AGAINST THE WIND (Book Two of The Miami Crime Trilogy)

by Don Donovan

  And Desi wanted a piece of it.

  INTEGRATION

  SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 2012

  47

  Alicia

  Miami, Florida

  Saturday, April 14, 2012

  6:10 PM

  THINGS WERE FINALLY SLOWING DOWN at Computer Superstore of the Americas. Dozens of computers and dozens more printers and other equipment had been picked up and were rolling out of the retail/warehouse center on their way to the airport, bound for the Free Zone in Panamá.

  Now, a truck was arriving from the Hialeah Box Company, pulling up at the superstore's wide, garage-type rear door and dispensing a fresh supply of cardboard containers and other packing materials that would cover CSA for the rest of the week's shipments. Alicia checked the load in and a couple of her workers moved them into the packing area where tomorrow's shipment of computers awaited.

  Another large, heavy-gauge custom-made box was among the Hialeah Box Company delivery. This would hold the next group of cash-stuffed computers scheduled for delivery to Panamá. A recent coded text had told her the first mule was arriving from Philadelphia Wednesday night.

  She looked over the invoice, payable within thirty days. The price of these boxes had gone up. Not by much, just a few cents apiece, but when you figure in the thousands of packages CSA puts together every month, that shit adds up. Fast.

  The notion of changing suppliers entered her head. These guys had been good to her, sure. They deliver right to the loading area, and they're from Hialeah — homeboys — so if there are any discrepancies in a delivery, or if she needs extra boxes in a hurry, they're there for her. Still, she didn't like paying more for her packing material.

  This was weighing on her when she let her mind drift to her two fabulous nights with Amy. Wednesday night in Panamá and then last night in St Kitts. Normally, she does her business in St Kitts and then flies home immediately, but Amy was so luscious, so yielding, she pulled her into a St Kitts hotel for another night of punishing sex.

  Amy had to go to New York on business today, but Alicia told her there was one more stop on her learning tour, the final step in the integration of the dirty cash into the clean, legitimate world. They were to meet in England on Monday.

  Her mind dwelled on the way Amy had taken to the strap-on so lustily, pleading for it, and the screams she emitted, when she saw three men standing in the entry of the yawning garage door. One of them was very fat and the other two, flanking him, were very fit. They were all backlit by the late afternoon sun blazing outside the door, so they appeared at first only in silhouette. Once they got further inside the store, Alicia realized it was Maxie Méndez and two of his apes. She walked up to greet them. Berto, her bodyguard and driver, moved with her.

  "Maxie," she said, "what a surprise! What brings you to Miami?" She extended a hand for a shake and Maxie took it.

  He was grim-faced, Maxie was, and this unnerved Alicia. The big man was normally a fixture on the flamboyant side, but displayed more measured mannerisms now. More importantly, she noticed the stern faces of the apes, all four eyes beady, hard, aimed in her direction, like fiery black marbles ready to shoot out of their sockets straight into her chest.

  In a near-whisper, Maxie said, "Alicia, my good friend." Their handshake continued.

  Alicia mustered all the sincerity she could and plastered it onto her face. "Listen, Maxie. I heard about what happened. Such a tragedy! I cannot imagine what you must be going through. Please accept my deepest sympathies."

  Finally, Maxie stopped shaking hands. He said, "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

  "Of course. Back this way."

  She escorted them to her office, a cozy, glassed-in enclosure in the back of the warehouse. Two chairs sat in front of his modest desk. A small couch ran along the back wall. She moved the chairs over to face the couch. She beckoned Maxie to sit on the couch and the goons took the chairs. Alicia sat next to Maxie. Berto remained standing at the side of the couch nearest to her.

  She offered them drinks or coffee, but they declined. She said, "What's on your mind, Maxie? What can I do for you?"

  With effort, Maxie shifted on the couch to face her. "You can tell me," he said, still in a near-whisper, "where I can find Desi Ramos."

  "Wha ¾ Desi? What do you want him for?"

  "Do you know where he is?"

  Alicia said, "Well, no, I don't. But why do you want him, Maxie?"

  "You do know him, don't you? I am told you two are longtime compañeros. That the two of you used to sell yeyo on the streets. Back when you were much younger."

  "Sí. Sí, yo lo sé. I've known him since we were kids. And it is true, I was briefly involved with him in the trade when I was a teenager. What's this all about?"

  Maxie said, "That dickless fucking faggot killed my little girl. Shot her in the face."

  "What? Desi?" Alicia felt she had raised her voice to the proper level to convey shock. "He couldn't have done such a thing!"

  "I say he did." Maxie's face reddened. "Where can I find him?" The apes moved forward in their chairs, almost imperceptibly. Alicia's eyes flicked from them back to Maxie.

  "Maxie, look. I can tell you Desi was never the smartest kid on the block, and he never backed away from a fight. But he does not have a violent nature. I have never known of him to commit violence of any kind. Except, like I said, sometimes he is provoked into fist fights. I cannot imagine him shooting anyone, least of all a defenseless girl."

  "I ask you again, Alicia," Maxie said. "Where can I find him?"

  "I don't know where he is, but what makes you so sure he did this terrible thing?"

  "Never mind how I know. Now where is he?"

  She said, "I must ask you, Maxie, are you positively certain about this?"

  He gave a nod. "I am certain. Absolutamente."

  Alicia let out a long exhale and shot her eyebrows up and down briefly in acceptance of this improbable accusation. "Well, did you check his house?" she asked, knowing that would be the first place Maxie's men would look. Desi obviously had gone into hiding or else Maxie wouldn't be here.

  Maxie nodded. "I've had somebody watching it for two days. He hasn't been there."

  She spread her palms in front of Maxie, facing him. "I already told you. I don't know where he is. But you can be sure I would tell you if I knew."

  Maxie's face scrunched up, showing doubt. "You would? You would give me your lifelong friend? Knowing what will happen to him?"

  "I have a little girl myself, Maxie. For me, she's the reason every new day dawns. She is my life. If he committed this terrible act, if he took your precious daughter from you, then yes, I would give him to you. With the hope that you would do the same for me, if it were my daughter."

  That seemed to satisfy Maxie. With a head signal, he rose and the apes followed. He reached for Alicia's hand and said, "If you hear of anything, you will let me know?"

  "You may be sure of it, Maxie," she said, knowing the last thing she wanted was for Desi to fall into Maxie's eager hands and then perhaps blab about how he received the information on Bebop's whereabouts, which led to blasting him and, at the same time, Maxie's precious daughter.

  48

  Desi Senior

  Hialeah, Florida

  Monday, December 23, 1996

  7:35 PM

  DESI CHECKED HIS WATCH. He was over a half-hour late. No matter. Delgado could wait. Besides, he was having too good a time with this stripper to get up and leave just to meet Delgado for a drink. Fuck him.

  He rolled back over on top of her and she opened herself up wide for him.

  Around eight o'clock, he finished with her. He hurried her up. She threw on her tight dress and he slipped her three hundred. The deal was only for two, but she was exceptionally skilled at her trade, making him tingle all over, so he tipped her an extra bill. She thanked him and left the hotel room.

  He downed the last of his drink and poured another quick one while he dressed. It actually couldn't be called "quic
k", since it was more than a double shot, but lately he'd taken a liking to Glenlivet 25-year-old Scotch, and at two hundred fifty dollars a bottle, he was damned sure going to enjoy it.

  He left five minutes later. The empty bottle stayed on the dresser.

  At eight-twenty he entered the Longhorn Steakhouse on West 49th Street. A casual, family-style place, it was big and loud and always crowded. Delgado liked these kinds of places. He said you could disappear in there, be invisible among all the people, and no one would pay attention to you. Desi thought the joint was annoying.

  Delgado was seated at the end of the bar, not far from the front door, with a nearly-empty beer bottle in front of him. Because of the Longhorn's patchwork layout, there was no clear line of vision through the whole restaurant. The only people who could see anyone at that end of the bar, he said, were the bartender, waitresses, and whatever other people were seated at the bar, all of whom invariably minded their own business.

  Desi took the stool next to him.

  "You're almost an hour and a half late," he said. "Where the fuck you been?"

  Desi waved off his objections. "Don't worry about it."

  "Hey, you keep me waiting here for an hour and a half, I don't like it."

  "I was fucking a stripper," Desi said. "That all right with you?"

  "Not when it keeps me waiting," Delgado said. "It's not all right with me. I called you on your cellular phone. You didn't answer."

  "I told you, I was fucking a stripper. I'm not gonna answer a phone call while I'm pounding her pussy!"

  "You got a real attitude, mi amigo. A real fucking attitude. It's been coming on for a couple of years now. And I don't like it."

  "Too bad. Where's the bartender."

  Delgado put a gentle hand on his arm and said, "I think you've had too much already, Desi. Slow down."

  Desi yanked his arm away from Delgado's touch. "I haven't had too much. I want another one. Bartender!" He made an overblown gesture to get the bartender's attention.

  He came over and Desi ordered their best Scotch, Johnnie Walker Black.

  Trying to maintain his composure, Delgado said, "Look, Desi. You've been putting that stuff away pretty good lately. Maybe you should cut back a little."

  "Maybe you should shut the fuck up," Desi said.

  The drink arrived and Desi slammed it back. He ordered another.

  Delgado got down to business. "All right, look. You've got this deal going down on Saturday. How much will you need?"

  Desi finally settled down and turned serious, but not losing the slight slur in his voice. "Two keys."

  "Pick it up in the usual place Saturday night. Ten sharp."

  "Saturday. Ten sharp," Desi repeated.

  "It's going to go down in Liberty City, right?"

  "Right."

  "Okay. When you get there, be sure to —"

  "I'm not going," Desi said.

  "What?"

  "I said I'm not going."

  Delgado said, "What do you mean, you're not going?"

  "I mean, I'm sending Desi Junior in my place."

  "What? You're sending your son? He's just a kid, for Christ's sake!"

  "It's his seventeenth birthday on Saturday, and I'm gonna do this for him. He's no stranger to the business and he's been after me to let him in on a deal. So he's taking my place on Saturday night. Plus, he's taking Alicia López with him."

  Delgado's face reddened and he looked like he was about to blow an artery. "Jesus fucking Christ, Desi! A fucking girl? You're sending your teenaged son and a fucking girl into that deal with Bebop? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

  "Hey, he's my son and it's my deal. I'll do what I want. And besides, the girl can handle herself. She's been around."

  Delgado's eyes rolled a couple of times. "You're being very stupid, mi amigo. Bebop might kill him and the girl just because you didn't show up. He might take it as a sign of disrespect that you didn't come personally."

  "Fuck that nigger. He's not gonna kill anyone," Desi said. "He wants the dope on a regular basis, he'll deal with Desi Junior."

  "I don't like it."

  "Then you can go fuck yourself," Desi said in a growl. He chugged his drink and shambled out the door.

  Delgado sat for a long time. He ordered another beer and sat some more, thinking.

  Twenty minutes later, in the relative silence of the parking lot, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.

  "Bebop?" he said. "You want to know who killed your big brother?"

  49

  Alicia

  London, England

  Monday, April 16, 2012

  8:40 AM

  ALICIA CHECKED INTO THE HOTEL INDIGO. Located on Tower Hill in the heart of London, it was small and unobtrusive, but very nice inside. She liked staying here every time she made this trip. The rooms were comfortable and modern, recently renovated, yet brimming with character. A brick wall ran behind the large four-poster bed, and the large bathrooms always felt very accommodating.

  Most importantly, though, it was within walking distance of the Royal Castle Bank.

  Amy was not waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived, as she was instructed to do that night in their St Kitts hotel room. Alicia was perturbed, but she knew these international meetups can be delayed by the slightest of occurrences.

  She looked around the smartly appointed lobby one last time before getting on the elevator and heading for her room. Numerous methods of disciplining Amy ran through her mind all the way up the elevator and down the hall to her room.

  The little girl needs to be taught a lesson, she thought. Maybe a few slaps across the face. Or maybe I might make her stand naked in the hallway for a few minutes. Or I might take her …

  She opened the door to her room and Amy lay on her back on the king-sized bed, arms and legs spread wide, wearing only a smile.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  At eleven o'clock, they presented themselves, fresh and happy, at the Royal Castle Bank right down the street. It was, like the Hotel Indigo, on the small side, not at all like many of the British banks that were huge and imposing on both the outside and the inside. No big pillars rising up from the street framing a wide flight of steps. No ornate front door, no snooty employees, no stuffy atmosphere. It was still a bank, to be sure, so there was the air of serious business all over the place, but it was an air Alicia could live with.

  She wore her most conservative ensemble, a black suit with a crisp white blouse and black leather high-heeled pumps, while Amy's suit was midnight blue with a faint chalk stripe, a pale blue blouse, and black open-toed heels. Each woman carried an expensive briefcase. Alicia's contact, Mr Maybrick, was there to greet them.

  "Miss López, how have you been?" They shook hands and he led them into his office.

  Alicia introduced him to Amy, they all smiled and engaged in small talk. Those red-eye flights. Unseasonably warm weather in London. Bet it's nothing like Miami. A new Royal Castle branch in Taiwan. The name of the Taiwanese branch manager. He would appreciate the business.

  "So," he finally said, "your transfers from Panamá came through. The money —" He consulted his laptop. "— all two million, five hundred eighteen thousand, four hundred of it, is currently resting in the account of Chase-Morgan London according to your instructions. Here is the paperwork."

  She examined the papers. Everything in order. Of course, this is the UK. They live on order over here.

  Good thing there are no Cubans here, she thought. This country would go crazy trying to keep everything orderly.

  "What is the total balance of the Chase Morgan account?" she asked. "In dollars, please."

  He looked closely at his laptop and calculated the current exchange rate on his calculator. "Hmmm, looks like four hundred forty-two million, nine hundred seventeen thousand, five hundred twenty-five dollars and fifty cents."

  "Mr Maybrick, there will be a rather large withdrawal made on this account in the near future. Do not be alarmed. Chase Mo
rgan will be making some significant investments elsewhere, but this will only produce more income, which in turn will be re-deposited back into the account. I expect the shortfall to be made up in a year or less, and then for more to be deposited thereafter."

  From the other side of his desk, Maybrick looked to be around sixty or sixty-five. Up close, however, Alicia noticed he was probably no more than fifty. The illusion, she decided, was due to some lifestyle weakness, like alcohol.

  "Excellent!" he said. "Of course, the Chase Morgan people are free to do what they like with their funds, but I'm very pleased to learn they will continue to do business with us. Would you be so kind as to give them my thanks, Miss López?"

  "Of course," Alicia said. "We will also need a wire transfer in the amount of one million dollars from the Chase-Morgan account. Please make that transfer immediately to this Miami bank." She produced a document with transfer instructions printed on it. The name on the account: "Panamá Global Development, SA."

  50

  Alicia

  London, England

  Monday, April 16, 2012

  11:45 AM

  WILLY'S WINE BAR SAT NEAR THE INTERSECTION of Aldgate High Street and Lloyd's Avenue. An agreeable, well-appointed place, it features an extensive lunch menu, but is widely known for its claim of "the best fish and chips in London". This was Amy's first time in the UK, and she wanted to try the fish and chips, so this was convenient, since Alicia had made the date to meet Monsieur Beauchene here at noon.