The low-profile watercraft was now pulled deep inside the mangroves and didn’t present a profile to anyone going by on the water or flying overhead. Obviously Carducci was not home but was probably going to be there in a few days because he saw the maid come in with a lot of shopping and the guards setting up outdoor furniture and opening shutters. He took careful note of all activities that involved the house. There were only a couple of frequent visitors: the supervisor of the security team and a mailman who went only to the box at the front gate. Other than that there were no pool cleaners or even a maintenance person; all that was done by one of the guards who was also a handyman of sorts.
Today he would have to take a risk. He was going to paddle around the beach front of the house because he didn’t have a proper view from where he was and he didn’t want to walk on the beach not knowing what kind of security, if any, was on that front. He waited until four in the afternoon, took off his camouflage, and put on a Michael Jackson Lives T-shirt and shorts. He wiped his face and put on sunblock all over it, sunglasses, and a Nike cap. As he turned to go parallel with the beach he could see the biggest front of the house, its huge windows, the terrace, and the deck around what appeared to be the pool.
The beach itself was sparsely populated. Just a couple of small groups with beach chairs, some runners, a couple of older folks walking hand in hand and a woman watching two young children play. The next people were south about a couple hundred yards and they were surf anglers with several rods set up. The distance to the house from the water was about three hundred feet and some very small dunes with sparse grass separated the two. Testa could guess that there were all sorts of perimeter sensors that were not visible but sure to be active. He could not use binoculars but he imagined there were at least two cameras scanning the beach from somewhere on the roof. From all points the house seemed impenetrable, but if there is a will there is a way and he would continue his vigil until God in his wisdom decided to show it to him. For Testa the wait was a simple penance to strengthen his faith.
He was staying in a cheap motel on 441 and eating all his meals at low-end diners where he was sure no surveillance cameras were recording him. He only went once to a pawn shop to sell a one-ounce gold coin but had kept his cap and sun glasses on. The Pakistani suspected he was in some difficulty and after haggling paid him only one thousand dollars; two thirds of its real value. What he didn’t see was the ATM in the corner of the shop. It had taken his image and sent it to a database of the BB&T bank to which the machine belonged. On a routine run of the footage his image generated a flag and was sent to the FBI automatically. The seventy percent match to a wanted individual did not generate a rush for the doors. It shuffled along the bureaucratic railway until it reached the office of an eager FBI agent fresh out of Quantico who looked at everything so that he could find a shining comet to whose tail he could adhere. The flag on this individual was placed by no less a heavenly body than Very Special Agent Joseph Delany Jr. whose exploits and success were now legendary in the agency. Toby Carson worded his message very carefully making sure that it was directed to his immediate boss but copied to Agent Delany as the originating authority. If well presented it would prompt the attention he wanted and Delany would get in touch with him directly.
Idhaya Bupta, the young hacker who became the IT director at Francisco Lujan’s Bogotá systems and eavesdropping complex had brought two more young prodigies, a socially challenged Polish kid who set up the most inviolable protection system based on nano-mechanics and a hacker from China who could circumvent the NSA and sit on their laps without leaving but a faint trace of his visit. The Bogotá complex was set up to leach from the most aggressive diggers that exist, NSA, CIA, Chinese Security, the French and Brazilian governments. Some secondary operators also contributed; Iran, Israel and Saudi Arabia had robust systems but were not universal like the others. This complex generated information that The Board and its members requested and everything on some subjects that were permanent flags. This worked much like Google Alerts but went directly to the source rather than electronic publications. The system had been tracking the biometrics search by the FBI of the notorious Monsignor Testa and the seventy percent recognition post popped up on a screen in Bogotá. Flagged for Francisco Lujan, he had been pinged seconds after it had showed and he brought up on the screen this photo plus the other three that had been used as basis for the search. He studied them closely but could not be sure it was the same person. To the eye this individual had nothing to do with the others. The shape of the face was square, the ears different, the nose thinner, yet the machines had found seventy percent reliability that it was the same person. He decided to do a reverse check and had his people hack and run the Inter-Agency Biometrics facial recognition system that searches all the databases to match a photo. After only two hours the system had run through tens of millions of photographs and found only one more photo, and this one was only sixty two percent match reliability. The interesting thing was that it came from a camera at a 7-Eleven not two blocks from where the other one was taken: Sarasota, Florida, just off highway 441. It was too much, too soon for Francisco to be complacent about his daughter’s safety. He prepared a brief and sent it to Marco and Patricia. Not satisfied with this, Francisco had his IT people do a search in all of Europe and the Middle East. An hour later he had the file on one Claude Petite, citizen and resident of the Principality of Monaco, a man in his late thirties with a distinctive white swatch of hair, widower and numismatic broker in a small scale. His life was well documented for the last ten years since he opened his coin exchange in the lobby of the Grand Hotel. The problem was that the biometrics comparative of the photo taken in Florida and the one from the official files in Monaco did not match more than fifty percent. The damned priest was back!
Delany received the full documentation on Claude Petite from Marco Carducci and was astonished that he could have outdone the most sophisticated law enforcement software, yet there it was in black, white, and full color. There was no doubt in his cop mind; Enrico Testa and the man in the ATM photo that the kid had sent to his attention were one and the same. A search of Immigration entries showed nothing for a Claude Petite from Monaco anytime in the last year, so the guy had crept into the US like the vermin he was. Further inquiries by Interpol found the real Claude Petite in a monastery a few miles from Barcelona. Delany called Amiable Manning and gave him a heads up on the priest and decided that a few days in Florida would not hurt. Funny enough, so did Manning; he hadn’t seen the ocean in years and with his latest success he would be given ample leeway to pursue his suspect. Each man called their corresponding people in Sarasota; Delany called the local FBI SAC and Amiable called the Chief of Detectives at the Sarasota PD. Both were very circumspect, or secretive in the nature of their mission. Delany did share with Marco Carducci his travel plans and they agreed to meet as soon as Delany got to Sarasota.
Marco and Patricia had one more meeting with Ian Carlo and Ernie before flying to Florida, and made them aware of Testa’s return. Major Allen was briefed and his contact in the SPD let him know that a detective from Kansas City was following up on a clue to a murder related to the suspect Allen was inquiring about. They were to meet with Delany in two days and they wanted to review the security of the house and meet with Major Allen. They wanted this to come to a head. If the priest was there they would flush him out. Ian Carlo and Ernie agreed with them and suggested they take some re-enforcement from New York but both Marco and Patricia rejected the idea. Their people were enough; Luigi, Pete, Jose, and Cucho would be there, plus Allen Security’s full contingent. It was time to confront the monsignor and finish this once and for all.
When Delany got to Florida, the SAC and a contingency of four agents were at the airport waiting for the VIP. They were at the door as he disembarked and took Joseph to the Ritz-Carlton where they had secured a suite for him. On the way he briefed them on the subject of his pursuit and made them aware of the extreme danger that Tes
ta presented. Now they had an extensive background on Monsignor with details of his Special Forces and NSA activities. This guy was a force to contend with. At the FBI Sarasota office they mapped the points at which the two CCTV takes of the suspect were located and they decided on a search of all the hotels, motels, and boarding houses within a two mile radius of them.
They would use local police to extend and accelerate the search and that was how Delany found himself in the company of Amiable Manning, who was at the time coordinating a similar effort. A meeting of all interested parties of the FBI, the SPD and Amiable Manning produced a plan that was put into practice immediately. Uniformed, plainclothes, and undercover cops were deployed with photos of the suspect and divided into a grid that would visit possible locations where he could sleep, eat, or buy food. An action force including Agent Delany, Detective Manning, and local SWAT were ready to deploy on contact.
When Enrico Testa got off the bus about half a block from his motel he noticed the patrol car at the front office and decided to wait at a local café while he observed. Then two men, obviously cops, walked up to the cashier and started a conversation that Testa did not want to witness. He slipped out through the kitchen to the service alley behind the joint and walked towards a municipal parking lot about a block away. He walked along the rows of cars and tested a few that appeared to be unlocked. He was lucky on the third try. A Pontiac G5 had been left unlocked by its owner who was either a scatterbrain, in a hurry, or had grown complacent because of Sarasota’s low crime. Testa needed about thirty seconds to hotwire the car and drove away from this location at the speed limit so as not to attract attention. His cover was blown. No doubt about that. They had pinpointed his location and he could not afford to go back there. Fortunately all his documents and money were with him in an impermeable fanny pack. His gold and diamonds were stashed in a locker at a local gym where he had paid for membership for a year in advance. He visited the place frequently and was satisfied it was safe. Now he needed a place to stay and plan his next move, knowing well that his target would be aware and prepared, but God’s will was clear and no amount of obstacles were going to deter him. He went to a Dick’s Sporting Goods and bought a small tent, a sling spear gun, a lantern and a cooler, a tropical sleeping bag and a hunting knife, two cord saws and camouflaged clothes to replace those lost at the motel. He also bought a case of energy bars and about two pounds of beef jerky, pepperoni sticks, and a case of water. Then he parked the stolen car close to an Avis office and rented a vehicle with one of the IDs he had bought in Colombia.
He went to pick up his kayak and other equipment at Kayak Haven and drove to Gulf Beach Campground, where he rented a pitch for a week. Now he was far away from the place where the cops would be looking. He went to the nearest CVS Pharmacy and bought hair bleach so that he could make all his hair white, not just the tuft. Finished with these ministrations he went to a Best Buy and bought a cheap tablet. At a Starbucks he got online and sent one email to “mercenary’s online” and in ten minutes had an answer and a price. He would have three people for what he needed; a short action and retreat that would not compromise the mercs; $30,000 up front transferred to an account in Portugal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
M&M arrived at the second-level terminal almost at the same time as Marco and Patricia were taxiing into the hangar at Sarasota’s International Airport. M&M did not fly private aircraft. He actually liked commercial and had met a lot of promising young prospects among the crews and fellow passengers. As he walked out of the concourse he saw a Latin-looking man holding up a large bag of M&Ms. He appreciated Marco’s sense of humor and walked towards the man. He simply said hello and handed the man his claim ticket. In a few minutes they were on their way to meet Marco at the FBO that hangared the Bombardier. Marco was reminded instantly of Robin Williams in The Bird Cage. The similarity of physical appearance and mannerisms was uncanny. M&M was quite a character and Marco had to remind himself that he was in front of a very powerful, ruthless, and influential person. M&M shook hands with Marco and gallantly kissed Patricia’s hand
“I trust you had a good trip?” asked Patricia
“Most pleasant indeed,” said M&M in perfect British English. “Swiss Air does not disappoint and the hop over from Miami was just a tad inconvenient. I’m so looking forward to our meetings, and perhaps a few hours of fishing?”
“You are here at the very early part of the tarpon season in Sarasota. It peaks in June, but you can catch the first migrants that are sometimes the largest of the season, and there are snook and redfish in abundance…you’ll love it.”
“Oh my, I’m giddy with anticipation,” chirped M&M. “I brought some flies but could I impose on you for a rod?”
This made both Patricia and Marco laugh. “There are more rods than furniture at the house. You must remember.”
“Indeed I do. I just want to say that I’m so delighted that the new Mr. Carducci and you have found each other. I know Sal has to be happy, wherever he may be…he and I fished in Cuba just a month before he passed,” said M&M thoughtfully. “People like us find few kindred souls in our journey.”
The trip to the house was uneventful and Matilde was at the door twittering with excitement. Luigi, Pete, and Jose took in everyone’s luggage and accommodated M&M in the guest house. They gave him plenty of time to rest and do his ablutions, and agreed to meet at the main house by the terrace bar at seven that evening. As soon as Marco arrived home he went to his office, checked emails, and called Special Agent Delany.
“Well, excellent timing,” he said. “I’m here in Sarasota trying to track down our dodgy monsignor. We located the place where he was staying and found what must have been most of his luggage but no documents, money, or weapons. We have the place staked out but I think he made the cops and skedaddled. I also think he’s still in the area. With the information at hand you could ask for police protection,” offered Joseph.
“No need, but thank you anyway.” They both knew that was a formality. “But I do think we should meet as soon as possible. I have someone here I’d like you to meet,” answered Marco.
“Funny you should say that. I have someone I would like you to meet. He’s a detective from Kansas City who was on the Meredith case and is looking for Testa also.”
“Well, what about dinner tonight, here at my house. I assume you have the address,” said Marco somewhat facetiously, knowing that Delany had been the head of a taskforce that had investigated him.
“That I do,” answered Joseph, “there is no one on your case right now so it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows in the wrong places. I’ll see you around seven?”
“Seven is fine, bring the detective,” said Marco and hung up.
Marco told Patricia about the call and asked her to tell Matilde it would be them, the two policemen, and M&M for dinner. The bodyguards would take their dinner in the kitchen.
“Inside or out on the terrace?” asked Patricia.
“Let’s do this inside just in case. I’ll talk to Luigi about security. I want cellphone jammers and reverberation scramblers just in case somebody is listening in.”
Ian Carlo, Ernie, and Samuel were deep into the details of the presentation they had prepared for the other families. Like in all other businesses, some had strengths and capabilities in one area, others in another It was important to present opportunities to each group’s expertise. Ian Carlo was surprised at the detail with which everything was put together. The accounting for the Carducci darker enterprises was done overseas by different accounting firms for different rackets. Bringing it all together in a cohesive and understandable format was a titanic enterprise. Ian Carlo realized that he had found in Samuel what Sal had found in Ernie. This would be most important when Ian Carlo took the step they were planning. These things were long term and even though Ernie was vital he was getting old and sooner rather than later he would be less effective. Fortunately Samuel was there to take up the slack.
“This brings
us to the most difficult part of the presentation,” Ian Carlo summarized for the umpteenth time to Samuel and Ernie. “Why am I doing this? I think we let greed get the better of these people and then we ask if what we’re thinking of has their approval. Respect goes a long way with these men, but greed goes a lot further. Here we feed both their demons.”
“Yes, and here are the rules of the game,” said Ernie, picking up from Ian Carlo. “If they approve, they get their part of your business; they all have to approve or no deal; if there is no deal, we go back to business as usual; the rules are put on the table before we present anything. Once that is clear we make our presentation and ask for their acquiescence. Then we all discuss your run for office and we show the advantages that they would have with their man in office…whichever that may be. Then very tactfully we have to address the big question. Will they still be receiving the two major services from Carducci? Will they be able to convert their assets as they have been recently? Will they be getting quality merchandise at competitive prices?”
“I gave that a lot of thought,” said Ian Carlo, “and Marco came up with an idea. We explain to them that all movement is done by flash drives that can only be read on encoded laptops or tablets that have no connection to the web. If the encoding perceives external contact it automatically erases everything. New encoding is also done by flash drive on a regular basis. These drives are useless to anybody else that might get their hands on one. I can claim that it was the way I operated and that now they would be directly approached by the source, whoever they may be. The benefit to them will be obvious. It also gets me off the hook as to giving them my source. It’s simple really. We are adding the New York families to Tommy Lee and Maurizio Lorenzana and taking us out of the equation as far as they are concerned.”
The Carducci Convergence Page 30