by Tony Lavely
Thursday, they met Ian for lunch. Beckie thought she’d have some fun telling him what he’d been doing the day before before they decided the next steps. Willie joined with her laughing at Ian’s expression. Willie even had the grace to grin when Beckie then recounted her trailing of him.
However, as Willie chuckled, Ian’s expression became somber. “I hope you will keep in mind a unilateral change of an operational plan may not always have benign consequences.”
She cuddled against his side. “I know. I’ll be careful.”
While Beckie and Willie dug into the spicy Adobo at the picantería Willie had suggested, she complained briefly about the modern features. “Can’t get away from TV, even here,” she moaned, turning her back on the bar. However, in the middle of Ian’s review of Barbara’s concerns about rising and increasingly aggressive disputes between the supporters of the several Presidential election candidates, Willie directed their attention to the screen. Lotta good it does, Beckie thought, since I don’t speak Spanish. A moderately tall dark-haired man was addressing a group while a voice-over covered anything the man might have said.
“That’s Mamani’s main competition,” Willie said. “Piero Salvadore, current Minister of the Interior.”
“I thought I recognized him; we met him, remember?” Beckie said.
Willie nodded as Ian asked, “What is his platform?”
“All the usual things.” He waved at the TV. “This ad focuses on his work to improve Peru by directing law enforcement efforts toward major crimes rather than what are generally considered minor infractions. I’d have to hear it again to say exactly what that means, but I suspect consensual prostitution and possession of small quantities of drugs for personal use would be top of the list.” He drank some of his beer. “He’s already lowered the prison population that way.”
Ian leaned back in his chair. “How is his popularity compared with Mamani?”
“Would that matter, Ian?”
“No, love. I am merely curious.”
Willie smirked at their interaction; Beckie made a face at him as he continued, “He’s less popular overall than she. Even though he lives in Arequipa, his strength is closer to Lima, and in the mountains.”
“That’s where the violence Barbara was talking about is,” Beckie said. “Is he, or his people, inciting any of that?”
“There’s no evidence, which doesn’t prove it either way. Should I move that way?”
“While it seems a good idea,” Beckie said, “I think Barbara and Rich need to be part of that decision.”
“I agree,” Ian said. “We shall table that idea until the weekend when we meet with them.”
“Kinda funny.” Beckie waved at the television. “He’s a lot more self-assured than he was in Mamani’s office.”
“What do you mean?” Willie asked. “Wouldn’t he be ready for a TV taping?”
“I suppose, but that confidence is so different from when he talked to us. Why would he be so nervous meeting security contractors?”
“Can you ascribe it to anything?”
“I can’t, but it makes me wonder.”
With the coffee, Ian smiled and Beckie relaxed. Her phone buzzed, the signal for an appointment. “Look, it’s time for lunch with you!” She curled up next to him and tapped the phone. “Hey, mail works, too.”
“Civilization. Grand, is it not?”
“Depends,” she mused, scrolling through the messages from school. “Usual stuff from Lissa, she and Mike are in the new apartment. We’ll have to go out and visit, soon. Mom and Dad are headed to Canada for the vacation they’ve never had.” She gave a snort of humor. “Amy!”
“What?”
She read the screen. “I think she misses me. As a confidant, anyway, for all I wouldn’t let her come with us. She’s likely just tense about Shalin acting as guardian, with Millie and me here. And she’s worried about the key and the tape.”
“Has anything occurred to justify her concern?”
Beckie scrolled back. “Nothing I’ve seen. Probably she’s just interested. I am, too, now I think of it.” She fell silent, sucking her lip in to worry it with her teeth. Before the men responded, she said, “I’ve learned a lot in the past two weeks, and since Mathilde needs to get back…”
“Indeed. So you will trust me to live through the next few days while you return to dispel Amy Rose’s worries?”
“Yeah.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “I will. I’m sure Barbara and Willie will get on famously without me.”
Willie smiled across the table at her. “We’ll not have nearly the fun we would have, though.”
“Thanks… I think.”
Ian touched her arm. “Call Boynton and let him know to expect you. I will continue your training later.”
She kissed him again, ignoring Willie’s soft “Woo-hoo!”
At the airport, she said, “You be careful, hear? I’ll be upset if something happens to you, and you know what happened the last time.” She smirked up into his face.
“I shall. You do likewise.”
Chapter Eleven
Infiltration
THE FIRST SATURDAY IN OCTOBER, Silvio Flores tapped on the door of Frankie Pella’s apartment. Lightly; he wasn’t sure he wanted to be heard after Frankie had dumped him over the stern and ran away. Leaving me to—
“It’s about time you got back.” Frankie’s overwhelmingly cheerful voice burst through as the door opened. “Hey, everything okay? I could see they’d pick you up, no problem, and I knew you’d get out smooth. Get you ass in here and have a beer. Or whatever. If I got it, it’s yours.”
Silvio mumbled a hello as he slipped by the larger man. He hit everything I could complain about, he thought as he opened a Dos Equis. At least the beer’s cold. “Hola, Frankie. Your trip back easy enough?”
Frankie spent five minutes going over his return. “Biggest problem was making sure the helicopter turned back before I headed to Matthew Town. Didn’t want to lead him there.”
“That’s for sure. Thanks for the beer. Nice and cold.”
Frankie waved the comment away. “Now you’re here, we’ll meet Goldfarb and another couple guys.” He grabbed a jacket. “Finish up; he’s waitin.’”
Silvio shared the taxi with Frankie, regretting he’d taken a shower earlier in the day; Frankie hadn’t, and this Toyota was no limo where you could get away from a fellow passenger.
The ride ended at the Marriott at Newark International Airport. “We goin’ somewhere, Frankie?”
“Naw. Not us. New guy’s here for a quick indoctrination and then back to Fort Lauderdale.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Hang tight for a minute, till we’re outta the cab.” When the driver stopped, Frankie added, “Pay the guy off and let him go. I’ll be inside the door to the left.”
“But…” Frankie was already out of earshot. Silvio quashed his question about getting back to the city and dug out his wallet.
Inside the lobby, Frankie had taken a chair out of the way. Silvio hurried over, wondering if he should ask for the cab fare. A look at Frankie’s face and he decided the money wasn’t enough to worry about. Frankie gestured that he should pull one of the low chairs closer; when he did, the man smiled and handed him an envelope.
“You get the easy job. When we get in the room, and Goldfarb tells you, just show the guy the photos in there, one at a time, until he agrees.” Frankie smiled. “I figure two or three is all it’ll take. Go ahead, you can look, too, if you want.”
Silvio slid the photos out, but only looked at the top one: a Hispanic woman, perhaps thirty or more. She would have been attractive if not for the look of terror on her face. Silvio recognized the man holding a gun to the head of a small boy; Juan, he thought the name was. The barrel was crushing the boy’s ear. Silvio couldn’t see his face. With a forced smile, he reinserted the photos. “Lead with the best. Should work.”
“Oh, they get better. Questions?”
“What’s he going to do?”
“He’s going to work for those assholes who ran me off.”
“For that Jamse guy? How’ll that happen?”
“Better we don’t know all that.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s go.”
They rode the elevator to the third floor. Frankie paced the hallway until he found the room; when he knocked, there was a brief pause before it opened.
Goldfarb greeted them.
Silvio stopped short, the sight of Goldfarb’s face was horrifying. “What happened to you, Sam?”
“Ah, yes.” He brushed the fresh scars on his cheek. “You haven’t seen me since… since I was attacked. By the woman you and Frankie were to recover last week. Not only attractive, she is capable with her knives. A warning to you, when you meet her. Her name is Jolene Rochambeau. You may not injure her until after she speaks in court.”
“Why?”
“She holds Donato Talos’ freedom in one hand and his balls in the other. You do remember Donato?”
Silvio felt weak; he dropped onto the luggage bench beside him. My father… She is the one… at the trial. Damn her!
Goldfarb smiled when Silvio looked up. “But that’s neither here nor there, tonight. Now, please meet Estevez. Paulo Estevez.”
A dark Hispanic man stood behind Goldfarb. He was an inch or so taller than Goldfarb, and a little heavier than the lawyer’s 150 pounds. Goldfarb’s workouts and conditioning had left him in better condition than drink and perhaps drugs had left Estevez. The man waved, much more tentatively than Silvio expected. He returned it. How did he connect with the woman in the photo, Silvio wondered.
Frankie stepped around Goldfarb to sit on the bed, close to Estevez. Silvio now noticed two other men on the far side of the bed, but he didn’t recognize them.
Goldfarb took command once more. “Before you two arrived, I described the job’s requirements for señor Estevez. He is minded to decline. I hope you will prevail on him. Bring him to his good senses, so to speak.” He nodded to Silvio.
There’s nothing to say. Silvio’s heart fell as he stood, trod slowly past Goldfarb and stopped in front of Estevez. He placed his hand on Estevez’ chest and pushed him to sit on the bed. He handed Estevez the envelope.
Estevez needed to look at more of the photos than Silvio had guessed. However, he didn’t look at them all before shoving them back, tearing the envelope. Silvio retrieved the package and handed it to Frankie, who declined. “You hold it for now.”
Goldfarb had pulled Estevez close to the dresser, behind the flat-screen TV that blocked Silvio’s view. He heard Estevez’s voice, even weaker than his wave had been. “Very well. I will perform to the best of my ability. Please, hurt them no more.”
“You get clean for the next week, before your interview with Shen Go, and get the job, then do as we ask, they will be fine. Wonderful, even. They will enjoy their vacation.” Silvio heard the pause before Goldfarb continued. “But if you fail, their vacation will not be pleasant.”
Goldfarb walked toward the door. Before he left, he took the envelope from Silvio. “Frankie. Take señor Estevez back to Fort Lauderdale and stay with him until the interview. Report when necessary. Good to see you again, Silvio. I’ll be in touch.” Silvio’s heart dropped the rest of the way to the floor when Goldfarb turned back to say, “Keep Thanksgiving week free. We’re having a get-together.”
Finally, he was gone, and in a blink, everyone else was, too. Silvio found his own cab back to the city.
Chapter Twelve
Between Chatham and Brewster
EXCEPT FOR TAKING ALMOST TWELVE hours, Beckie’s trip home was fraught with nothing more critical than boredom. After almost two weeks at twelve thousand feet, she could almost chew on the thicker air, even in the airplanes, and landing gave her a welcome feeling of strength and vitality.
The good feeling persisted through greeting Shalin and Amy at the foot of the air taxi’s stairway. She passed on the well-wishes to them both, then after they walked Shalin back to her house, Beckie took Amy’s hand and allowed her to lead. They ended on the lanai at Ian’s home.
“Good morning, Maurice,” Beckie said, but he seemed to be… concerned? “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring any coco leaves home,” she added with a grin.
“Thank you, Mistress Rebecca,” Boynton replied, in what she recognized as his ‘stiff-upper-lip’ tone of voice.
“Why?” Amy said. “What’s so special about them?”
“You’ve heard of cocaine?” Beckie said. “Remember that joke song, No Cocaine in Cancun? Comes from the coco plant, and in Peru, they use it to make a tea that’s excellent at relieving altitude sickness.”
“But, we wouldn’t—”
“Right!” Beckie chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to take a drug test for the next couple days.”
Amy laughed. When they picked up their coffee cups together, she snickered before saying, “How long are we going to wait before checking that stuff out?”
“‘That stuff’?”
“Com’on, Beckie. You know—”
“The key and the tape you found?” Amy bounced on her chair agreeing, to Boynton’s amusement. “Well, what do we know about them?”
“We know the bank the key is for…”
“Yeah. And?”
“That’s all, I guess. All we know, anyway. We think…” Beckie gave her a pointed stare; Amy started again. “I think there’s a longer tape somewhere, between those two guys, because why would anyone have mailed that lawyer the short one if there wasn’t? And it might be in that bank.” Boynton’s small nod caught Beckie’s eye; she found it comforting.
“Anything else?”
“If I remember, Mr. Jamse found the gold in the shed?” She paused and Beckie tipped her head in agreement. “They looked around, but when I talked to Elena, they didn’t spend a lot of time.”
“Yeah, with all the bodies… We didn’t want to be there if the police showed up, for sure. Did Elena have any suggestions?”
“No. It was just they rushed, more than she thought anything was missed.”
“Hmm.” Beckie picked up her phone. Once she’d connected and greeted Ian, she placed the phone on the table so Amy and Boynton could also hear, then spent a couple minutes explaining Amy’s worries. “I was thinking of going up to New York and seeing if I could open the safe deposit box. And, you, Kevin and Elena all vaguely remembered other things in that shed. Maybe I could… Maybe I could get in and look around.”
“I am… I would not like for you to be alone.”
“Well, there are a few ways around that, but really, I don’t think there’d be a problem.”
“We thought that in London, if you recall.”
“Well… Here’s a thought, I’ll start in Boston, with Eilís O’Bannon, and we’ll head for the bank. If we can get in, we’ll see where it takes us. I can hold off on Brewster, for now.”
“What does Ms O’Bannon offer?”
“Abby left her car there, and she may be better positioned to get us through the bank.”
No one spoke until Ian did. “Ah, yes.” Resignation dripped from each word. “Very well. Keep in touch.”
Beckie snatched up the phone and promised, making sure Ian understood her sole wish was to get into his arms again.
Amy intervened after they thanked Boynton and were making their way back to Shalin’s home.
“I think,” the girl said, “the car is actually mine, right?”
Beckie nodded, guessing where this line of questioning would lead and trying to decide which result would serve them best.
“So-o-o…”
“Yeah.” Beckie stopped and pulled Amy around to gaze into her eyes. “Leaving aside the question of how we’d get you through Immigration without a parent or guardian, what’s the benefit? How does you being there advance the cause?”
“Oh.” Amy was silent, looking at her feet first, then the sea, then Beckie’s hair, blowing in the breeze. “I really wanted to
see where… where it happened…”
Beckie pulled the girl into a hug as she whispered, “Let me think about that.”
After dropping Amy at Shalin’s home, Beckie joined Willie and Boynton; they spent almost two hours on Skype with Ian and Millie. The conversation was not all about Amy; after Willie updated other jobs, Ian told them the situation in Peru, though fluid, was no worse than when she had left. What interested Beckie the most, however: Ian expected no change in the near term.
Millie was conflicted about her daughter, at least until her phone rang and she slipped out of the Ian-Beckie-Willie conversation to answer. When she returned, her position had firmed.
“Beckie, if you can keep Amy safe, then I’ll give you the same authorization I give Shalin when I’m away. She’s up to date on her school work, so I’ll let you decide.”
Beckie caught her breath. Wow! That’s a surprise, she thought. “I’m… Thanks, Millie. I’m not sure yet, but… that will make it easier.” It clicked in her head. “And I’ll bet you’re off the hook now, no matter what I say, right?”
Millie laughed as she nodded.
Ian’s voice tightened as he said, “May I have a minute alone with you, Rebecca?”
“Sure, just a second.” As she looked around, Willie and Boynton were already stepping through the slider. “Okay. Though I am on the lanai…”
“That will be fine.” She heard his sigh. “This trip; what is the benefit?”
“You mean Amy? She—”
“No, if you go, with Millie here, I agree Amy Rose should go also. But what is the benefit of your trip?”
“Well, geez, it seems perfectly clear to me, Ian. First, we keep the team safe. Next, we make money by helping our client. That is what you were telling me before?”
“Yes, that is. What I am struggling with is… Well, first, Amy Rose would be safer if you both remained at the Nest.”
“I guess. But how much safer? Unless Shen’s going to hire a bunch of security guys? But with Abby dead, I don’t see that Amy’s gonna be that big a draw.” She stopped as his probable real concern flooded her mind. “You’re not thinking I’d be at greater risk with Abby dead, are you? Odds of that seem pretty long… No one knows me from anyone.” She suppressed a giggle. “You’d be at higher risk, since O’Bannon’s been using your name.”
