by Owen Parr
“I’ll make the calls, and then I’m going to hang out here and give these young honey’s a run for their money.”
There was an overabundance of exposed flesh around the pool area, but I knew she could compete with these young ladies. “Okay then. We’ll be back. Try and behave. You’re a married woman now.”
Marcy turned to Mr. Pat and smiled. “Mr. Pat, what is it that I reply when you tell me to behave?”
“Only if I have to,” Mr. Pat said.
“Exactly.”
“You guys are funny. Let’s get out of here, Patrick.”
I programmed my Waze app to the address for the parents of Carlos Alvarez. Ms. Waze quickly told us to go north on US 1 to Le Juene Road, follow that for a few miles to Okeechobee Road, make a left, then to East Fourth Avenue, then a right, and we would be in the vicinity of the Alvarez home.
Once we got to Fourth Avenue, we stopped at one of maybe one hundred little places for lunch. This one sported a sign that said Joseitos - El Mejor Sanwich Cubano del Mundo. “Mr. Pat,” I said, “this guy has the best Cuban sandwich in the world.”
“In the whole world?” Pat replied.
“In the whole fucking world.”
Not having been around the world, I didn’t know if it was the best in the world, but it sure was the biggest sandwich I’d ever eaten. We followed the sanwich with a guava pastelito and a cafecito. I’d read somewhere that the daily sugar intake for the average person was ninety-five grams. We just consumed at least a week’s worth of sugar. But, it was muy bueno.
We arrived at an older two-story apartment building where the hallways opened to the outside. Mr. Pat and I walked upstairs and knocked on the door for apartment 217. The moment we knocked, eyes from everywhere except unit 217 were peering through the slits of the aluminum blinds. We waited and knocked again, and I realized there was a hollow sound coming from inside, which gave me the clue the place was empty.
An older lady’s voice came from unit 219, “Son de la dea?”
Pat asked me, “Do you know what this lady is asking?”
“No clue, man. Let me ask her,” I said. I looked at the lady’s eyes and said, “Alvarez, señora, donde esta?”
The lady just asked again, “¿Dea?”
“I got it,” I said to Pat. “No, no DEA. Amigo, Carlos.”
“¿Amigo? Un momento.”
The door opened, and an older man stepped halfway out and asked, “What happen here?”
“Señor, we are looking for Mrs. Alvarez. ¿Donde esta?”
“No here. In Gainesville, with daughter school.”
I turned to Patrick and translated,. “She’s with her daughter in Gainesville, at school. Probably the University of Florida.”
Patrick quipped, “Really, Joey?”
The man asked, “You police?”
I raised my hands and showed my palms. “No, no police. ¿Donde esta Carlos?”
“No here. Mother kick out. Long time,” the man replied. I could hear his wife giving him instructions from inside their apartment. He turned his face into the apartment and said to his wife, “Coño, callate la boca.”
Patrick touched my shoulder and asked, “What did he say?”
“I think he just told her to shut the fuck up,” I whispered. I smiled as I listened to them. I asked again, pointing to unit 217, “You don’t know where Carlos is?”
“With friends, no live here,” he replied and began closing the door.
This was a dead end. “Okay, Señor. Gracias.” We walked down the stairs. I could feel hundreds of eyes looking at us from every window in the apartment complex as we sat in our Ford Taurus.
Perspiration was beginning to form on my forehead. “You know what? I think this kid Carlos took over for his dad in the local drug business. He’s probably the supplier for the kids at U of M.”
“You think Gavi is involved?”
I turned the engine on, quickly needing that frigid blast of AC on my face. “I doubt it. But, she may have been caught up in a deal gone bad or a local police sting that entrapped Carlos last Friday. She may be sitting in jail for all we know.”
“Except she would have called her dad, if so.”
“I know. I’m just hoping for the best-case scenario, I guess. I’ll call Marcy and have her find out if Carlos got picked up.”
“What you want to do now?”
“Now, we take on our new roles and visit Meso Trading. I still think there’s more to Drucker’s clients than meets the eye.”
10
Agnes previously made an appointment for us to meet with Mr. Ahmad Senturk, the head honcho at Meso Trading. Agnes’s research told her they were involved in the antique and antiquities business, which was extremely lucrative and popular amongst wealthy collectors.
My phone rang on my way to see Ahmad and company. Seeing bother Father O’Brian’s face on my cell phone, I smiled and click the green button. “Brother, is my car still in one piece?”
Had it been anyone else, they would have concocted a story about my car being in a ditch somewhere. But, no, not Dom. He wasn’t one for bullshit or trivial issues. “Joey, I just left Mrs. Drucker, and the visit was not enlightening. I think she knows more than what she admits, but she seems petrified to speak about it. All in all, she didn’t open up as we expected.”
“So, your priest attire didn’t help?” What kind of a detective are you?”
He ignored my witticism. “However, in meeting with Feinstein, something came up, which I think is thought-provoking. By the way, I think I’m being followed.”
Out of habit, I looked at my rearview mirror to see if there was a tail. I didn’t spot one. “What was it about Feinstein?”
“You don’t care if I’m being followed?”
“Of course, I care, especially since you’re in my car. But, I’m interested in what your thoughts are on Feinstein.”
“You said that Gavi went missing Friday evening and that the parents didn’t know. They assumed she was missing on Sunday night, whereupon they called Ruth Goldstein, right?”
“That’s correct, why?” I asked, again looking for a tail.
“Sid Feinstein said that Mr. Drucker called him Saturday morning at around ten-thirty, and told him Gavi had been kidnapped.”
“Hah…son of a bitch. He knew Saturday morning?”
“He must have known. Otherwise, why tell Sid that?”
“Which means he got a ransom call or knew about the abduction Friday late or the early part of Saturday morning,” I said, thinking for a second.
“Joey, you still there?”
“I’m thinking Dom. Hah…Why not tell us? What’s this guy up to?” I needed to give that some thought, but at the moment I was already in character, as we approached Meso Trading. “Brother, let me call you back in a few minutes, do you mind?”
“What do I do about the car following me?” Dom asked.
“Don’t do any crazy shit. Just go back to the rectory. Park my car in the shade, and I’ll call you in a few.”
“The moment you’re done, call me. I have more to tell you.”
“Dom, this is significant,” I paused for effect.
“What?” he asked in anticipation
“Don’t park my car under any fruit trees. That’ll stain the paint job.”
“You’re full of shit.” he said before clicking off.
I brought Patrick up to speed on what Dom shared with me. Neither one of us could figure out why Aaron Drucker would lie to everyone. Deducing that would have to wait.
“Joey, why don’t you pair your phone to the Bluetooth?”
“Mr. Pat, last time I did that on a rental, all my contacts were uploaded to the car’s memory and stayed there. We’re good, thanks.”
Other than knowing they dealt in antiques and antiquities, I was flying by the seats of my pants. My plan was for us to visit Ahmad, and together with Patrick play the role of two interested exporters of Irish antiquities. My phone rang. “Hi Marcy, what’s
up?”
“Where are you now?”
“We’re headed to Meso Trading. Agnes made an appointment for us.”
“You probably want to meet with a contact I made at the local FBI office before doing that.”
“How good a contact?” I asked, not sure I wanted a face-to-face with an FBI agent just yet.
“Victoria Stewart, set it up. These guys seem to have a lot of information on Meso and the other two clients. From what I’ve heard, you’re better off doing this versus just going in there with nothing.”
“Guys?”
“There’s an FBI team, but we can meet with just one person.”
“When can we do this?”
“He’s available now, if you want to.”
“Okay. We just parked at a visitor spot in front of Meso Trading. This area seems like it has hundreds of warehouses. I’ll pull out and have Agnes call and excuse us,” I said, noting security cameras above the entrance, pointed at us.
“Joey, why don’t you come back to the hotel, and I’ll have this guy meet us here.”
“On our way.”
Mr. Pat engaged the Waze app to get us back to the Holiday Inn. As we made a turn from Okeechobee Road unto Le Juene Road going south, I noticed a blue Cadillac behind us also make the turn. “I think we picked up a tail, Mr. Pat.”
Patrick turned to look back. “Which car?”
“That blue caddy behind the delivery truck. He has been with us since we left Meso Trading.”
“You think it’s the FBI?”
“Maybe. According to Marcy, they did have a surveillance team set up of Meso. But it’s no coincidence since Father Dom also had a tail back in New York.”
“It’s possible the FBI is also surveilling the CPAs,” Patrick said as he checked the tail from the passenger side mirror.
“I guess. But, what the hell is going on here with these people?”
11
Marcy texted me the address of Five Guys Burgers on US 1 near the Holiday Inn, and Patrick inserted into the navigation app. Arriving at the burger joint, we found Marcy in a booth sitting across from our FBI contact.
“Joey, Patrick, say hello to Agent Bob Olmec,” Marcy said.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I shook hands with Olmec and sat down.
“Bob and I met at the academy. We haven’t seen each other since then. We’ve been catching up.”
I didn’t want to get involved in small talk, so I ignored the reunion talk. I pointed at Olmec. “Is there a reason why your guys would be tailing us?” I looked out the restaurant window to see if I could spot the caddy.
“I’m not aware of a tail on you. Why?”
“But, you guys are surveilling Meso, aren’t you?”
Olmec glanced at Marcy, realizing she shared that much with us. “Listen, you guys can’t get involved in this. We’ve had an ongoing investigation for over a year, and we cannot have this thing blow up in our faces because of your missing girl.”
I looked at Bob before replying and counted to ten. He looked like a nice guy. Short-cropped black hair, olive skin, wearing his FBI white shirt and black tie. His left ear was pierced, but he wasn’t wearing an earring. Earrings weren’t FBI issued unless you’re undercover.
“Agent Olmec,” I started. Marcy grabbed my hand and gently squeezed it. I turned to her and smiled. Holding the smile, I turned to face Olmec. “Bob, we don’t want to screw anything up for you guys. Especially if these folks are involved in some criminal endeavor. However, we have a girl missing for maybe five days now. Maybe murdered, and there’s a mother and a father who have hired me to find their daughter. To me, Bob,” I wanted to say I don’t give a shit, but, refraining from that, and still forcefully smiling, I added sternly, “I’m going to do what I was hired to do.”
Agent Olmec looked around the almost-empty restaurant. “If these guys are involved, we’ll help you with that, but what we cannot allow is for you to go meet these people and rattle their cages. If you do, they’re likely to turtle and go into their shell. That can set us back.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I don’t know, but it’s possible your case and our missing girl are related somehow. Can you share any information on your case with us?”
Olmec looked at Marcy again and thought for a second.
Marcy chimed in, “You owe me, Bob. This is your chance to get even.”
I wondered what he owed her. I thought of asking, but I held back, allowing the pressure to build on Olmec.
Bob sat back uncomfortably in the booth he was sharing with Patrick, pushing away a soft drink he was holding. “I’m going to leave out a few things because we’re involved with the Department of Homeland Security,” he began, looking around. “As you may know, since certain parties took over areas of Syria and Iraq, the illegal sale of antiquities, some going back five thousand years, has become quite prevalent around the world. Have you ever heard of Sumer?”
I was not in the mood to joke around, but Olmec gave me a perfect opening. “Yes, ISIS is selling these Sumerian antiquities to finance their terrorist activities. Go on.”
Slowly, Bob added, “Anyway, this illegal contraband is being purchased primarily here in the US and in the UK.”
“And you think Meso Trading is involved in this?”
“Not so fast, Mancuso,” Olmec replied. “The UK has MI5 and MI6 involved with Homeland Security, following up on their end. There are many players involved overseas. Part of their investigation has led us to a number of players in the US, of which Meso Trading is one,” he paused.
“Is their sister company, MarAir, and the bank, Solimark, targets of your investigation?”
Olmec blinked rapidly a few times. “How much do you already know?” He squinted, and his brows narrowed.
“Let’s just say we like to do our research when we take on a case.”
“I thought your case was about a missing girl?”
“Like I said, our cases may be connected. Please go on.”
Hesitantly, Olmec continued. “Okay, yes, MarAir is an affiliated company of Meso Trading. We think they are involved in importing these antiquities.”
“So, Meso arranges for the purchase and probably sale of these antiquities to collectors in the US and abroad. MarAir flies these items in as contraband, Solimark pays ISIS for them after collecting and laundering the proceeds. Do I have the scheme in focus?”
Olmec was a bit flabbergasted by my simple explanation. “Who the fuck are you people?”
Marcy and Patrick were both smiling. “We’re just private investigators on a missing girl case.”
“No shit. But, yes, you have the scope of this whole thing correct. Now you see why we can’t have you screw up our investigation. This has national security implications.”
“Have you found out who the end collectors are?”
“No, that’s a piece of the puzzle we don’t have. Obviously, these people are very wealthy and dreadfully private.”
Patrick, who had been listening intently, asked, “Do you suspect that some are from the US?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Incredible,” I said, “we’re fighting a war on terror against one of the deadliest groups in the world, and some of our own citizens are helping finance this venture?”
“Some of these people are so self-absorbed in their world, they don’t see it like that,” Marcy said.
I jumped in. “I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. Any person buying these antiquities on the black market should be charged with treason. They’re aiding and abetting our enemy, for God’s sake.”
Olmec opened his palms. “I agree, but we haven’t been able to find who these people are. We need to close the loop. Unfortunately, there are so many willing buyers, these items are sometimes auctioned.”
We learned a lot, but we weren’t getting any closer to finding Gavi. “Have you tried infiltrating the players anywhere along the line? In the Middle East, the importer, bank, any of them?”
“I’m afr
aid I can’t discuss that,” Olmec replied. “Why do you think our cases may be related?”
“Well, the person who hired us owns a CPA firm in New York who happens to have Meso, MarAir, and Solimark as clients. That can’t be a coincidence. Right?”
“So, what’s your theory?” Olmec asked.
“My theory, after hearing everything you’ve said, is that Mr. Drucker, Gavi’s father, knows something or has something that can implicate one of your players.”
“Marcy said there was no call for ransom, right?”
I didn’t want to share the information Father Dom gave us about Drucker knowing about Gavi on Saturday morning. I shook my head. “I know. So, let’s brainstorm for a second. Say Drucker has information or a file, or whatever. All they have to do is exchange it for the release of the girl.”
“Yes, but you can’t un-see what you saw or un-hear what you heard,” Marcy said.
“So, what are they going to do, hold Gavi forever?” Patrick asked.
Olmec added, “Your client could hand over whatever proof he may have that implicates them. Then, it’s only his word against theirs. By the way, I hate to add another angle to your missing girl.”
“Which one?” Marcy said.
Olmec replied, “Have you considered the possibility that she was abducted as part of a slave-prostitution ring?”
“Oh my God! No, we haven’t.” Marcy looked at me, “Joey, did you think of that?”
I closed my eyes and covered my face with both hands. “To be honest, that possibility did not occur to me. There’s more to this than what we see now. Much more.”
Patrick added, “That’s a whole new angle on this. I hate to think…” His voice trailed off.
“Trust me,” Olmec began, “these people are not beyond eliminating your client if it could help them maintain their cover.”
“Right now, my only concern is Gavi,” I said, putting my hands down on the table. “Agent Olmec, thank you for meeting with us and sharing this information.”