The mood in the boardroom at Theodor Consultants was considerably lighter than it had been since the robbery. Paz had treated all the staff to a night out on a floating casino, a replica of a Mississippi riverboat, moored in Puerto Madero in the south of the city. He’d given all his men a thousand dollars each to play the slots and tables so, as Paz entered the room, his operatives broke into a spontaneous round of applause. Herrera was the first to speak.
“Boss, on behalf of the men, I want to thank you for a fucking amazing night. It’s been a rough time, and we all needed to unwind. No one should forget this job cost Ángel and Benjy their lives and we need to sort out their families.”
Paz took his usual seat at the top of the table and nodded to Herrera. “Well said, Luci. But now we need to talk about the next phase of the operation.”
Herrera gave his boss a slightly startled look.
“Now that García is dead, the immediate pressure may be off, but we still need to find the contents of Box 1321. We need to speak with García’s family, friends and work colleagues. Somebody must know something that will help reveal his hiding place. Avoid violence and intimidation where possible. Offer money, lots of it. In fact, as an incentive to loosen tongues, offer a hundred thousand for any information that may help lead us to it.”
Paz then turned his attention to Hugo Otero. “Hugo, I’m sure the cops are going to be thinking exactly the same way as us. So, more than ever, we are going to need our friend at the station to keep us fully informed.”
Otero had been secretly hoping there would be no mention of his police informant. “Boss, there might be a problem there. They contacted us this morning to say that, following a meeting with one of the IT guys, the chief inspector suddenly appears to be keeping things on a need-to-know basis and so they’re in the dark as to what’s going on right now.”
Paz’s mood changed in a flash. “An IT guy? What the fuck would any IT guy know that might be relevant?”
That was the question Hugo had really been dreading. He couldn’t hold eye contact with his boss as he murmured his reply. “Apparently, he was reporting back on the mobile that was left behind at Ramos’s apartment.”
Paz felt as if an electric shock had just surged through his veins.
Vargas sat in his office, staring at a torn piece of notepaper displaying a handwritten ten-digit phone number. It was the only lead he had. He was desperate to call it but wasn’t quite ready. Instead, he made an internal call to one of his team.
“Alex, can you bring me the list showing the owners of the boxes that were actually stolen in the raid?”
Two minutes later, Detective Alex Martin entered Vargas’s office and handed over a single piece of paper listing the details of ninety safe-deposit boxes.
Vargas had read it before, but this time he scrutinised it, looking for one particular name. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He leapt out of his chair, ran around his desk and grabbed the young detective in a crushing bear hug. “Alex, we have a match. One of the stolen boxes is owned by the Franklin Pharmaceutical Corporation. This whole fucking case has been about Box 1321.”
Vargas summoned Torres and brought him up to speed while he placed a call to the manager of the Banco Estero. Within a few seconds, the bank switchboard operator had Marcelo Morales on the line.
“Señor Morales, I want you to tell me everything you know about Box 1321.”
Morales was slightly taken aback by the bluntness of the request. “Chief inspector, you have to understand that—”
He was cut short by Vargas. “Let me explain something to you, Señor Morales. Nine people have been brutally murdered in the last two weeks, including one of my men. And they’ve all died as a direct result of whatever is inside that box. So, let me ask you again, what do you know about Box 1321?”
Morales felt the sheer wrath coming his way and changed his tone. “Chief inspector, please give me a few moments to find the paperwork.”
Vargas tried his best to stay calm while he waited for the manager of the bank to come back on the line. It was nearly five minutes before Morales returned. He sat back at his desk and opened a thin grey folder.
“The box was first rented on 7 July 1981. It was taken out by the Franklin Pharmaceutical Corporation and is registered to their head office in Buenos Aires.”
Vargas jumped in with a question and held his breath as he awaited the reply. “Can you give me the names and exact dates of every person who has ever visited the bank to check on the box?”
“That’s the strange thing about Box 1321. It hasn’t been visited since the day it was opened thirty-one years ago.”
Vargas shook his head in disbelief as he ended the call and glanced down at the American phone number. “The mystery surrounding this box gets weirder by the minute. Let’s see where this takes us.”
Vargas put his office phone on speaker, enabling Torres to listen in. Then he switched on the recording device for the upcoming call. It was midday in San Francisco and Richard Franklin was sitting at his desk going through the latest polls, which showed his son’s position looking almost unstoppable. Since the live TV debate, three of his opponents had ended their campaigns, leaving a senator from Wisconsin as his only rival for the Republican nomination. However, the latest numbers showed she was twelve points behind Franklin, and even more encouraging were the overnight head-to-head polls that looked at a straight shoot-out between Franklin and the incumbent of the White House. For the first time, his son held a three-point lead over the Democratic president. Richard made a mental note to step up the national TV advertising budget, as it was clearly delivering.
Vargas dialled the number that had been retrieved from Paz’s mobile and, almost six and a half thousand miles away, the red phone on Franklin’s desk burst into life. He grabbed the receiver, hoping to hear some good news.
“Have you found it?”
The voice that greeted Vargas and Torres was educated and self-assured, but more than anything it was threatening. The chief inspector hesitated for a moment before replying. “You’re referring to Box 1321?”
Franklin felt his entire body stiffen as a giant alarm bell invaded his brain. “Who is this?”
Again, Vargas took his time before answering. “This is Chief Inspector Vargas from the Buenos Aires City Police Department. Who am I speaking with?”
Franklin couldn’t contain his inner rage. He slammed down the receiver and wildly yanked the phone cord from its floor connection. He glared at the red phone as if it were a disloyal traitor before launching it across the office where it smashed into pieces as it hit the wall.
Vargas turned off the recording device and replaced the phone.
Torres was the first to speak. “What did you make of that, chief?”
Vargas’s face revealed a slight hint of a smile. “I think it’s fair to say we rattled someone’s cage.”