Diamond White: A Red Riley Adventure #2 (Red Riley Adventures)

by Stephanie Andrews

  I hit the women’s room at full speed, kicking off my Merrill’s as I entered a stall, tripping and nearly bashing my head on the back of the toilet. It was torturous to wriggle out of the leather jacket and pants, especially with the clothes I had on underneath. Finally, the clock ticking louder in my head, I stepped out of the stall, grabbing my shoes and slipping them on my feet. I shoved my leathers into the trash under the sink. I wondered briefly how often they emptied the trash, and if I would have a chance to retrieve them. My grey pantsuit, which I had been wearing, uncomfortably, underneath the leathers, was horribly wrinkled, but I doubt the men would even notice. The wig, which had been pressed against my stomach, was also somewhat the worse for wear, but I arranged it the best I could, gave Georgette Wrigley the once over in the mirror, and headed back out into the museum.

  I walked as briskly as possible back to gallery 201, which was for the moment deserted. Apparently, the thugs had decided to go quietly, rather than cause an international incident, and they, the cop, the security guard, and James and Sherry had all gone off toward administration.

  I glanced in all directions to make sure I was alone, then I ran to the little Degas dancer and turned it on its side, yanking on the bottom. Nothing happened.

  Crap! I spun around, looking at the other small figures. Had I gotten myself turned around? Crap, oh crap. Choose wisely, I told myself as I rushed to the next one, painfully aware of the ticking clock. The cameras would come back on line any second.

  The next one was definitely the right one. I turned it on its side and grasped the base, which came off easily in my hand. I tilted the statue upright, and the gun I had hidden there two nights ago slid out onto the pedestal.

  I hate guns. I know, I’m a former cop. I’m an outlaw. But, I just hate them. No time for that, though. I scooped it up and put it in the waistband of my suit pants, covering it with my suit coat. I slapped the bottom back on the statue and set it back upright on the pedestal.

  Three seconds later I was striding calmly out of the gallery as an older couple strolled in. Sweat was rolling down my back, but I was keeping a cool expression and my pace was purposeful but measured. I was concentrating so hard that I almost walked straight into a man who was seated on a bench, sketching a Cézanne.

  “Hey, Georgette,” he said, “have a seat.”

  I looked down with surprise, straight into the handsome face of Nicholas Shelby. “I… what…”

  He took my hand and pulled me down onto the bench. “Shhh,” he said softly, all the while his other hand kept sketching the basket of apples.

  “What are you doing here!” I said through clenched teeth.

  “I thought more about what you said about a level playing field.”

  “I’m not going to be able to focus if you get caught in the middle of a fight.”

  “Not me,” he said gently. “I’m out of here as soon as Negron goes by. Here.” He handed me two of his colored pencils.

  “Really?” I glanced sideways at him.

  “Screw off the erasers. The red one is a blow gun. The green one is full of needles.”

  “You are shitting me,” I said, accidently raising my voice.

  “They aren’t poison or anything, but they are six inches long and razor sharp; they’ll make a person stop and think when they get hit by one.”

  I carefully unscrewed the eraser off the green one and peered inside, I could just see the tips of half a dozen needles.

  “How’d you get these past the metal detectors?” I whispered.

  “They’re carbon fiber,” he answered, with a very self-satisfied grin on his face. I reached up to touch it, but he grabbed my hand away.

  “Head down,” he hissed.

  I did as he said, concentrating on the sketch in his lap as I counted the legs, all in black dress pants, walking past toward the Modern Wing. Ten sets. Oh man. I had taken six out of the picture, but there were still nine left, plus Negron himself, of course.

  “I gotta go,” I said, squeezing Nick’s hand.

  “Be careful,” he told me.

  Really, you think?

  Thirty-two

  I strode behind Negron and his entourage as they made their way down the second-floor balcony to the entrance of the auditorium. I had the two pencils in the breast pocket of my suit coat, and the revolver still tucked into my waist band. There were ten of them. I assumed they were unarmed, but how could I be sure?I hoped things wouldn’t get out of hand. Outside the room they stopped, grouping together and conversing in Spanish, which I’m ashamed to admit I speak very little of.

  One of them caught my eye as I passed them, lifting his eyebrow in surprise as I opened the door and entered the auditorium. Too bad. Guess they expected boys only. The seats were empty, but up front a long table had been set up with eight chairs arranged around it. In the center of the table was a pitcher of water and a circle of glasses. At one end of the table sat Uncle Elgort, with Don on his right, and Jared Dexter, looking decidedly pale, to the right of Don.

  Just as I made it to Uncle Elgort’s side, the door opened behind me and the men entered. I made a scene of hugging Elgort hello, placing the revolver in his lap as I did. He moved it swiftly into the pocket of the tweed blazer he was wearing. Then we all stood as the newcomers approached.

  A tall man with close-cropped brown hair stepped forward. He had a salt and pepper mustache and was a bit thinner than the others, also a bit better dressed. My eye was drawn to the sparkling rings on his fingers, and what looked like a very stylish watch on his wrist.

  “Hola,” he addressed himself to Uncle Elgort. “I am Antonio Negron. You are Mr. Earl?”

  “No,” said Elgort, taking his hand in a fragile shake. He suddenly looked about ninety-five years old, standing next to this vibrant opponent. “As Mr. Earl is our respectable public face, we thought it best to keep a, what do they call it, a firewall, between him and any associates that may cause scrutiny.” Negron straightened and frowned at this. “My name,” Elgort continued, “is Ethan Allen.”

  I smirked, then caught Don’s glare across the table. Also glaring at me was Jared Dexter, apparently realizing that I hadn’t suffered any permanent damage from my interrogation at the hands of Crazy Don. Once he put that together, he swiveled to look more closely at Don, glancing up at his dark hair, putting two and two together.

  “I assure you, Mr. Allen, that Mr. Earl has nothing to worry about in meeting with me. My credentials are impeccable, my name signifies trustworthiness and honesty throughout all my dealings in the United States and in my home country.”

  “And yet you manage to provide so many illegal firearms to our citizenry.” Again, Negron’s face clouded. “I am most interested to learn more about your operation during your brief stay here,” Elgort said.

  “Brief?” asked Negron.

  “Sir…” interjected Dexter.

  “Quiet,” said Don and Negron at the same time, Don getting to his feet. “I’m sorry, sir, my name is Francis Eldon, I am Mr. Allen and Mr. Earl’s executive assistant, and as such I will be running this meeting. Please, have a seat,” he indicated the chair at the other end of the table from Elgort, who sat slowly back down in his own chair, leaning his cane up against the edge of the table.

  “But sir…” said Dexter, trying again to interject.

  “Later,” Negron said dismissively.

  “I’m sorry,” Don said, looking around. “Shall I call for more chairs? We didn’t realize you would bring such a large retinue,” he added, looking around at the big men.

  “Actually,” replied Negron in an even voice, “I seem to have misplaced some of my associates. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. It’s a very strange day. We chose this location thinking it would be unthreatening to you and safe to us, and instead we find the place full of politicians and police.”

  “I hear also there was a robbery,” said a man next to Negron, the first of his henchman
to speak. On closer scrutiny, he was a few inches shorter than the others, and a few decades older. Both he and Negron seemed to be about fifty years old. His accent was heavier than his boss’s, and his eyes darted quickly around the table, assessing risk.

  “Yes, unprecedented. Hopefully nothing too important missing. Chairs?” Don offered again, trying to move things along.

  “No thank you, Mr. Allen, we will be fine.”

  “Eldon.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s Francis Eldon.”

  “Eldon, Allen, Earl. It’s all so confusing for a poor foreigner like myself.” He sat down at the head of the table, his associate sitting next to him. This left an empty seat on each side of the table, one between Dexter and Negron, and one between the other man and myself.

  “Your English is flawless, sir, let me assure you,” Don laid it on thick, which seemed to be just the way Negron was used to being addressed, because he visibly preened at the praise.

  He gestured to his left.

  “This is my close associate, Alejandro Luis.” The man nodded around the table.

  Negron then seemed to notice me for the first time. He smiled broadly.

  “And you, my dear. Forgive my manners in the confusion of so many introductions. Are you an Allen, or an Eldon, or perhaps an Alden?”

  I matched his smile with my best.

  “I’m a Wrigley.”

  “Like the—“

  “—stadium.”

  “—chewing gum?”

  “Or chewing gum,” I said, amiably.

  “And what is your position in this intriguing organization?”

  If he says secretary I’m going to kill him. I won’t even open the pencils, I’ll just use them to poke out his eyes.

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Oh, how delightful!”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “No, not really, but you are very pretty, so I did not want to offend.”

  “Senor Negron, I must interrupt,” said Dexter, by now disturbed by the knowledge that we had played him, and were now clearly up to something more than setting up a business deal.

  Uncle Elgort spoke for the first time since sitting down.

  “I think Mr. Dexter is anxious to give you your diamonds back,” he suggested.

  Dexter’s face blanched, his droopy chin drooping further as his mouth fell open in panic.

  “No, it’s them, señor, they—”

  “You have my diamonds for me, Jared?” asked Negron, holding out his hand.

  “No! It’s them, they can’t be trusted!” His voice rose in pitch and volume. “They will betray you!”

  Negron laughed. “Betray me? But we don’t even have a partnership yet. They cannot possibly betray me. You, however,” he said, raising his right pointer finger in the air. Instantly one of the largest of the henchman was at his side. Negron pointed at Dexter and the big guy moved around behind the poor man, who’s mouth was now flapping like a fish. “You and I do have a partnership, and that included you laundering my diamonds for me. Is it possible that you lost them at the laundromat?”

  The large man leaned down slightly and snaked his big right arm around Dexter’s neck, pulling back firmly. Dexter grabbed at the forearm with both hands, but he’d have better luck lifting a telephone pole.

  “Salerno,” he hissed. “She took them, I swear.”

  Negron shook his head slowly. “Oh no, Jared. No, no, no. I have my own arrangement with Selena, so I know that you are lying. And now, now I know that you will lie and put another member of our team in harm’s way to further your own purposes. I’m afraid our partnership is over.”

  He made a dismissive flicking motion with his hand, and Henchman Number One started to choke Dexter harder. We all sat up in alarm, but it was Elgort who spoke first.

  “Please, Mr. Negron. We need to keep a low profile here in the Institute, especially today. Disposing of a body would not be easy, and would draw the sort of attention we don’t need.”

  Negron seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded at the henchman, who released his grip. Dexter flopped forward, smacking his already bruised cheekbone on the hard table, unconscious but seemingly still alive.

  I didn’t really have much of a part in this negotiation, but now seemed like a good time to step in.

  “Gracias, Señor Negron. It is very possible that we will need Mr. Dexter’s services again in the future, as he has excellent contacts in the city government.” I smiled. “I’m sure a man with your business reach understands the importance of that.”

  “But of course.” He made another motion, and the henchman picked Dexter up under the arms and carried him away from the table, depositing his slumping body in one of the auditorium seats.

  Don took this opportunity to get the conversation going again.

  “Actually,” he began, “I think it’s only fair to tell you that Mr. Dexter was quite right about a couple of facts.”

  Both Negron and Alejandro Luis focused their attention on Don as he continued. “First, we do not currently have a partnership, and to be honest, we did not invite you to this meeting to offer you one.”

  “No?” Negron’s dark eyebrows went up.

  “No. We would like to offer you a straight-up sale agreement.”

  “Sale of what?” asked Luis. “What are you selling? Protection? We do not need protection.”

  “No,” said Don, “you misunderstand. We are not selling, we are buying.”

  “You want to increase the number of guns?”

  “No, we want to buy your business. Outright. We want you to stop operating in Chicago.”

  Luis snorted.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Negron spat. “We came here for this nonsense?” At the edge of the space, the eight guards that Negron had brought to the meeting heard the change in his voice and suddenly became alert. From my viewpoint, I could see several of them reach for their empty holster, and see the frustration register on their faces. I looked to my right and saw Elgort’s right hand slide down and into his pocket. Meanwhile, his left hand rested gently on the brass head of his cane.

  “Please,” said Don, holding up both hands in a calming gesture. “Please, sir. My research suggests that you are a keen business man, so please let me walk you through our proposal before you say no.”

  “Why should I listen to you? I don’t even know who you are, and you try and scare me off. Pfft!”

  Don nodded, staying smooth.

  “A reasonable objection. First, let me say that we are wealthy, and it is in both our best interests if you move your operation to a different city, any city. We don’t care, as long as it’s not Chicago. You are making probably only fifty to sixty thousand dollars a month selling guns through Dexter to the bangers in the city.”

  Negron glanced at Luis, who nodded.

  “There’s a limit to that market, there’s only so many guns that people can buy before you reach a saturation point. I know,” Don said, holding up his hand to halt Luis’s interjection. “I know, the plan is to buy back those guns and sell them again, over and over. But you can see how that very plan precludes the need for a fresh supply of guns. That’s why we’d like to offer you four million dollars to cease operations anywhere in Chicago.”

  Luis snorted. “You forget sir, other opportunities. What Mr. Dexter referred to as ancillary avenues.”

  “You mean bringing in drugs, trafficking, et cetera?” asked Elgort.

  “I’m sorry, that will be our purview as well,” said Don flatly. “But we have something for you that will both assuage your financial loss and also be a small demonstration of our resourcefulness.” He nodded at me.

  I reached into my inside suit jacket pocket and pulled out the pouch of diamonds. Slid them down the table. They were the real ones. I couldn’t take a chance on Negron or Luis being a diamond expert and blowing the whole scene on the spot, just to satisfy my attraction to those white, sparkly, beautiful diamonds.

  Luis
drew one out of the bag and held it up to the light, nodding.

  “This is not so big a deal,” he said, “stealing from Dexter. He is not very formidable.” He handed the bag to Negron.

  “Sure,” I said, turning to look at him, “but have you met Selena Salerno? Cause she wanted those back badly.”

  Negron looked at me with a little twinkle in his eye. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill me or kiss me. Maybe both.

  “Surely,” said Elgort in his stately voice. “There are other places where your business acumen could be put to use. Places where you do not have a small but potent contingent determined to make things difficult for you. It just makes sense. And, four million dollars plus the diamonds is a very fair price. It is our first and best offer.”

  “Your first and best offer?” Negron threw his hands up in the air. “Is that a threat?”

  “Well,” said Don, keeping an eye on the group of henchman, who seemed to have edged a bit closer, fanning out behind Negron’s chair like sentinels. “it’s not exactly a threat, it’s just that it’s better than our second or third offer.”

  “You make no sense,” said Luis. “Why would your second offer be worse? Why wouldn’t we just take what we want. You’ve shown no real ability to be a threat to us.”

  “Is that what you’d like,” said Elgort, coldly and calmly. “A demonstration of our power?” There was a steely glint in his eye.

  “Si,” said Luis. “We frankly are not so far impressed.”

  Don turned from him and addressed Negron.

  “Antonio, your secretary seems a little put out.”

  Oooh, go Don. Switching to first name and insulting Luis all in one little sentence. The man belonged on the stage.

  “But I’d like to remind you that not all power is physical power. Yes, you have some impressive henchmen, and I’m sure there are hundreds more like them back where you come from. But we come from here. Chicago. We draw our power from here, and will always have resources here unknown to you.”