Try as he did to convince himself that the money had been incinerated, Sanso could not fully rest that afternoon, not even in his favorite room of his favorite hotel.
So he was doubly annoyed when Callista barged into the curtain-drawn suite with her phone open and extended, saying, “You’ll want to take this call.”
“I told you not—”
She tossed the phone with precise aim, hitting him on the chest. The phone bounced onto the bed, and Callista left the room.
He loved her brazen ways. He couldn’t help it.
Sanso found the phone, dropped back onto the stack of pillows, and put the receiver to his ear.
“What?”
“I have your money.”
Janeal. He shot up on the bed and turned, placing his feet square on the floor, smiling.
“You’re no Gypsy. You’re a sorcerer.”
“I’m whatever you want me to be. Anything but your friend.”
“So what exactly did you think I was, then? The first time you met me?”
“A businessman. Are you a good businessman, Salazar Sanso? Because if you are, I believe you’ll want to do business with me.”
“The quality of my business dealings isn’t determined by the interests of other parties,” Sanso said, rising to pace.
“Then I won’t waste your time.”
“Wait!” Sanso took a breath, irritated with himself for sounding desperate.
“I’d like to hear your proposal.”
“Oh, I have no proposal to offer you. I have terms. Requirements.”
Sanso strode to the door and threw it wide open, looking for Callista so that he could direct his fury at some object. She was there, sitting in a club chair with her feet propped up on the ottoman. She acknowledged him by raising one unsurprised eyebrow.
“What are your terms, then?”
“One million dollars, in fifties. Real fifties. I want it by midnight.”
“And why would I hand over a million dollars to you, little girl?”
“You’re not going to hand them over. We are going to trade. A million for a million.”
“You keep your million.” And I’ll find out where you are and come get it myself. "If you don’t like the denominations, I can’t help you. I’m not a banker.”
“No, you’re a printer. And I’ll bet you wouldn’t want anyone to know that. It wasn’t so hard to figure that out, once I had time to think it through. ”
Sanso’s fury left him, and his body began to tremble—with excitement. Anticipation. Satisfaction at having finally found a worthy adversary. He glanced at Callista and she nodded. She appreciated what Janeal represented to him, or she would have handled this call herself.
He blew Callista a kiss.
“I want a million dollars. A million real dollars. In exchange, you will get these counterfeits back. I don’t care what you do with them.”
He would stretch this game out if he could. “It’s a lot of work for an even exchange. But if you’re willing to negotiate some of the terms—”
“If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll take these bills to the Secret Service. They have reason to make you one of their top clients. And then I’ll devote my life to hunting you down and—”
Sanso laughed so hard he snorted.
“Sorcerer or not, you’ll have to work on your threats. You’re not so good at that part of this.”
He heard the heavy breathing of a person trying to stay in control of a flyaway temper. “If you don’t care, then I’ll tell the DEA that the bills are fake. Isn't that what you’re trying to avoid here? Isn’t that why you don’t want them to get their hands on it?”
That was precisely why he wanted those bills. If the American government lopped off this leg from beneath Sanso’s empire, it wouldn’t be able to stand.
“Janeal, dear, I can see the value of your proposal—let’s call the spades spades, shall we?—and I accept it.”
“I am not finished yet.”
Sanso grinned at Callista and rolled his eyes. “Then you had better wrap up," he said. “I’m a busy man.”
“In exchange for your counterfeits, you agree to leave me alone. You agree never to seek me out, never to do business with me or my people again, never to show your face within a hundred miles of wherever I might be.”
“I don’t know. Some of those promises might be hard to keep.”
“And I will promise never to betray you.”
Sanso sobered. “You are easily bought. Your character is no greater than mine in the end, is it?”