“Very big,” Geo agreed. “I leave it to you to figure that part out, Sammy. Just steer us clear of breaking the law, okay? And if Sonny is any part of the murderous activity, then he goes down for it.”
“I agree, Geo,” I said dejectedly. Visions of our 9K paycheck floating off into outer space, never to be touched again, drifted through my head. I was hoping to win future work through Sylvester, too. Oh well.”
“Sammy, I seriously doubt that Sonny’s involved. The financial records for construction, actually on all three projects, each with a different construction company, all look clean and conventional. It’s the title and escrow work that’s all fucked up.”
“I’m going to have to delicately bring up this subject with Sylvester. He at least deserves a heads-up, in case we have to rat out his baby brother. It’s weird how the paths of these two cases are crossing.”
“I don’t think it’s so weird, Sammy. There’s only a select, small circle of the rich elite who pull the strings in most major cities, so the strings cross a lot. The Swanes run in that elite circle.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “and sometimes the crossed strings create harmony and sometimes havoc and discord. We shall see. I just wish the crossed strings were playing in someone else’s orchestra.”
“Agreed,” Geo mumbled, but he didn’t look up. His fingers had started to fly across the keyboard again and I watched as a financial sheet popped open.
I crossed the room to the copier and made three copies of the sting plan I’d written up on the legal pad that morning with Montaigne. I stepped back over by Geo and slipped his copy beside him. “Here’s the plan to protect Kathy and nail Soul Patch. Your role is clearly described in it. I’m going to run over to Kathy’s workplace now to give her a copy.”
That stopped his fingers from flying. “Hold it.” He looked up. “She’s off work at four and I’m picking her up then, so I can protect her. I even have your gun. Then I’ll bring her over here, and we can all talk about this plan and begin putting it into action this afternoon. If you stay here and work on the other computer until Kathy and I get here, that gives you about an hour to begin writing up the investigative report to deliver to Sylvester and Michael on Friday.”
I knew he was five steps ahead of me. “That’s actually a good plan,” I sighed, even though writing up an investigative report was not my idea of a good time.
So that’s what we did. By the time the two of them arrived safely to our office, I’d written up one hell of an investigative report that was sure to impress Sylvester.
We focused all of our attention on the sting plan. We read through it, line by line, and Kathy filled in the blanks. I would interface with Sylvester and Mountain again as soon as possible to fill them in on a need-to-know basis, with Montaigne needing to know a lot and Sylvester a little, as in just a slight heads-up about Sonny. Kathy agreed to this, since there didn’t appear to be any illegal connection between Soul Patch and Sonny.
We concluded our work by seven that night. Then we all headed to my house, in separate vehicles, for a repast of Lean Cuisines and some low-priced merlot. Geo opted for a Diet Coke. Over the merlot, I actually bonded a bit with Kathy. It was hard not to like her. We clinked our glasses together, and I toasted, “To the future! Free of worry and full of fun!” For a moment, Kathy lost the harried look in her eyes, smiled and beamed. Her creamy dimples showing. Geo about fell under the table he was so love-smacked, and, for once, I smiled back at her with genuine warmth.
After dinner, I even had time to head over to the gym for a decent workout. I dragged it out unnecessarily, hoping that Mountain would arrive. He never showed.
Chapter 35
I woke up at 7 A.M. Tuesday morning, and decided I’d better take a stab at attending my corporate job at Swann. I showered, shimmied into a lightweight, orange sheath and some sexy little orange sandals with flowers on the straps. I blew dry and gelled my hair into some attitude-spikes, so I looked kind of like the sun rising in the east. I was sure I couldn’t mount the Ninja in my tight sheath, so I opted for the Mazda3.
Took off down Sunnyside Lane and into the glorious morning. It was a little cooler than usual. 103 degrees. pressed the button to lower my window so I could drink in the scents of the morning and zoomed along Greenway to I-17 until I started to sweat. Pushed the button raising the window back up. I didn’t want to perspire on my orange sheath.
I arrived at work in no time. Light traffic. Maybe most of the town was on vacation? Well, most of the sane part.
I parked the Mazda3 in a garage several blocks away, the memory of my slashed tires still fresh in my mind. That thought could have dampened my spirits, but the morning was too grand to care. I strutted down Central, drawing lots of male eyes to my sizzlin’ hot dress, until I reached the Central One building. I winked at the old guard on the main floor and made my way up in the elevator. I was now an old-hand at my new job.
When the elevator door opened on the top floor, my sandals sank into the luxurious carpet and I continued my strut to my office door. Opened it up and slid into my multi-levered chair. This morning the view out the bank of windows wasn’t much since the summer heat had created a “brown pollution inversion” as the newscasters termed it, but I felt too good to care.
As I powered up my laptop, my cell rang. Mountain was calling according to the screen. “Montaigne?”
“Yes.”
Hmm. He sounded serious. “What’s up?” I walked over to my office door and closed it to ensure privacy.
“Per your request, I grilled Charley the Tuna, pun intended, all afternoon and into the evening yesterday, trying to get him to spill his guts.”
“Yeah, I missed you at the gym, Mountain.”
“I was working.”
Okay, no time to flirt. “Did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Spill his guts.”
“Before I go there, first let me thank you for the tip, Sammy. We confiscated all of the humpheads and a number of them were filled with baggies of cocaine and crack. We haven’t been able to quantify the amount yet, but it’s sizeable. The bust will eventually give the department some excellent press. Right now, we’re keeping it quiet, though, because, sorry for the extended pun, there are bigger fish to fry than Charley the Tuna.”
“I suspected that. What’s the set up? At least, according to Charley?”
“It was hard to interview him,” Mountain was beginning to lighten up more, “because he smells so damn bad, but I did it all alone as you requested, in case Liang’s involved.”
“Hey, at least you were across the table from him. That kept the smell down some. Try sitting next to him on a couch. The couch he sleeps on nightly.”
“I’ll pass,” Montaigne said dryly. “Here’s the deal, Sammy. Liang is definitely involved. So’s Hu, the father, and your Karl Zaiid dude. All heavily involved. Unless Tuna’s just throwing blame around wildly trying to divert attention away from his own crimes.”
“You think Tuna’s doing that?”
“Nope, too much of a doper to mastermind big plans, especially on short notice.”
“I fully agree. So who is the mastermind?”
“I don’t think Tuna really knows,” Montaigne replied. “He just follows orders and gets a load of stuffed humpheads in return.”
“What are his orders?”
“Tuna’s the humphead transporter.”
“Sounds right, Mountain. I remember thinking that newer refrigerator truck he had parked in his sorry-lookin’ carport seemed out of place. So, besides transporting humpheads to his own home for personal gain and recreation, what else does he do with them?”
“According to Tuna, a biz-jet from Thailand arrives at the Deer Valley Airport luxury terminal every other Friday. Tuna says the biz-jet has been stripped of almost all of its seating so it can transport as many freezers as possible. Tuna’s job is to unload each of those freezers on a special fork-lift and transport them to two places: Hu Chen’s perso
nal Hawker jet and a warehouse on the south side of Phoenix. Tuna’s payment for moving all of this every other Friday is a small load of humpheads, drug-laden, of course.”
“So why haven’t they been arrested?”
“Two reasons: Number one, Hu is very intimidating. Rumor has it he’s with the Chinese Mafia, and always lawyered-up, so airport security treats him with white gloves and thinks twice before getting too pushy. Number two: apparently drug-sniffing dogs are thrown off by the overpowering scent of fish. Tuna says he’s had to open the lockers on a number of occasions for the dogs to sniff the contents. Nothing happens. Then he just closes them and transports them to Hu’s jet and off to the warehouse. Simple.”
Mountain continued, “We researched the company that leases the warehouse. Belongs to an LLC called Asian Delicacies. They distribute to select Asian storefronts throughout the Valley. My guess is that it provides a network of discreet distributors who deal in backrooms to very high-end customers.”
“Clever. Why not just fly the loaded fish directly to Hong Kong from Thailand? Seems like it’s a long way to bring them here.”
“That one you should be able to figure out, Sammy. The money’s here. We cross-checked Hu’s usual flight pattern. Before he returns to China, Hu touches down in Los Angeles. America is the drug dealing capitol of the world because, in my not so humble opinion, Americans have too much of everything, and they do love their drugs. L.A. is the perfect hotspot for the rich and the wealthy to off-load the last of his transport before flying home.”
“You’d think business would be slow in a down economy,” I conjectured.
“Quite the opposite, Sammy. Drug use is runnin’ high even in a down economy. Snort your troubles away, I guess. They especially love very fine cocaine in the kind of crowd Liang runs around with.”
“How come Tuna’s not rich?”
“You think Tuna manages his money for more than a few minutes? According to Tuna, he only gets about half a freezer full of fish each delivery in a specially marked section. It just goes up his nose or out the door. Zaiid and Hu made a mistake bringing Tuna into the deal, but according to you and Geo, they all have a history that goes way back.”
“Yeah. Tuna’s their fall guy. The legal histories show that. Always valuable to have a fall guy. Plus, long histories sometimes override common sense. Or maybe there’s blackmail involved. You think Tuna’s agreeing to keep quiet over something, as long as he gets some drugs? I suspect that one reason Tuna can’t make any money is because he trades his drugs out for sex.”
“How do you know that?”
“Just an educated guess, Mountain, not from personal experience.”
Mountain grew silent for a moment, so I interjected. “What about the diamonds?”
“Diamonds?”
“Yeah, Tomas thinks Liang’s skimming some of the diamonds to fuel his gambling addiction and debts.”
“Tuna didn’t mention any diamonds, and I grilled him pretty hard.”
The door of my office slid quietly open. “Someone just walked into my office. Gotta go. Talk to you later.” I swiveled my chair around to find the tall, lithe, intimidating form of Mai Oversong standing in my doorway.
“Welcome, Mai. Come in. How nice to see you this morning,” I said, rising from my desk.
She didn’t move. “I know why you’re here. And your name is Sammy, not Tina,” Mai said accusingly in a hard, flat voice.
Hmm. Things appeared to be getting dicey. My favorite. Time to think fast. “Sylvester and Michael called me in as a performance consultant to assess the overall health of Swann. My findings so far indicate that you are central and critical to that success. The rainmaker, as it were, and much, much more.” When in doubt, try flattery. Although, in this case, it was true. I waited to see how that would fly with her.
“I do not like beating around the bush, as you say here in America.”
Apparently the flattery wasn’t flying too well. Try a new tack. “How do you think I’m beating around the bush?” You never know when people are bluffing. An important rule of investigation: let them divulge, not you.
“You aren’t here to assess the business. You are here to assess Liang.” Her eyes were fierce bullets, staring me down.
Ah, the baby brother blues. Her lot in life. A burden she could choose to carry or not, but she’d been carrying Liang since his birth. First literally, then figuratively.
Sometimes I have to make a split-second decision concerning how best to serve my client. My mission here, in a nutshell, was to ferret out the root cause problems of Swann’s flat profitability, when by all rights it should’ve been soaring. At the same time, I needed to cause as minimal damage as possible to the key players, if it was legally possible. I was also willing to skirt the gray areas of legality, but not step fully into the deep waters of the dark side. A lot of decisions to make in a split-second.
“I’m not here to assess Liang. I’m here to assess Swann. Honest.” Mai was looking at me intently. Some of the fierceness had gone out of her eyes. The big, black eyes were rimmed with red. I sensed that just behind that ferocity lurked sadness and fear. The sadness and fear that is irrevocably attached to an addict, because no one has control over an addict, except maybe bookies and drug dealers. Life becomes a roller coaster of fear, sadness and ill-placed hope for anyone who loves an addict. But now this lack of control was spreading far beyond the reaches of Liang and Mai and into the heart of Swann. I wondered if her love and commitment to Swann would bring her to her senses.
“Mai,” I said gently, “in my assessment of Swann’s business health, however, I’ve uncovered information about your brother that is damaging. It’s damaging to your brother, but now the damage is spreading. He is so out of control; it’s beginning to hurt Swann. It is not inconceivable that he can bring your entire company down if left unchecked. His financial needs are escalating almost daily. His judgment is blurring. I now have fairly substantial evidence that he is operating outside of the law in several arenas. Soon it will be beyond your power to protect him.”
I let that sink in for a minute. Tears welled up in the edges of her eyes. Yet she continued to stand there inflexibly. Thin and rigid as a rapier.
I continued softly yet firmly, following that intuition Sylvester hired me for. “If I gave you a suggestion as to how to save him and save Swann at the same time, would you be interested?” In my own way, I figured I was just as good at sales as she was.
She responded tangentially, “Is Zaiid a part of the problem?” There was so much pent-up hatred in her voice, I knew Michael had no cause to fear Zaiid. Just the opposite, exactly as I’d suspected in the airport lounge that day that now seemed like ancient history.
“Absolutely,” I replied simply.
“Is there a way to bring Zaiid down and not Liang?”
“Maybe, if you act fast,” I said somewhat truthfully. Place your order quickly, while the sale’s still on darted through my head like a bad advertisement.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. Then she pivoted gracefully, strode out the door and shut it ever so softly behind her. True power in that girl.
Well, well, well. The plot thickens. Now what? A weird path forward began to illuminate in my brain.
I speed-dialed Mountain. “Hey!”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Is there going to be a shipment this Friday according to Tuna?”
“In the world according to Tuna, the answer is yes.”
“What time?”
“2 P.M., Friday. Deer Valley Airport.”
“Are the police going to be there?”
“I haven’t set that up yet. I’m debating whether to storm the warehouses first or the airport transaction. Probably lots more in the warehouses. Plus, I’m keeping the Liang involvement quiet for now, but I can’t be quiet much longer. Don’t cook up something dangerous and/or let them get away, Sammy.”
“Now what makes you think I might do something like that?”
“Experience.”
“And you were just thanking me for turning you on to a huge drug bust. How soon we forget.”
“Okay, I admit you’ve brought me some excellent information in your short career so far, but, Sammy, this isn’t child’s play.”
Now he was royally pissing me off. “Child’s play! How dare you talk to me about child’s play when I’ve been so effective in my job so far. Good-bye.” I snapped the phone closed and marched over to the windows to try and dissipate some of my anger. I paced back and forth, turning when I reached the end of the bank of windows on each side.
Finally, some of my anger abated like steam rising from the ground after rain. I smiled. I might as well just act on my weird idea. Who was he to tell me what to do? I nearly skipped back to my computer. Opened the file of contact numbers. Scrolled the cursor down to Mai Oversong and found her cell number. Flipped my protective phone cover back open and texted, Must act before 2 P.M. this Friday. Or the sale’s off, I added mentally. Entered her cell number. Then hit Send.
The die was cast. What will be, will be, I thought. Que sera sera. Ha ha.
Later I would regret my own immaturity, but for the moment I gloated proudly. Then decided I’d had enough office work for the day, powered down the laptop, and headed for Starbucks.
Chapter 36
After a brief but refreshing jolt of espresso grande, with a dollop of whipped cream and some cinnamon sprinkled on top, I floated along in my orange sheath back to the parking garage and my unharmed Mazda3. Swirled the Mazda down the parking garage exit ramp for what seemed like forever. Around and around. Paid the ridiculously high price for the scant hour I’d been working so industriously, then sped off to the Biltmore office to begin enacting the plans to set up the Obsidian Towers sting. Only hard part was that Montaigne played a huge part in our plans, and we were currently on the outs.
Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1) Page 30