Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2)

by Rick Santini

  It was perfect.

  Marta sat in the Jeep, trying to get the windblown hair off her face. There in front of her was a small, immaculately kept Key West-type home. It was built on stilts, had wooden stairs running up to the front door, and as she would later learn, a second set of steps to the back door. From the living room window, one could see the Atlantic, from the kitchen and bedroom, the Gulf.

  “Be it ever so humble…”

  “Are you kidding me? I love it, and I haven’t even been inside yet.”

  Rod walked around, gently grabbed her by the arm, and helped her out.

  “No time like the present.”

  The house had to be no more than thirty by thirty, a total of nine hundred square feet. The main part was the living room/dining area/kitchen. There was a master bedroom off to the side and a second room that was used for storage.

  It was clean, ruggedly furnished, and masculine. It was totally Rod.

  The kitchen had no cabinets. In its place were thick wooden shelves where the few dishes, glasses, and an assortment of coffee cups sat. There was enough for dinner for three. Maybe four if you didn’t mind mix and match. The pots and pans were hung on hooks from the ceiling. It was functional, and that was all that mattered.

  Marta loved it.

  “Where are the drapes? You know, curtains and shades.”

  “Why would I need ’em? It’s dark when I go to sleep. Usually light when I wake up. There’s no one to peek in, and if they did, all they would see is me. So what’s the big deal?”

  Rod emptied his off-white canvas sailor’s duffel bag next to the stacked washer and dryer in the bathroom. He was about to load the washer when Marta told him to pack some clean clothes for the week and she would get the laundry started. Rod did not balk; he did not hesitate. If she wanted to handle his dirty laundry, it was okay with him.

  Fifteen minutes later, all was done. She just had to wait for the washer to finish its cycle.

  “What do we do now?”

  Rod looked around, looked outside at the calm waters on the Gulf side, and suggested they take a short swim to relax and work out their cramped muscles.

  “Great, but I forgot to bring a bathing suit,” Marta replied.

  Then she saw Rod grinning.

  What the hell—he’s going to see it all eventually. No time like the present.

  ***

  The flight back was uneventful, as all international flights over large bodies of water should be. The Wall Street lawyer was huddled over his laptop until it was dark. He had been paid by Mr. Yeung for the entire trip, and now he could work and bill a second client. That made him extremely pleased. Then he asked for a pillow and a blanket and curled up on one of the couches. Ten minutes later, he was fast asleep.

  Xiang Yeung spent the first half hour of the flight talking to his little sister in the private suite. She was still eight hours behind him. Obviously, she was pleased upon hearing her big brother was now unemployed. They talked of returning to their homeland and establishing some sort of facility for abused women and a shelter for their children.

  Before exhaustion took over, he asked for a pot of his special tea and a light sandwich. He took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. He never got to the sandwich.

  Black Jack Renaldo had no idea why he was invited. He said less than ten words to anyone other than his client. No one appeared impressed that Mr. Yeung had retained the legal services of a former US Attorney. Jack’s mind was now working in fifth gear. He had an excellent memory, but when everyone was asleep, he wrote down everything he could remember of the past two days. He had asked for, and paid dearly, for the banker to make copies of the passports of all members of the Scalesci party. He now had names, photos, and stamped passports showing who was in Zurich and when.

  He already knew why.

  ***

  “When are you heading down to Jamaica? Where will you be staying, and what will you be doing there?”

  Marta felt comfortable in her nudity. She made no pretense of covering up as she sat up in bed and attempted to learn more about her new lover. She had already discovered he was patient, understanding, and very knowledgeable. He was also playful, a great combination.

  Rod too had had no problem with nudity. He got out of bed and made no attempt to cover himself up. It was not conceit or having Marta admire his magnificent body. It was simply being comfortable in his own skin.

  “I’m going to leave the first of the month. The trip down should take two or three days. Plan to stay at the marina on the boat so as not to bother anyone. Will visit friends and family for three, four days and then head back. Should be gone a total of ten days at most. If you decide to go, you may see a new side of me, totally relaxed and enjoying the food and music of my people.”

  If you were any more relaxed, you would have trouble standing up, Marta thought.

  “I can’t make you any promises until I get back to the office and see what my case load looks like, but if your lovemaking is a prelude to coming attractions, I’ll order my popcorn and reserve a front row seat now.”

  “Let’s play it by ear. As soon as the clothes are dry, we can head back, and I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we stay here tonight? We can find something to eat, and you can drive me back to my bungalow in the morning.”

  “Deal, partner. I think there may be some canned goods in the kitchen. Nothing fancy but you won’t starve. There’s a great little place two keys over where we can grab an early morning breakfast.”

  Marta slid back in the bed. She was going nowhere. At least not for the time being.

  How the hell did I get so lucky? He’s got everything. A body, a personality, and a willingness to please. What else could a girl ask for? Marta then answered her own question. Nothing. Not a damn thing.

  She tucked the covers under her chin and closed her eyes. She needed a good half hour of rest. Then she would be ready for whatever Rod had in mind.

  CHAPTER 51

  The G-V landed at six a.m. By six thirty, they had cleared Customs, and Jabor was loading the single suitcase in the back of the sedan.

  “May I offer you a lift into the city?”

  Jack and the Wall Street attorney both declined the offer. They had made separate arrangements. Both were anxious to get back to their respective offices.

  Once back in his office in Newark, Jack’s first call was to Sonny Bananas.

  “Well, have we lost our biggest client?”

  Billy was standing in the doorway of Jack’s office, waiting to be filled in on all the details.

  “Depends. For all practical purposes, Mr. Yeung is no longer in business. That does not mean he may not continue to use our services. The group out of Chicago, the one run by Anthony Scalesci, has legal counsel there. Frankly, from what I saw, I was not particularly impressed. If they extend their operation to New York and here in Jersey, they will need local representation.”

  “Do you think we have a shot at it? I’d be willing to fly out to Chicago and meet with Scalesci. Let him know what we have done for Yeung and Sonny in the Tri-State area. Our track record speaks for itself.”

  “No question about it, Billy.”

  Jack’s mind was racing. This had all the signs of a huge conflict of interests. One cannot serve two masters at the same time. This had been drummed into him since the first day of law school. He had also been taught from the time he began wearing long pants knowledge is power. Power is money; money is power. With power and money, all else is possible. In fact, all else is within easy reach.

  Just look what Bill got Monica to do in the god damn Oval Office. If that’s not power, I don’t know what is.

  Lawyers are trained from the very beginning—do not hesitate when responding to a question. Make it appear you had the answer before the question was ever asked. Show confidence. Be confident. Lie your ass off if you have to, but show confidence when you answer.

  “Billy, th
at’s a great idea. I think we have to clear it with our boy Xiang, but I see no problem, no conflict. Let’s wait a few days, and I’ll call Yeung personally and get permission. Good thinking, Billy.”

  Jack was now dancing as fast as he could.

  As of right this very moment, Scalesci is not my client. Whatever I do, I have to do fast, before Scalesci is actually a client. It’s sleazy as hell, but it’s not illegal. At least not right this minute.

  Jack picked up the phone. He had an important call to make.

  Knowledge is power. Power is money. Money is power.

  Jack kept repeating that to himself in the hope he would actually believe it.

  ***

  The flight was a short two hours and thirty-nine minutes. From MIA to EWR. Marta would be home before five p.m. She was not in a particularly good mood. She would have preferred to be in Turtle Key, but that was not possible for a whole host of reasons.

  As the sleek 757 glided somewhere over North or South Carolina, she wasn’t paying attention; Marta’s thoughts were on the past forty-eight hours. She had closed her eyes and asked the stewardess, oops, flight attendant, not to bother her. She did not need or want a mini size bag of twenty peanuts or an ice-filled plastic cup of soda.

  He’s not like Rik; he’s definitely not like Xiang. In fact, he’s not like any man I have ever known. As far as I can tell, he wants nothing from me. He just wants to be happy and enjoy life, sharing his passions with all those around him.

  Considering they did not sleep that much, they were up at the crack of dawn. Not that she had a choice. The bedroom was filled with light. There were no shades.

  “Do you believe in saving energy and conserving the earth’s resources?”

  “What kind of question is that to ask me when I’m still half asleep?”

  “I was thinking we could do our first good deed of the day, sort of thanking Mother Earth for all she has provided us with by taking a shower together. Saving energy for the next generation.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, race you to the shower.”

  The shower was less than ten feet away. Everything in the doll house seemed to be less than ten feet away. The race was a tie. When the tank began to send out cold water, they reluctantly got out.

  By nine, they had finished breakfast at an eight-stool greasy spoon off the side of the highway and were five minutes from Marathon. Rod parked the Jeep in the marina parking lot. Jake, the dock master, did not miss a thing; he also did not say a thing. He was long past the age of retirement and as long as no one else brought it up, he sure wouldn’t.

  He noticed Rod and the girl, really a very stunning lady, were awfully friendly, considering it was still more than two hours till noon.

  Rod headed down the dock with his duffle bag while Marta went back to her bungalow where she hung a ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign. As she contemplated confirming plane reservations, it occurred to her she had not heard from Mei Ling in quite a while. Perhaps Xiang mentioned she was under the weather or on vacation. She made a mental note to call her after five o’clock. She wasn’t sure what she would tell Xiang. There was no way she could have anything but a business relationship, attorney/client, after spending the better part of twenty-four hours in bed with Rod.

  The next day, Marta was moping around, having finished packing for the third time. There was nothing wrong with the first two times. She just didn’t want to see the suitcase pleading with her not to go. She had called the office and spoke to Miranda. Billy was in court, and Jack had an appointment somewhere in Manhattan. She said she was feeling much better, obviously a lie, but for far different reasons, and she would be flying back the next day. She’d be in the office the following morning.

  “I’m ready to kick some ass, so make whatever appointments you want for me. And thanks, Miranda. All of you have been so understanding. Oh, please call Mei Ling and ask when it would be convenient for us to meet. I can drive into the city any day next week.”

  Five minutes later, the cell phone rang.

  “That was quick, Miranda. What did she say?”

  “Who’s Miranda, and would I like to meet her?”

  The smile was back on Marta’s face. It was almost infectious.

  “No, you would not like to meet her. She’s eighty years old, fat, and smells bad.”

  “My kinda gal. Can I get her phone number?”

  “How are you, Rod? I’ve been thinking about you. What are you doing?”

  “Preparing dinner for the both of us. Hope you like grilled salmon. Had a good day on the boat. Maybe you could bring a bottle of pinot grigio—and your pajamas. Oh, if I recall, you don’t wear pajamas, so just the wine will do. Sort of a temporary goodbye party. It’ll be a fairly small party. Just the two of us. See you around six thirty. The dock should be quiet by then.”

  Before Marta had time to say thank you or blow him a kiss, the line went dead.

  Now Marta sat on the plane and tried to recall every detail. There were too many. She was happy.

  Very happy.

  CHAPTER 52

  Anthony extended his stay in Zurich for another twenty-four hours. He would have made it forty-eight, but his guests, his suppliers, had already made reservations back to Singapore.

  Mr. Scalesci was not their only customer.

  I’ve hit the freakin’ jackpot. A year from today, I will control everything from Chicago to the East Coast. Why I may even extend down to Miami. That idiot Yeung, I would have paid twice the amount he was asking. I’ll show him how to run an operation.

  Anthony, Tony to his friends, took care of the hotel bill for the Three Wise Men from the East, as he thought of them. He insisted on having a private dinner for them at his hotel. He insisted on a small banquet hall, no expenses spared. He even arranged for three young ladies to attend.

  Anthony assumed if he liked New York steak, everyone would like New York steak. He assumed if he drank Johnnie Walker Black, everyone would love drinking it. Lastly, he assumed if he liked to grab a high priced hooker, the three wise men would be delighted.

  Mr. Scalesci was wrong on all three assumptions. The three Asian gentlemen did not eat the flesh from the sacred cow, did not drink anything stronger than herbal tea, and certainly did not want big-busted blondes sitting on their laps.

  They were appalled.

  The dinner was over before it even began. Tony did not know the customs of others. He could not stop apologizing. The more he talked, the worse it was.

  Did the rich American not think to take time to know and understand our culture? Did he think we are like him? Did he believe that food and drink and women of the night would please us? How are we going to deal with a man of such poor taste and vulgarity?

  Technically speaking, the Three Wise Men were not a part of the agreement. Certainly they were aware of their vital role, but there was no consideration other than future business. It was not as if the Chicago syndicate was the only buyer of their product. This was the classic case of supply and demand, and the demand, worldwide, was far greater than the supply. How else could the suppliers pay pennies for pounds of poppy seeds and sell it for sums far greater than the weight of gold?

  “We must talk to our good friend, Xiang Yeung. He has purchased from us for the past thirty-five years. There was never a problem with payment. His word never failed him.”

  The two other wise men agreed.

  Anthony Scalesci had no idea the size of the insult he had laid upon them. He had never dealt with Asians before. They did his laundry and delivered food when he wanted something different to eat. He would never understand why they did not use forks and knives. It was not logical.

  Who would turn down a good New York strip steak? They have to be crazy. Sacred cow, what’s that crap all about? It makes no sense. Why do they think God invented cows? For prime aged steak, of course.

  The diet of Xiang Yeung consisted mostly of fresh vegetables, farm-raised chicken, rice, and spices. While Anthony was stuffing his mouth
with cholesterol-filled blood red meat, Xiang and his lovely sister were sitting in the garden having fresh stir-fried food from his very own garden. The conversation, as was becoming the custom, drifted back to their homeland.

  “When can we go home, my compassionate brother?”

  “Mei Ling, we are home. We can go back to China whenever you like, but this is our home. We are now Americans. Chinese Americans. We are citizens of our adopted country.”

  The truth was, Xiang had no great love for the country of his birth. It was backward when it came to human rights, how they treated the poor and sick or anyone who questioned authority. It was most definitely a two caste system, with the indigent being by far the larger.

  I would probably be in the one percent section.

  After thinking about it for a moment, Xiang realized he would be in the top one hundredth of one percent. He could probably count all the billionaires in China on both hands and have a few fingers to spare.

  “My sweet little sister, if you will call my private secretary, he will be pleased to make all the travel arrangements: air, hotel, ground transportation, and meetings with those who can accommodate our needs. Now that I have nothing else to do, I can devote my time, energy, and financial resources to make the dream of honoring our parents with a school, hospital, and safe home for abused women and children come true. You, of course, will make all final decisions.”

  Mei Ling bowed deeply.

  Yeung still did not have the complete freedom he so long yearned for. It would come. It would come soon, but for now, he had to tie up many loose ends. His distributors and upper echelon personnel had been notified the Yeung syndicate was no longer in business. The company and all its assets had been sold. Everyone would be contacted by the new owner in the next few days. As far as Yeung knew, all terms and conditions would remain the same. Mr. Yeung would accept no calls from anyone. He was now officially retired.