by James Raven
I got out of the SUV and glanced up and down the street. Not much was going on. I saw a guy putting out the trash and a woman walking away from me along the pavement. I hurried across the road and up to the front door. There was a security buzzer on the wall next to it and underneath a small metal plaque with Garcia and Cruz engraved on it. I pressed the buzzer and had to wait twenty seconds for a response.
‘The office is closed until after Thanksgiving,’ a man’s voice said. ‘Please come back on Monday.’
‘I have an urgent delivery for a Mr Raymond Garcia,’ I said.
‘Well he’s not in right now. What is it?’
‘A package. It needs a signature.’
A pause, then: ‘OK, I’d better take it. I’m his partner. I’ll be right there.’
I lowered my head and wrapped the rag around my face, covering my nose and mouth. I tied a knot at the back and braced myself. I figured I was now everyone’s idea of a nightmare – a guy holding a gun and wearing a hat, shades and a face mask. Cruz was going to get the shock of his life.
In the event I didn’t give him a chance to react. As the door started to open I pushed at it with such force that the guy was knocked onto the floor. I rushed in, kicked the door shut behind me, and pointed the gun at him.
‘Do as I tell you and you’ll survive this,’ I yelled.
He paled instantly. His expression was somewhere between terror and confusion.
We were in a carpeted reception area with a desk and a water cooler on a stand. There were three doors leading off it and one was open.
‘Why are you here if the office is closed?’ I asked him.
He gazed at me fearfully. ‘I just got back from a business trip. I stopped by on my way from the airport to pick up some papers.’
‘So you’re the only person in the building?’
‘That’s right. But if it’s money you want there’s cash in the safe. Lots of it. So there’s no need to get violent. Just take it and go.’
‘Are you Michael Cruz?’
He frowned. ‘Yeah, that’s me. I’m a lawyer.’
I waved the gun. ‘Get to your feet.’
He struggled up and I got him to turn away from me while I patted him down like a cop. His suit was expensive, probably Italian, and the body inside it was lean and toned. He wasn’t armed, but then I hadn’t really expected him to be.
‘Where’s Raymond Garcia?’ I said.
He turned to look at me, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. ‘Ray? Why do you want him?’
‘I need to talk to him. So don’t pretend you don’t know where I can find him.’
‘I haven’t spoken to him in three days.’
‘But you’re partners. You must know where he is.’
His eyes widened suddenly and he raised his hands, palms out. ‘Jesus, are you with the Syndicate?’
I didn’t answer so he assumed I was.
‘Look, man you gotta know that whatever Ray has been up to I’m not involved. That’s the God’s honest truth. I’m straight with you guys. Martinez knows that. He knows I’m loyal.’
‘So what’s Garcia been up to?’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Not for sure. I’m just saying.’
I raised the gun and aimed it at his face. He let out a creaking gasp.
‘Let me be clear about one thing,’ I said. ‘When I ask a question, I want an answer. If I don’t get one, or if I think you’re lying to me, I’m going to smash the butt of this gun against your face. You got that?’
He swallowed a huge lump and nodded. ‘Please don’t hurt me. I’ve done nothing wrong. You have to believe that.’
‘You’ll need to convince me,’ I said. ‘So start with your partner. What’s he been up to?’
He chewed on his bottom lip, said, ‘You need to ask him that. He’s probably at home for Thanksgiving. I can give you his address if you don’t have it.’
I swiped the gun across his face. He was thrown sideways into the desk before collapsing on the floor. He moaned and put a hand against his left cheek. Blood trickled through his fingers from a rough cut.
‘I told you I want answers,’ I said. ‘Not a bunch of crap. So let’s try again. Tell me what Garcia has been up to.’
It took him a few seconds to recover. He sat up with his back against the side of the desk and wiped blood away from his face with his sleeve.
‘There’s no need to hit me,’ he said. ‘Just stay calm. I’ve got to get my head round this. You’ve taken me by surprise.’
‘Just tell me what you know.’
‘That’s just the point. I don’t know anything for sure.’
‘So what do you suspect?’
He blinked a couple of times and said, ‘I think maybe he’s been misappropriating funds. I’ve noticed things in the accounts. I was going to talk to him about it because I knew you guys would find out eventually. If he has been doing it then he’s a stupid motherfucker.’
‘Are you talking about Texas Syndicate funds?’
He knitted his brow. ‘What the hell else would I mean?’
When I didn’t say anything it dawned on him.
‘Shit, you’re not with the Syndicate are you?’
I shrugged. ‘Never said I was.’
A shadow crossed his face. ‘So who the hell are you? What do you want?’
‘I’m the one asking the questions,’ I said. ‘Tell me what your relationship is with the Texas Syndicate.’
He made steady, unflinching eye contact with me.
‘Look, Mister. I don’t want to….’
I moved towards him, raised the gun above his head as though I was going to hit him again.
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘It’s no fucking secret anyway. We’re the legal representatives for the Syndicate. They’re our only client. We deal mainly with Martinez, who runs the show in this part of Texas.’
‘What do you do for them?’
‘We mainly look after the money. We help to launder and invest it. And we advise them on all kinds of stuff.’
‘You’re talking about money from their illicit operations?’
He nodded. ‘For sure – drugs, prostitution, gambling. It runs into tens of millions every year.’
‘So why do they use your firm?’
‘We’re very small, very discreet and very good. They get our undivided attention. Plus, Ray and I are half-Mexican, which helps.’
It made sense. There were hundreds of law firms across the country involved in organized crime, the highest profile ones being those aligned to the Italian Mafia. The firms fell into two categories. There were those who represented the gangsters in court and did what they could to keep them out of prison. They didn’t care if their clients were guilty of the most heinous crimes, so long as they got their retainers and bonuses. Then there were the law firms like Garcia and Cruz who took care of the business side of the operations. They tended to keep a low profile and handled things like salaries, offshore accounts and property portfolios. They helped set up legitimate businesses with dirty money and ensured the cash was always on the move.
‘Where does Aaron Vance come into it?’ I said.
Cruz gave me a surprised look. ‘You mean the FBI guy here in San Antonio?’
I nodded. ‘What’s his relationship with you guys and Julio Martinez?’
‘I don’t know what you mean by relationship. Vance has been gunning for Martinez and the Syndicate for a long time. It’s a fucking war out there on the streets and Vance is the enemy.’
‘Is he on the take?’
‘Not as far as I know. If he was it would have shown up in the books.’
‘Could there be a link between him and your partner that you’re not aware of?’
He started to speak, but stopped himself and gave it some thought.
‘If there was I’m sure I would know about it,’ he said.
I felt he was telling the truth, which suggested to me that he didn’t know of any arrangement invo
lving Raymond Garcia, Julio Martinez and Aaron Vance.
‘Why mention Vance?’ Cruz asked. ‘Have you heard something? Is that what this shit is about? You think Ray is involved with the Feds?’
I was certain of it. It would explain why Garcia’s business cards were in the suit. Maybe the suit had belonged to Garcia?
I just couldn’t get my head around any of it and it was driving me crazy. There were still too many unanswered questions. Like what was the nature of the relationship between Vance and Garcia? Why did Vance take me into the city for a dinner date with a gangster who happened to be Garcia’s main client? Why was I sprung from the execution chamber? And was Vance telling the truth when he said he had not expected his own agent to try to kill me?
Cruz suddenly broke into my thoughts, his voice tinny and strained.
‘Look, I don’t know who you are but this is clearly heavy shit and I don’t want you thinking that I’m part of whatever is going on here. I just look after the accounts. I hardly ever see the Syndicate people. Ray handles all that. It’s him you should be talking to.’
‘Then give me his address,’ I said.
‘It’s in my office.’
‘Get up.’
His office was through the open door. It was surprisingly small but tastefully furnished. There was a large teak desk and bookshelves on two of the walls. He copied out Garcia’s address for me from a leather-bound book.
‘He lives alone,’ he said. ‘A house just outside the city.’
I slipped the piece of paper with the address on into my pocket.
‘Where’s the safe you mentioned?’ I said.
He bit on his lip and didn’t answer. So I asked him again more forcefully.
‘It’s in Ray’s office,’ he said.
‘Then let’s go get that money you offered.’
He hesitated. ‘But I’m not sure I can remember the combination.’
I grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the door.
‘You’ve got a choice, Cruz,’ I said. ‘Open the safe and live or clam up and die.’
It was a wall safe and it was hidden behind a large framed photo of San Antonio that had been taken from the air. It took Cruz four turns of the dial to get it open.
My eyes lit up when I saw that it contained bundles of hundred dollar bills along with various documents.
‘How much is there?’ I said.
‘About eighty grand.’
My heart bounced in my chest.
‘Why so much?’
‘It belongs to Martinez. It’s for paying off officials, including the cops.’
Even back in the day when Sean and I were on the rampage I had never laid eyes on so much cash.
‘I’ll need a bag,’ I said.
‘There’s a holdall in my office.’
We went back into his office and he took a leather holdall from a cabinet. Then I told him to lie on the floor while I snatched two power cables from the back of his computer and used them to hogtie him. He didn’t try to resist. He was just relieved that I wasn’t going to end his life.
‘You gonna tell me who you are?’ he said as I prepared to gag him.
‘No point,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I did.’
I packed the money into the holdall and then searched Garcia’s office. But I found nothing of interest and I wasn’t savvy enough with the computer to see what was stored on it.
Finally I ripped the rag from my face and let myself out of the front door. The sun had broken through the clouds and steam was rising from the street. I checked my watch. It was just after eleven. With luck Garcia would be in when I got to his house. And I’d hopefully move a step nearer to finding out what the hell I was caught up in.
40
RAYMOND GARCIA LIVED in a development of large and small detached houses. It was a cosy upscale enclave – the perfect habitat for bankers, lawyers and media types.
By the time I got there the sun was a blazing ball in the sky. Only shreds of cloud remained. I drove past Garcia’s house at school-zone speed to get a look at it. When I reached the end of his road I doubled back.
The house was a two-storey grey-brick property with bay windows and a double garage. All the houses had short driveways. But quite a few cars were parked along both sides of the road and I guessed they belonged to people who were staying with friends and relatives for Thanksgiving.
There was no car on his driveway and no sign of life. The only way I was going to find out if he was in was to take the most direct approach. I got out of the vehicle and removed the coat and hat so I’d look less conspicuous. Then I strolled casually up to the front door and rang the bell. No answer. I tried again, but there was still no answer.
I stood on his porch and wondered what to do next. I heard a child laughing along the street. Two cars drove slowly by. After about a minute I went back to the SUV and settled down to wait in the hope that he would show up. I knew I couldn’t wait for long. Michael Cruz would eventually be discovered and would alert his partner and the Syndicate. But I reckoned I had a couple of hours.
It gave me time to think. And there was a lot to think about. The money for one thing. Eighty thousand dollars. It really hadn’t sunk in yet, but it was going to make a big difference to my situation. It meant I could pay my way to a new life, maybe over the border in Mexico. With that kind of cash I could buy a fresh identity, even a passport. I could lie low in some godforsaken town until the heat was off and then try to carve out a future for myself.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to hit the road right now and head south, to seize the opportunity and flee the danger zone. But it’d mean never knowing what it had all been about and never finding peace because I’d be leaving Kate and her daughter to an uncertain fate. So I knew I couldn’t do it.
Raymond Garcia would be able to help. I was sure of it. Not that I expected him to volunteer any information. It would have to be dragged out of him. I knew Garcia’s type even though I’d never met him. He’d be a self-serving rat with no morals. Like all those other briefs who feed off the proceeds of organized crime.
I sat for a while mulling over all the questions I was going to ask him. But as the clock ticked the doubts began to form in my head. Who was I kidding? I was up against the titanic forces of the federal government and a powerful and ruthless criminal organization. I didn’t stand a chance.
I was so inwardly focused that I didn’t notice the silver Mercedes until it slowed to a crawl in front of me. As I watched it turn onto Garcia’s driveway I felt a bolt of adrenaline. The car stopped in front of the garage and a man I assumed was Raymond Garcia got out of the driver’s door. He was wearing chinos and a sleeveless red shirt. He went to the trunk and took out a set of golf clubs. That was when I got a good look at him. And realized that his face was familiar.
In fact it was a face I would have known anywhere.
41
SEEING RAYMOND GARCIA came as a massive shock. I stared across the road in disbelief as he lugged his golf clubs into the house.
My breath slowed to nothing and every muscle in my body seemed to freeze over. I just didn’t know what to make of it and for several minutes I couldn’t move.
I sat there with my heart beating ferociously in my chest. For the first time since waking up in the FBI facility I was bleeding for a drink. I felt I needed a shot or two of something potent before confronting the lawyer.
There was no doubt in my mind that he was going to be as surprised as I was. Maybe even more so.
I started to think about how I’d approach him. He was bound to be a cautious guy. So if he checked first to see who was at the door there was no way he would answer it.
But then something happened that I didn’t expect. The front door opened and Garcia came back out. He walked to the garage, unlocked it, and lifted up the slide-over door. Then he got into the Mercedes and started to nudge it into the garage. I saw my chance. He’d left the front door open.
I was out of the
SUV in a flash and dashed across the road. The angle was such that he couldn’t see me in the rear-view mirror. I hurtled through the door into a white-walled hallway. It was wide and bright, with a high ceiling and carpeted stairs. Ahead of me the hall opened out into a sunlit living room. I saw large windows and a sofa. There was a closed door to my right. Perfect, I thought. I could hide beyond it until Garcia came back into the house. Then I’d pounce.
I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. Then I slid into a shiny, modern kitchen. It had marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was a breakfast bar and a dining area. I eased the door shut behind me and stuck my ear to it, listening for Garcia.
But I heard something else. Something that lifted the hairs on my arms.
A low, menacing growl.
I turned around and felt my system flood with fear.
A dog.
It was standing not seven feet away, having stepped out from behind the breakfast bar. It was a big, black Rottweiler, and it was looking at me like I’d invaded its territory. Its dark lips were pulled back in a ferocious snarl, revealing teeth like razor-sharp fangs.
I didn’t move, not even to blink. I sucked in my breath and held it there. Why the hell hadn’t it barked or howled when I rang the bell? Wasn’t that what dogs were supposed to do? Maybe it had been sleeping. Or maybe it was deaf.
The animal stared at me. Its eyes were large and bloodshot, and thick muscles strained beneath its silky coat. I knew the breed to be one of the strongest and most dangerous, with powerful jaws and a vicious temperament.
I should have known that a guy like Garcia would have some kind of protection. And this killing machine was the ultimate fucking bodyguard.
I heard the garage door slam shut and realized I was done for. If I moved the dog would go for me. If I didn’t move it would go for me anyway eventually. But I couldn’t just stand there like lunch waiting to be eaten.
The dog stepped forward. Saliva foamed at the corners of its mouth. The growling got louder and I sensed it was about to attack.
The sound of the front door closing spurred me into action. I reached for the gun in my waistband and managed to get a grip on it. But as I pulled it out the dog threw itself at me with lightning speed.
