“What is this man to you?”
“He has answers I need, answers no one else has. That makes him a valuable commodity, Mr. Da Sa. For both sides.”
“And which side am I on, McCrackenballs?”
“Neither. This time you’re in the middle.”
Without warning Da Sa bounded out of his chair and strode quickly to the water. McCracken drained the rest of his drink and followed close behind, as did the guards, too, at a discreet distance. Blaine stopped next to the crime lord and water lapped over their feet as Da Sa spoke again.
“This is Rio, my friend. I am both sides and the middle.”
“Not this time, Mr. Da Sa.”
“Assuming this man, this American you speak of, is under my protection, I would not force him to meet with you. What do you offer that may encourage him?”
“You can tell him what you know about me. Tell him I’m the one who can get him what he wants.”
“And just what is this?”
“If he’s still in the country, as I suspect, it’s because you learned he was too hot to move. But what the man wants is to get out and go home. That’s where I come in. He cooperates…the arrangements get made tomorrow.”
Da Sa laughed. “My sources were right about you, my friend. You think with your balls.”
“Cuts down on the headaches.”
“And you believe you can succeed in this where I have seen difficulties?”
“I have the advantage of knowing exactly what we’re facing.”
“That might not provide sufficient impetus for the American to accept a meeting.”
“Then tell him the Omicron legion is still at large. Tell him thirteen is my lucky number.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It will to him.”
Sal Belamo gazed from the screen to Patty Hunsecker and back again.
“In-fucking-credible,” was all he could say. “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Every one of the victims on the list with my father was adopted, all within a three-year period.”
“Beginning forty-five years ago and ending forty-two?…”
Patty nodded. “For whatever it’s worth, yes.”
“It’s worth more than a kick in the ass, lady, and that’s what it feels like. Damned if I can make any sense of it, though.”
“Wait until you try to make sense of what else my nimble fingers uncovered: All the businessmen, my father included, had extensive dealings with the Japanese.”
“Come again?”
“They brokered deals. They ran interference for buyouts and mergers. Some made a fortune. Some didn’t. The Japanese ended up the biggest winners.”
Belamo hesitated, trying to take it all in. “How many additional victims you say you came up with?”
“Another five at least.”
“You ask me, lady, the thing to do is use your pattern and find out who else might be on the list.”
“I already have, Sal, and one of them is sure to interest you. Here,” she said, sliding back from the monitor screen, “have a look.”
Belamo squinted to read the name clearly, and then his eyes bulged.
“Holy fucking shit,” he muttered.
Chapter 19
McCracken agreed to meet under any conditions Jonas Parker requested.
“The thing is,” he said to Fernando Da Sa, “I won’t be the only one in Rio looking for him.”
“And these others, you think my participation in such matters simply slipped by them? Why would they have not come to me as you have?”
“Because they knew you would have seen through their motives.”
Da Sa grasped his shoulder tenderly. “You need not worry about these others, my friend. This man is under my protection, and that means very much in Rio. In addition, I will dispatch a dozen of my ladies to provide security, assuming, of course, he agrees to meet you.”
Blaine was told to go back to his hotel and wait by the pool. He would be contacted there with the details for the meeting.
It was cool in the late Rio afternoon, the sun having disappeared behind the Sheraton, and Blaine had been lying by the pool for only twenty minutes, when a tall, dark woman lay down casually on the chaise longue next to his.
“Eight o’clock tonight at the Jardim Botanico.”
“The what?”
“Botanical Garden. Enter from the Avenue of the Royal Palms. The gate will be left open for you. Walk until you reach the bronze fountain. The man you seek will appear only if you come alone, make no phone calls, and speak to no one before leaving. If you’re late, the meeting is off.”
She rose and walked away.
“Nice talking to you,” said Blaine.
McCracken reached the Jardim Botanico right on time and found the security gate to the Avenue of the Royal Palms open, just as promised. His path led beneath palm trees of every variety that had been among the seedlings planted by Prince Regent Dom Jaoa in 1808. Since then, samples collected and nurtured over the course of the years included water lilies measuring twenty-one feet in diameter and a spectacular collection of carnivorous and poisonous plants.
With just the moon for illumination, McCracken could only make out the shapes of trees and plants imported from a hundred countries. The wide path that ran between the spreading palms was formed of hard-packed dirt inlaid with rock. Other narrower paths, some enclosed by vine-wrapped steel overhangs, joined the main one to create a serpentine maze of intersecting passageways through the various flora. Blaine could make out a large lake off to his right.
Despite the calm and beautiful scene, McCracken was nervous and wary. Da Sa’s guarantees of protection seemed meaningless because the crime lord’s guards had no conception of what they were up against.
With that in mind, McCracken carried his Heckler and Koch along with Sal Belamo’s twin clips of plastic-covered Splats. He wore baggy, full-fitting trousers for comfort as well as to hide his pistol in an ankle holster. He had asked Da Sa for permission to carry the gun. The crime lord believed the weapon would be superfluous, but Blaine told him he liked playing things safe.
He strolled down the Avenue of the Royal Palms with eight o’clock still several minutes away. He knew he was getting close to the fountain when he heard its dripping sounds. It was nestled in a small open grove, surrounded by many statues and stone benches.
Blaine checked his watch. It was eight o’clock. Perhaps Parker had decided not to show after all. Perhaps something had stopped him en route.
Blaine caught the faint sound of footsteps on the soft ground of the narrow walk to his left. A shape emerged, motions tense and jittery. Blaine stiffened, but he didn’t rise. The figure passed into a patch of moonlight and Blaine recognized the face he had seen in Virginia Maxwell’s file. The man quickly approached and stopped a few yards before the bench where Blaine sat.
“Mr. Parker? Or is it Doctor Parker?”
Parker stood rigid. “Mister will do fine.” A pause, then, “Da Sa says you can help me.”
“You have to help me first.”
“Anything. Everything. I just want this to be over.”
“Then sit down.”
“It won’t make me more comfortable.”
“It will make you a smaller target.”
Each motion long and deliberate, Parker joined McCracken on the bench.
“Of course, we might be safe with Da Sa’s guards posted all around us,” Blaine continued, “but I don’t think so. And I’ve got the feeling you don’t, either.”
Parker’s eyes widened in the moonlight. “How much do you know about them?”