by Ian Jones
This was a generous, honest man, and proud. A good man.
He had given this meeting a lot of thought during the journey. There were two options for John, remain in character and somehow engineer the conversation around to Las Vegas or just come out and say why he was really there, that he was searching for somebody’s missing daughter and he suspected Pablo was involved.
He went for the latter.
John changed the subject and quickly spun a tale, trying to keep it as simple as possible to avoid tripping himself up later. He was looking for Abby who had come to Vegas to work for Pablo but nobody had heard anything since. Her family were very worried. Without discussing Richard Cromwell, diamonds or in fact money he explained he was a friend of the family. He had been unable to talk to Pablo, and had found out about Eduardo so decided to try him next. He didn’t know what else to do; the family were becoming desperate. John didn’t like lying to Eduardo so instead just avoided giving out too many details.
Eduardo said nothing for a while, disbelief written all over him and then stood up and politely asked John to leave.
John stayed where he was, pointedly looking at the various family photographs.
‘Please Eduardo, I don’t know where else to go. I’m not asking you to rat anyone out. I just need to know where Abby is likely to be if she’s not at the Acropolis, or Honeys. I’m sorry to come here like this. Look, I know this is not right, and it’s not fair on you at all. But Abby’s father, and her brothers are very worried. They have had no contact for some time now other than a photo Pablo sent, which appears to have been taken a couple of weeks ago. They have had no contact at all. I’m just trying to help, and you are my last hope. I am sorry.’
Eduardo looked out of the window for a long while. Then he opened a file cabinet and took out a folder and then looked hard at John.
‘You have a car outside?’
‘Yeah, I drove here from Vegas this morning.’
‘OK. I’ll give you five minutes. But not here in my workplace. Let’s go.’
John followed him outside and they got in the Mustang. Eduardo directed him to a gas station a few streets away that had a coffee shop attached. They went inside and sat at the back, both ordering white coffees.
‘So,’ Eduardo motioned John to speak.
‘Look all I need to know is does Pablo have any apartments, or any buildings anywhere in Vegas apart from the Acropolis or Honeys? I heard he had a big house somewhere, do you know if he still has it? I think Abby must be living somewhere and most likely Pablo sorted it out. The connection is a guy called Thomas, a Brit like me. He was an employee of the family, and they did a lot of work with your father. Pablo took over, and he got Thomas to start working for him, and it appears he took Abby to Vegas with him, although none of this is verified. I’ve been told that she went there on holiday and never went home.’
Eduardo listened, then took a sip of coffee.
‘What I have to say to you is simple. Pablo is no good. He never has been. He has no regard for anyone, and he is poisonous and a liar and probably getting even more dangerous now things are really falling apart.’
‘So can you help me?’
‘I need to explain to you a couple of things. First, I came to LA in 1989, and I’ve lived and worked here ever since. Second me and my brother were never close; since I came out here I only really spoke to him at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Since 2011 I have never spoken to him at all.’
He opened the folder and took out two typed letters; John could see a solicitor’s name in bold script across the top.
‘This is our sole contact. I should explain I am a shareholder in See Thru Incorporated, my father’s idea to bond his sons. I own twenty percent, as does Pablo. The remaining sixty percent is owned by my father and his partners. In 2013 this first letter arrived, it basically says that the company managing the hotel has been dissolved following my father’s incarceration, and I need to re-purchase my shares valued at ten million dollars.’
John raised his eyebrows.
‘Exactly. I have a good attorney, and he just laughed at it. He said not only is it bullshit it’s also illegal. He wrote back and I never heard anything about this since. Then this year I got this letter, from the same company. This says that the family have a legal obligation to resolve my father’s will now he is on death row. Again, my attorney says it’s a load of garbage and wrote back.’
John nodded. ‘Ok, so …’
‘So as a shareholder I have access to the accounts. And I can tell you they are not good reading. My brother has killed it and run out of money. The hotel is hitting the dirt and he wants me to dig him out. Right now I would bet he is willing our father to die.’
‘But …’
‘Yeah, but. What you got to understand is my father is a very wealthy man. Very.’
‘I understand that, and I have been told he is a good man.’
‘Also correct, but no good to Pablo while he’s breathing.’
‘Eduardo, can I be completely clear about something? You may not like my suggestion.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Right well I admit I have been digging. And it’s perfectly clear to me that your dad has taken the rap. It’s crystal clear, and now listening to you I know you know it too.’
Eduardo did a slow handclap.
‘Good for you. Maximum points you win a prize.’
‘Well, there must be something you can do?’
‘I get to visit my father up in Ely State Penitentiary four, maybe five times a year. I have tried and tried. He blames himself for Pablo. He refuses to listen to me.’
‘Why does he blame himself?’
Eduardo sat back in his chair exasperated. He raised his eyes to the heavens.
‘I don’t know, I really don’t. Look Pablo was, well kind of strange as a kid. I mean really secretive, and always stealing things round the house. He was kind of a mama’s boy, real difficult. I admit I kinda avoided him, he was such a pain in the ass. He was a bully, but he wasn’t big enough, or tough enough, so he used to pay these other kids to do it for him.’
‘OK.’
‘I was eleven when my mom died, so Pablo was nine. She was still dressing him even then, tying his shoes for him.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about your mum.’
‘Yeah, well. Brain tumour. One minute there; the next; gone. Anyway, my dad never looked at another woman, he was crazy about her. Still is. But he was always real busy, and he threw himself into his work even more. Doing long hours. We had a nanny, and she was great but things were hard for us, we had everything we wanted but not our parents. So my father believes that’s what caused Pablo to be, well Pablo.’
‘With all respect Eduardo, I can’t see it. Look what you achieved.’
‘No? Well I can’t either. The thing is, after a couple of years dad realised what he was doing, and he did something about it. He started being around more. He bought these dirt bikes, and we used to go racing them round the desert at the weekend. It was fucking fantastic.’
Eduardo smiled to himself at the memory.
‘My dad bought this pickup, huge great thing. We used to load the bikes in and we would disappear on Saturday morning. We would spend the whole day racing around.’
‘That does sound like fun, I would have loved it. So did Pablo enjoy it?’
‘He stopped coming. Wasn’t interested, he used to bitch about it so dad gave up. I mean dad bought him a bike the exact same as mine, but you know we weren’t very good right? We were just enjoying ourselves, riding around and round and always falling off. We spent half the time eating dirt! But we had all the gear on so you laugh at each other and just get back on and off you go again, the only thing hurt was your pride. But Pablo was always moaning and claiming he was seriously injured. I realised later he was scared, but of course he would never admit that. Probably because I was having such a great time. After less than an hour he’d be sitting in the pickup on his own. So he just starte
d staying home, but me and dad, we loved it, I used to look forward to it all week. Anyway, it kind of grew. Other kids and their dads started joining us, it became like a club. The coolest club in town. There must have been maybe fifteen, sixteen of us all flying around. Then one day Pablo says he wants to go and starts loading the bikes on the night before. My dad was real pleased, off with both his sons.
‘What happened?’
‘Next morning we get up, and the pickup with all the bikes and the gear and everything has been stolen. Right out our locked garage.’
‘Ah.’
‘Pablo must have been maybe thirteen, fourteen. And he starts waving all this cash about. Like a real fuck you. So dad kinda gave up, and Pablo just got in more and more trouble. Every year when he was a teenager the crimes got more serious. Soon as I could I was outta there.’
John nodded, genuinely sympathetic. Eduardo sighed and looked at the floor, speaking quietly.
‘Well, looking back I guess I think I am just as much to blame, but there is no way it’s my dad’s fault.’
‘Eduardo, I can’t understand it if it’s a money thing. I mean you say your father is wealthy, and it sounds like he indulged you.’
‘Well, you were right about dad taking the rap. For him, it was making up for what he believed he had done wrong. He must have even fooled the FBI, seriously, it’s unbelievable. But he knew what Pablo was like. So he froze his assets, completely locked them down. My father’s money is secure; in trusts and investments. There is no cash, nothing. And my brother is trying to change that.’
‘So what went wrong with the Acropolis?
‘Pablo has destroyed it. I don’t know. I’m serious. I have never taken an interest. I have built my business, and made my own money. It’s been hard work, long hours but I made it. I’ve stayed well clear of the Acropolis, just kept out of it. I get the accounts every quarter, so I know they are in the crapper and I also know that Pablo is not the man to turn it around.’
‘OK, well thanks for talking to me Eduardo.’
‘So I can’t really help you, I’m sorry.’
‘Well …’
‘But, I know someone who can. George Franklin, he’s my father’s best friend and business partner. Has been since like 1975 or something. He is a good man, and he has the measure of Pablo. We meet up every now and then, he comes to LA on business and we have dinner, so he has filled me in on what’s really been going on, all the gory details so to speak, and he is really angry. But all I care about is my wife and beautiful daughters and my father. Me and George are his only visitors.’
‘Does George live in Vegas?’
‘Yeah. I’ll call him now, see if he’ll meet you. He’s probably on the golf course, we might get lucky. But if he says no, you got to respect that.’
Eduardo scrolled through the phone book on his mobile then stood up and walked outside. John watched him talking through the window, but couldn’t tell how the conversation went. It was over quickly and Eduardo returned.
‘Ok, he’ll meet you. He says you’re timing’s good, but I have no idea what that means. Anyway be there tomorrow at 10 in the morning at the Hillside country club. Don’t be late. You’ll have an early start.’
‘I’m heading back this afternoon. Thanks Eduardo.’
Eduardo sighed and turned his phone over in his hands. Then he took out a business card and scribbled some numbers on the back.
‘Here’s my cell, and that’s George’s.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I should be very angry John. I refuse to think about Pablo, about what he has done. I love my father very much, he is a good man I promise you that. But maybe I have been hiding away from the truth. I am not scared of Pablo, even though he has all these men working for him. I think that looking back I could have prevented all this, no that’s not the right thing to say, I should have. And now too many people have been hurt. More than you know. Certainly more than I know. Find Abby.’
‘I’m gonna try, but I don’t even know if she’s even still alive.’
‘Don’t give up. And call me.’
‘Yes OK I will. Thanks Eduardo, I mean it.’
‘Well, goodbye.’
They shook hands, Eduardo declined the offer of a lift back so John navigated his way back to the freeway and set off on the return journey to Las Vegas.
Pablo had spent the day locked in the penthouse, which was a frequent occurrence for him these days. Any callers were told he was away on urgent business, so when the contact from New York arrived he was shown up to a suite and dealt with by Stefan, who made a great display of pleading ignorance on any questions that were asked, just repeating the Pablo was not at the hotel currently. Stefan was not at all happy with the situation, so went up in the elevator to the penthouse and made it clear to Pablo that evening, who was completely disinterested.
‘Look Stefan, this time tomorrow this is all behind us. Fuck this guy. We just got to keep cool, it’s a game is what it is. We pay him and everyone is happy. This fuck goes home, everything goes back to normal.’
Stefan was not convinced.
‘Pablo this man is not stupid, I am telling you. He knows you are avoiding him. He thinks you cannot pay. He wants to talk to you.’
‘Well, he can’t. I’m way too fucking busy to waste time with their bullshit.’
Stefan looked at him then cast an eye around the penthouse, Pablo hadn’t bothered having a shower, there was porn on a laptop on the sofa and dirty room service plates scattered around, but said nothing.
‘So Stefan, take him down to dinner. Japanese, get him drunk on Sake. Get a girl for him, put him to bed and when he wakes up tomorrow I’ll be all professional and keep him busy. Tony’s doing the pick up at lunchtime; get Skinny to go with him. They come straight back, we sort out the money. Then it’ll be all over.’
Stefan nodded dubiously.
‘OK Pablo, you are the boss. But I still think ….’
‘Stefan, right now I’m doing enough thinking for both of us. I’m sick of hearing about all these goddamn problems. Just do it.’
‘One more thing, we found the car.’
‘What car?’ Pablo asked irritably.
‘Ours, the one Robert and Jimmy took to the airport. It was here, in our car park. Unlocked, with the keys in it.’
‘That motherfucker. He is playing with us. You got any news on where he is?’
‘No. Nothing came back apart from what we know. I got security to check the tapes. He was here yesterday, walking around the hotel.’
Stefan omitted the fact he was also seen wearing the lift engineer’s uniforms, the last thing he wanted was any more grief.
‘Right. Let’s get New York off our backs, it ain’t gonna be long. Then we find John Smith, and no more excuses.’
Chapter Eight
John hadn’t known exactly how long he might have had to spend in LA so he had booked the Mustang for another couple of days. He had got back to Vegas around 10pm, and spent a couple of hours watching the Acropolis, again nothing very interesting to report. Then this morning in the gym at seven, shower and breakfast and then called Richard Cromwell to give him an update. At this stage John was still optimistic and told Richard this, but kept the other information to a minimum. One of the Cromwell’s or somebody in the organisation had tipped Pablo off, he suspected he knew which one but there was always a chance he was wrong.
He felt he was getting closer after speaking to Eduardo yesterday. He knew of course that Abby could be comfortably holed up in a suite at the Acropolis ignoring her family and playing the tables every night but it didn’t seem to fit somehow. He realised he was a lot more worried for her well-being now than he had been previously, there was no sign of her anywhere and nobody seemed to be able to even recognize her.
He hoped George would be a help, but shoved one of the Glock’s down the back of his trousers just in case. Nothing seemed to fit together properly so far, and he thought hard about everything as he drove to
the meeting. The country club was not too far in the end, just north of the main hotels and off the strip. He mentioned George Franklin’s name at the security barrier and the guard waved him straight in.
He parked up and wandered around to the expansive Reception area. There was a large sign with the dress code on display; John wore what he always did; faded brown desert boots, even more faded battered jeans and a plain T-shirt. He ignored the sign and made his way over to the elegantly curved desk and asked to see George. If the lady was unhappy with his clothing she was way too professional to show it, she gave him a wide smile and he followed her to a huge lounge area which looked out over the golf course. George Franklin was seated by the window, and he spotted them approaching and stood up. The lady smiled again and left them to it.
‘Mr Smith?’
‘John, please’.
‘Ok John. It’s a pleasure to meet you I’m sure. I’m George, but you will have guessed that. Let’s sit.’
They sat down opposite each other across a low glass topped table and George asked a passing waiter for two fresh orange juices.
While he did this John had a good look at the man. He was solid, with a shock of wayward white hair. John guessed him to be into his seventies, but clearly he was in shape and he had clear blue eyes that took in everything.
He smiled at John and they talked about Eduardo for a minute or two and then George looked hard at him with a half-smile on his face.
‘So, you’re the guy I’m guessing,’ he said.
‘Well I’m a guy, not necessarily the guy,’ John told him smiling back.
‘Good answer. OK, so you had an incident at McCarran on the way through.’
John looked at him again, measuring him up, word travelled fast.
‘Yeah. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I heard. I would have paid money to see Pablo’s face.’