Downward Dog in Miami

by Larry David Allman

  I had to make a tactical decision here: go back and deal with them, or go to the hotel and Lauren. I accelerated to the hotel. I would deal with this threat at another time, another place… One of my choosing, not theirs.

  One possibility here was that they had nothing to do with me. After considering: it was ten-fifteen at night, and two guys in a car were waiting—for what?—outside of the yoga center. It was definitely to do with me.

  * * *

  When I opened the door to my room at the Biltmore Hotel, Lauren was sitting in the couch area, watching TV. But it was not the Lauren I knew. This was a woman who was facing a life-changing situation and was frightened, who needed strength from a friend. I was that guy.

  She stood up as I put my briefcase on the table. We hugged, a full embrace.

  “It’s okay now,” I said and pressed her into my chest. I felt her tension release a little, a good start.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No. Do you have any orange juice?”

  I ordered some fresh-squeezed fruit juices from room service. The soft knock at the door just fifteen minutes later was what happened in the best hotels. A young fellow wheeled in a cart with seven pitchers of different colored liquids, four glasses, a container of ice, and some assorted nuts. He explained, with a good amount of pride, that there were orange, pineapple, cranberry, kiwi, blueberry, strawberry, and mango, and indicated that this was the best they could do on short notice. Quite a performance in just fifteen minutes. I got five twenties and held them in front of him.

  “These two are for you, and these three are for your friends in the kitchen. Spread them around… and thanks for the quick service.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Randall,” he said as he professionally slipped out of the room. I checked outside the door to see that the Do Not Disturb sign was still in place, closed and locked the door, and went to the cart to enjoy the bounty with Lauren.

  Sleep did not come easy. The stress that Lauren was feeling was not assuaged, at least not entirely, by anything I offered her, from the fruit juices, to a few yogic breathing exercises and a few postures, to even a back rub. Her best friend was in the ICU at the hospital, and the strange man’s intrusion there had rattled her. She said at one point that she felt better being with me, which helped me.

  Around one, we decided to make a full-on effort to sleep. I held Lauren spoon-style and soon heard her breathing lightly and rhythmically; she had fallen asleep. I used what I had learned about sleeping, how to do it better and more efficiently, and apparently succeeded… until we were awakened at three-thirty. Lauren had placed her cell phone on the nightstand. It was a loud ringtone, an ABBA song that would have been pleasant at some other time and place. Not at three-thirty. She bolted straight up, reached for her phone, and looked at the screen.

  “It’s Jerry!” she burst out with all of her breath. “Oh God…” She accepted the call. “Jerry, is it you?” After five seconds, she screamed, loudly and from somewhere deep inside, dropped the phone, and buried her face in her hands, crying and violently convulsing her body.

  I knew immediately what had happened. I held her but could not get control immediately. I thought she might hurt herself, so I muscled her into me and held on more tightly. Fortunately for both of us, she didn’t resist.

  “Cathy died!”

  * * *

  Lauren cried for quite a while. I held her while she came in and out of her pain, feeling the intensity and then having it recede, then come back in. She had lost her best friend in some kind of freak accident or worse… How do you process that? I did the best I could.

  Neither of us had any medication to induce sleep, which would have been wrong for me. I was there for her whenever she needed support. She was advanced in a self-actualized way, literally reaching out physically for comfort, verbalizing at other times, asking for what she needed in the moment when she needed it. I was the stoic male… a dilemma so many of us males suffer from. She finally slept, maybe for two hours, until morning awakened us to another day of challenge and who knew what else.

  While Lauren was in the shower, I called Ed at seven-thirty. A little early, but he picked up on the first ring. “Good news?” he asked, a little more accented than usual, probably due to the early hour.

  “We’ve got a lot of information, and we’re still processing it. I’m calling for another reason. I need to hire your services. I need a protective detail for a friend. She’s dealing with the same creeps, Siroco.”

  “Sure, we can do that, no problem. What do you need and when do you need it?”

  “Immediately. She’s here with me now, at the Biltmore. I don’t care about the cost.”

  “No need to discuss money now. We’ll give you the family discount,” he said and chuckled. “We’re starting to think of you as family anyway. Now… I have five teams for this kind of work. Four guys on each team, two during the day and two during the night, twenty-four hours, total coverage. And they’re good. They should be—they make three times more with me. One drives your friend, and one follows in a second vehicle. Both are fully prepared.” I felt like I knew what he meant by fully prepared.

  “Okay. I like that. When can you have them here?”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah, I’ll explain when I see you this morning.”

  “I can have a team to you in one hour. When can you be here today?”

  “I can be there at ten.”

  “See you then,” he said and clicked off. The more I did with Ed, the more I liked him.

  * * *

  A heaviness hung in the room like a dark cloud. I ordered breakfast from room service. Lauren was dealing with emotions and a life-changing situation, but they apparently had no effect on her appetite. She asked for scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon and toast and hash brown potatoes and fresh orange juice. I asked that it be delivered at eight. I requested my own ingredients for my morning protein shake. Interestingly, they told me they already knew what I would have for breakfast, and it was ready.

  The soft knock on the door at exactly eight confirmed my belief in great hotels. I opened the door and was surprised to see the same young man from last night; he must have been on the graveyard shift, probably working a double.

  “Hey… It’s you again. Come on in.” He wheeled in his cart and placed everything on the table, as directed by Lauren, who was freshly out of the shower and nicely covered in one of the luxurious hotel robes. He parked his new cart to the side and started to walk out with the cart from last night.

  “Whoa!” I said, “not so fast.” He turned as if he had done something wrong. “What’s your name?”

  “Jorge.”

  “Are you night shift?”

  “I’m doing a double today. I asked for extra hours. I need—”

  I signaled him to stop. I knew what that was about: gig workers never made enough. I got a hundred bill out of my pocket and handed it to him. “That’s just for you. Put it away. I’ll handle everybody else when I leave. Just between us, okay?” The smile was worth every cent.

  I added the fresh fruit and nuts and protein powder mix to my room’s Vitamix, mixed it up, added some ice cubes, and mixed it a little more, and we were ready for breakfast. She ate, and I drank, with little conversation, under the circumstances. Things were not good in her world today; no need to dwell on it. My world, meanwhile, was spinning faster with each day. We fueled up.

  My cell phone chimed. It was Ed. “They’re downstairs in the lobby. Bob and Jimmy. Good guys. See you here.”

  I turned my attention to Lauren, who was packing up her stuff and preparing to go out and face the world. “I’ve arranged for some people to be with you today. They’re waiting downstairs.”

  “What?” She seemed surprised. This had come out of nowhere.

  “Lauren… you’re involved here. These people that Cathy had the pro
blem with… It may be what happened to her. Better to be safe. Trust me.”

  She thought about it for a few seconds, probably flashing on the fact that her best friend was dead, then nodded her head.

  I took her hand. “Okay, let’s go meet them. There’s two of them.”

  When we exited the elevator, I saw one sitting close by, facing us, exactly where I would have placed myself. He had the ex-military look: close hair, eyes that moved around and took in every detail, and that kind of heightened alertness. He stood up when we approached and offered his hand to Lauren, his protectee. “Hi, I’m Bob.”

  “Where’s Jimmy?” I asked. He raised his left hand to his face and spoke into a cuff mic, “C’mon in.”

  Jimmy walked through the front doors simultaneously. They shared the same ex-military look, both about my height, both dressed in loose shirts over polo shirts that were perfect to conceal whatever preparations Ed had mentioned. It looked good to me.

  I hugged Lauren, held her close. She hugged me back with intensity.

  “I’ll catch up with you later. Let these guys help you today… Listen to them.”

  She nodded. Bob and Jimmy formed up on either side of her.

  “Thank you,” she said to me. Her face, her eyes, her body language—it was all there, unspoken yet loudly communicated between us.

  “See you later. I’ll come by the office after my meeting, probably around noon. We could grab lunch,” I said.

  They walked her out the front doors, ostensibly chatting like old friends, more likely letting her know how they wanted to handle the day for best results. It struck me in that moment that Lauren was carrying her overnight bag. We had not discussed her arrangements for that night. I let it go—she was with Ed’s guys, and they felt right to me.

  I went back up to my room with a lot on my mind, including that tonight was the last night of my Miami yoga classes. I felt like I had accomplished a lot with this Miami group, but the events of my day job were starting to intrude on the usual peace and purity of my yoga life. I saw it as a good thing that after tonight, I could focus full-time as Derek Randall, Cyber Security Consultant. First, though, I needed to regain my balance, my focus and my energy—yoga did that for me whenever I needed it.

  * * *

  In my room, I centered and rebalanced myself through the yoga techniques I used every morning. After, I showered, shaved, and got myself ready for what I knew would be a long day. I opened my laptop, checked all key points for intrusions or any other signs that were not usual, and reviewed the information we had suctioned from Siroco. I printed out a few pages for my meeting with Ed.

  When I glanced at my Swatch, it was almost ten. I called Ed and told him I’d be late. He said “No problem” and was gracious about it.

  It was ten forty-five when I arrived at Sabra. As before, Charlie pointed for me to go right into Ed’s office, where Ed was behind his desk, Ronnie and Avram were in the seating area, and Ziv was in a client chair in front of Ed’s desk. I gave a very brief overview of our Siroco dive.

  “Do you know Sam Ratner and Miami Crane Works?” I asked.

  “I know who he is,” Ed answered, “but we’ve never done business with that company. They’re over at the port.”

  “How about William Johnson?”

  “Same thing. I know who he is. Miami is a big city. There are only so many guys at the top. You tend to know who they are. He has a trucking company, right?”

  “Yes. Last one: Sonny Verdugo?”

  “Vaguely. Not sure what he does.”

  “Containers,” Ronnie offered. “He makes the containers that load onto ships.”

  “Are these companies connected to us?” Ed asked.

  “Not sure yet. But Siroco is doing something with each one of them and a couple of others. That’s what we need to find out.”

  Just then, my phone chimed. I saw that it was James on his personal phone. I glanced at my watch. It was eleven-fifteen—that was eight-fifteen for him.

  “Excuse me, I need to take this. It involves your matter.” I moved to the end of Ed’s office. “Hey James, what’s up?”

  “Derek! Shit, man, there’s FBI guys at the lab.” He was freaking about this. He was calling from his home. I told him to stay there until I called him back within an hour. He agreed. I returned to the meeting.

  “Now, there are two other things I want to raise with you. There’s a strong international element to this matter. The woman from Ukraine…” I paused and looked at Ziv, who remained without expression, probably a trained non-reaction. “Her boss is the Minister of the Interior of Ukraine.”

  “Porshenko?” Avram spoke for the first time.

  “You know him?” I responded in surprise.

  “We have a general awareness.”

  “Okay. We also have a Chinese general involved with these guys, General Kangxi. Do you know anything about him?”

  Everybody shook their heads.

  “None of this makes sense on the surface,” I offered, “but we’ll continue digging and analyzing.” I paused. Just then, my phone chimed again. I saw it was Linda.

  “Sorry.” I walked to the end of the room again. “Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

  “George called me.”

  “Something’s wrong?”

  “He was at the office this morning, dealing with some things with Hank. Two guys came looking for office space.”

  “So?”

  “George said they didn’t feel right. We have no space available; we’re not advertising. They said they had a tech company. George thought they were Chinese… He said they asked the wrong questions.”

  “You think they have something to do with this Siroco deal?”

  “Two plus two usually makes four.”

  “But we just did this last night. And there’s FBI waiting at the lab for James.”

  “Yeah, I’d say it’s definitely four.”

  “I’ll be back to you after this meeting.” I clicked off and returned to the meeting. Ed and his guys were courteous to me about these interruptions.

  “Everything okay?” Ed asked.

  I nodded. “Things are moving quickly. That’s a good sign. Now that we know a little more about Siroco, I’m going to suggest that we start to take a few actions, which will move us toward solutions.”

  They all leaned in a little.

  “Can you place a guard at Palmetto Plaza?” I asked. “They had Delray Industrial on their coats. Do you know them, Delray?”

  “Sure, all of us security companies know each other. Well, not some of the new ones. But yeah, I know Haimie.”

  “That would be Haimie Schwartz, the owner?”

  “Yes, we compete all the time. I win most of the time. What do you want?”

  “I want you to put a guard on that front desk in the building where Siroco is based. Two, if possible, for all-day coverage, even nights. Have him be aware, notice everything, whatever, but it has to be discreet. What do you think?”

  “I can probably do that. How soon?”

  “ASAP.”

  Ed wrote a note at his desk.

  “Now,” I continued when he looked up, “these three companies, could you arrange to have a conversation with these guys, maybe as prospective clients? Maybe mention Siroco. See what we can find out through non-digital means.”

  “We can do that,” Ronnie said with zero emotion.

  Ed made a few more notes, then looked up. “Incidentally, we’ve made contact with the woman.”

  “The woman?” I said.

  “Katarina… in Kiev.” He looked me directly in the eye. “She’ll be here.”

  “She’ll be here… in Miami?” I had to take a deep breath.

  * * *

  I walked out of the Sabra building, got in my car, started the engine, and sat still for a mo
ment. Things were not only moving at a lightning-fast clip, but they were getting dangerous. I was good at what I did on the computers, and I had some other skills which came in handy at times… but I was not Jason Bourne. I needed to be careful. I had formed a relationship with one of my yoga students, and she was in danger. I had involved a friend at the Stanford Computer Lab in something that put him in danger, and it was the same for my assistant Linda. And my client had taken actions that could come back on me—who knew what they were doing with, or to, Katarina Truska? And then there was the danger that Siroco posed, and the two men waiting for me outside of the yoga center.

  It struck me clearly, an intuitive bolt of energy through my chest: I was alone here, and I could use some help.

  I reached for my phone and tapped in a number. Lenny Brown, one of my best friends from Pitt and a former football teammate—I had quit after a week, but he had continued on and played in the NFL for the 49ers for four years. He was now a private investigator in San Francisco. He was big, he was fast, he had skills that I did not have, and we helped each other. Friends help friends, that was his rule too.

  “Hey brother!” Lenny said when he came on the line.

  8

  The opulent Law Offices of Pike, Oberdorfer, and Schein took up the entire sixth floor of the Palmetto Plaza building. The convenience of having legal counsel in the same building was not lost on the management of Sircoco International Investments Corporation. A quick elevator ride, a walk across the lobby, and an even shorter ride to the sixth floor was all it took for Siroco’s leaders to pay a personal office visit with their lawyers—well, one of their lawyers. Best to spread legal responsibility around, play one off against the others.

  Pike, Oberdorfer, and Schein (POS) had been founded in 1984 in Miami. Three lawyers who had grown up in Florida and graduated from Florida law schools, all with large visions and hungry appetites. Make money, get well known, hire associates to do the work, and bring in the clients: that was their MO. Another day in the sun and blue skies, playing golf with the CEO of a major corporation with legal needs in Florida, the southeast, or South America—that was their shared vision, for every day if possible.