Downward Dog in Miami

by Larry David Allman

  “Damn good work,” I said when he finally paused and took some breaths.

  He was pumped. The work that we did together on my cases could do that; same with Linda. It was intoxicating—but only if we did not get caught.

  “I have something I want to send you,” I continued. “I got an ATM card from the woman who did the job on the Sabra employee. They pay her through it. I’m going to scan it and send it to you now.” I placed Katarina’s ATM card in the mini-scanner I carry. It successfully read the computer strip, so I sent that information to James. I heard the chimes on his side. “You want to do that now?” I asked.

  “Yes, hang on, I’ll check it now.” I heard him clicking loudly. It took him two minutes. How good is that?

  It links up to Cayman Bank, to two accounts. I can get a balance through the card; obviously a chink in their system. I think I’ll not tell them about this. Okay, one account at eleven mil, the second has sixty-seven mil. You gonna take both?” he asked, much like asking me if I wanted a ham sandwich for lunch. Before I could answer, he interrupted, “Wait, I can get the account numbers… Wow, major defect. Thank you, bank.”

  “Excellent, that will help me. I’m going for the smaller one. The larger one will have value later, like with the Feds. We’re karmic warriors here, James, just rendering justice,” I joked.

  He recited the account numbers, then sent me the rest of the other grid charts covering their emails, just a from-and-to list with dates but none of the contents yet. If he had this overview information, he also had each individual email. I had a crawler that could isolate exact words and phrases, and therefore the critical information that I needed. I could use that later.

  “Let me review this now. Give me a few minutes. Can you hang at the lab for a while?” I asked.

  “Damn right, I’m here. Go. Call me back,” he said, sounding fully involved in this team effort.

  I clicked off and started reviewing the ton of information he had sent me. It looked like I had pretty much what I needed. I have a strong sense for this kind of thing, because this it’s integral part of my business platform—and I’m good at it.

  * * *

  As I studied one of the grid charts James had sent me, I looked up and noticed for the first time that it was now seven forty-five. Afternoon had turned into night. Time ceased to exist when I was so totally involved in the moment as I was with this developing op, isolated from the normal pace of life. I went back into the calls of Ray Gonzalez—I saw a pattern between him and Santo with lots of calls from Santo on Mondays, almost all around the same time, ten a.m. I guessed that Santo was checking on the weekend deposits from his diaspora of money launders and related criminals.

  My phone chimed; it was Lauren.

  “Hey, how’re you doing?” I answered.

  “Oh Derek, I’m so miserable,” she said in a weak voice. Then she started crying, a deep burst of emotional pain. It lasted for about a minute, then she grabbed control. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, a dumb question. “Who’s with you?”

  “Two new guys. They’re fine. But…” She paused; I expected more tears. I was aching now, too.

  “Do you want to come over and stay here tonight?” I asked. I may have been a little obtuse in relationship skills, but I was pretty sure she needed company… my company.

  “Can I?”

  “Sure, with pleasure. I’m here for you. Tell the guys to bring you over. Pack some stuff for work tomorrow. Bring your car; let one of the guys drive it.” I was waiting for a flood of joy, reveling in this newfound yet pleasing power I had suddenly developed, at least in my mind, to assist Lauren whenever she needed it. But the sat phone interrupted; it was Linda. “Wait a sec,” I said to Lauren and accepted Linda’s call.

  “Hey, can I call you right back? Two minutes,” I said as if she might say no.

  “Sure, I’m here. I have the power of attorney,” she said.

  I clicked off.

  “Lauren, come over here. Let me know you’re leaving—call me when you actually leave your house,” I said like she was a child. What is wrong with me?

  “Okay, thanks, see you soon.” She paused, ignoring my micromanagement. “Thanks, Derek.”

  She was silent, so I clicked off and tapped in Linda. “How’s it look?” I asked.

  “Here, I’m sending it to you. Oscar is waiting in his office.”

  My laptop chimed. I reviewed the power of attorney, a first-class job which gave me, Daryl Chapman, total power, control, and signature authority over the two Siroco accounts at Cayman. It was nicely notarized and even contained an old-style stamp and seal.

  “Okay, approve it. What’s the plane schedule?”

  “There’s a United flight out of SF at six; arrives there at three a.m. You want that? There are later flights; easier pickup on your side,” she said.

  “Um, I think I need to make sure it gets here earlier. Hold a sec,” I said as I picked up my office cell. I thumbed the directory and tapped in a recent number.

  Carlos answered on the third ring. “I’m your guy. What do you need?” For being eighteen years old, he was good.

  “Can you do a pickup at MIA at three a.m.? It’s a letter I need, at UA cargo.”

  “Tonight?” As good as he was, I think he was a little caught off guard.

  “Three hundred dollars,” I responded.

  “Sounds more like a four hundred-dollar run. Bring it where?” With negotiation skills like this, Carlos would be a sure winner in life, especially as an attorney.

  “Biltmore.”

  “Done. Four hundred. I’m your guy!”

  I gave him the details and told him the money would be with reception, where he would deliver the package without delay. There would be a code number in order to pick it up; I would text it to him later when I got it from Oscar. All good.

  I thanked him, clicked off, and went back to Linda.

  “Okay, finalize this. Have Oscar put it on the six o’ clock flight, and have him text me, and you, with the pickup code. Oh, did you have to go out… to Oscar?” I asked.

  “No, you know Oscar. He came over here and picked it up. He understands cash.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, all done here. You need anything?”

  “Yes,” I said emphatically. “You travel with George’s men, you understand?”

  “Yes, boss… Goodnight, boss,” she teased and clicked off, leaving me holding the phone and wondering just who had the power in this relationship. I went back to the grid charts and studied them for about a half hour, then called James on the sat phone.

  “Hey,” he answered.

  “Good work, James. I’ve checked all this; you did a really good job. Now, here’s what I want to do.” I referred to my notes on the legal pad, and the few grid items I had marked. Just as I was ready to speak, my cell chimed; it was Lauren.

  “Hey, I answered.” James could hear on the speaker, which I had on for hands-free communication.

  “We’re leaving,” she said, her voice a little more full of the real Lauren, her natural energy seeping back in.

  “Okay, see you here. Be careful,” I said and clicked off, probably rudely.

  Back to James.

  “Here we go. I really need you, bro, at the very top of your game. This doesn’t work without you. Okay?” I asked.

  “Just bring it, will you, dude? Cut all this stupid drama,” he jammed me.

  I specified his part of my plan. I needed him to take control of Santo and Gonzalez’ phones at specific times, and to maintain control until I had finished my job there at the bank. I also needed him to spoof a text from Santo earlier in the day. James would need to control the communications between these two guys so that I could work the human engineering part of the op—that was all on me. If Santo and
Gonzalez were able to successfully talk to each other, the op would fail and I’d probably be arrested right there in the bank. Game over, we lose—especially me.

  “You need that tomorrow?” he asked, using a different tone than his prior confident one. “Shit, man, we have one of those Provost guys coming in here tomorrow for a demo—some bio-tech crap, DNA-splicing thing. Shit.”

  “I’m planning this for a two o’clock meeting at the bank. Does that help?” I asked.

  “Yes, a little. This guy and his entourage, they never come alone. They scheduled him for eleven. Could be ten minutes, could be an hour; I don’t know this guy.”

  “I need you to spoof Gonzalez at eleven, maybe a little before. That part should be easy. Then I need you to cut off Santo’s phones until I’m finished down there—until the money is transferred. I’m thinking the ‘no service available’ thing.”

  “You’re really pushing this, man. Santo’s cells are Verizon. The best security in the business. They’re not static; they sweep. They’ll notice if three phones are out for more than a few minutes. Shit…”

  “This is what I need.”

  “The Provost thing messes it up. Maybe I can false-alarm the lab at that time, but then there would be an investigation. Shit!”

  “It’s fluid, man. We’ll be in touch with you during the day. It could change based on developments at the bank or with Santo. I need you to spoof Santo to Gonzalez at around eleven. I want you to text him this on his main cell: Sending new guy with paperwork. D. Chapman. Do what he says. Two p.m. meeting today! S. You have to see how he signs his emails.” I pushed James, which had helped in the past. I had hoped that the big payday would have been enough. Apparently not.

  “Just figure it out. There’s one more thing.”

  “What else?”

  “I need you to forward their calls. When Gonzalez calls Santo, I need you to call-forward that through Santo’s phone to Lenny’s phone. That may or may not happen; depends on how convincing I am. But you have to be ready for that, between two and three, from the meeting.”

  “Is that the last thing?” he sighed.

  “Yes… I think so. It could develop differently. You can do this.”

  “Let me work on this tonight. This has to be tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ll get back to you later. And all this for two hundred thousand?”

  I immediately clicked off. I would not be held up for more money. Just as I did, my cell chimed. It was Lauren.

  “You’re here?”

  “We are. Can I come up?”

  “I’ll be waiting at the elevator. Come up with one of the security guys,” I said, dropping back into micromanagement without a thought.

  * * *

  I walked out to the elevator, where I heard subdued ringtones. The doors parted, and a new guy exited: my height, loose Florida shirt, eyes scanning everything at professional speed. He stopped, checked, then reached in and signaled for Lauren to come out.

  “I’m with Ed. You’re Derek.” He offered his hand. We shook; he had a grip that could break a turtle. He was my height and in great shape. “I’m Vincent,” he added.

  “Hey, man, thanks for taking care of her.”

  I grabbed the suitcase Lauren was holding. We turned to walk to my suite at the end of the hall. Vincent followed.

  “It’s all good,” I said. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend the night with us.

  “Sorry, we’re door-to-door. I’ll just see you into your room… if that’s okay. That’s our protocol.” He looked at his watch. “If I’m not down there in three minutes, my partner will be up here… and he’ll be expecting trouble.” I knew what that meant.

  “Okay, good. Down this way.” We walked down the hallway to the end, where I keyed my door open, and we formed a little circle. “Thanks,” I said. “Will you guys be on tomorrow for her trip to Prime?”

  “Not sure. Ed will tell us. Whatever—she will have security. What time to leave here?”

  “Eight,” I said without thinking.

  “Seven-thirty,” Lauren corrected, being more familiar with her work schedule than I was.

  “Yeah, seven-thirty,” I said as if I were in charge.

  “Good night,” Vincent said, and he turned and walked away toward the elevators.

  I assisted Lauren into the room, closed and locked my door, and set her suitcase on the couch in the sitting area. We hugged each other, tightly, and held on for some time. I could literally feel that she needed for me to be there, to give her strength and comfort. I was deep in the moment, giving of myself as much as I could, when there was a strong knock at my door. We both froze. Was it Vincent? Something else?

  I sat Lauren down on the couch next to her suitcase, walked to the door, and stood behind it. I put my body in a position that I had been taught would more effectively resist an intrusion, and called out, “Who’s there?”

  “Boo-hoo,” a deep voice said. It was Lenny.

  * * *

  I opened the door and Lenny came in, all smiles. I gave him a vigorous sports-bro hug. He let me do mine, then he wrapped me up in an NFL lineman’s bear hug. We were both happy with our progress that day.

  “Hey Lauren,” he said, walking over and giving Lauren a less vigorous hug.

  I walked over to my work area and flipped on my laptop to the Google footage. As it came on and played, voices and images, Lenny and Lauren came over.

  “This is good work you did… It’s just what we need,” I said.

  “It’s what we do, bro,” Lenny responded with a smile and a little twinkle in his eye. “Look at the way that dude holds his gun. Just a punk criminal,” he noted.

  “Weren’t you scared?” Lauren asked.

  “Nah,” Lenny replied. “When they hesitate like that, they aren’t gonna shoot. They’re just punks trying to act tough. The dangerous ones shoot first.”

  “Can you spoof that voice?” I asked after Santo came out and spoke.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Lenny answered.

  “Good,” I said, “because we’re going to Cayman tomorrow. Game on, bro!”

  “Game on,” he said. “When do we leave?”

  “Right after the court hearing. I’ve got everything set up. We’ve got a charter out of MIA waiting for us from eleven.”

  “You dog!”

  “No, you da dog,” I responded, a kind of code between us. Who was the top dog? Whatever.

  “You’re going to Cayman?” Lauren asked, a little incredulous.

  “Yes, some business just came up. We’ll be back for dinner.”

  “And will you come back with an enhanced wallet?” She knew!

  “I hope so,” I responded.

  We agreed to meet for breakfast at six the following morning. Lenny left for his room. I set about taking care of Lauren: a light room-service meal, comforting conversation, touching. I was into my new role of caregiver and protector of Lauren Berger when I got a text from Oscar with the pickup code for the airport. I quickly texted it to Carlos, who responded immediately that he had received it and was on the case. That prompted me to take out five one-hundred dollar bills from my briefcase, place them in a hotel envelope, and write Carlos’ name on the outside. I excused myself, went down to reception, and handled the matter. I’d pick up the delivery in the morning at six.

  When I came back into the room, I saw immediately that Lauren had changed into one of the fluffy hotel robes. I walked over and hugged her. She was surrounded by the intoxicating fragrance of her Chanel perfume. I inhaled it deeply; it was sweet and fruity and very feminine… It was Lauren. When we released, Lauren stepped back, and I noticed that she had forgotten to put on any clothes underneath her robe.

  Man, this woman knew me better than I knew myself.

  13

  What Lauren an
d I were able to create together was not only different from my other relationships, it was also so much more on every level. It was big and meaningful. It was thrilling and exciting, and it was visceral and physical, but it had a spiritual and ethereal quality like nothing I had ever known. We melded our physical, mental, and spiritual beings into one common experience. She was adventurous and giving at the exact same time. I was getting in deep with this woman… and I liked it!

  We fell asleep, sweaty and exhausted but totally satisfied. I preferred sleeping alone, in general, but sleeping with Lauren was the easiest thing I had ever done, at least in a bed. I had set the alarm. When it went off at three a.m., I reached over to shut it off.

  “Wow, that’s early,” Lauren said with closed eyes. “Time to get up already?”

  “Sorry,” I said as I gave her a kiss on the forehead and got out of bed, then carefully replaced the covers over her. “I have a couple of calls to make.”

  She glanced at the clock. “At three… You need to make calls at three?”

  “Yes. They’re overseas. Go back to sleep. You have two more hours.”

  “Okay,” she whispered as she sleepily laid her head back on the pillow.