Gabriel stood as he walked in, wiped his face with his cloth napkin and stepped around the table with his arms open wide. Whitey embraced the man who enthusiastically slapped him on the back.
“Whitey, mi hermano, so good to see you.”
Gabriel stepped back but kept a hand on each arm while he studied Whitey with a big smile. “You look good my friend, I think all this time on an island might agree with you, no?” He laughed and released Whitey, offering him a seat.
His wife, Marisol, a slight woman with a pretty smile, didn’t stand but warmly greeted him, “Good morning Mr Snow, very nice to see you again.”
“Good morning,” Whitey said with a forced smile as he took a seat. He wondered how many men Marisol had entertained in their house who had disappeared one day and stopped being a guest. He was sure she didn’t ask, and her polite distance was a good indication she considered Gabriel’s friends to be temporary. Or maybe he was just reading too much into the whole situation. Deceit was not a natural gift of Whitey’s, despite his career in illicit endeavours, so his preference would be to come out straight with Gabriel and tell him he was getting out. But he doubted that would be acceptable to Gabriel, and was certain it wouldn’t be for Mariano.
Whitey congratulated Marisol on her pregnancy, and the three chatted casually over breakfast as they often had, and Whitey began to relax. Once they’d finished and the maid cleared their plates, Gabriel kissed his wife and invited Whitey to join him outside on the patio. They poured fresh coffees and moved to a small wrought-iron table on the deck, which stretched to a steep drop towards the valley, protected by a railing. The view was stunning, and the cool air and chilly breeze felt refreshing, but Whitey couldn’t help but shiver, his blood used to the balmy heat of Miami, and now Grand Cayman.
“The Cubans and Columbians are all fighting in Miami, Whitey, it’s a damn mess.” Gabriel switched to business and his easy manner and tone from breakfast disappeared. “I need you to meet with our Columbian contact, just to reassure him we’re not switching our allegiance. They’re buying everything we can supply and right now it’s a breeze moving the goods across the border. We own the border.”
“What happens if the Cubans take over the Miami market?” Whitey asked, wondering what mess he was walking into.
Gabriel laughed. “The crazy Cubans have no idea what they’re up against.” He waved a hand at Whitey. “They’re a pain in the arse in the Miami market but the Columbians have the whole of the US locked up. Their distribution is nationwide, LA, New York, Chicago, everywhere. The only reason they’re getting wound up is because Miami is their main port of entry and the Cubans keep shooting people down there. Meet with our man and tell him the Caveros are dealing with one family, and it’s them, okay?”
Whitey nodded. “No problem, I’ll call him when I land and set up a meet.” Whitey sipped his coffee, the smoothest coffee he’d ever tasted, and considered the new twist he had to contend with. He was hoping he’d have a short stay in Miami before getting back to the island; now he had to wait on the Columbian’s schedule to meet with him.
“What’s your take on the Cayman bank? You think the island is stable enough? None of this Jamaican nonsense?” Gabriel asked, looking at Whitey, seemingly gauging his response.
This was the opening Whitey had been waiting for and he paused to seem casual in his response. “The place is perfect in my opinion, Gabby: no trouble with the people, government’s stable and forward thinking. They know banking is their future and they’ve got their arms open wide, no questions. We should put the cash into the bank and quit shoving it in a safety deposit box.”
He hoped he’d been convincing; he desperately wanted to move the money into a bank account in the Caveros’ name so he could step away cleanly. He’d evaporate, and they’d have access to their money, so they’d have little reason to pursue him for long.
“I believe you, my brother, and I would agree but father is caught in the old ways, you know? Like I told you, he’s got cases of cash buried all over this mountainside,” Gabriel swept his hands over the property, laughing. “I swear the gardener is probably a millionaire and father wouldn’t know.” He leaned over to Whitey. “The next trip you’ll have double the cash; use the safety deposit box for one more month, give me time to convince the old man.”
“Sure, no problem,” Whitey complied, thinking how he could back himself out of this mess he’d created. Hiding the key seemed like a great security measure if they ever turned on him, but now it was a complication he needed to get out of. The volume of cash might be the answer.
“I think I have the biggest box the bank had available, but I’ll ask, may have to get two, either way I’ll have a different key for you after this trip, okay?”
Gabriel stared at him and Whitey felt the man searching his face, for what, he didn’t have any idea. He thought over what they’d talked about and couldn’t figure out what he’d said that would raise any suspicion. But he knew the Caveros were paranoid, who knew what any of them was really thinking.
“You okay, Whitey?” Gabriel asked, looking concerned.
“Of course, I’m great. A little tired from travelling is all,” Whitey quickly responded.
Gabriel smiled. “You seem like you have a lot on your mind my friend, I worry about you is all.”
Whitey tried his best to look relaxed and smile back. “Just tired, mate.”
“Nothing you want to tell me? Or need to discuss?” Gabriel asked softly, sounding like he genuinely wanted to help his friend in any way he could.
Whitey paused and considered telling him he was out. He wanted to tell the man that had been so generous to him the truth, surely he deserved that? Gabriel had shared so much with Whitey and their friendship had extended well beyond the business over the past two years.
“No mate, just want to make sure I do everything right for you, that’s all.” Whitey stepped back from the precipice of the trap he sensed had been set.
Gabriel smiled and nodded. “Okay then.”
Chapter 46
November 2019
AJ sat on the end of the dock at the yacht club and watched her Mermaid Divers’ Newton idle away. It was Saturday, the one day a week she took off, but sleep had eluded her, and her internal alarm clock still rousted her early. She’d helped Thomas and Carlos get everyone aboard and sent them off for the morning. Without Hazel.
Two of Reg’s boats were motoring in line with AJ’s, and her mentor set his coffee down on the dock, before lowering himself down to sit next to her.
“You think you’re getting old? Try getting about with these worn out joints,” he muttered.
“Yup, reckon you’re headed for the OAP’s home pretty soon, old man. Pearl’ll be trolling for some young blood to keep her entertained,” AJ teased.
Reg chuckled. “She could still land her a young ’un I’m sure; that woman’s still as gorgeous as the day I met her.”
AJ took a sip of her own coffee from her stainless steel travel mug and nodded in agreement. “That she is.”
“I may be old and about ready for the scrap heap,” he grinned, “but I’d still manage to throttle any man that lays a finger on her.”
AJ sprayed a little coffee in the ocean laughing. “That’s true too.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes watching the early morning sun cast long shadows from the boats and listening to the mesmerising sound of the water lapping against the dock. Reg finally broke the silence.
“You gonna tell me about it or I gotta pry it out of you?” he said gently.
She looked over at him and he ignored her, staring off into the bay. She was always amazed how Reg and Pearl could read her like a book. It made her mad sometimes but other times it was comforting to feel their support and presence. He grinned.
“That obvious?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“You two go to get drinks and disappear for half an hour. When you come back it’s like you’re both cloaked in ice.
Yeah, I’d say it was pretty obvious.” He turned and smiled at her.
AJ rolled her eyes. “I was pretty mad.” She thought about how, and how much, to tell Reg. She felt she’d be betraying a trust to divulge the whole story and then she’d be no better than Hazel. She made an attempt at summarising without certain details.
“So, turns out Hazel wanted to dive the Raptor from the moment she landed here. Well, to be more accurate, it’s actually why she landed here.”
“Really?” Reg said, surprised. “Why didn’t she just ask if we’d take her there in the first place?”
“That was my first question,” AJ responded. “She had a reason that kinda held water, but it still feels like shit that she manipulated me to get what she wanted.”
“What was her reason?” he asked.
“It’s all part of this big story that I can’t repeat; I was sworn to secrecy and, regardless of what I think of her, I don’t want to be untrustworthy,” AJ replied.
“Fair enough,” Reg said. “Is what she’s up to legit or is she breaking laws?”
AJ thought it over. “I’m not completely sure.” She looked at Reg with a frown. “Depends a lot on whether I believe her whole story or not. If she’s come clean and told me the truth, then she’s an innocent victim, down on her luck and taking a long shot to dig herself out of trouble. If she’s still making shit up, then who knows.”
She sighed and took another sip of coffee while she knew he was chewing it over in his mind. “I just feel so disappointed in myself, Reg. I’m normally pretty good at reading people or at least taking enough time to figure them out so this crap doesn’t happen. I don’t know why this was different. Maybe I was vulnerable, or off my game with Jackson leaving. I don’t know.”
She fiddled with her new watch on her wrist and Reg leaned over, bumping her shoulder with his.
“You’re assuming you read her wrong. What if you didn’t?” he whispered Reg’s version of a whisper which was more of a growl.
“But she used me Reg. I didn’t see it,” she responded with pain in her voice.
“And you say she had a reason that made some sense. What I’m saying is, what if your read on her as a person was right?” He shuffled a little to turn and face her more. “Everyone does right and wrong things, don’t they? Everyone screws up or goes about things backwards, we all do occasionally. The question to ask is whether she’s a good person at heart or not. She may well be the great friend you thought you’d found, your instincts were right, she just started things off a bit skew-whiff.”
AJ laughed. “Skew-whiff you say? Yeah, I’d say she started off a little skew-whiff.”
“Look,” Reg said seriously, “I don’t know the story she’s spinning so I don’t have much to go on, but I do know you and her have been getting on like a house on fire and you’re right, you’re usually a pretty good judge. Can you check any of what she says? Is it Googleable? Try and prove out what she says and if it’s BS then tell her to get out of here. If it’s not, maybe she’s genuinely a friend that needs some help.”
“Googleable? You’re on a roll.” AJ laughed again, and it felt good. “I checked a couple of things she told me. Her mum died earlier this year, I found her obituary; it got a bit more press because she owned a cafe, which she’d also told me. But most of her story isn’t traceable, I have to either believe her or not.”
Reg reached over and rubbed AJ’s back softly. “Tread carefully my dear, but don’t throw out the idea you were right all along.”
AJ rested her head against his shoulder. “Okay. I’ll try not to get too skew-whiff over it.”
Chapter 47
July 1974
Whitey sat on the end of his bed in his small Miami apartment. Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ album played quietly from the other room. It was a simple place he’d had for years. It had been all he could afford before he met Gabriel Cavero, and after that, when he had plenty of income, he never got around to upgrading. Besides, he didn’t need much and was happy to save the money. The place had one bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area that encompassed a small kitchen that he used for coffee and cereal. He’d never been much of a cook, unless it was grilling fresh fish straight from the boat. As he looked around, he realised his home contained very little he cared to take with him. He thought to himself, somewhat regrettably, forty-seven years old and what did he have to show for it? Some great memories, a couple of photographs, and a stack of cash that sat in scattered bundles on the bed next to him. Two hundred and six thousand dollars was a lot of money. It had surprised Whitey when he’d counted it, he had no idea he’d tucked so much away but often he hadn’t counted it when it was handed to him. A pang of guilt hit him as it dawned on him that he was running out on the people that had allowed him to amass a small fortune. It passed quickly when he reminded himself of the millions of dollars passing through their hands; a couple of hundred thousand was chicken feed to these men.
He’d been thinking he’d fly to Cayman, tuck the new cases full of cash Gabriel had given him in the safety deposit box, and mail the real key to Gabriel. But the more he chewed that plan over, the more holes he shot in it. Cayman shouldn’t be the last place he could be tracked to as he intended to actually reside there. Although it would be easy to stay off the radar on the island it was also a small place. If Gabriel threw a little money around, someone was bound to talk. No, he needed to disappear in Miami, and the more he plotted, the more he decided the Cubans were his perfect escape. He would fly to Cayman, add the new cash to the money already at the bank, return to Miami, leave the real key in his apartment and a note showing a meeting scheduled with the Cubans for the day he’d vanish. Gabriel would search his apartment when he didn’t check in, find the key so he’d get his money, and assume the meeting with the Cubans went south and they’d fed him to the gators in the Everglades. It might start a small war if Gabriel thought they’d hit one of his men, or maybe not if he decided Whitey was meeting with them for his own gain. The important part was the Caveros would get their money and Whitey would vanish from the planet to pursue his new life, free of the gangsters. He’d find the next cargo ship heading to the islands, on which he’d crew for free in return for a paperwork free ride. Whitey, Isabella and a couple of hundred grand would start a new life together on Grand Cayman.
All the pieces of the puzzle had to fall together, and his mind spun through the scenarios and details. He’d requested just one key for the real safety deposit box as he didn’t want the added complexity of keeping up with two, especially as he’d considered the hidden key as his security blanket. He sorely wished he’d never concocted that stupid plan, now it just seemed overly complicated. Still, what was done was done and now he needed to step carefully and extricate himself from this perilous web.
He laid back on his bed and looked up at the fan making circles on his popcorn-textured ceiling. The idea that he was a week away from freedom, a week away from the beginning of the rest of his life, was energising and calming at the same time. He felt excited at the prospect of having a second chance in this world, one where he walked on the other side of a line. He’d taken a lot over the years, taken money, taken advantage, taken risks. The idea he could live simply, live humbly and give something back settled in him like a fine wine that permeated his being and soothed his soul.
His apartment phone rang and he reluctantly rose, walked to the kitchen counter and took the receiver off the hook.
“Mutiny Hotel, 10am tomorrow, Mr Márquez will expect you for breakfast,” a heavily accented voice said in English.
“I’ll be there,” Whitey replied and the line went dead.
Chatty blokes, he thought to himself as he stared at the receiver. He’d met Miguel Márquez at the Club with Gabriel who’d introduced Whitey as his Miami representative; this would be his first time meeting anyone of this stature alone. Just when he was trying to get out. At least the man was ready to meet the next day. Whitey had been worried arranging this
meeting would drag on, which was the last thing he wanted. He looked at the two Halliburton attaché cases next to his wicker couch. Nothing like two million bucks lying around in a cheap apartment while drug lords and gangsters circled the city. From the record player the Floyd started into their song ‘Money’ with the sound of the cash register opening and coins dropping. Whitey laughed, shaking his head and wished he could share the ironic moment with Isabella. He wanted to share every moment with Isabella.
Chapter 48
November 2019
AJ stood on one leg, stretching her left leg behind her with one hand while she scrolled through playlists on her phone with the other. The morning breeze was just picking up, which helped fend off the heat from the sun rising swiftly in the eastern sky behind her. She’d driven back from the yacht club, changed into capri leggings, racerback sports bra and water shoes, and now stood on the beach in front of her apartment at the north end of Seven Mile Beach. Running always helped clear her head. She didn’t particularly enjoy the act of running but the scenery, the way it helped her push through conflicting thoughts, and the cardio workout made it worthwhile. She switched legs and scrolled back and forth on her phone. Usually she ran to hard rock or upbeat pop music like Pink, which helped put a spring in her step, but today required something more cerebral, without being sleepy. She settled on a 90s mix and Alanis Morissette kicked her into gear singing about things ‘Ironic’.
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