by Annie Jocoby
I tried to get a read on Miguel, but I couldn't. There was something that was blocking me, so I had no idea what was going through his mind as he stared at the two of us.
We got out of the car. I knew that I was walking with trepidation, but Slade confidently strode towards Miguel. Slade had a smile on his face, and I once again marveled at how well he was able to cover up what he was actually feeling. "Hello again, Mr. Sanchez," Slade said. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us again."
Miguel regarded Slade with deep suspicion, yet motioned to a chair. "Sit down Mr. Bridgewell," Miguel said. "Let's talk."
Slade looked over at me and I nervously sat in another chair that Miguel had motioned to. I clasped my hands in front of me on the table and tried to stay quiet. Slade held all the cards in this, so I was going to let him do the negotiations.
Miguel began the conversation. "You know about my wife," he said. And then he nodded. "I am impressed. It certainly did not take you long to find out about her condition."
I let out a small sigh of relief. It seemed that Miguel wasn't angry with us for invading his wife's privacy after all.
Slade nodded his head. "I do. I'm very sorry to hear about her condition. I know that it's difficult for you."
Miguel didn't say anything for a long time. He stared at the horizon, and didn't move a muscle. Slade and I were sitting at the little table, silently. We both knew that Miguel was going to talk to us soon about what was going on. It was just a matter of time.
He finally spoke. "Marguerita's mother had the condition. For years. Couldn’t move or think by the end. Degenerated slowly but surely. Couldn't swallow, so had to eat through a tube. Couldn't stop...twitching. Jerking. Then her muscles would completely freeze. Those were the first signs. Then she couldn't speak. Wouldn't remember simple words. Forgot Marguerita's name. Wouldn't want to leave the house, and was in bed all the time. After about a year of that, Anita, my Marguerita's mother, saw a doctor. Did tests for a year before being diagnosed with this horrible disease."
He shook his head. "The seizures. The constant threat of suicide. The slow decline. It took its toll on everyone. Then she couldn't move at all, had to get the feeding tube, did not recognize anyone." He took a deep breath. "When Marguerita got her diagnosis, just last week, we agreed that we would have one year together. One good year, and then..."
I knew what was going to happen at the end of that year without Miguel even telling me. I knew that Marguerita and Miguel had agreed that she would have one year with him, and then she would commit suicide. Those words were unspoken, but they were written on his face. I felt for this man immensely.
"Where is Marguerita now?" I asked softly.
He shrugged. "She's in her bedroom," he said haltingly and softly. "She has good days and bad days. Mainly bad. It seems that things are progressing much faster than with her mother. I don't know..." He pinched the bridge of his nose as he evidently tried to hold back tears. "I hope that we can have our year."
Slade cleared his throat. "Mr. Sanchez, I think that I can help you. I cannot guarantee anything, though, except you have my word that I will commit tremendous resources to finding a cure for this disease. My company is already developing a promising therapy that has been shown to slow down the progression of this disease." He hesitated, and I knew why. I hated that he was going to make this whole thing contingent up on Miguel doing something for him. It didn't feel right to either of us, but that was what we were faced with.
Miguel looked at Slade. "What kind of therapies? I've searched the world. I know about the gene editing therapy, of course. I would imagine that is what your company is working with."
Slade sat up straighter. "How much would it be worth to you to have a guarantee that Marguerita will have a place in any clinical trial that shows promise? And how much would it be worth to you to have a person that you could call, day or night, and speak with about the advancements being made? To be able to have access, first access, to promising drugs and therapies before the general public?"
"Obviously, all of that would be worth more than all the money in this world to me. What are you saying?"
"Well, as you know, there's a process to getting a drug onto the market. My company often have drugs which are ready to come to market, but they're being reviewed by the FDA and have not yet been released to the public yet. The drugs have gone through all the protocols – the clinical trials, the peer-reviewed studies, the double-blind trials – but they have to go through the review process. In other words, they're really ready to go, but they're held up for months or years. Sometimes they're held up simply because of politics."
Miguel slowly nodded his head. "As you can probably imagine, I would do anything to be able to have access to any of these promising drugs as soon as they are available. To not have to wait for the screening process in your country."
Slade made a temple with his hands. "Mr. Sanchez, here is what I can offer you. I can agree to devote considerable resources towards finding a cure for this disease. $50 million at least. I can hire all the best researchers and pay them top dollar to concentrate on finding a cure. In the meantime, I can assure you that Marguerita will be first in line for any and all clinical trials that come up for promising drugs and therapies. And I can assure you that you can have access to any promising drugs before they hit the open market. All of that might, just might, buy time for Marguerita until a cure can be found."
Miguel appeared to contemplate Slade's words. He stared at Slade, and then stared at me, for what seemed like a long time. I drew a breath and said a little prayer to myself. Finally, he said "what do you want in exchange for this?"
Slade looked at me and then back at Miguel. "I would like you to give your shipment to the Garancinos. And I would like for you to tell Gianni Garancino what Carlotta Garancino has been doing. Tell him about how she has been working to convince you to give your shipment to the Vichellis and tell him why."
Miguel nodded his head. "What kind of reassurances can I get from you that you will be good as your word?"
"You have my word, but, of course, that is not necessarily good enough. I could execute a contract that both of us can sign. The contract will outline all the terms that I just stated. But, I can also understand if you do not want to sign a formal contract with me."
"Yes. It would be very difficult for me to take you to court to reinforce this contract. Of course." He blinked his eyes and then looked at the horizon again, his fingers clasped tightly together. "I enforce my agreements only one way, Mr. Bridgewell. I can only tell you that. In other words, if you do not execute the terms that we agree to, you will be executed instead."
"I understand that completely," I said. "But I would imagine that you would still like the agreement in writing."
In other words, there would be a contract, but a court would not be enforcing it. Miguel's gun would the enforcing agent. I expected that, but it still made me extremely nervous.
He nodded. "Draw it up for me with the terms that you just outlined. Know that if you fail to complete these terms, you will be terminated." Miguel was speaking in crisp terms, all business. It was in complete contrast with how he previously was speaking with us, which was much more emotional. "And I will meet your terms. I do not have any loyalty to Carlotta, although I am a bit sad that my daughter will not get the chance that she was promised."
He did look depressed at that thought, but he was able to shake it off rapidly. I knew why – seeing his wife suffer was tearing him up. He needed to give her hope, and, perhaps more importantly, he needed hope himself.
Slade cleared his throat again. "Mr. Sanchez, I know that I don't have the same degree of clout in the movie industry as does Ms. Garancino. But I do know quite a few people myself. I have many close friends in the business, including movie producers and directors. I also know quite a few agents. As I said, I do not have the quite the same connections as Charlotte, I mean Carlotta, but I can probably offer Mandolina a hand."
Mi
guel smiled and nodded his head imperceptibly. "You would do that? You do not have to. Simply offering my wife hope is enough. However, I would certainly appreciate it if you could help Mandolina as well. I would be...grateful."
"Of course. I do not know what her acting skills are like, of course, but she is very beautiful. I would be more than happy to bring her to Los Angeles with me. Set her up with an agent, introduce her to some producers and directors and see what might come of it."
Miguel swallowed hard and looked at his hands again. If I wasn't mistaken, I thought I saw tears in his eyes. "Mr. Bridgewell, you are a good man. A very good man." He smiled. "I always thought you did not kill that man. I can tell in a man's eyes...I can tell their measure."
"I will not let you down." Slade was speaking in formal tones and words, not using contractions, but, rather, was mirroring the speech patterns of Miguel. I knew that was one powerful persuasion technique, and Slade had it down pat.
The two men shook hands. "Bring me the contract today," he said. "And I will not only give my shipment to Mr. Garancino, but I will also tell him what role his daughter Carlotta played in trying to persuade me to give my shipment to the Vichellis. Is there anything else you need for me to do?"
"No," Slade said. "I appreciate all that you have done, and all that you will do. I appreciate it more than you could possibly imagine."
Slade and I stood up, and made a move towards my car. I knew that Slade could have the contract drawn up in a matter of hours – we just needed access to a printer, and there was one on Slade's plane.
However, as we made a move to leave, a black Porsche roared up the drive at top speed. I squinted in the sunlight, trying to see who was behind the tinted glass. I looked over at Miguel, who was shaking his head sadly and speaking in Spanish. Then I looked at Slade, who's face registered shock.
When the car door opened, I soon knew why the two men had such a reaction.
Charlotte Boswell stepped out of the car and glared at the three of us.
This was not going to be pretty.
Chapter 15
"Hello," Charlotte said directly to Slade. "Somehow I thought that you'd be here. I don't know why I had that hunch, but, here we are, just like I thought."
I looked over at Miguel, who was silently motioning his guards, who had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed. At first, when I saw Charlotte, I thought that perhaps this whole thing was set-up. That Miguel and Charlotte had set up this ambush together. But, that was impossible – Miguel had no clue that we were going to show up at his house today.
Did he?
The guards stood and flanked Miguel, and I got a bit nervous. I tried to tune into everyone's vibrations, but I was stymied. There were too many people that I was trying to read, and nobody was as they seemed. Everyone was suspect, all of a sudden, and it flashed through my brain that I was going to die here.
Slade, however, was cool and unruffled as ever. "Charlotte, don't be so dramatic." He looked over at Miguel, and I knew in his mind that he was hoping, just as I was, that this whole thing wasn't a trap laid out for us. "Mr. Sanchez and I were just parting ways. If you would excuse me, I-"
"You what?" Charlotte said, not letting Slade finish his sentence. She looked from Slade to Miguel and back again. "Miguel, do you mind telling me what is going on here? Why are you speaking with Slade and Serena, when you and I clearly..."
I started to feel a bit relieved, as Charlotte was speaking to Miguel as if she was genuinely asking him why we were there. That would necessarily mean that there wasn't a set-up or a trap.
Didn't it?
"I'm sorry, Senorita, but I have decided to pursue another path. The shipment will go to your father."
Her eyes got wide, and I felt myself let out a breath of relief. My initial reaction was not founded, thank god. It was clear that Miguel was on the level and that Charlotte surprised him as much as she had surprised us.
Regardless, Charlotte showing up was an inconvenience, and that was putting things mildly. Very mildly. Suddenly, things were sped up. They had to be. Slade and I had to get that contract executed and get to Gianni before Charlotte could. I didn't know for sure, but I had the feeling that if Charlotte beat us to the punch, there would be complications in this whole plan.
Charlotte turned to Slade. "Oh, okay. Okay. You think that you out-witted me, didn't you? Didn't you? You thought that you were so clever, finding out about this whole thing. Don't you know that I'll always have Plan B up my sleeve?" She wagged her finger in his face.
Her expression was different as she stood there, pointing at Slade. In all the pictures I ever saw of her in the tabloids, she always had an enormous smile. Her face looked kind, somehow, in those pictures. Soft. I figured that she had practiced in the mirror how her face would look when she was out in the world, which was why the world never knew that she was an absolute psycho. She never looked the part of one, and that was by design.
But, as I watched her, standing there and pointing to Slade, I could see the real Charlotte come out. And she looked like an absolute psycho. Her eyes were so wide that they almost bugged out of her skull. Her mouth was in an absolute grimace and her face was frozen like a Gargoyle. And I could see in those bug eyes of hers the murderous rage that roiled behind them.
She didn't even look like the same person, but I knew that this was her dark soul finally showing in her outward appearance. She looked, for all the world, like somebody who was in the throes of an extreme psychotic break.
I looked over at Miguel, who was motioning for his bodyguards to get closer. And then he motioned them again, and they both drew their weapons. Their guns were pointed at Charlotte, who was unaware of this, as her back was to both of them.
Or was she unaware?
I was soon disabused of this, as she told Slade "I can feel those two goons behind me. Their guns are pointed at me, but I don't care. They can kill me, but as long as I get you first, it'll all be worth it, believe me."
Those words sent chills up my spine.
Then, before I could even think about what was happening, Charlotte brought out a gun and shot Slade. I screamed as Slade crumpled to the ground, right as the bodyguards shot Charlotte in her arm.
She immediately dropped the gun, and she, too, crumpled to the ground.
Chapter 16
I stood there, in absolute shock, for a few seconds before I went to Slade. I was shaking as I was looking up at Miguel, who was summoning the ambulance. Oh, god, we were in a different country and Slade was going to be treated? I had no idea what kind of hospitals I could expect down here, no idea what kind of care he would get. My mind was racing with what we could do. What could be done.
Fortunately, it looked like Charlotte had missed Slade's vital organs. She was a terrible shot, and, while blood was gushing from his upper chest, he was able to look me in the eye. "I'm going to be fine," he said haltingly. "But don't let them bring me to a hospital here. Get me home."
I nodded my head. Home. Home was way too far away. Texas, on the other hand, was just across the border. "Slade, you need to go to a hospital here to get stabilized, and then I'll call Alex to fly you to a hospital in America. But, for right now, you're going to need a blood transfusion and...something." I was proud of the presence of mind I had as I spoke with him.
I looked over at Charlotte, who was also on the ground, and also seemed to not be in any immediate danger of dying. As much I wanted those bodyguards to just finish her off, it seemed that they were more trained than that. Shoot to alleviate the present situation, not to kill, if killing wasn't necessary. Just my luck. These are drug dealers with a conscience.
As if Miguel read my mind, he said "I'm very sorry, Ms. Roberts, I know that you probably would have liked to see Ms. Garancino dead. But we try keep our fatalities to a minimum, especially considering that Ms. Garancino is the daughter of a prominent businessman. You understand, if my guards would have killed her..." He shrugged.
I knew that Miguel had a point.
To say that Gianni Garancino wouldn't do business with Miguel would be an understatement. He probably would have killed Miguel, or started a war with him. After all, just because Charlotte hated Gianni, didn't mean that Gianni also hated Charlotte. Chances are that Gianni had no idea how Charlotte felt about him. No clue that she hated him enough to go through all this trouble to undermine him.
A helicopter was soon on the scene. Thank god. An ambulance would take way too long to get here, I thought, and Slade looked like he was hemorrhaging blood at a rapid pace. Two men with a gurney picked up both Slade and Charlotte and put a mask and a blanket over each, and then loaded them up into the chopper.
"Can I come with you?" I asked them, knowing the answer. Of course they weren't going to let me come with them. There was barely room in the chopper for them, let alone another person.
The man spoke in rapid Spanish, and I looked at Miguel helplessly. Miguel, for his part, came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Senorita, they are taking Mr. Bridgewell and Ms. Garancino to the Hospital Angeles. I know where that is, and I can drive you if you like. They do not have room for you in the helicopter." He smiled. "Of course, you can find it through your GPS on your car, but maybe you'd like some company."
I nodded my head. "I would actually like that, and thank you."
"De nada."
Miguel and I got into my car, and Miguel directed me to the hospital. I could have found it on my GPS, as I had turned it back on after I called Slade to come and help me, but I felt better actually having somebody next to me to guide me.
In the car, Miguel thanked me. "Ms. Roberts," he began, "I know that what I'm about to say is going to sound...different." He struggled to find the right word, I could tell. He was extremely fluent in English, but I did notice that, from time to time, he would have a problem finding certain words. "Different is the right word, I believe. But I hope that you do not believe me to be loco."