Corrupting Alicia

by Tsoukalas, Evan

  I guess I was doing something right.

  Having all but abandoned my house in Port Townsend after picking up the first money drop, I had settled on an office building downtown that had been purchased discreetly through one of my holding companies a year or two ago. My ownership of the entire building allowed for greater privacy and ensured against unwanted interruption. I was about to hit the street for a face-to-face with DeShawn, and as was customary with times when I’d be forced to leave Alicia’s side, she was already tucked away in my Port Townsend vault for the evening. Though I could see her braving it valiantly, she was having some difficulty adjusting to the long nights, and I was secretly glad she couldn’t put up a fight about the matter. When it came to her safety, we both agreed from the beginning that my word was law.

  I was preparing to depart when the phone rang. It was our receptionist, a plucky temp named Brenda whose tangerine hair belied a mild disposition. Alicia and I thought it best to use temps wherever possible to reduce the amount of time an outside person would spend inside our operation. Four weeks was the limit, but in just a week Brenda had already proven that she was going to be missed.

  “What is it, Bren?” I asked after picking up the phone.

  “Sir, there is a gentleman here to see you.”

  Alarms went off in my head, and I gritted my teeth to keep from exhaling hard. “Representing?”

  “He’s from Lloyd Aero Boliviano. I think they’re an airline,” Brenda replied, and I could hear the catch in her voice as she wondered what a representative from a South American airline would want with me.

  I pulled the phone away from my head quickly, a harsh, sharp breath punching its way from between my teeth. To say I was stunned wouldn’t have covered my reaction, but I can’t say I was displeased, either.

  I returned the handset to my ear. “Yes, of course,” I said after a few beats. “The freight forwarders. I forgot all about it. Please have Turner bring him up.” Turner was your garden-variety Rent-a-cop: a gigantic monster with limited neck and vocabulary, as slow as Brenda was bright, which was fine by me. One sharp, untrusted mind was enough to deal with.

  Brenda paused for a moment, and I could almost hear the wheels of her mind turning powerfully. Perhaps keeping her swift mind in the dark for a month was too much to ask. I might be in for a game of mental Jenga in a few days. “Of course, Sir,” she answered, hanging up.

  As I returned the handset to its cradle, I quickly glanced around the office to make sure everything was in order. Satisfied, I sat behind the desk and waited, thankful that my meeting with DeShawn had required me to dress the part.

  DeShawn! I quickly whipped out my new phone, a prepaid deal that got discarded each week, and sent him a text message which read simply “change, four.” This was his notice that our meeting was to be rescheduled using Table Four, which indicated a different meeting location and a new time exactly forty-seven minutes later than our previously arranged time. When Alicia first established the tables, I’d thought that the elaborate setup was a little too James Bondian, but even I have to admit there is a certain efficiency and economy to it.

  Less than twenty seconds later, DeShawn’s reply of “Copy” came back. I had just enough time to clear the messages when I heard two resounding knocks at the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door swung open sharply, Turner’s massive build nearly filling the entire frame in both directions.

  “Your visitor, Sir,” Turner replied without inflection, lumbering back into the hall and gesturing for his charge to enter the office. I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting, but what walked through the door wasn’t it. I think I was expecting “thug,” especially considering that he was alone, and instead, I got “immaculately groomed and decked out in a perfectly tailored and extremely expensive suit, an even more expensive coat draped precisely over one arm.”

  The visitor stepped into the office, his smooth, dark face neutral, but he made no move to introduce himself. I quickly stood, signaling discreetly for Turner to leave us and close the door, which he did at his usual pace. He probably had a resting pulse of eight. When the door clicked shut, I rounded the desk slowly and made sure not to invade my visitor’s personal space, choosing to let him set the tone for this meeting.

  We sized each other up for a period of time that would have been considered rude under any other circumstance, but we were both well aware that some things in this business were unavoidable. I took the opportunity to rummage through his mind, seeing only business and slight curiosity, and thankfully, no animosity or aggression. Apparently, I wasn’t what he’d expected either.

  “Forgive my unannounced intrusion,” he began after completing his scrutiny, his English that perfect cadence and pronunciation spoken by the highly educated. “You are no doubt well aware that our line of work sometimes demands such things.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” I replied smoothly. “I only regret that I have no refreshment to offer you after your long trip.”

  He inclined his head once, a small smile of his own coming out. “Another time, perhaps?” he said, his gaze direct. His mind and his tone indicated that we probably wouldn’t meet again, regardless of the outcome of this meeting. That suited me just fine.

  “Of course.”'

  After my reply, he stepped forward, hand extended. “I am Javier.” I stepped forward to take his hand, which was dry and slightly callused, indicating that Javier did a bit more than shuffle papers all day long. His grip was firm, but not intimidating, and it gave a fair impression of the powerful muscles in his arms. His gaze, however, was still in assessment mode, piercing and a little disconcerting, even for me.

  “John,” I replied, and we shared a knowing look that said we both knew the supplied names to be false. After each of us released the grip at precisely the same moment, I gestured to one of the chairs facing my desk. “Would you care to sit?”

  “Thank you,” he offered, taking a seat, his body moving in a very confident and predatory manner. Rather than move behind the desk, I turned the other chair to face his and sat down. He swiveled his seat to the right to face me with a simple gesture that again demonstrated his strength, and I had to stifle a smile. All this posturing was downright funny to me, and I’d bet that most mortals never noticed it on account of fear and nerves. Javier wasn’t afraid, but he was cautious, which was a good sign.

  “My employer regrets that he could not be present, but such is the way of things.”

  “Again, completely understandable. We’ve been attempting to contact your employer for several days now, but it has been... difficult. Our lack of success has been disappointing but certainly not unexpected.” My carefully chosen words had two purposes. First, by using “we,” I was indicating that I spoke for my employer, just in case Javier was not aware of that. Second, although Javier and his employer were well aware of our attempts at contact, it still needed to be said that we hadn’t purposely kept them in the dark.

  “Leadership changes often cause a breakdown in the lines of communication. We realize this; it is not an issue.” I’m sure you caught Javier’s use of “we.”

  I nodded. “Your understanding is our good fortune.”

  Javier nodded back, his face hardening just a bit. “Of course, now that the lines of communication are restored, we hope that there will be no further lapses.” Though the phrasing was innocuous, the message was anything but. That was as clear a threat as I’d ever heard, and I had to work hard to keep my laughter in my throat where it belonged.

  “You have no reason to be concerned,” I replied firmly, and Javier read between the lines. I had no fear of my guest or his employer, and any further conversation in this vein would be counterproductive. Under other circumstances, Javier might have gotten heavier-handed at my response, but Barrera was very concerned that we might be considering a change in suppliers, which gave me a distinct advantage. Javier wouldn’t roll onto his back with his legs in the air, but he also wouldn’t be trying to bend m
e over, either. He would do nothing to make up our minds if we were considering a supply change.

  “Of course,” he said, inclining his head once again, his face returning to neutral. He relaxed a bit in the chair, crossing his legs. “I am not what you expected, am I?” he asked jovially, a smile on his face. Both overtones of friendliness were precisely calculated.

  “Not exactly,” I answered truthfully, “but only because I did not expect to be accorded such courtesy.” Had Barrera sent a minion to this meeting, it would have been a slap in Alicia’s face, immediately setting a hostile tone to the meeting. That Barrera used Javier as the intermediary meant that the Bolivians took Alicia seriously.

  Javier chuckled softly. “We feel that negotiations of such delicate nature require equal footing among both parties.” He paused for a moment, though he was clearly not done speaking. “Also, I wanted to meet you.”

  An interesting admission. A quick sweep of his mind told me that he had no ulterior motive behind it. I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

  “Word travels through reliable sources, but distance increases the chance for error,” he answered cryptically, but I understood where he was headed.

  “I see no problem with eliminating inaccuracies, provided that I receive the same courtesy,” I responded after pretending a bit of thought.

  “We have been informed that certain preexisting problems in your organization have recently been dealt with in, shall we say, forceful and direct fashion.” By asking his question, Javier was tacitly agreeing to the quid pro quo.

  “I’m sure that your information is accurate on that account, just as I’m sure you understand that problems disrupt productivity. It’s unfortunate that there were several requiring my immediate attention and expertise but certainly not unexpected. Rest assured that any future situations affecting the efficiency of our operation will be dealt with in the same manner.” Between the lines: I’m as brutal a motherfucker as you’ve heard, and that won’t change. Ever.

  Javier nodded, a deeper respect for me flashing across his face. The Bolivians had been extremely concerned about Christian’s extracurricular activities, and despite the ulcer-causing week, were now beginning to consider the possibility that the new regime might be very good for business. “We have also been informed that you are actively seeking another supplier.”

  I shook my head immediately. “I’m afraid you have been misinformed. We have been considering alternate suppliers, but only because of the breakdown in communication. Now that the issue is resolved, we see no need to pursue that matter any further.”

  “We are pleased to hear that.” And he certainly was. Extremely pleased, but very careful not to show it outwardly.

  “However,” I continued, effectively ending his internal celebration. “We have been informed of a restructuring effort in your own organization that may impact delivery. It is imperative for us to operate as normally as possible in the coming weeks, and a problem like that would require us to reconsider alternatives.” Between the lines: If your problems become our problems, we’ll take our bat and ball and go play in someone else’s yard.

  That little tidbit rattled him to the core, and he knew that I noticed his considerable reaction. He went pensive on me for a few moments, choosing his next words very carefully. “I am curious as to how you came across that information, but I can assure you that our internal matter will have no external effects.” Between the lines: When I find out where you got that information, heads are going to roll, and our little problem will be dealt with before it gets out of hand. We hope.

  Mind-reading can be so much fun...

  “Glad to hear it. We never thought there was undue cause for concern,” I said after a minor hesitation. Between the lines: Because you let us off the hook, we’re willing to drop it, for now. There is good faith between us, but that only goes so far.

  It was immediately obvious that Javier was so shaken by the turn of events that he was no longer interested in his little fact-finding expedition. Too bad. I had a few more bombshells to drop. “Very well. The only matter left to address is the notification of delivery changes. We assume that you will be discarding the current method.”

  “Correct,” I said, standing slowly and making my way to the desk. I pulled open a drawer and came up with two devices that resembled cellular phones, but were in reality much more. I returned to the chair, handing Javier one of the devices before sitting down.

  Javier looked at the phone with a technogeek’s interest that also caused some reservation. The technosavvy side of Javier knew that, like cellular phones, most two-way radios could be traced to either end fairly accurately. That possible traceability worried him even as the cutting-edge technology excited him.

  I quickly outlined the security features of these particular devices, keeping to myself the fact that I owned the satellite through which they communicated. I did reassure Javier that the US Government had neither control nor access to it, however.

  Javier asked many questions, most pertinent, and after a brief training session on the devices, he stood. “We are now satisfied that the transition will have no discernible impact on our relationship,” Javier offered, standing and extending his hand.

  “We concur.” I shook his outstretched hand, noticing that the grip was much firmer than our initial handshake. I matched his grip with a trace of a smile, and then walked him to the door. I made a move to open the door, when Javier held up his phone.

  “Perhaps we should test these phones before putting them into production?” he offered, sounding nonchalant even though his thoughts were excited. Barrera very much wanted to speak directly with my employer, but he realized that we would be reluctant to agree to such a thing under normal circumstances. Though Barrera was untouchable in Bolivia, he still had the DEA going through his trash twice a day, just dying to link him to someone residing in the US. By supplying a means for a direct conversation without risking exposure, we had just handed Javier an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

  I formed a look of mild concern and remained silent, allowing Javier to read my unspoken question from both my action and my inaction: Why do you think a test is necessary?

  “My employer requests an audience with your employer.” I feigned an appropriate amount of shock at the request, my expression clearly announcing my concern over why they thought that necessary. “It is not for the purpose of discussing anything resolved tonight. We accept your authority,” he added quickly, treading very carefully. “He simply wishes to satisfy his curiosity.”

  Son of a bitch. They actually considered the possibility that my employer was a phantom figurehead behind which I operated... Interesting. Paranoid, but interesting. Then again, I suppose people in this business lived a lot longer thanks to controlled bouts of paranoia. I was slightly annoyed that I had missed this tidbit during my earlier foray into Javier’s mind, but no harm, no foul, I guess. Just a reminder to probe deeper in the future.

  I smiled to put Javier at ease. Someone in my position wouldn’t take well to having his authority questioned, and neither would his employer. Such a thing indicated a complete lack of trust, and although there was no real trust among people in our positions, it was never openly acknowledged. If Javier was indeed as he represented himself, he would understand this. “Please understand that I am not authorized to speak for my employer regarding this matter. I will, of course, pass on your request. Tomorrow evening at 10:17PM, you will receive a call from me, either to introduce my employer, or ... to relay regrets personally.”

  “Of course,” Javier replied smoothly, correctly suspecting that we could not afford to refuse his request. I opened the door, and Javier exited, following Turner down the hall and out of my life for good.

  I shut the door, resisting the urge to lean against it and let out a deep breath. I was so pleased by the turn of events that I wanted to talk to Alicia, but a quick glance at my phone indicated that I didn’t have time. DeShawn would be waiting for me in less t
han fifteen minutes, and in this instance, it wasn’t okay for him to wait.

  ◆◆◆

  I watched from my favorite place (if you haven’t figured it out by now, that’s a thick patch of shadow) as DeShawn got out of his truck. He shut the door gingerly, as if he were pushing a spoon of unwanted asparagus toward a small child, and then glanced at his watch. Satisfied that he was on time, he began a quick but skilled surveillance of our meeting spot, and I waited until he was looking away from me before I stepped into the light.

  “DeShawn,” I said softly, and his head whirled around so quickly that I could hear vertebrae cracking. He looked a bit angry about being startled until he remembered who I was.

  “My man,” he said coolly, forcing a friendly look. I put a finger to my lips in a gesture for silence and motioned for him to walk with me. He obeyed without question or hesitation.

  We walked in silence about a block or so before encountering the beach. I continued off the sidewalk and onto the sand, approaching a boarded-up lifeguard hut that desperately needed a coat of paint, the gentle sound of the tide filling the air around us with a hushed whisper. Enclosed spaces were much more conducive to clandestine meetings, not only from a privacy angle, but also because laser microphones were disrupted by solid objects.

  The ramp leading up to the hut groaned under our weight, and we stopped at the padlocked door, DeShawn flashing me a “what now?” look. In reply, I reached out, gripping the padlock in my right hand. One sharp yank later, and the sound of splintering wood punctured the night as I separated the entire metal fitting from the wooden door, holding it toward DeShawn, the fitting swinging silently on the U-shaped portion of the padlock.

  Fear flashed in DeShawn’s eyes, and I smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and tossed the debris into the sand behind me. Pulling the door open, I gestured for DeShawn to enter. He stared at me for a long moment and then shook his head, moving into the hut. I followed, closing the door behind us.