Shell Game (28 page)

“I'll phone him.” He glanced at his watch. “The best time to see Ricardo is in the evening, as he's quite busy with his restaurant-supply business during the day. I could see if he's available for this evening.”

“That would be great,” Taylor said. “Say, in about two hours?”

“Ten o'clock. I'll call your room and let you know.”

“Thanks.”

Taylor and Kelly retreated to their rooms, and Taylor drew a hot bath. The phone rang before she could lower herself into the steaming water. It was Miguel. The meeting was on for ten o'clock. She hung up the phone, dialed Kelly's room and told him, then slid into the bath. Evenings in late December in Mexico City weren't exactly tropical, and she had a chill through her bones. She lay in the water, adding more hot every few minutes, until her fingers started to prune. Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of the tub and rubbed her skin with the soft towel. After she was dried, she put on new makeup and dried the ends of her hair that had dipped in the water. Then she dressed and checked her watch. Time to meet Ricardo. She knocked on Kelly's door, and they took the elevator down together. It was ten to ten, but Ricardo had already arrived and was sitting in one of the corner booths. He caught her eye and gave her a subtle wave. When they reached the table, she did the introductions. The two men shook hands, and they all slipped into the booth.

“Miguel said you wanted to speak with me,” Ricardo said. He was as Taylor remembered him, tall and light skinned, with penetrating brown eyes and well-groomed black hair just off his shoulders. His smile was brilliant white and his nails freshly manicured. He was dressed in a pressed white shirt and black trousers.

“I did, but not until we've had a drink. I'm parched.” Taylor wanted to get an idea of what Ricardo was like—whether he was a risk taker or a stay-at-home kind of guy. She had her suspicions, and they leaned toward him being the more adventurous type. After twenty minutes of animated, and often very funny conversation with him, she had her answer. Ricardo was exactly who she had hoped. He skydived on occasion and drove a racing car on weekends at one of the local tracks. He was single and dated regularly, but seldom the same woman. And he was smart and funny. He had a quick mind, which would be a definite asset if he were to meet Edward Brand face-to-face at some point. It was pressing eleven o'clock when the talk drifted around to why they were at the table together.

“Do you remember my husband, Alan?” she asked Ricardo.

“Yes. Not vividly, but I do remember his face.”

“Well, it turned out that Alan wasn't who I thought he was. I've got a bit of a story to tell you if you have the time.”

“I'm yours for the evening,” Ricardo said, motioning to the waitress for another round. “Please continue.”

Taylor spent the next fifteen minutes detailing what Edward Brand and Alan Bestwick had done. Every detail, including how Alan had faked his death by plunging over the cliff at La Laguna. She told him of her trip to Paris and how she had seen him on the street in the Latin Quarter. When she was finished, she sipped her drink, her throat dry from talking so much. Ricardo was quiet, his face serious.

“Your husband deceived you quite badly,” he said. His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. “That is cowardly. In Mexico, many men fool around on their wives and bed other women, but it is few and far between that a man would do something like this. Your husband is a snake.”

“Good description,” Taylor said.

Ricardo rubbed his closely shaved chin. “How do I figure into all this?”

“Kelly, maybe you should take over here,” Taylor said.

“Sure,” Kelly said. “We think there may be an opportunity to get Taylor's money back from Edward Brand. But we need help.”

“What sort of help?” Ricardo asked, reclining back into the soft leather.

“There's a series of ruins about five miles northwest of Oaxaca City. Monte Alban. Have you heard of them?”

He nodded. “Yes, of course. In school we take classes in Mexican history and Monte Alban is one of the more interesting parts. If I remember correctly, the Zapotec Indians built the city in about 200 or 300 ad. And one of the tombs they found was full of priceless works of art. It was quite the find.”

“That's the place.”

“But the government has closed down any archeological work because of an earthquake. It was back in 1999 or 2000, I think.”

“1999. And that's what makes this the perfect bait for Edward Brand,” Kelly said. “The place has the potential to yield millions of dollars in treasure, but no one can get at it. But what if someone
could
get in? And what if they found a bunch of treasure? But for some reason, they were unable to get it out. Say, an official who needed his palm greased before he would turn a blind eye. And if the person who knew where the treasure was didn't have that money, then the gold and jewels would just sit there until someone else discovered them.”

“Unless this person could find someone with money to pay off the corrupt officials,” Ricardo said. “I understand.”

“So that's where you come in. You have to hook Brand—get him to believe that you have access to hundreds of millions of dollars in ancient Aztec and Mixtec treasure. And once you have him believing, you need him to wire money from his account to one of these officials.”

“And you take the money,” Ricardo said.

“Sort of,” Taylor interjected. “We'll only ask him for half a million dollars, and since that money will be traceable, we don't really want it. But that gives us access to his account numbers. Once we have those, plus the passwords, we can empty the accounts. That's where the real money is.”

“How much?” Ricardo asked.

Taylor thought for a minute. Brand took over two hundred million dollars out of the scam, but he would have had serious expenses. Even if he kept twenty-five percent of the total, that amount was still substantial. “Fifty million, give or take,” she said.

Ricardo whistled, a low monotone note that carried through the smoky air. “Fifty million?”

Taylor and Kelly both nodded. “At least,” she said.

“That's a lot of money.” Ricardo was very thoughtful. He sipped his drink, then waved at the waitress for another one. He waited until she had dropped off the rye and coke before continuing. “What is my share?” he finally asked.

“Depends on what we get,” Kelly said. “But we'll guarantee you one hundred thousand dollars, even if we don't get a single peso. Paid up front.”

“And if we get a peso, how much of that peso will I get?” he asked.

Taylor could read the interest in his eyes. It was extremely high. “Ten percent,” she said. “Capped at five million, even if we take in more than fifty.”

“Ten percent,” Ricardo repeated. “That seems low.”

She shook her head. “Ninety-nine percent of this con is knowing who has the money and what kind of person he is. The final one percent is pulling it off. You're well paid at ten percent.”

Ricardo did the math for each increment up to fifty. If they were anywhere near the fifty million, the amount was staggering. “Is he dangerous?” he asked.

“Extremely. He's already had one of his men kill an FBI agent. You don't want to blow your cover. The chances are good he'd kill you on the spot,” Kelly said.

Ricardo arched one eyebrow. “Now that's an honest answer.” He was silent, thoughtful. When he spoke his voice was distant. “I've had a good life. One filled with nice clothes, fast cars and lots of women. I've built a thriving business in a city where it is very difficult to succeed. Now is the time of my life to enjoy this success.” He paused to finish his drink. “But there has always been something missing. A piece of the puzzle that wasn't there. I never knew what it was. Not until tonight. But now I know. Although Mexico City can be dangerous, I have never been in a life-or-death situation. I've never had to rely on my abilities to think fast and say the right things to stay alive. And that is what is missing.”

“And . . .” Taylor said.

“And tonight, you have presented me with a very unique opportunity. Perhaps one that could fill that void.”

“You'll help us?” she asked, then held her breath.

He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “Yes, I'll help you.”

It was Taylor's turn to smile. She reached over and shook his hand. “Then we're a team of three.”

“A team of three,” Ricardo said. “I like that. It's got a—how do you say it in English?—a certain ring to it.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-ONE

They met again the next day at La Jolla restaurant, the upscale dining room in the Marquis Reforma Hotel. The décor was understated elegance, an extension of the hotel, which consistently made the coveted Leading Hotels of the World list. Ricardo was dressed casually, in khakis and a soft beige shirt while Kelly and Taylor both had on jeans and T-shirts. They fit the image of tourists having a late breakfast with a Mexican friend.

“Your English is impeccable,” Kelly said as they settled in. “Where did you learn?”

“My parents are upper-middle class. My father is a lawyer, and my mother is an interior designer for commercial buildings. They sent me to an English-immersion school. All my studies, from grade one right through to graduation were in English. I was very fortunate.”

“No kidding. I wish I had a second language.”

The waiter came by and they ordered coffee and breakfast. They waited until he left the table before talking about Monte Alban.

“I spent some time on the Internet going over the lay-out of Monte Alban, but I think we need to visit the site,” Ricardo said. “We have to be very informed on the area.”

Kelly nodded. “That's what we thought. We've already checked on flights. Aeroméxico has daily flights directly to Oaxaca City. Getting there is not a problem. Hotels are mostly basic, but there's one that looks good. Camino Real Oaxaca. We had Miguel phone and check availability, and there are rooms available. It seems most people leave the city at Christmas time.”

“Probably visiting relatives in Mexico City,” Ricardo said. “It can be tough to find a good hotel room here at this time of year.” He sipped his coffee and asked, “Do you have any sort of plan?”

“A basic idea of how things could work,” Taylor said. “But setting anything in stone before we visit Monte Alban to see exactly what we're up against is impossible. We need to visit and get a lay of the land.”

“Can you get away?” Kelly asked Ricardo.

“I'd like to stay in Mexico City for Christmas. That's only three days from now. After that I can fly down and meet you there.”

Taylor glanced at Kelly. “Works for me. How about you?”

Kelly nodded and spoke directly to Ricardo. “Better than we could have hoped for. Twenty-four hours ago your life was normal. Then we drop in from nowhere and dump this on your lap. You're being very accommodating.”

Ricardo smiled, his olive skin crinkling into soft laugh lines around his mouth. “You enticed me with a lot of money. It's not often a man gets an opportunity to earn anywhere between a hundred thousand and five million dollars. No, that's not something that comes around every day. I can be most accommodating with that sort of incentive.”

“Good,” Taylor said. “We may need a couple more people to help us. Who do you know that's trustworthy?”

“What would they be doing?” Ricardo asked.

“We'll need someone to play the part of a government official,” Taylor said. “Someone high-ranking in whatever department handles antiquities and treasure.”

“Of course. They will be at Monte Alban to convince the person you are relieving of his money that the treasure is real.” Ricardo nodded at the logic.

“I think so, but we'll need to use the actual name of someone inside the department, because our man will check.”

“I can get a name,” Ricardo said. “I know a man who could forge an ID badge.”

“Good,” Kelly said. “Whoever you get should be light on his feet and able to think fast, because he might be in the line of fire if Brand realizes he's been taken.”

“Brand? That's the man's name?”

“That's not his real name, but it's the one he's been living under for some time now. The most recent seems the best to use,” Taylor replied.

Ricardo leaned back in his chair, a serious look on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, the first time his body language had taken a defensive stance. “You realize how dangerous this is. You're trying to take money from a man who has grown very rich from doing exactly the same thing to other people. He's going to be savvy to all the tricks, know all the angles. He'll know something is wrong the second you make the smallest mistake. From what you've said, he can be violent. If you corner a man like this, he'll strike back. You know all these things.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Edward Brand stole almost fourteen million dollars from me,” Taylor said. “He inserted a man into my life who became my husband. He humiliated me.”

“I know this,” Ricardo said. “That wasn't the point I was making.”

“I know what your point is,” Taylor said. “Brand is all that and more. He's dangerous. Extremely dangerous. And he's smart. But we've got three things going for us that might give us what we need to pull this off. Straight off the top, Brand doesn't know we've tracked him down and that we know where he is and who he is. He thinks I'm visiting a friend in Houston. To him, I'm a nonentity. That complacency works well for us. It makes me invisible, and if I'm invisible, so is Kelly.”

“All right. He doesn't know you're setting him up. He'll still be suspicious of any opportunity that's dropped in his lap.”

“True, but what happens if we don't drop it directly in Brand's lap?”