“Things always change. You make money when you’re ahead of the curve. That’s all I’m giving you.”
“What are the logistics on this, Ian Carlo?” He only called him Ian Carlo when things got very businesslike.
“You get four GPS points with one hour notice. You send trucks to all four points. Only one will pay off.”
“Okay, what about payment? COD or what?”
“No, Tommy, I’m giving you credit for the first shipment. I trust you. You get a shipment every few days. You pay in cash before the second delivery and so forth. I carry you for one full shipment. I’ll give you precise instructions for each payment. Pick up will always be the same; four points, one hour.”
Ian Carlo passed Tommy a flash drive. “Feed this into a clean lap top. No desktop and no computer that has Wi-Fi or is online in any way or at any time. It will erase after the first download so just throw it out or whatever, I don’t care. That gadget carries an algorithm that will decode the message that I send you to your email, which you will download in another computer and then port it to the laptop on a flash drive. That message has the details for pickup; use it once and that is all. You will get new drives for every deal. The same goes for payment, one drive, one set of instructions, and that’s it. We never talk about this again unless it’s face to face and I call the meeting. If you don’t show up for a pickup or a payment, the deal ends, Capice?”
“This is a lot of shit to move Ian Carlo, where am I allowed to sell?” asked Tommy while his mind was trying to calculate what all this meant.
“I don’t care, that’s your problem. All I can guarantee is that you will make money because I’m giving you the best price by far. How much you make? That entirely depends on you. Deal as you see fit but don’t make war where you don’t need it. Keep away from Texas and LA, those fucking gang bangers are crazy. New York and New Jersey are mine.”
“Deal,” said Tommy stretching his hand across the table. No more was needed. That deal was signed in blood.
“So…what’s good here?” Ian Carlo looked at the menu.
“I love the lamb, they cook it like you want and the flavor is incredible. Some scalloped potatoes and a wedge. That’s a hell of a meal.”
“Make that a double, medium rare for me. And since you’re buying get a decent bottle of wine or two.”
By the time Joseph Delany had compiled all the information on the sheik and downloaded the list of banks that he controlled, it was late in the day. The news of another murder in the rarified group where his father had dwelt and again chalked up to Cardinal Dupree by them most surely called to action; but what was there to do? The only reason that Mason and company knew who-done-it was because they had been into something that the cardinal found unforgivable, going with the sheik. But what proof was there, none that any law enforcement organization in the world would even consider, let alone investigate. There was no evidence, no fingerprints, no DNA, nothing. All police knew was that it had been murder by person or persons unknown. A Latino looking man had been seen leaving the premises. He looked like a third of the men in the US and about seventy percent of all men living south of the border all the way down to Chile.
Joseph Delany Sr. and Ana Meredith had died for dancing with the devil and then turning their backs on him. Dupree was not to be trifled with and they knew this all too well; and as powerful as they were the senators and the handful of congressmen who formed part of their circle were scared. How do you get rid of a Roman Catholic cardinal and who do you get to do it, thought Mason, and what were the consequences for them if they did get someone to whack the dammed priest? He had intimated that if anything happened to him every one in their group would go down with him and he had sent small samples of the information he had on each one of them. Samples that were more than enough to end any political career and they all knew there was a lot more, from sexual indiscretions to straightforward larceny and in a couple of cases, murder. Dupree had them by the balls and they knew it.
When Ana Meredith had decided to go with the sheik and dump Dupree’s network the only one present of their group had been Mason and he did not have much pull with Ana. The money was hers. She was a brutal force on her own and now she was dead, murdered in her bedroom. A bedroom in what was supposedly a secure house with CCTV cameras, perimeter security, and service staff and only by luck alone the possible perpetrator had been seen by some Mexican gardeners. Mason was thinking out loud going through all this when he suggested that maybe he knew someone that could help. He would call a fixer with whom Delany had worked and was supposed to be absolutely reliable in the most difficult circumstances.
Amiable Manning was sitting in his cubicle thinking. While all the higher-ups were busy finding an ass to kiss and noise to make, he was thinking. There had to be a lead and he knew it was staring him in the face; he just had to put a finger on it, and as the commotion around him that included calls to Interpol, the FBI, and even the CIA subsided to background noise, a bit of light blinked in the back of his mind. He called the support office of the department where ten officers ground away at leads requested by the detectives and asked them to get copies of all the car rental contracts of the last 24 hours from locations around the airports, bus terminals and train stations within a perimeter of a hundred miles; he wanted copies of the driver’s licenses and credit cards. He sat back and continued thinking.
Marco had been busy on the phone with Leon Goddard; he wanted to know what the position was in regards to the multimodal transport division. He was told that it was networked into every significant transporter by any means in the western world and most carriers elsewhere. They could transport anything anywhere at a competitive rate. Marco gave Leon a long list of corporations in the United States, Canada, Puerto Rico and several South American countries, also one in New Zealand and one in Australia. He told Leon that their business should be pursued at all cost. All those companies were affiliated with Meredith. Most were grain and meat exporters, cold storage manufacturers, animal feed producers, oil and coal companies, and mining enterprises and so on; all of them in need of fast efficient and economical logistics. He had been buried in business all morning and had declined a fishing trip to the flats with Patricia.
She had spent the morning working with the manager of her father’s wine business. She was pleased to hear that they had secured large contracts with Costco and Global Wine in the USA and with the world’s largest wine retailer in Britain, Tesco. This assured about fifty percent of the output and allowed the companies to hold strong prices on the better vintages that would be sold to smaller and more discerning retailers. Business was interrupted by a light lunch of poached salmon and avocado salad which they shared on the deck and returned to their respective offices shortly after. Marco now used the office that had been Sal’s and Patricia used her own. Marco slept in the guest quarters and had insisted that Patricia take the main house. The arrangement was not what either desired but it was what their sense of propriety dictated, hard as it was to conform.
“Yes, Senator, we are on a secure line. I don’t think even the NSA can break my scrambler, but as always discretion is advised.”
“Yes, Senator, I know who you are talking about. I’m very aware of him. He casts a long shadow. What would you wish me to do in respect of this person?”
“I understand what you are saying, Senator. I have to evaluate the consequences and get back to you on this.”
“No, Senator, I didn’t say it can’t be done. I’m saying that I must evaluate consequences much wider than those immediate to the event.”
“I understand that delicate documents have to be retrieved before termination. That is one of the things I must consider carefully.”
“Yes, I will get back to you as soon as possible. Expect a call before tomorrow evening, your time.”
M&M hung up. Pressed a button and heard the conversation all over again. This was panic, he thought. Panic in the minds of those elected not to panic. He saw no poss
ible advantage to act on the senator’s behalf now that their pockets were not so deep and politicians cannot be trusted to return a favor. He decided that deep meditation was needed so he went to his tying desk, put a hook in the vise and began winding thread over the shank, but had not decided yet what pattern he was going to tie. He would not mind if his hands improvised while his mind was elsewhere.
With the help of two officers, Amiable Manning had cut the pile of interesting car rentals to nine men, all Latino in appearance and name. Five had rented at the airport, two at the train station and two at a bus terminal. He rapidly eliminated four of those because they had returned the cars before the murder, then he eliminated two more because they were noticeably short and that would have been said by the witnesses. That left him with three candidates. This was a hell of a long shot, thought Amiable, but he had little else. He asked a patrol to bring in the witnesses and presented the license photos to them. One did not know anything; he was dead scared of the police, but the younger one, a kid of barely eighteen, pointed to the dark face on the driver’s license of one Joao Pernambuco, a Brazilian driver’s license to be precise. The kid was absolutely sure that he was the person he saw leaving the Meredith estate that afternoon, but Amiable knew that eyewitnesses were in most cases very unreliable.
“What the hell,” he thought, “at least it’s something to go with.”
He called Border Control and identified himself as a police officer following a murder investigation and for once got a cooperative person at the other end. An ICE officer named Maria del Carmen Hidalgo said she would get back to him on it and true to her word came back with an entry for Mr. Pernambuco, who had passed Immigration at the Atlanta Airport just two days ago. He had arrived from Santo Domingo on a Delta Airlines flight and declared a stay of ten days or less in the USA. He had been issued an entry for ninety days.
All Amiable could do at this stage was issue a POI, or person of interest BOLO, on Joao Pernambuco and see what came of it. The BOLO was sent to all car rental offices, Post Offices, law enforcement, airlines, bus companies, train operators, and hotel chains. He did so without telling his boss, who would immediately try to get approval from everyone including God himself so he could cover his ass in case it backfired. If this didn’t pan out he would issue an Amber Alert on the vehicle but that did involve a lot of paperwork so for the time being he waited.
Testa was packing his bag and listening to the local news when he saw his own face looking back at him from the screen. He paid attention for the thirty seconds that the bulletin lasted and decided what to do. He went methodically through the room wiping every surface including the door inside and out. He emptied the trash taking the plastic liner with its few contents and wiped the can. He destroyed the soap and sent it down the toilet, then he went over everything again. He walked half a block to a Walgreens pharmacy and bought some hair dye, a pack of cigarettes, a can of barbecue lighter fluid, and took a couple of clips of matches from a basket in the self-pay check-out. He then took a room at another cheap motel that asked no questions. He had a watch cap and dark glasses but the truth was that the Pakistani clerk didn’t even look at him. He took the thirty bucks for a two hour stay and handed over the key.
Enrico dyed his hair, took a shower wiped everything clean and made sure no hair was left in the drain or elsewhere. He destroyed this soap too and left the room leaving the key in the door after wiping it clean. He went back to the first motel and set up a fire bomb using the cigarettes, the barbecue lighter fluid and a stack of paper, including the Joao Pernambuco passport and other documents. He called a cab and when he saw it arrive lit the cigarettes, two of them to make sure, tucked them under the matches, soaked a towel in the fluid, poured the fluid all over the carpet and the bed and went to the cab. It took about three minutes to ignite the matches that lit the papers that lit the carpet, then the bed took and finally another minute for the fire alarm to go off. By then Enrico Testa was far away. The cab left him at the Greyhound bus terminal, where he took a shuttle to the airport. There a first class ticket to Rome via Atlanta was waiting for Mr. Theodor Miles of NYC. Joao Pernambuco was no more.
First, M&M called Francisco Lujan and let him know what was going on with Senator Mason, then they added Ernie Goldman to the conversation, and finally they added Marco. They decided not to include Joe Delany because Francisco did not trust cops. After a half an hour of discussion and consideration of different alternatives they decided on a course of action.
Amiable Manning was talking to the office manager at the motel. The fire had devastated half the building and the room where it started did not even exist as it had caved into the floor below. Only just after the fire was put out did the manager think that the man in that room looked a lot like the one that the police were looking for and now all he could tell the detective was that the man definitely was the one in the photo he was being shown and that he did not have a foreign accent. He was very embarrassed to say that he hadn’t asked for ID and that the man had paid for three nights in cash. What he did have was the car plates, but Manning already had those from the rental company. A day later a realtor would call the police about a car that had been abandoned at one of her properties and a point was connected to others. A neighbor who had nothing else to do remembered a man arriving in the car and then leaving on foot with a small suitcase on wheels. No description that could be of any use. A man in dark clothes was as much as she could remember. That same afternoon a girl about eighteen years old and mousey came to the precinct and asked for the detective in charge of the Brazilian man’s case. Eventually she was taken to Amiable Manning and he got his first break.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning Ian Carlo flew to Tampa from Vegas and checked in to the Hyatt and then left the building via the parking lot, where a SUV with Pete and two of his own men were waiting to take him to Sarasota. The drive is an easy one hour door to door and by 4:00 p.m. the two cousins were sitting with Patricia and a bottle of Prosecco. They spent the afternoon getting up to date with each other and what Francisco, Ernie, and Leon had for them. Joe Delany’s participation in this whole deal was discussed thoroughly. Ian Carlo was very wary of the man and insisted on a need-to-know policy with the agent. They had a leisurely dinner including the bodyguards because the perimeter was closed down by Allen Security and they could relax a little. Ian Carlo had a suite at the guest house the same as Marco and they only met for breakfast at nine. They spent most of the morning by the pool discussing a plan of action that Marco and Francisco had come up with and by noon Ian Carlo was totally with the idea, plus he understood why Marco was falling for Patricia. The woman in a bathing suit was a work of art.
The suite at the Hyatt had been occupied by one of his men who promptly left for the airport and flew to Teterboro about the same time as Ian Carlo boarded a NetJet that took him to La Guardia in the company of his two bodyguards. Security at his level was expensive, but worth every penny. Now it was time to play, he thought, and relished the plan that Marco had explained to him.
“I’m almost sure it was the same man,” said the little Walgreens customer service assistant. She said it in a squeaky voice at the verge of tears.
“Here, look at him again, and see if you can be sure,” insisted Amiable. “Now close your eyes and try to think of the moment you saw the man…Good. Now look at the photo again,” he asked the girl.
“Yes it was him, he wore a cap and sun glasses but I’m sure it was him. He had a deep tan that was not the color of his skin and I remember his ears; I always look at people’s ears.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you always look at peoples ears?”
The attendant looked down at her hands and didn’t answer,
“Tell me, Dale, why do you always look at people’s ears?” For some reason Amiable thought this was important.
“Because my mother always said that I had beautiful ears.”
Amiable
Manning understood instantly and his heart went out to this minuscule creature whose self-worth was hanging from this one feature of an otherwise unattractive whole. That was why she looked at ears…to think hers better and feel a little justification for her existence.
Amiable had no doubt. Dale had seen Ana’s murderer and had the civic consciousness to take a bus half way across town to give him his only clue.
“He bought some hair dye, caramel blond. He also got a big can of barbecue lighter, cigarettes, and took some matches. Those are free,” she added.
“What was he wearing?” asked Amiable Manning.
“Black cargo pants, dark grey T-shirt, and a dark jacket that was like those you take camping because they fit in a little bag. We sell them at the shop; $7.95 plus tax.”
“Anything else you can remember, Dale?”
“It was about an hour before the fire, you know…the motel down the block. It was very exciting.”
Amiable had one of the computer whizzes on his staff who was good with Photoshop make a new picture of Joao Pernambuco, making his hair a caramel blond. He sent the BOLO to all the logical places and to his surprise a couple of days later a Delta flight attendant –whose husband, an Atlanta police officer, had left his computer open to the photo of the POI – was sure that she had served him on a flight to Rome. The passenger in 4B had been identified as Theodore Miles, but after landing in Rome he had disappeared. No news from Interpol, but he didn’t expect any soon. Furthermore the official autopsy results came back showing that Ana Meredith had died of asphyxiation due to muscular paralysis, not from hanging, thus dissipating any doubt of murder. Blood tests showed the presence of D-Turbocurarine and Decamethonium. Both used as anesthetics, but in certain forms, deadly. Further examination found tiny titanium darts lodged in the aorta. They were being analyzed for traces of the chemicals.
The Carducci Convergence Page 20