Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) (23 page)

CHAPTER 49

The same parties were present. There was a slight tension in the air, but that was to be expected.

Mr. Scalesci requested time to talk to the gentlemen about logistics, supply, payment, and reliability. Xiang did not like the way the sale was going.

“Mr. Scalesci, with all due respect, there has been no transfer of money yet. I, or should I say my corporation, still controls the how, when, and whys. As soon as the bank tells me the funds have been successfully transferred to my accounts and it becomes your business, I must instruct my agents to say nothing. Surely you must understand that. Nothing for nothing.”

Clearly Anthony was not pleased. No one ever told him what he could or couldn’t do. He was the boss. He controlled the syndicate in all of Illinois. No one bought anything in Chicago unless he gave the final okay. Now this Chinaman was telling him what the new rules were. He turned to his big shot lawyer.

The lawyer nodded his head yes.

Tony, you play by their rules, or you don’t play at all. Just do as you’re told, and let’s get out of here.

“I apologize again, Mr. Yeung. It’s been a long and most expensive two days.”

“No need to apologize. Yes, it has been a long two days.”
And thanks to your quick temper, a most profitable two days.

Forty minutes later, all the papers were signed. As to enforcement, there was not a court in the world that would touch the case. If push came to shove, it would not be the lawyers who would be doing the heavy lifting.

The button on the table was pushed.

Three minutes later, Mr. Banker in his black suit, spit-polished shoes, pressed white shirt, and muted tie, appeared. He went to Mr. Scalesci and was given a set of written instructions.

“You will excuse me, gentlemen. I should be back in ten minutes with verification. Is there anything I may bring you? Coffee, tea, or bottled water?”

“For what it’s costing me, some cannoli and black coffee would certainly be appreciated.”

Xiang smiled. It had to be the most expensive cannoli Anthony would ever buy.

“Yes, Mr. Scalesci. In a few minutes.”

***

Rik Scott finally received a job offer. It wasn’t what he wanted, but cash was running out. He was also bored out of his mind. He had heard Marta was out of town. No explanation where or why. Rik decided not to push it. It would do no good, and you never knew when you might need a favor. A legal favor.

He was assigned to investigating cases in Parole and Probation for Essex County. He would be in the same building as the sheriff’s office. For a good part of the day, he would be chained to a desk. It was a steel gray county-issue desk with a chair that had seen its better days five years and three occupants ago. To begin, he would be verifying employments of paroles by phone from the office. He would not be assigned a vehicle until the ninety-day probation period was over. The fact he had been a deputy sheriff working on leave for the district attorney’s office cut him no slack. In fact, it made it harder. Everyone wanted to know why he gave up his pension rights to work for a defense lawyer, and more important, how had he screwed up that job.

It was my own damn fault, and I know it. My ego gets me in more trouble than all the broads I have ever banged.

Rik vowed he would do as he was told, keep his nose clean, and retire in another fifteen or so years.

***

Mr. Prim and Proper Banker returned. He said nothing to anyone as he walked over to Mr. Yeung, whispered something in his ear, and handed him a sealed envelope. Everyone waited. Anthony still had not received his cannoli—although, coffee had been brought to him three and half minutes after he requested it. The coffee was poured by a six-foot-tall blonde who had legs up to her armpits. Anthony was so busy sizing her up he temporarily forgot the cannoli.

Xiang carefully read what was inside the envelope, smiled, and shook the banker’s hand. He then placed the heavy stock paper in his locked brief case. By now, the proceeds were safely sitting in half a dozen banks across the globe…none in the USA. They were all numbered accounts.

UBS was paid a princely sum for use of the room and discreet handling of the transfers. At times, most times, it is good to be a banker.

“Congratulations, Mr. Scalesci. I wish you nothing but good luck. Now if you will excuse me, I have several phone calls to make before my flight back to America.”

For all practical purposes, Xiang Yeung was an unemployed billionaire. The thought, assuming it even entered his mind, did not seem to bother him.

Now I can spend more time with my beloved sister, Mei Ling, and grant her every wish.

***

Anthony too was excited. It had nothing to do with his sister, his brother, or any members of his immediate family. He needed to know from the three wise men from the East how soon they could deliver their precious fruit of the poppy.

Mr. Scalesci already had visions of expanding his Chicago operation to New York and New Jersey.

Black Jack Renaldo said nothing to anyone. He now had his client’s get-out-of-jail card safely tucked away. Yes, it had been a good day for everyone.

CHAPTER 50

I’m having the time of my life, and it was all by accident.

The open-air Jeep was heading south on US 1, a short eight miles away to Turtle Key. Marta knew there were dozens, maybe hundreds of small islands that made up the Florida Keys, from Key Largo to Key West, the southernmost place in the continental United States. Apparently, Rod had failed to mention Turtle Key was less than five acres in size, a little more than a football field, and contained only one residence.

His.

Rod was driving about fifty-five with the Atlantic on one side of the road and the Gulf of Mexico on the other. It was no place to make a sharp turn. He crossed a small bridge, pulled off the road, and exclaimed, “This is it.”

It was perfect.

Marta sat in the Jeep, trying to get the windblown hair off her face. There in front of her was a small, immaculately kept Key West-type home. It was built on stilts, had wooden stairs running up to the front door, and as she would later learn, a second set of steps to the back door. From the living room window, one could see the Atlantic, from the kitchen and bedroom, the Gulf.

“Be it ever so humble…”

“Are you kidding me? I love it, and I haven’t even been inside yet.”

Rod walked around, gently grabbed her by the arm, and helped her out.

“No time like the present.”

The house had to be no more than thirty by thirty, a total of nine hundred square feet. The main part was the living room/dining area/kitchen. There was a master bedroom off to the side and a second room that was used for storage.

It was clean, ruggedly furnished, and masculine. It was totally Rod.

The kitchen had no cabinets. In its place were thick wooden shelves where the few dishes, glasses, and an assortment of coffee cups sat. There was enough for dinner for three. Maybe four if you didn’t mind mix and match. The pots and pans were hung on hooks from the ceiling. It was functional, and that was all that mattered.

Marta loved it.

“Where are the drapes? You know, curtains and shades.”

“Why would I need ’em? It’s dark when I go to sleep. Usually light when I wake up. There’s no one to peek in, and if they did, all they would see is me. So what’s the big deal?”

Rod emptied his off-white canvas sailor’s duffel bag next to the stacked washer and dryer in the bathroom. He was about to load the washer when Marta told him to pack some clean clothes for the week and she would get the laundry started. Rod did not balk; he did not hesitate. If she wanted to handle his dirty laundry, it was okay with him.

Fifteen minutes later, all was done. She just had to wait for the washer to finish its cycle.

“What do we do now?”

Rod looked around, looked outside at the calm waters on the Gulf side, and suggested they take a short swim to relax and work out their cramped muscles.

“Great, but I forgot to bring a bathing suit,” Marta replied.

Then she saw Rod grinning.

What the hell—he’s going to see it all eventually. No time like the present.

***

The flight back was uneventful, as all international flights over large bodies of water should be. The Wall Street lawyer was huddled over his laptop until it was dark. He had been paid by Mr. Yeung for the entire trip, and now he could work and bill a second client. That made him extremely pleased. Then he asked for a pillow and a blanket and curled up on one of the couches. Ten minutes later, he was fast asleep.

Xiang Yeung spent the first half hour of the flight talking to his little sister in the private suite. She was still eight hours behind him. Obviously, she was pleased upon hearing her big brother was now unemployed. They talked of returning to their homeland and establishing some sort of facility for abused women and a shelter for their children.

Before exhaustion took over, he asked for a pot of his special tea and a light sandwich. He took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. He never got to the sandwich.

Black Jack Renaldo had no idea why he was invited. He said less than ten words to anyone other than his client. No one appeared impressed that Mr. Yeung had retained the legal services of a former US Attorney. Jack’s mind was now working in fifth gear. He had an excellent memory, but when everyone was asleep, he wrote down everything he could remember of the past two days. He had asked for, and paid dearly, for the banker to make copies of the passports of all members of the Scalesci party. He now had names, photos, and stamped passports showing who was in Zurich and when.

He already knew why.

***

“When are you heading down to Jamaica? Where will you be staying, and what will you be doing there?”

Marta felt comfortable in her nudity. She made no pretense of covering up as she sat up in bed and attempted to learn more about her new lover. She had already discovered he was patient, understanding, and very knowledgeable. He was also playful, a great combination.

Rod too had had no problem with nudity. He got out of bed and made no attempt to cover himself up. It was not conceit or having Marta admire his magnificent body. It was simply being comfortable in his own skin.

“I’m going to leave the first of the month. The trip down should take two or three days. Plan to stay at the marina on the boat so as not to bother anyone. Will visit friends and family for three, four days and then head back. Should be gone a total of ten days at most. If you decide to go, you may see a new side of me, totally relaxed and enjoying the food and music of my people.”

If you were any more relaxed, you would have trouble standing up,
Marta thought.

“I can’t make you any promises until I get back to the office and see what my case load looks like, but if your lovemaking is a prelude to coming attractions, I’ll order my popcorn and reserve a front row seat now.”

“Let’s play it by ear. As soon as the clothes are dry, we can head back, and I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we stay here tonight? We can find something to eat, and you can drive me back to my bungalow in the morning.”

“Deal, partner. I think there may be some canned goods in the kitchen. Nothing fancy but you won’t starve. There’s a great little place two keys over where we can grab an early morning breakfast.”

Marta slid back in the bed. She was going nowhere. At least not for the time being.

How the hell did I get so lucky? He’s got everything. A body, a personality, and a willingness to please. What else could a girl ask for?
Marta then answered her own question.
Nothing. Not a damn thing.

She tucked the covers under her chin and closed her eyes. She needed a good half hour of rest. Then she would be ready for whatever Rod had in mind.

CHAPTER 51

The G-V landed at six a.m. By six thirty, they had cleared Customs, and Jabor was loading the single suitcase in the back of the sedan.

“May I offer you a lift into the city?”

Jack and the Wall Street attorney both declined the offer. They had made separate arrangements. Both were anxious to get back to their respective offices.

Once back in his office in Newark, Jack’s first call was to Sonny Bananas.

“Well, have we lost our biggest client?”

Billy was standing in the doorway of Jack’s office, waiting to be filled in on all the details.

“Depends. For all practical purposes, Mr. Yeung is no longer in business. That does not mean he may not continue to use our services. The group out of Chicago, the one run by Anthony Scalesci, has legal counsel there. Frankly, from what I saw, I was not particularly impressed. If they extend their operation to New York and here in Jersey, they will need local representation.”

“Do you think we have a shot at it? I’d be willing to fly out to Chicago and meet with Scalesci. Let him know what we have done for Yeung and Sonny in the Tri-State area. Our track record speaks for itself.”

“No question about it, Billy.”

Jack’s mind was racing. This had all the signs of a huge conflict of interests. One cannot serve two masters at the same time. This had been drummed into him since the first day of law school. He had also been taught from the time he began wearing long pants knowledge is power. Power is money; money is power. With power and money, all else is possible. In fact, all else is within easy reach.

Just look what Bill got Monica to do in the god damn Oval Office. If that’s not power, I don’t know what is.

Lawyers are trained from the very beginning—do not hesitate when responding to a question. Make it appear you had the answer before the question was ever asked. Show confidence. Be confident. Lie your ass off if you have to, but show confidence when you answer.

“Billy, that’s a great idea. I think we have to clear it with our boy Xiang, but I see no problem, no conflict. Let’s wait a few days, and I’ll call Yeung personally and get permission. Good thinking, Billy.”

Jack was now dancing as fast as he could.

As of right this very moment, Scalesci is not my client. Whatever I do, I have to do fast, before Scalesci is actually a client. It’s sleazy as hell, but it’s not illegal. At least not right this minute.

Jack picked up the phone. He had an important call to make.

Knowledge is power. Power is money. Money is power.

Jack kept repeating that to himself in the hope he would actually believe it.

***

The flight was a short two hours and thirty-nine minutes. From MIA to EWR. Marta would be home before five p.m. She was not in a particularly good mood. She would have preferred to be in Turtle Key, but that was not possible for a whole host of reasons.

As the sleek 757 glided somewhere over North or South Carolina, she wasn’t paying attention; Marta’s thoughts were on the past forty-eight hours. She had closed her eyes and asked the stewardess, oops, flight attendant, not to bother her. She did not need or want a mini size bag of twenty peanuts or an ice-filled plastic cup of soda.

He’s not like Rik; he’s definitely not like Xiang. In fact, he’s not like any man I have ever known. As far as I can tell, he wants nothing from me. He just wants to be happy and enjoy life, sharing his passions with all those around him.

Considering they did not sleep that much, they were up at the crack of dawn. Not that she had a choice. The bedroom was filled with light. There were no shades.

“Do you believe in saving energy and conserving the earth’s resources?”

“What kind of question is that to ask me when I’m still half asleep?”

“I was thinking we could do our first good deed of the day, sort of thanking Mother Earth for all she has provided us with by taking a shower together. Saving energy for the next generation.”

“Well, when you put it that way, race you to the shower.”

The shower was less than ten feet away. Everything in the doll house seemed to be less than ten feet away. The race was a tie. When the tank began to send out cold water, they reluctantly got out.

By nine, they had finished breakfast at an eight-stool greasy spoon off the side of the highway and were five minutes from Marathon. Rod parked the Jeep in the marina parking lot. Jake, the dock master, did not miss a thing; he also did not say a thing. He was long past the age of retirement and as long as no one else brought it up, he sure wouldn’t.

He noticed Rod and the girl, really a very stunning lady, were awfully friendly, considering it was still more than two hours till noon.

Rod headed down the dock with his duffle bag while Marta went back to her bungalow where she hung a
‘DO NOT DISTURB’
sign. As she contemplated confirming plane reservations, it occurred to her she had not heard from Mei Ling in quite a while. Perhaps Xiang mentioned she was under the weather or on vacation. She made a mental note to call her after five o’clock. She wasn’t sure what she would tell Xiang. There was no way she could have anything but a business relationship, attorney/client, after spending the better part of twenty-four hours in bed with Rod.

The next day, Marta was moping around, having finished packing for the third time. There was nothing wrong with the first two times. She just didn’t want to see the suitcase pleading with her not to go. She had called the office and spoke to Miranda. Billy was in court, and Jack had an appointment somewhere in Manhattan. She said she was feeling much better, obviously a lie, but for far different reasons, and she would be flying back the next day. She’d be in the office the following morning.

“I’m ready to kick some ass, so make whatever appointments you want for me. And thanks, Miranda. All of you have been so understanding. Oh, please call Mei Ling and ask when it would be convenient for us to meet. I can drive into the city any day next week.”

Five minutes later, the cell phone rang.

“That was quick, Miranda. What did she say?”

“Who’s Miranda, and would I like to meet her?”

The smile was back on Marta’s face. It was almost infectious.

“No, you would not like to meet her. She’s eighty years old, fat, and smells bad.”

“My kinda gal. Can I get her phone number?”

“How are you, Rod? I’ve been thinking about you. What are you doing?”

“Preparing dinner for the both of us. Hope you like grilled salmon. Had a good day on the boat. Maybe you could bring a bottle of pinot grigio—and your pajamas. Oh, if I recall, you don’t wear pajamas, so just the wine will do. Sort of a temporary goodbye party. It’ll be a fairly small party. Just the two of us. See you around six thirty. The dock should be quiet by then.”

Before Marta had time to say thank you or blow him a kiss, the line went dead.

Now Marta sat on the plane and tried to recall every detail. There were too many. She was happy.

Very happy.