’d packed nothing that was alluring and seductive. It was too late to go shopping, and the only thing the stores sold were t-shirts that proclaimed Marathon to be the sports fishing capital of the world. Many would suggest otherwise.
Marta settled on black, one of her favorite colors. At the last minute, call it women’s intuition, she packed a pair of black linen shorts and a raw silk shirt. It did not take much to make her look inviting, better make that delicious. She combed her hair a few dozen times, put on a pale red lipstick, and decided to go for a walk—to the docks.
Lo and behold, who should be washing down his boat but Rodney McGuiness himself.
“Is this your boat?” Marta inquired.
“You know damn well it is. Jake the dock master told me you stopped by early this morning. Tell you what, give me forty-five minutes to finish, take a shower on board, and change, and I’ll buy you dinner. Let’s meet at the Plaza Grill. It’s only a block and a half away across the street. I can meet you at the bar or just ask Steve, the bartender, to seat you at the best table in the house. Mention my name.”
Marta was feeling frisky and wanted to have some fun.
“Why don’t I hang around here? While you’re changing, I’m sure I can find a cold beer in the galley.”
“Suit yourself, lady. Come on board and make yourself at home. The galley’s forward.”
