Greed

by Roy Glenn

  “I have eyes on the target,” Fantasy said, taking several more pictures of him. “White male, approximately five-feet six-inches tall, one hundred eighty-five pounds, dressed in jeans, blue hoodie and a Mets hat. Heading toward the bridge.”

  “Acknowledged, Fantasy. When target has cleared, proceed to pursuit vehicle.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “I have eyes on him,” Marvin said as the man passed. “In pursuit.”

  “Acknowledged. I have strong signal on the package.”

  “Target is heading north,” Marvin said.

  “Looks like he’s headed for Fifth Avenue,” Carla said.

  Marvin kept his distance from the target, following as the man walked ahead of him, looking back periodically. As Carla predicted, the target followed the path around and exited the park on Fifth Avenue. When he got there, he went to the edge of the sidewalk and stood there.

  “What’s he doing?” Carla asked.

  “He’s just standing there,” Marvin paused, as a red Corvette stopped in front of the man. “He just put the money bag in a red Corvette,” he said as the car pulled off. “Heading south on Fifth.”

  “Acknowledged, Marvin. Fantasy is on her way,” Carla said. “Geno?”

  “We have a signal on the package. He should be passing our location any second.”

  “Got him. Red Corvette,” Xavier said, as he pulled out into traffic, and turned left on Fifth Avenue to follow the Corvette. “In pursuit,” he said as the Corvette made a left turn onto East 36th Street, and then a right on 2nd Avenue, heading toward the Midtown Tunnel.

  Marvin didn’t have to wait very long at the park before Fantasy picked him up and they headed for the tunnel.

  “Looks like we’re headed for Long Island,” Geno said, and settled in for the ride.

  “Car is registered to Brayden Henderson,” Carla began. “Get this, he’s a private investigator.”

  “Turned blackmailer,” Geno said.

  Keeping their distance, they were able to easily follow the Corvette on Interstate 495 to a house in Garden City. Once Marvin arrived with Fantasy, they took the back door, while Geno kicked in the front door.

  When Henderson saw them come through the door, he took a shot at them and then ran to the back door and swung it open.

  “Hi,” Fantasy said, and Marvin punched him in the mouth. Henderson went down hard from the blow and hit his head, knocking him unconscious. When he came to, his hands were tied behind his back with plastic cuffs, and his ankles were bound to the chair. He opened his eyes; the first person that he saw was Fantasy. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

  “He’s awake, Geno,” she said, and he stepped up to Henderson quickly. Without saying a word, Geno went to work on him. After six hard shots to the face, Geno took a step back.

  “So, you’re a blackmailer.”

  “I’m a private investigator!” Henderson said, and Geno immediately resumed the beating. Marvin put his gun against Henderson’s temple.

  “You’re a blackmailer.”

  “Okay, okay,” Henderson spit the blood from his mouth, “I’m a blackmailer.”

  Geno went and got the pictures. “And you were blackmailing Valencia DeVerão,” he said, shoving the picture in his face, and then punching him in the face.

  “Yes. I had done some surveillance work for Patterson, and when I realized what he was doing with the stuff I was giving him.”

  “So you decided to cash in,” Fantasy shook her head. “Greedy fuck.”

  “Right. So I started watching Patterson’s place.”

  “Why?”

  “To see who comes to see him. See if I can’t get something on them,” Henderson said and looked away.

  Geno punched him in the face. “Try looking at me while you’re talking?” And then he punched him again.

  “All right. All right,” Henderson said, and spit more blood.

  “Tell me what happened that night?”

  “I was sitting in my car. There was a car parked out front, I was in the back. I heard the shot. I was about to check it out when another car pulled up and parked way down the street. She went in the house and then I heard a door slamming. When I looked, I saw a man come around the house, get in the car that was out front and drive away.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “Black SUV. I don’t know what kind. Then she came running out, I got those pictures.”

  “Where are they?”

  “On a USB in my shirt pocket,” Henderson said, and Marvin got the drive from his pocket.

  “Cut him loose,” Geno said, and Xavier took out a knife to cut the cuffs. “Where’s your computer?”

  “In my office.”

  “Get up.”

  Once he was on his feet, Henderson led Geno and Marvin to his office, and he deleted all the images that he had from his computer and the cloud.

  “That’s all for me, Money,” Geno said, and Marvin shot him in the head.

  “Images on the Internet are forever,” Marvin said as they left the office.

  “See guys, I told you that we could do this without Monika,” Carla said.

  “And you guys did a good job.”

  Carla’s head snapped around, and there stood Monika with her arms folded and a frown on her face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Now that it was behind her and she was feeling better, Valencia made arrangements to meet Geno for dinner so he could tell her how things worked out with her blackmailer, and to celebrate. He selected the restaurant, Del Posto, a pricy Italian restaurant on 10th Avenue, and asked Valencia to meet him there at eight.

  Geno arrived at the place and was seated at seven-thirty. He had a dual purpose in getting there so early. First, he knew that Valencia made it a habit to always arrive places early, and he wanted to get there first for a change. The second reason was a bit more ambitious.

  Once he was seated, Geno explained to the waitress that he was trying to impress his dinner guest by ordering their meal for them. She smiled because she thought that it was romantic, and after finding out what Valencia liked to eat, she helped Geno pronounce each of the items … as best he could. Therefore, when Valencia arrived at Del Posto at ten minutes to eight and was seated at their table, he was ready.

  “Are you ready to order, sir,” asked a smiling waitress because her pupil was ready.

  “Yes,” he said before Valencia could look at the menu. “The lady will have the Sformato di Carciofi con Bagna Cauda for an appetizer and the Vitello Tonnato con Tonno Crudo e Animelle,” he ordered, which was artichoke custard with anchovies, knowing her fondness for them, and Chilled Veal with Tuna Crudo.

  Valencia closed her menu, placed it on the table, and folded her hands in front of her as Geno continued.

  “And I’ll have the Pollo con Cotechino e Lenticchie and the Manzo con Patate e Tartufo Nero for an entrée,” he said, which was chicken with sausage, and a twenty-eight-day dry aged ribeye with potato.

  “Very good, sir.” The waitress was impressed and so was Valencia. “And for dessert?”

  “The lady will try the Semifreddo all’ Arancia Rossa.” Which was semi frozen mousse. “And the Torta Sottosopra for myself.” An apple and farro upside down cake with cardamaro caramel and yogurt spuma.

  “I will get these in for you,” she said and took the menus. “And you did an excellent job.”

  “Thank you,” he said as she walked away from the table. Valencia smiled, and Geno reached across the table to take his hand in hers.

  “That was so sweet of you,” she took his hand to her lips. “And you did so well.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes,” she kissed his hand again.

  “It took practice, believe me,” Geno said, and they laughed together.

  “So, tell me, how did things work out.”

  “Have you ever heard of a man named Brayden Henderson?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “In addition to bei
ng a blackmailer, he’s a private investigator,” Geno said, and filled her in on the details. He reached under the table and held up the bag with the money. “He won’t be bothering you anymore,” Geno promised, and put the bag down.

  Soon, cocktails were served, and once their appetizers and entrées came out there was no more talk of Brayden Henderson or blackmail. The conversation and the energy between them felt like old times. To Geno, it seemed like no time had passed between them. For Valencia, it was as if the dark years with Gustavo never happened. And as the evening roared on, each began thinking about exploring another aspect of their prior relationship that they both thoroughly enjoyed. However, at the conclusion of their meal, Valencia began feeling uneasy in her stomach.

  “What’s wrong, Vee?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, holding her stomach. “I feel a little nauseous. My stomach hurts and I feel hot like … I don’t know, like—” And then it hit her. “Excuse me,” she said, covering her mouth, getting up from the table, and running to the bathroom to vomit.

  “You alright?” Geno asked, when Valencia made it back to the table and sat down.

  “I’m okay, I guess. I suddenly felt nauseous and I had to vomit.”

  “Well, come on. Let me take you home,” Geno said; and once he paid the check, he took her home. When they got to her house, the vomiting was accompanied by diarrhea. At that point, Geno insisted that he take her to the hospital.

  “Food poisoning,” the doctor said to Geno once Valencia was treated. “We performed a gastric irrigation process to clean out the contents of her stomach. We’re going to keep her overnight for observation. But she’s going to be fine.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “She’s resting now, so keep it to a few minutes.”

  “That’s okay. She’s had an extremely hard day.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Let her rest and I will see her in the morning,” Geno said, and after looking in on her and seeing that she was asleep, he went home.

  The following morning, after the doctors made their rounds, Valencia had a visitor. And it wasn’t Geno.

  “A Bela Valência.”

  The sound of his voice made her cringe. He was Ezequiel Simmonds, an ex-guerrilla fighter turned enforcer for The Comodoro Cartel. When the Comodoro’s were at war against Barrera Iñíguez, they hired a group of mercenaries. However, with him being in control of the Venezuelan military, the guerrillas were easily crushed, Ezequiel went to work for the cartel, and they turned their attention to kidnapping.

  Valencia met him when she moved to Brazil, and married Gustavo DeVerão in Rio de Janeiro a month later. During those early happier days, she thought that she would be spending fun-filled days and romantic nights in Rio with her handsome new husband. But three months after they were married, he moved her away from the glitz and glamor of the city, to his family’s hometown, Comodoro, in the Brazilian state of Mato Grosso. After that, everything changed.

  “What are you doing here, Ezequiel?”

  “I came to see you, of course, A Bela,” Ezequiel said, coming closer to the bed.

  “How did you even know that I was here?”

  “A little bird told me,” he said, taking a seat by the bed.

  “Right. A little bird told you that I was in the hospital with food poisoning. Just once, can’t you just give me an honest answer?”

  “How are you feeling after such an ordeal?”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “I mean, first you are arrested and then you get food poisoning,” he said, holding up a finger for each occurrence.

  “Just bad luck, I guess,” she said, wishing that he’d leave, or better yet, Geno would come and make him leave. I would love to see that.

  “Or maybe it’s something else.”

  “Like what?” Valencia asked, and Ezequiel stood up. Without answering her question, he walked over to the window and looked out.

  “Beautiful day,” he said, and put his hands behind his back as he looked out. “Andrade is in the city. He asked about you.”

  “Tell him that I said hello. How long is he going to be in the city?”

  “He was not sure. He is looking to expand his hand rolled cigar business and was having problems getting parts. So, he is in New York looking for somebody to export the parts that he needs to Brazil. Perhaps if you were able to help him then perhaps your bad luck, as you call it, would change. I am sure that your family would appreciate it.”

  Ezequiel turned, looked at Valencia, and then he smiled. He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, I have to be going, A Bela Valência. You take care of yourself and I will see you soon.”

  “I hope not.”

  Valencia watched as Ezequiel left the room and was glad when he was gone. Now, Valencia, wasn’t stupid. She could clearly see the entire interaction for what it was: A threat. First, he hinted that her food poisoning was a result of her not doing what he had asked her to do, coupled with an opportunity for her to make it right by helping Andrade Ferreira, and get Ezequiel off her back.

  “I am sure that your family would appreciate it,” she said mockingly, and reached for her phone to call Adrianna. “Asshole.” The call was sent to voicemail. She was about to call Pooja when there was a light knock at the door, and when it opened, Geno came in the room carrying a dozen red roses.

  “Good morning, Vee,” he said, and all the hate, animosity, and anxiety that she was feeling a few seconds ago, melted away. “How are you feeling?” Geno asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, and handing her the roses.

  Valencia inhaled the scent of the roses deeply. “I feel a lot better now, thank you for asking … and thank you for insisting that I come here.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Just glad you didn’t throw up in my car.”

  “I came close a couple of times. If you had stopped short one more time, I promise you I would have sprayed your windshield.”

  He pointed at her. “That was gross.”

  “It would have been, I promise you,” Valencia said as her phone rang. She looked at the display and saw that it was Adrianna returning her call. “I need to take this,” she said handing the roses to Geno. “Good morning, Adrianna.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel a lot better, thank you.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need you to get in touch with Andrade Ferreira.”

  “I haven’t heard of him,” Adrianna said, thinking that she’d heard of everyone in her family.

  “Andrade is a tobacco farmer in Brazil. He’s in New York looking to expand his hand-rolled cigar business and is looking for an exporter. Get in touch with Samantha Vázquez. She should be able to tell you where he’s staying while he’s in the city.”

  “Understood.”

  “See if you can’t arrange a meeting for tomorrow.”

  “It shall be done. When are you going to be released?”

  “The doctors have made their rounds, so I hope that it won’t be much longer.”

  “Do you need me to send a car for you?”

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.” She looked at Geno and smiled. “I think I have that covered.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had been a rough two days for Valencia. She’d been questioned in the murder of her blackmailer, Coleman Patterson. She was able to get through that and be released only to find that she had a new blackmailer. The day before she was in the hospital with a severe case of food poisoning. But what a difference a day makes.

  That afternoon, she had an appointment to see Andrade Ferreira to find out exactly what he needed to expand his hand rolled cigar business. Once she found out exactly the type of items that he was looking to import, Valencia would call Shy and get the two of them together.

  She was introduced to Andrade when she first moved to Rio. There was a party to celebrate Gustavo’s return and he took that opportunity to introduce his
family to his new fiancé. It was Andrade who first told her that she shouldn’t marry Gustavo.

  “Gustavo is a pig. A pig with a pretty face and a nice suit, but a pig all the same,” Andrade told her once they had become better acquainted.

  But, since that was not the Gustavo that she knew, Valencia ignored his many warnings and the subsequent warnings that followed from family members and even some friends of his. To her, Gustavo DeVerão was one of the kindest, sweetest, most considerate men she had ever met. If there was a man who possessed more of those qualities in abundance, it was Geno.

  That following afternoon, Valencia went to The Langham hotel to see Andrade. It had been a few years since she had seen him, so she was excited about seeing him again. Valencia only wished that it could have just been a social visit to catch up instead of what was; another step in whatever it was that Ezequiel Simmonds had planned for Mike Black.

  “Hello, Andrade.”

  “Valência,” he gave the woman that he looked at as a niece or even a daughter a big hug. “Please come in.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and he escorted her into the suite. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been very well, thank you. And what about you, my dear. You must tell me how things have been for you,” Andrade said, and the two spent the next hour or so talking about what was going with Valencia in her business, chitchatting about family gossip, before she worked the conversation to the reason for her visit.

  “So, tell me about the expansion of your tobacco business. I understand that you’re in New York looking for a parts distributor.”

  Andrade looked at her curiously. “Who told you that?” He let out a little laugh. “Ezequiel?”

  “Yes,” she said, and Andrade shook his head.

  “How many times have I told you that Ezequiel is a man that you should stay away from.”

  “You should tell him to stay away from me.”

  “The man brings death and devastation with him wherever he goes.” Andrade paused and took Valencia’s hand in his. “Hasn’t he caused you enough pain and sorrow? How much more will he do to you before you see that he will be the instrument of your destruction?”