by Annie Jocoby
But if the Garancinos were involved, especially her father…no bodyguard in the world would be able to protect us from that. The Garancinos were ruthless and lethal, not to mention cunning. They dispatched with their enemies with ease.
Neutralizing the father, therefore, was the only way to handle this situation. And that wasn’t going to be easy, even if Slade and I could convince Miguel to turn. Even if Slade and I got Miguel on the record on what Charlotte was doing. There still would be a gamble that Gianni would still show loyalty to his daughter over us, and that would mean that the whole plan would still backfire.
As intricate as this whole situation was, not to mention dangerous, I knew that it would still be better than the status quo – no matter the outcome. At least we were doing something to fight back. That was the main thing.
I reached my hand over to Slade. “I’m surprised that Charlotte hasn’t tried to call you.”
Slade shook his head. “Serena, you know me. I’m surprised that you wouldn’t have figured out that I got an entire new phone before I came down here. New number and everything. I could never trust that the whole phone didn’t have some kind of a bug in it, so I ditched it.”
That was a good thing, but, at the same time, it was a bad thing, too. Charlotte had no way of getting ahold of Slade, and she was probably going out of her ever-loving mind. That could possibly make her even more dangerous. But Slade was smart, too, for doing that – God forbid Charlotte would track us down here. She’d be waiting for us at Miguel’s compound for sure if that were the case.
Slade looked at me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Of course. Everything has to break our way, and I mean everything. One little thing happens that goes wrong, and all bets are off. The most that we can hope for is to convince Miguel not to tell Charlotte that we were down here, if this plan doesn’t go through. I suppose that could work if Charlotte has no way of tracking you.”
Slade nodded his head. “You make a point. If Miguel won’t jump, and we say no harm, no foul, I suppose I could pay him to keep quiet about us paying him a visit. That might be the only way yet to save our necks here.”
I had to smile. Could our necks be saved at all?
I decided to make some small talk to take our minds off the situation at hand. “You know, Derek was fired. Thanks for doing that.”
Slade reached his hand and it covered my own. “That was the first thing that I did, of course. I didn’t want you to be subjected to that asshole for one more day. Charlotte was okay with me doing that, because, after all, she got what she wanted, which was me. That’s all that really mattered to her. She was just fine with Derek getting gone, because he ceased to be useful to her. That’s how Charlotte is – she uses people and then discards them when they no longer serve her purpose. She’s such a crazy, crazy bitch.”
“You think?”
“Oh, yeah. I think.”
We finally ended up on the edge of the compound. Standing by the edge of the gate were two men in army fatigues and black berets on their head. They both were over six feet tall, and built like brick shit-houses. They carried high-powered AR-15s, and they both looked at us suspiciously.
One of the men came up to the car and spoke in rapid Spanish. I looked over at Slade, not understanding a word.
Slade, however, nodded his head and spoke back in rapid Spanish. The conversation didn’t seem at all heated, though, so I held my breath and said a little prayer. I closed my eyes and tried to tune into the vibrations of the man with the gun, and I felt that he wasn’t angry or suspicious. He simply was asking questions, a lot of them, and I knew why. He obviously didn’t let just anyone in through these gates. If he did, I would imagine that his boss, Miguel, would soon be dead.
I heard the name “Santino,” come out of Slade’s mouth. I was amused that Santino’s name was spoken with a Spanish accent, as Slade’s accent seemed to be spot-on. He grasped my hand and looked at me briefly. I could tell, by his expression, that things were going to be okay, at least for the time being.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the guy in the beret let us go on through the gates. Slade waved at the guy, and the guy waved back in a friendly gesture. “Gracias,” Slade said, the one word that I knew.
“De nada,” the guy said with a smile. Then he said, in broken English, “Good luck.”
As we drove on the dirt road that led to the compound, I turned to Slade. “What was that all about?”
Slade shrugged. “Nothing. He was just questioning me on why I was there. I told him that Santino had sent us, and that seemed to change everything. From there, we just talked about what I planned to say to Miguel, and I just said that I was going to try to negotiate a business deal. I didn’t explain to him the details, of course. I don’t think that he really wanted details. Going through him was really just a formality. After he heard the name ‘Santino,’ he was ready to let us go on through.”
I guessed that Santino had quite a relationship with this Miguel person. I didn’t know that Santino was so trusted, but I was certainly happy that he was. Of course.
“Okay,” Slade said to me. “Well, we’re through the first phase of this. We’re through the gates, and we’re heading to the main house. Chico, the man that I just spoke to, just radioed ahead to Miguel that we’re going to meet with him, so he’s going to be expecting us.” Slade swallowed hard. “It’s now or never. Gut-check time. Either we get what we want, or…”
I nodded my head. “Or we don’t, and we just made things worse. After all, even if Miguel agrees to keep quiet about this whole thing, that doesn’t get us out of the woods. Charlotte is going to be wondering where you are, and you know that she’s going to highly suspect that you’re with me. She’s going to go through the roof.”
“Well, we gotta go in there with confidence and swagger,” Slade said, and I smiled. Confidence and swagger were definitely two qualities that came naturally to him. “Make the case, and then see what happens.”
“Yeah,” I said, “if he doesn’t kill us first.” Who knows? Maybe he was so loyal to Charlotte that he would give us both bullets in the head as soon as we got in the door. Slade and I were certainly flying blind, in a way.
We finally got up the house, after following a dirt road for what seemed like miles, and the dirt road turned into a paved one that led smoothly into a circle drive. I marveled at how “ordinary” Miguel’s house seemed. Not ordinary in that it wasn’t opulent, because it certainly was. It was Spanish-style, and enormous. Large windows that curved elegantly. Spanish tiles on the roof. It was stucco, and seemed to be at least three stories tall. The door was enormous and heavy, and there was a bird that was carved into it. In the middle of the circle drive was an enormous fountain that had a statue of two little children, with water jugs, and these water jugs were what appeared to be pouring out the water for the fountain.
In all, this house seemed like it would be owned by a wealthy patron of the arts, maybe, or perhaps a movie director who had unusually elegant taste. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. After all, this mansion was owned by a drug King-pin. I imagined, before we got to the house, that it would be something that was gaudy. Enormous, but not with tasteful architecture and appointments.
When the door opened, after we knocked, and a small and rotund lady in a maid’s uniform opened it, I was further amazed by how the house was laid out inside. It looked, for all the world, like an art museum. The top ceiling was a good fifty feet above the floor where we stood, and it was an open-air design. On the top of the ceiling was a mural that looked like it was a stellar replica of a famous Renaissance painting, or a series of Renaissance paintings. Angels, devils, gods and mortals all convened above our heads in perfect detail. The floor beneath us was a tan marble, with patterns running throughout.
While the ceiling was fifty feet above our heads, there also were, to the side, floors that surrounded us on the side. It was like the center of this first roo
m was an atrium, and the floors were on the sides of it. Like a hotel. In the center of the foyer, or whatever this first room was, was another huge fountain, surrounded by couches, tables and chairs, which were tastefully and strategically placed. On the walls were more paintings – some looked like they were Chinese, as they featured Chinese houses, mountains and people. Others looked Renaissance. Still others looked modern. Despite the fact that the art work in this room was diverse, everything seemed to flow together seamlessly. Nothing seemed to clash, but, because everything was strategically placed, it all came together beautifully.
And, everywhere we looked, there were crucifixes. They were both in the paintings that we saw, and on the walls. Yet, they didn't look like they were out of place. Like everything else, they blended in beautifully with the décor.
In all, I had to admit, I admired this guy’s aesthetic. He might have been a ruthless drug dealer, but he certainly seemed to have a soft, feminine side to him. The beauty and tranquility that surrounded us in that house told me that Miguel was somebody who prided himself on his image and had a cultured aesthetic.
I wondered if all that could be used. Maybe he would be somewhat reasonable, after all. I tried not to get sucked into what the vision of the house might mean, but my mind was turning over the possibilities. He cared about image, he cared about beauty, and his mind seemed to be much more subtle than I had given him credit for.
I cleared my throat and looked over at Slade. “This place is like a museum,” I whispered to him. “Literally.”
Slade nodded. “It certainly is. I’m not surprised, but, at the same time, I kinda am. After all, he’s not married. At least I don't think that he is, from what you've told me. He does have a daughter, though. The daughter is sixteen, so I doubt that she hired an interior decorator to design this place.”
I suddenly knew that, along with the offers we were going to give Miguel, that we should sweeten the pot with one more thing – flattery. Since this guy obviously had taken such pride to make sure that this house looked just how he wanted it, even going so far as to apparently appoint a decorator and art curator for the job, he could probably be swayed by some smooth talk.
It made sense, really. After all, this was a man who had enough of a sensitive side that he was swayed by offers to help his daughter. That was the deal-maker, apparently. That meant that this Miguel wasn't your typical thug. This was confirmed by looking at this house.
I suddenly felt more calm about meeting this guy. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt that Slade and I just might have a chance. I looked over at him and then closed my eyes. I felt that he looked calm, and he felt calm as well.
I hoped that we weren't having false hopes.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but probably was only minutes, a woman came to see us. "Ola," she said, and then proceeded to speak in perfect English. There was a slight accent, but, other than that, she seemed to be extremely fluent. "Mr. Sanchez will see you now." She nodded her head slightly and motioned for us to follow her.
I took an enormous breath and got up from my seat. I held Slade's hand as we followed this woman. She looked back at us and smiled. She was really quite beautiful – black hair, hazel eyes, slight frame and her smile lit up the room. I had no idea who she was, but she was trying to make us both feel comfortable, so that was another good sign.
It seemed like we went through an enormous maze, but, finally, we were directed to a room. It was an ornate room, classically designed like the rest of the house. Red carpet, dark wood paneling, but the ceiling was a good twenty feet high and decorated with a Renaissance style mural. A small man was sitting behind a large desk. He seemed to be fortyish, dark-skinned, with a large nose and pock marks on his face. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, as if he was waiting for some high-powered attorney to meet him. In his pocket was a little handkerchief that was multi-colored. And, like with the rest of the house, this room also had a crucifix.
He smiled broadly as we walked through the door. He extended his hand, and Slade and I shook it. He offered his hand to Slade first, which told me that he probably was more interested in doing business with Slade then with me. This was in keeping with the paternalistic nature of the country, I knew, and Miguel struck me as also being paternalistic. I just got that vibe from him.
"Hello," he said, "You must be Slade and Serena." He nodded. "I understand that you wanted to talk to me about a business agreement."
I took a deep breath and looked over at Slade. He looked at ease as Miguel motioned for the two of us to sit down in the chairs that are in front of the desk. Slade sat down, and I did as well, although I felt slightly uneasy. I certainly felt more uneasy than Slade seemed to be. As I closed my eyes, though, and tuned into Slade's vibrations, I felt that his outward calm was simply a façade. Internally, he was churning.
"Yes," Slade said to Miguel. "I hope you don't mind if I get down to business. I know that you're a busy man, so I want to take as little of your time as possible."
Miguel nodded his head. "I am a busy man, as are you. I understand that you are the CEO of Bridgewell Industries. Very impressive."
"I am," Slade said. "You've done your homework."
"I have. As I'm sure you have done the same with me."
Slade nodded his head. I was sure that Miguel knew more about Slade then Slade knew about him, though. I studied Miguel and I realized that he probably knew quite a bit about Slade. Perhaps it was because he did his homework on Slade, or maybe it was just because of Slade's notoriety with the murder case. Or maybe it was because Slade had always been something of a minor celebrity, mainly because he was a handsome billionaire who routinely squired actresses and super-models. Maybe it was combination of these factors.
"Yes," Slade said. "I have."
I admired the way that Slade was able to act so comfortable and relaxed, even though I knew that he really wasn't inside. I supposed that this façade of his came in handy when he was trying to negotiate his business deals, because a poker face goes a long way towards getting what you want in the business world.
The two men studied one another for a few minutes, and then Miguel finally spoke. "Can I get you something to drink? Cristal, scotch, rum, vodka?"
"I'd like a Dewar's neat, thank you."
Miguel looked at me. "I'd like the same," I said. I didn't like to drink while I was trying to negotiate deals myself, but when in Rome...
Miguel poured us both a neat scotch, and I took a sip. It was smooth and high-dollar, which relieved me. I didn't enjoy drinking straight liquor usually, but this was tasty.
We all had our liquor and Slade was carefully sipping his. He needed to have a clear mind for what was at hand, so I knew that was why he was nursing his drink.
Slade finally cleared his throat. "Mr. Sanchez, I'd like to make a proposal to you. I understand that you have a shipment of some high-grade heroin and cocaine that you would like to provide to one of two families – either the Vichellis or the Garancinos."
Miguel narrowed his eyes. I knew why – he was sizing up Slade, trying to determine if Slade was on the up and up. For all Miguel knew, this whole thing could be just a trap for him. Granted, Santino set this whole meeting up, and I presumed that Santino was trusted by Miguel. But Miguel could never be too careful, I knew, as somebody in his position can never quite be sure that somebody isn't going to double-cross him.
He finally nodded his head imperceptibly. "Yes, that is true." He looked up at the ceiling, and I knew that there was something up there. Probably a person who would swoop down and gun down Slade and me if there was any kind of a hint that something was amiss.
Slade stood up, his arms crossed in front of him. He paced a little and put his hand on his chin. "Mr. Sanchez, I happen to know that you are getting ready to give your shipment to the Vichellis. I understand that Carlotta Garancino has been negotiating with you in an attempt to persuade you to go with the Vichellis over the Garancinos."
Miguel again narro
wed his eyes. "Yes, that is true. She has offered me something that money cannot buy. So, if you are here to try to persuade me to change my mind, I have to tell you that you are wasting your time."
At that, he looked up in the same area of the ceiling, and I started to feel uneasy. Were we about to be ambushed?
"I know what Carlotta has offered you, and I'm here to offer you something that can replace that, plus something more. Value-added, you might say."
Miguel nodded. "Value-added. That sounds interesting. I'll give you a hearing. Since you know what it is that Ms. Garancino has offered me, then I would imagine that your substitution will be just as effective. So, please, proceed Mr. Bridgewell."
"I understand that you have a young daughter who would like to break into Hollywood. Carlotta has promised you that, if you give your shipment to the Vichellis, she will help your daughter get a foothold in the movie industry. Mr. Sanchez, I do not think that you know much about Carlotta."
I thought it was a bit odd that Slade kept calling Charlotte "Carlotta," instead of referring to her as "Ms. Garancino," as Miguel was doing, but I figured that there was a reason for doing so.
"Yes," Miguel said, taking a sip of his drink. "You are correct. My daughter's name is Mandolina, and, as you note, she is a young girl. Only 16 years old." He got out his wallet and showed us a picture of the girl. She was gorgeous and curvaceous, with olive skin, dark eyes, black hair and delicate features. She had a beautiful smile, with straight teeth, full lips and high cheekbones. I had no idea how tall she was, but if she was at least 5'9", she could make it in the modeling world without a problem. The camera absolutely loved her. She was incandescent.
Slade studied the picture and looked at Miguel. "I can see from this picture that she has the physical profile that will take her far in Hollywood. I do not know her background, however. What sort of acting work has she done? What is she interested in?"
"She's interested in both modeling and acting. As you can see, she is very beautiful." He drew a breath and looked down at his glass. "As was her mother."