I knew exactly what I had to do to ensure the Kid’s safety—and mine. There would be some risk, and I would have to bend the truth into Möbius-strip shapes at times, but if everyone, including me, played our parts correctly, it would all be wrapped up by Sunday night.
The first player I needed to coax into cooperation was Castillo. If he didn’t buy into my plan, nothing else mattered and I might as well accept Brady’s offer and sign myself and the Kid into witness protection. Also, I needed Castillo to hold the cartel’s gunmen at bay for another twenty-four hours.
We had the library at the Merchants and Traders Club to ourselves at 8:30 on Saturday morning. I could smell the coffee brewing somewhere nearby, and the newspapers were all laid out and waiting, but the chairs were empty. The same retainer took our beverage requests again—coffee for me, and water for Castillo, this time. Neither Castillo nor I spoke to each other until the entire ritual was complete.
“I am very sorry to hear of your loss,” Castillo finally began. “Violence and intimidation are no part of my business. Some of my business contacts, however, are not so disciplined. I regret that. But I must insist, I had no part in the death of your wife.”
“Cut the shit,” I said. I waved away his protestations. “Ex-wife. And we both know she wasn’t the target. Your fucking friends tried to kill my son.”
“They were not my friends, nor do I control these people. I am a banker, not a gangster.”
“I’m not wired, so save the not-guilty crap for someone who cares. I have something you want. Something you need. If those assholes had been patient for another few hours, they’d still be alive and so would the mother of my son. And everybody would be happy.”
“You have the bonds?” Relief. Perfect, it would help blind him.
I nodded. “Yes, I have the bonds. One hundred million in Honduran government bearer bonds. The coupons are intact back to last fall. Prior to that, I think Biondi was skimming them for himself. At seven percent, he was taking three and a half mil to the bank every six months. Money your people would probably not even miss. Am I right?”
He couldn’t deny it, so he blinked.
“I would guess that’s why he was stalling,” I continued. “With Von Becker in jail, he had a good excuse for not handing over your bonds. If he’d been able to hold out for another six weeks, he would have been able to skim another three and a half mil. Not bad.”
“Where is that money now?” His clients might not miss the interest on one hundred million dollars, but he and I worked for a living. We’d gladly pick it up and put it in our pocket if we thought we could get away with it.
I shrugged. “The question doesn’t interest me.”
He nodded. He was sure I had it.
I sipped my coffee. It was good—strong and acid. My body needed it—it had been a short night.
“So, where do we stand?” he finally said. Ready to negotiate already. Once the pieces are in place, the mark has to take the initiative or the play just won’t work.
“This is what I want. And, please don’t bother to make a counteroffer. I’d just as soon burn the damn paper and tell my story to the Feds.”
“I don’t think that would be wise.” He was right, he was a banker, not a gangster. Even his threats sounded like a banker’s.
“Don’t threaten, Castillo. Your drug friends have pushed and it has not worked. Right now they’re down three and no closer to getting what they want. It’s time to try things my way for a change.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Need an incentive? Think what happens to you if you fail to get them their money.” He would be dead or in hiding for the rest of his life.
“I’m listening.”
“Good. First, my finder’s fee. One million in cash. I want a suitcase full of used twenties.”
“That is a big suitcase,” he said.
“Buy two.”
“Is this the price you put on your ex-wife? One million dollars.”
“My ex was a pain in the ass, but she died protecting our son, so shut up and listen.” The library sucked up sound like a vacuum. All of those thousands and thousands of unread books sucking up secrets for the last hundred years and no one would ever know. We weren’t loud, but if anyone had been trying to listen from more than ten feet away, he wouldn’t have heard a thing. “My second demand, and it is no more negotiable than the first, is that I want ten kilos of prime, uncut China White.”
Castillo laughed and threw up his hands. “Impossible. For I don’t know how many reasons. Again, Mr. Stafford, I must remind you—I am a banker. I don’t transport heroin.”
“You can get it.”
“What do you want with it? It will be harder to convert to cash than your bearer bonds.”
“No, it won’t. With a million dollars’ worth of that shit hidden away, I get to control Binks. I can undersell you and anyone else who might try to buy him. The power shifts to me.” I needed him to buy into this, even more than the first demand.
Castillo looked, for the first time, just a bit uncomfortable, but he tried for a bluff. “Binks? The Von Becker son?”
I almost laughed, the bluff was so bad. “Binks is your conduit. He does the trades through his foreign exchange book. They look like legit trades, but they’re really just money laundering for you and your clients. The only reason the Feds haven’t discovered the pattern yet is that the drug enforcement guys are working separately from the financial fraud guys. The minute I tell them where to look, Binks is toast. You, too. He’s also your ears. He’s the one who told you I was working for the family, and he’s kept you posted on my progress ever since.”
“So, I am paying for revenge for your ex-wife, a finder’s fee for the bonds, and a bribe for your silence. Anything else?”
“We haven’t covered the revenge part yet.”
“There are three young men dead already. What more do you want?”
“I want their captain. The little guy. I want him delivered, hands tied, with a hood over his head. Alive. I plan on being there when he dies.”
I had surprised him. He assumed that I was as crooked as he, while nowhere near as smart, but he was not vicious and did not expect to find it in me. “You don’t know what you are asking. I don’t control the situation.”
“They’ll go for it. You just have to sell it right. Uno más mestizo muerte. Why would they give a shit?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Why do you keep acting like we’re negotiating? What part of this message are you not getting? This is how it will be or fuck yaz all. Do you think I give a rat’s ass about your management problems at this point? You tried to KILL MY SON!”
The portraits on the far wall all gave me disapproving stares for raising my voice, but then that was what they always looked like. There was no one else to hear me. Castillo heard me, and that was what mattered.
“One million dollars, ten kilos of heroin, and the life of one more minor Honduran drug dealer. Are we done?”
“No,” I said. “I want my briefcase back.”
“What are you saying?”
“I want my briefcase. The one your people stole at the airport.”
“Now you have lost me.”
He was telling the truth. I could feel it. That sent me thinking again about the other possibilities.
“Fine,” I said. “Then the briefcase is negotiable. You see, I’m not entirely unreasonable.”
“When do I get back to you on your demands?”
“You don’t. You show up tomorrow morning. Six a.m. If you’re not there by six-thirty, I call the FBI and start lighting matches.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Don’t start!” I handed him a prepaid cell phone. “At exactly five a.m., I will text you an address. You will have plenty of time to get there by six. Bring the little guy all gift-wrapped, the two suitcases, and no more than two other guys to help carry the load. I can’t expect you to do it all by yourself.”
“And what guarantees do I have?”
“What guarantees do any of us have, señor? Life is like that sometimes, and if you move quickly and decisively, sometimes you get what you want. You have my word, I will have no more than two people of my own there.”
“Will one of them be the shooter from yesterday? There are people who will want to stand up to him. It could make for problems.”
“Play things straight and you won’t even see my people. Fuck it up and take the consequences. Things didn’t work out so good for your guys last time. You don’t want to be in the middle of a firefight any more than I do, so just take care of it.”
I got up and walked out. There was something truly delicious about being the bad guy, the heavy. I could see how some people got used to it.