The Red Ledger: 6

by Meredith Wild

  A few minutes later, the three of us have been checked off the list, scanned for security, and step on board. Dressed in black and his face obscured behind sunglasses and a dark cap, Tristan takes off first.

  The second he disappears from view, I start to worry.

  It’ll always be this way. Until all the people who want to hurt us are gone, we’ll always worry when one of us has to leave the other. I can’t get hung up on it right now, though. I force my thoughts to the task ahead of us.

  “Let’s go up,” Mateus says, gesturing for me to lead the way.

  Together we climb two flights of stairs and pass a dozen more people before we finally arrive at the heart of the party. People are talking everywhere in small groups. Music is playing just loud enough to make their conversations murky. Pink and blue lights bathe the bright-white couches in color and add to the party atmosphere.

  I seem to be in good company, judging from the other women in the crowd dressed to the nines, a few of whom don’t look old enough for the drinks in their hands. Everyone lurches a little when the boat undocks and we start to make our way out to sea. A few people holler and clink their glasses to mark the occasion.

  We catch two glasses of champagne from a passing server just as Medina emerges from the crowd and walks toward us. His expression is unexpectedly warm and inviting. I can’t ignore the hit of relief seeing someone familiar, even if he’s essentially a stranger.

  “Mateus. Jazmín.” He croons our names like we’re old friends. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Gone is his careful demeanor from the night before. Something’s changed. I’m curious to know what it is, but making small talk with him isn’t part of the plan. Instead I lean into Mateus and manage a small smile. Even a high-maintenance girlfriend has to be excited about a yacht party.

  “Thank you for having us,” Mateus says for both of us.

  Medina lifts his glass. “To new friends.”

  Our flutes make a pleasant tinkling sound—a celebration of this budding relationship that’s built on lies and promises death. As we drink, Mateus’s earlier request goes unspoken, but I sense we can all feel it. Mateus wouldn’t have bothered to come if he didn’t expect a meeting.

  Medina clears his throat before he speaks.

  “Good news. Soloman flew in this afternoon. He’s still getting settled and taking care of some other business, but he’s looking forward to meeting you. I’ll be sure to find you when he’s ready.”

  Mateus’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

  “I have to say hello to a few people, if you don’t mind. Please enjoy the party and make yourselves comfortable.”

  Mateus thanks him again, and the man disappears to the lower deck. The plan was to split up, but I squeeze Mateus’s hand because I’m not totally ready to part ways yet. He turns his head and gives me an answering squeeze.

  “You’re good,” he says softly. “You’ve got this, querida.”

  The term of endearment helps me steel my nerves. As Tristan would say, there’s work to be done. Somehow with that thought, I find my resolve. “What do you say we mingle?”

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  I ready myself to take my first tentative steps into the crowd when a woman with long black hair down to her waist approaches us. Her body is draped with a flowing sheer dress wrapped loosely over a shimmery gold bikini that barely covers her ample breasts. With a glass of wine dangling from her fingertips, she somehow manages to look both runway and yacht-party ready at once.

  “Welcome to the party. I don’t think I know you.”

  “Mateus da Silva.”

  “Oh, you must be a new friend of Simon’s. I’m Athena Pelletier, his wife.”

  She extends her free hand, which he kisses warmly in true Mateus fashion.

  I swallow over my shock. If Soloman is Simon Pelletier, as Tristan informed us earlier, that means Soloman has a wife. Why had that never occurred to me before? Maybe because as of yet, he doesn’t have a face to me. He’s a myth. A legend. Not a flesh-and-blood human being with a wife.

  Athena’s cheeks flush a little before she glances over to me.

  “This is Jazmín,” Mateus says, releasing her from his grasp.

  “My God, you’re gorgeous. Come, let me introduce you to the girls.” She slides her gaze to Mateus. “As long as you don’t mind. The boys usually like to work first and drink later. We like to drink first and dance later.” She punctuates her plea with a carefree laugh that’s almost infectious.

  The breezy way she classifies everyone brings some levity to my nervousness. She’s not the devil. She’s just married to him. I can work with that.

  Mateus plants a peck on my cheek. “Go have fun, querida. I’ll be close.”

  I watch him leave to join another group when Athena links her arm into mine and we begin to walk the other way around the perimeter of the deck.

  “So where are you from?” She takes a sip of her wine and swings the glass lazily to her side.

  “We’re from Brazil.”

  “Oh, how wonderful.”

  “Do you live here?” I ask.

  She laughs again. “We’re citizens of the world. We live everywhere.” She emphasizes the last word like it’s almost a hardship. “We travel a lot for Simon’s work. I stay back in New York a lot of the time, but I wasn’t going to pass up a trip to Miami this time of year. We love taking the boat out.”

  I smile like I can relate to anything she’s saying. She’s probably as disconnected from what her husband really does as she is from anything outside the bubble her wealth affords her. But it’s too tempting not to ask.

  “What exactly does Simon do?”

  Her eyes widen a little, but the rest of her face doesn’t move, which seems unnatural. “Oh, you know, a little bit of everything. The people here”—she gestures with her glass like it’s her pointer finger—“are into everything. Tech, banking, real estate, politics.”

  She sticks her tongue out a little, like the last one grosses her out. My guess is politicians comprise the lowest economic rung she’s willing to socialize with.

  “What about you? Tell me about you. No wait, let me guess.” She takes another big gulp of wine and looks me over. “You’re not tall enough to be a model, but you have the face for it. So you must be an actress. Yes, that’s it.”

  I laugh at her half insult, half compliment. “I’m just Mateus’s girlfriend. My story isn’t that interesting.”

  Not as interesting as your husband’s.

  She rubs her shoulder against me like we’re already close friends. “Nonsense. I’m sure your story is so interesting. Come on, let’s show you off to everyone.”

  She talks quickly, but her words are meaningless. I think she’s half drunk and totally disconnected from reality. Still, I play along and pretend to be excited that she’s being nice to me. Seconds later, she drops me off with a small group of women before excusing herself. After a quick round of introductions, I realize Athena has grouped me with the other girlfriends, which I’m immediately grateful for. They’re quiet and spend most of the time on their phones. Violet, the blonde next to me, is surveying the crowd, though.

  “Those are the wives,” she says in a tone that reeks of envy.

  I follow her gaze. Athena’s not with them, but their style matches hers. They’re a little older than us. Still provocatively dressed but in ways that are decidedly more expensive. They glitter with obscene diamonds and thick watches, as if they’d ever need to know what time it is.

  “Who are you here with?” I ask Violet.

  “Ramsey Paulson. His family owns the patents for a bunch of medical equipment.”

  “How does he know Simon?”

  She shrugs. “They’re in this rich-guy club. They do a lot of things together.”

  I bite my lip and try to calm the intrigue spiking through me. “A club?”

  She nods, still staring intently in the direction of the wives.
<
br />   “There are eleven of them.”

  TRISTAN

  Most of the party is clustered on the upper deck and sky lounge at the very top. I notice a few other security details as I roam the main and lower decks to get a sense of the layout and game-plan ways to get the hell off the boat. Then I need to find Soloman.

  I duck into one of the interior rooms—an empty but spacious living area that matches the opulence I’ve already seen. Everything is pristine and new. The plush carpeting silences my journey to the other side of the room, where two slick double doors lead to more interior cabins. I pause at the juncture when I hear voices on the other side.

  They’re low and hard to make out. I drop to one knee and withdraw a tiny wireless camera from my pocket. It’s shaped like a long, flat ribbon and has a camera at one end. I slide it carefully under the edge of the door and open an app on my phone to pull up the video.

  I move it around until I get the best angle. The room appears to be an office or conference room of sorts, with a small round table surrounded by four bucket seats. On the other side of it stand two men. One is Javier, who swiftly disappears out the door, leaving the other man alone. He’s tall, dressed head to toe in a crisp white suit. His hair is cut short but is pure silver. The only contrast on him comes with the thick, black-rimmed glasses he wears.

  He lowers into one of the chairs and brings a cell phone to his ear. I press mine to the door to hear better.

  “What’s the situation?” he asks without a greeting. He pauses. “Still no word?” He whips his glasses off. “I don’t care if their job is to disappear. I want you to fucking find them. Do you understand me? The clock is ticking on this.” Another pause. “Call me when you have news.”

  He puts the phone down on the table, takes a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, and proceeds to clean his glasses—silently, rhythmically, and for what seems like too long to achieve the task. He only stops when there’s a knock at the door.

  He replaces his glasses on his face and looks forward. “Come in.”

  Javier appears again, flanked by a face I know well. Mateus.

  The man in white rises to his feet with a tight smile. They shake hands as Javier disappears through the door again.

  “Mr. da Silva. May I call you Mateus?”

  “Of course. And you must be King Soloman.”

  He laughs. “My friends call me Simon. Please, have a seat.”

  Mateus obliges, taking the adjacent chair. “This is a beautiful boat. Truly magnificent.”

  “Thank you.” Simon smiles. This time seems more genuine. “It used to be owned by a Saudi prince, under a different name of course. We took a meeting on it a few years ago, and I admired it so much, he decided to offer it to me in lieu of payment for my services. I heartily accepted.”

  “Sometimes it can be a challenge to find joy in such abundance.”

  “This is true.” Simon pauses, cants his head to the side a couple degrees. “Where do you find your joy?”

  “In winning.” Mateus’s answer is so swift it can’t be mistaken for anything but the truth.

  This makes Soloman smile wider. “Very good. I suppose that is why you’ve done so well. Your business is quite impressive.”

  “You’ve done your due diligence.”

  “Of course. I’d love to help you out with your problem, but these are delicate matters to pursue without a little familiarity between parties. I must say, though, your reputation is perhaps one of the most impeccable I’ve encountered.”

  Mateus lets out a small chuckle but doesn’t answer.

  “That means you’re either very good at keeping secrets hidden or you’re very good at staying out of trouble. Which is it?”

  “A measure of both.”

  Simon stares at Mateus like he’s trying to read him. “What’s the name of this problem of yours, then?”

  “Are you accepting?”

  “I can’t accept until I know his name. You have to insulate yourself from the task you’re asking me to carry out. I have relationships to protect as well. There are seven billion people in the world, and you’d be surprised how many of them know each other.”

  “In this rarefied air, I’m certain many do.”

  “Precisely.”

  A long pause stretches between them. I don’t know what Mateus will say any more than Simon does. Something has to be said, though. Someone has to be named.

  “His name is Lucas Barcelos.”

  Simon pauses thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize the name.”

  “I doubt you would. He was at his peak thirty years ago before civilian government was restored in Brazil.”

  “Why him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Simon folds his hands on the table and leans forward with interest. “It does. Context is important to me.”

  A long moment passes between them. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for Mateus to answer him.

  “My sister and I were orphaned at a young age, forced to raise ourselves and make the most of what was left to us. My parents were activists whose voices were silenced in the most permanent and violent way. Barcelos was a regional commander at the time. It was his decision, but he never faced his crimes, thanks to the amnesty laws that were passed some time later. He’s since retired and now lives a quiet, peaceful life, traveling with his family, rich off the spoils of war. I’m certain he has long forgotten the lives he destroyed, but I have not forgotten him.”

  I exhale a silent breath. Shit. After Mateus’s joke about having a list of expendables, I didn’t expect this. He’d told me the story of his parents’ murder before, but he’d never mentioned Barcelos. He’s been holding on to this grudge for as long as I’ve known him and, even knowing what I do, chose not to name the man who destroyed his family. Why?

  “Thank you.” Simon’s tone is even, respectful of the gravity of what’s been shared. “I understand the nature of things now.”

  “Will you do it, then?”

  “There are some internal checks that we typically run, but I can say with almost complete confidence that this is something we can help you with.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Just let me know the fee—”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Mateus pauses. “I’m not asking for a favor. Name your price.”

  “Not a favor. I’d like to think of it as a gesture of good will. An invitation.”

  “An invitation? I’ve explained my request.”

  “And I have a request for you as well. Your business is very interesting to us. Even more so is the way you do business. It’s very clean, and I like clean.”

  “Who is us?”

  “Allow me to explain. You’ve been so kind as to tell me some of your story. I would like to share with you a little of mine.”

  Mateus turns his hand, a gesture for Simon to continue.

  He pushes his glasses up his nose. “If you’ve found me, you already know what I can do for you. It may not surprise you to learn I’ve been doing this for many years, quite successfully. It wasn’t always this way. You’ve risen to the top of your industry in your country. To achieve that kind of steep climb, you have to reach far and wide to grasp every opportunity that presents itself. I did this too. I cast a wide net and connected with a lot of people. When you start brokering lives, though, there’s value in a small circle—one that both serves you and protects you. One that can move each of its members forward by sharing our advantages and knowledge and influences in just the right way.”

  “Raw ambition will only take you so far,” Mateus says.

  “Exactly. At some point we learn to work smarter, not harder, and part of that is surrounding oneself with others who share this philosophy. It’s no longer about seeking those highly coveted favors from those above you or creating distance from the people below you. It’s about being among true equals, captains of industry who can open doors for each other that no one else can. Suddenly the race to pull ahead
of the competition becomes laughable it’s so easy. The unified power of us is unmatched. It’s infallible.”

  “Infallible?”

  Simon folds his fingers together more firmly. “Together, we’re untouchable. The kind of thing you’re asking for is a small request. A pittance. Something that’s easily granted to our members.”

  “What exactly are you offering?”

  He pauses.

  “Mateus, I would like to invite you to be a part of that circle.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Isabel

  When I casually press her, Violet rattles off the names of a few more members of the “club,” which I immediately commit to memory. But she’s new to this. She and Ramsey have only been dating for a few months, and the social calendar is set to ramp up over the summer. If all goes to plan, she’s hoping to get a ring by Christmas. As rapt as I am with her strategy to lock down the billionaire of her dreams, I have a nagging urge to find Mateus. Now that night has fallen and the alcohol has been flowing for an hour or so, the party on the deck seems busier, and I haven’t seen Mateus since Athena escorted me away.

  If he’s in the meeting with Soloman and has an opening to give him the aconite, then timing is everything. As soon as it’s done, we’re supposed to meet Tristan on the lower deck. The more minutes that pass, the edgier I get.

  I excuse myself with Violet and take up the search. Not finding Mateus on this level, I meander downstairs. A smaller group lingers there. I scan their faces.

  In an instant, my whole body freezes. My heart plunges into my stomach. I can’t move, but I need to. He’s right there, so close, chatting with some other men in suits with a lowball in his hand. I recognize his expensive watch, smooth scalp, and charming smile.