“Well a few years ago, Val de Sol Holdings went into a deal with another Bogota based firm that had offices in both Brazil and Columbia.”
“Had?”
“Yup, I’m getting to that,” Christi answered. “Together, the two firms purchased some large properties in New York. They were just old warehouses and storage facilities that were run down and basically abandoned, but the land potential was huge. The plan was to tear down the structures and put up condos and office spaces.”
“Please tell me that Blumquist is involved.” Harris spoke, a desperate edge to his voice.
“Oh yeah,” Christi said with a large smile. “Sheldon Blumquist is a majority shareholder in the capital group that owned the other firm.”
“Owned?” Harris asked. “As in past tense?”
“Patience, Jimmy. I’m getting there.”
Anne giggled. Each of the four people in that room could feel the tension as Christi laid it out for Harris.
“Have you ever heard of FIRPTA?” Christi asked.
“Can’t say as I’m familiar with that,” Harris answered.
“FIRPTA stands for the Foreign Investment in Real Property Tax Act. Basically, if a foreign investor buys real estate in America they get whacked with a 10% fee on top of all other applicable fees and taxes.”
“Okay…..so?”
“So by taking a minority position in the deal, Val de Sol Holdings was able to avoid that penalty. When you’re involved in multimillion dollar purchases, 10% is a small fortune. The capital firm owned in part by Sheldon Blumquist became the primary buyer and thus was not deemed a foreign investor.”
“Okay,” Harris spoke slowly. “But what do the finances have to do with anything?”
“Val de Sol Holdings put up all the money!” Christi blurted. “The deal was structured so that they would get paid back once the real estate was developed. Of course there are a lot of ways to pay somebody back. For instance, both firms were also under contract to purchase similar waterfront properties just north of the port of Tumaco. That’s on the southern end of Columbia on the Pacific Ocean.”
“Let me guess, Val de Sol Holdings would take the lead on that deal to avoid the Columbian foreign taxes?”
“Exactly. Only the New York properties were actually purchased and the Columbian properties were not. That deal fell through after what happened in New York.”
“Which was?”
“It seems that after the real estate was purchased, somebody leaked it to the New York Division of Licensing that Val de Sol Holdings was a front for a Columbian drug cartel.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. And things imploded from there. The state and the DEA rushed to seize the assets but Sheldon intervened and argued that his firm was the purchasing party and not Val Do Sol, yada, yada. Anyway, when the dust settled, Val de Sol Holdings extracted itself from the deal. Now there was only an American owned firm involved that was clean as a whistle.”
“Are you serious?” Harris asked.
“ Lord only knows what was said to Salvador to get him to withdraw Val de Sol Holdings from the deal, but the real estate became the sole property of that other Columbian company who just so happened to be owned by that large capital group who has listed as one of its owners, none other than Sheldon Blumquist.” Christi said, almost out of breath, as she slapped her hand on the table.
“How in the world did Sheldon swing that with the Division of Licensing?”
“Nobody really knows,” she continued. “It was widely speculated that he used his wife’s influence as the new D.A. of New York as well as the clout that he had within the real estate community. Either way, he ended up owning property worth hundreds of millions without putting up a penny.”
“My guess is Castillo figures he’ll get his money back when Blumquist pays for the Columbian property,” Harris said.
“Right. But fast forward a year later and suddenly there’s trouble with the deal on the waterfront development in Columbia. Sheldon ended up pulling out of that deal before the purchase went through.”
“And in doing so made an enemy of somebody like Salvador Castillo?” Harris asked in disbelief. “Could he really be that stupid?”
“It’s possible that Sheldon didn’t fully understand who he was dealing with. When Sheldon met Castillo it was most likely as one real estate mogul to another. I mean, how often do you meet somebody and just randomly wonder if they’re drug dealers?”
“Me?” Harris asked wryly.
“Ha,” Christi laughed. She smiled and shook her head. “I withdraw the question.”
“Go on,” Harris said.
“And after he found out who owned Val De Sol, Sheldon might have just gotten scared, folded up the tent and cut all ties with Castillo.”
“I doubt it’s that simple.”
“Who knows? But at the end of the day Sheldon gets property worth a fortune, Castillo gets screwed and that’s that. Sorry about the hundreds of millions, Mr. Drug Lord, thanks for the New York properties.”
“It’s almost too much to believe. How in the hell did he think he’d get away with it?” Harris asked.
“You’ve met him,” Christi said. “The man’s arrogance is off the chart. He probably thought he was untouchable.”
“Didn’t Castillo have any legal recourse he could take? I mean, I know that’s not his style but cutting the guys head off wouldn’t get him his money back.”
“It would be next to impossible to prove that the funds were all his seeing as how the companies were involved in joint ventures. The money was traced to Val de Sol’s bank accounts but it could be argued that they owed the money to Blumquist, or any other legal loophole. To fight it would have taken years and the courts are not sympathetic to drug dealers who cry when their money is stolen.”
“Yeah,” Harris replied. “But this still doesn’t mean he’s our guy.”
“You haven’t heard the best part yet,” Christi spoke. She looked Harris in the eye. Gone was the smile.
“Jesus Christ!” Harris spat. “What?!”
“The name of Sheldon’s Columbian real estate company,” Christi answered. “Is Emily la Flor Propiedades.”
Nobody spoke. The words hung in the air.
Harris swallowed hard. He blinked twice as the weight of the name smacked him in the face. After what seemed an eternity he broke the silence.
“Does that mean what I think it means,” he asked quietly.
Christi nodded slowly. The room fell silent for a second time. Looks were exchanged by all four people. Finally Christi spoke.
“Flower of Emily Properties.”
Good Cop Bad Cop
61
“Flower of Emily Properties?” Harris repeated in utter disbelief. “And the company no longer exists?”
“They folded it into another of their American holding companies.”
“That son of a bitch,” Harris muttered. “He watched the videos…he had to know.”
“The mind can convince itself of anything if the truth is too horrible,” Christi said.
“Bullshit,” Harris said coldly.
“But they still own the warehouses,” Christi went on. “They were never developed.”
“He kept them?” Harris asked in shock.
“And there’s more,” Christi spoke in a low hush.
“Jesus, what else could there possibly be?” Harris asked.
“Salvador Castillo has some very serious connections in the Columbian government.”
“Okay,” Harris replied. “And?”
“He became a foreign diplomat for Columbia six months ago. He works at the embassy.”
“In New York!?”
“Right on 46th Street.”
“Then that means…” Harris stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
“I know,” Christi said in the same low hush.
“Dear God,” Harris muttered as he turned his back and walked towards the end of the room.
; The room was silent as Harris pondered this last piece of information. Paul and Anne, who had stood silently for the past five minutes, looked to Christi.
She shot them both a weak smile.
“Thank you very much for all your work. I owe you guys’ big time.”
Anne and Paul returned her smile.
“Would you mind leaving the room to Lieutenant Harris and me?” She asked.
They both nodded their heads in agreement. Christi then walked around the table and gave Anne a big hug. She turned and did the same with Paul.
“You guys rock,” she said with sincerity. “Thank you.”
“Just doing our jobs,” Anne said with a tired smile.
“Our pleasure,” Paul added.
“Go home,” Christi ordered. “Go home and get some sleep.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Anne said as she gathered up her laptop and walked towards the door. “Good luck guys. Go nail this bastard.”
“Yeah, go find Emily,” Paul spoke as he followed Anne out of the room.
“We’ll do our best,” Christi answered.
The door shut and Harris turned around to face Christi.
“Pull up the addresses of those warehouses again,” he said slowly as if the latest information had left him dazed.
“I’ve already printed them,” Christi said. She rifled through the papers in front of her, came up with what she was looking for and handed it to Harris.
“He’s here,” Harris said almost immediately as he scanned the page. His finger pointed to an address.
“The Brooklyn warehouse? Are you sure?
“It has to be. This is right around the corner from where Rosa Gonzalez lived. Not to mention that brother of hers.”
“But wouldn’t he cover his tracks better by taking Emily to a more distant location after hiring Rosa in Brooklyn?”
“He already did cover his tracks when he dumped her body on Staten Island,” Harris responded. “Or at least he thought he did. No, he would have needed somebody with local knowledge.”
“So what’s the plan?” Christi asked.
“I’m going out there.”
“You mean we’re going out there?” Christi said with a look of consternation.
“No, I’m going out there.”
“What do you mean no?”
“You can’t be serious?” Harris shot back. “Christi, you’re not a cop. This could get dangerous.”
“You might need help.”
“And if I can’t handle the situation I’ll call for back-up.”
“Yeah, right!”
“Christi, you have the story. I will call you immediately no matter what happens. It’s yours.”
“You think that’s what I care about? Go to hell! I watched those videos too! You’re not the only one who wants to save her!”
“But of the two of us, I am the only one who’s trained for situations like this,” Harris tried to remain calm but he felt himself losing his temper.
“I can wait in the car. I can be close if you need me.”
“You’re not going,” Harris spoke with finality.
“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Christi said defiantly.
“Jesus Christ, are you serious?!” Harris finally shouted, his face turning red. “Don’t you think I have enough on my plate without having to worry about you as well, Bonnie!?”
Christi stopped and shot him a quizzical look.
“Goddamn…” Harris continued, as he looked away in embarrassment. “I meant Christi.”
Christi looked at the man and saw the massive stress he was under. While she wanted to rescue Emily as much as he did, she understood that if they failed it would crush him. He didn’t talk about his wife but she knew that it was part of the incredible weight he shouldered. She realized that he was right. She was being selfish. Harris noticed the change in her demeanor and continued.
“I understand, Christi. Believe me I do.”
“No,” she started apologetically. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But there has to be something I can do?”
“You can go and be with Sylvia. She might need you.”
Christi nodded.
“If this goes bad,” Harris spoke softly. “If for some reason I don’t make it you’ve got to rally the troops. We were right not to go through the chain of command but if the worst case scenario happens, you’ll have to.”
“When are you leaving?”
“I have to go and prepare. I need a few things but I’m pretty sure I will get there before noon. The sooner the better, obviously.”
“I don’t think you should do this alone. Isn’t there anyone you can trust?”
Harris saw the fear in her eyes. He walked around the table and approached the young reporter. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and she trembled slightly with his touch. When he looked into her eyes, she drew a short, quick breath of air.
What the hell, she scolded herself inwardly.
He leaned towards her and she felt her pulse quicken. Harris placed a soft kiss on her right cheek.
“I’ll be okay, Christi,” he said with a smile.
Christi turned quickly as she felt her face flush. She bit her lip and avoided making eye contact.
Harris threw the door open and rushed out of the conference room. Christi heard his footsteps running down the short hallway.
“Be careful,” she spoke under her breath.
Good Cop Bad Cop
62
“Deputy Commissioner Dinkins speaking.”
“Mullin here, sir.”
“Where is he?” The man spoke into the phone brusquely, foregoing any pleasantries.
“At the Gazette. He tore out of his house at 5:30 this morning. I almost lost him twice. Something must be up.”
“Of course something’s up. In case you hadn’t heard, that scumbag he shot and tortured the other day told us that Harris was asking questions about his sister. A sister who had just been murdered a couple days before.”
“What’s the connection, sir? Why go to the newspaper?”
“That bitch reporter witnessed it. She wouldn’t roll over on him but I know she witnessed it. The victim said that his sister had told him about a job she was going to do for some Columbian guy, but he didn’t go into any details.”
“Victim? Sir, wasn’t the guy a drug dealer? Didn’t he shoot Harris?”
“You know what the hell I’m talking about!” Captain Dinkins yelled. “Whatever else he might have done, he was a victim of Harris’ illegal interrogation techniques.”
“Harris must think the dead sister was involved in Emily’s disappearance.”
“Well no shit, genius,” Captain Dinkins snapped. “Stay on him.”
“Sir?” Mullin spoke cautiously. “With all due respect, I have to say that I think it might be more beneficial if I was actually working on the case and not tailing Harris.”
“Harris is the case,” the older man growled. “Do you honestly think you and Danforth are going to find this girl before he does?”
“Well not if I have to keep wasting my time doing this,” Mullin blurted before he could stop himself.
“Watch your tone, Lieutenant. The reason Harris will get to her before we do is because he’s allowed to break the rules.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He will lead us to Emily and when he does we will swoop in and make the bust.”
“I understand.”
“Now stay on him. Danforth is heading to the morgue where the guy’s sister was taken. Apparently Harris was there a couple days ago. You’re part of a bigger team. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t, sir.”
The phone call ended with a click.
Mullin tossed his cell phone onto the passenger seat of his car with disgust. He knew a line of bullshit when he heard one. This private war between Dinkins and Harris was going to end in a sticky mess and he knew that he and Danforth were right in the splash zone. He gazed down the
block towards the entrance to the Gazette. Harris’ car was parked right in front so he had little chance of missing him leave. He looked at his watch. Just three more hours of babysitting this asshole and then it was Danforth’s turn.
Mullin turned on the radio and settled in to wait.
Good Cop Bad Cop
63
Harris flew into his driveway, screeched the brakes and was out of his car before it had even stopped rolling. He ducked under the garage door which was still opening and sprinted into his house. Jogging quickly down the hallway and past the kitchen, he turned into his bedroom and headed straight for the closet. He went to the back where a bulky, six foot safe sat bolted to the floor. The safe had fingerprint verification and pressing his left thumb upon the IR sensor, he heard the solid, steel bars slide out of the door and into the frame. With a quick jerk of the handle, he opened the door.
The left side of the safe was similar to a wall locker and housed various rifles and shotguns. The right side had shelving upon which sat knives, different pistols and ammunition of all varieties. There were also a couple drawers near the bottom that held his will and other sensitive and important documents.
Hanging from a bar next to the rifles, was a special ops black suit. Harris grabbed it and quickly stripped down. He then donned the suit. Grabbing a 9mm semi-automatic pistol he quickly popped and then reinserted the magazine after ensuring that it had a full clip. He then slid the gun into a pocket holster that was woven into the right leg of the pants. He folded a Velcro flap over the opening, concealing the gun. He then repeated the process with a 40 caliber pistol, placing this one in a pocket holster on his left leg.
Grabbing a pair of black boots, Harris put them on, lacing them tightly. They had rubber soles and were perfect for stealth operations. Kneeling down, he grabbed a combat knife from one of the shelves. It was in a black sheath with straps. He lifted his right pant leg and quickly strapped the knife in place. This completed, he smoothed the pant leg back down.
Harris stood and examined the contents of the safe. He grabbed two extra magazines for his pistols while deciding what heavy weapon he should bring. A shotgun wouldn’t be a great choice if for some reason he was detected and Castillo grabbed Emily to use as a shield. He finally decided on an AR-15, which was, for all purposes, an M-16 without the ability to go fully automatic. The assault rifle had a sling and Harris threw this over his shoulder. He then closed the safe door and pressed a button. The bolts slid back into the door with a whirring sound.
Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1) Page 21
