It had been just over an hour since the car-crash phone call and Franklin had left the office for a cooling-off drive. The remnants of his red phone were now stashed in a black plastic bag in the boot of the Rolls. His white-hot temper had galvanised into a cold, clinical fury. He’d driven out to Potrero Hill, a quiet neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city, and pulled onto a small side street that ran alongside McKinley Square, one of the landmark parks in the area.
He reached for his mobile, which was resting on the console next to the gear lever, and dialled the CEO of Theodor Consultants. Paz was working out on a cross trainer in his study at home. It was the first time he’d been there in a couple of weeks, as he’d been sleeping at the office throughout the crisis. He was slightly surprised to see Franklin’s ID flash up but jumped off the machine and grabbed his mobile.
“Sir, I’ve passed on your instructions to the men and—”
“I’ve just taken a call on our private line from a chief inspector working for the Buenos Aires Police Department.”
Paz felt a giant knot in his stomach start to tighten as Franklin began to rant.
“He asked me about Box 1321. Can you fucking believe that? How the fuck did he get my number and how does he know about the box?”
Paz felt the beads of sweat that he had worked up on the machine begin to turn into small rivers. “Sir, did he address you by name?”
“No, thank fuck. But he knows about the fucking box and, somehow, he gained access to our private line. It’s a number that only you and I have, so, the question is, how the fuck did he get it and how has he managed to connect the Franklin Corporation to the robbery?”
Franklin’s questions had given Paz the breathing space he needed to fabricate a story. If it meant hanging Luciano out to dry, so be it. He had to save his own skin.
“Sir, I think I know how he got the number. During the firefight at Ramos’s house, the guys had to make a quick exit and the man in charge left his mobile behind.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me at the time, and why did he have my direct line on his contacts?”
The lie from Paz grew a life of its own. “He told me it got badly damaged in the chaos and, like mine, it was heavily encrypted, so wouldn’t offer up any secrets.”
“But why would my direct line be on his mobile?”
Paz was now almost believing this newly invented narrative. “He is my number two, and I gave him the number just in case anything happened to me and you needed a point of contact. Otherwise, you’d have been out of the loop.”
Franklin took a moment to digest this new information before coming back. “Okay, I can see the sense in that decision. What’s the name of this man?”
Paz breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Luciano Herrera. He has worked with the company for the last ten years. He is a good man and a great soldier.”
Franklin had the final word before ending the call. “I don’t care. The guy fucked up. He’s a dead man walking. Do you understand me?”
Paz heard the dial tone cut in and lowered his mobile. He glared across at the blonde youth who was lying seductively on a blue leather sofa, clad only in a pair of white Calvin Kleins. “Get out of my fucking house, you pathetic piece of shit.”
The terrified rent boy sprung from the sofa like a startled cat and darted into the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. Seconds later, he emerged and ran across the living room towards the front door. As he reached for the handle, Paz spoke again. This time his voice dropped to a sinister whisper.
“Tomás, don’t go. I need your services once again.”
Hembury had just got back to his apartment when Vargas called to bring him up to speed on all the latest developments. There was now a clear link between the Franklin Corporation and one of the stolen security boxes. It was apparent that Box 1321 was the key to unlocking the whole investigation.
“Nic, it’s pretty clear that the Franklin Corporation are up to their necks in this. Their box was stolen and someone in the California office has been coordinating the operation to get it back.”
Vargas knew he had no option but to ask his friend to get further involved in the investigation.
“Troy, whoever was on the end of that line got totally spooked as soon as I mentioned Box 1321. I’m going to need your help on the ground over there to move this case forward.”
“No problem, I’m in. If for no other reason than I need to know what’s so interesting about the contents of a box that hasn’t been looked at for over thirty years.”
Vargas could sense Hembury was now fully on board. “That, my friend, is the fifty-million-dollar question.”
Paz knew he was left with little choice but to take out his loyal henchman. He had set Herrera up as the fall guy and now he would have to suffer the consequences. Luciano had to die and Franklin would demand proof of his death. Paz decided it would be a compassionate killing as, ironically, he didn’t want his old friend to suffer. That was the least he could offer, after all his years of loyal service. He invited him over to his apartment for dinner, a rare honour which was viewed by Herrera as an acknowledgement of his status within the organisation.
The two men gorged their way through a massive takeaway banquet, sourced from the city’s premier Indian restaurant. Paz knew it was Luciano’s favourite food, and it was being washed down by two bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a fruity red wine Paz had shipped over every month from a vineyard in France.
Herrera downed his fifth glass of the evening and munched on a spicy poppadom. “Boss, it’s a special honour to celebrate with you at your own home. You know I love you like an older brother.”
Paz smiled and nodded towards the two empty wine bottles on the walnut dining table. “We need some more wine, brother.”
Paz disappeared into the kitchen, and when he returned a few moments later he wasn’t holding a fresh bottle of wine. Herrera was busy sorting through the remnants of his prawn curry and never saw his boss lift his arm and fire two rounds from his Glock, which shattered his skull. Paz placed the weapon down on the table and retrieved his phone from his back trouser pocket. He clicked on the camera and took a couple of different-sized shots of Herrera’s slumped corpse. A few seconds later Franklin’s mobile received two text images.