The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (32 page)

“Something on your mind?” Jorge asked.

Rodrigo shifted and stared at the
comisionado
. “No, boss. I’m just not sure about all of this. Maybe we should get more guys for this meet.”

“Why so nervous all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right, especially with Eduardo gone for so long without a word.”

Jorge placed a stick of gum in his mouth. “Hector will not jeopardize this deal. We go way back, me and him.” He smiled. “Did you know that me, Hector and Juan used to play baseball together when we were kids?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“It was like little league, the three of us. We were so close.”

“What happened with him and Juan?”

“I don’t know. Juan just wanted it all and forgot the part Hector played in getting us to the top. Well, Hector is back with a vengeance now, so Juan has no choice but to start listening to him again.”

Rodrigo stopped at a traffic light and looked at Jorge. The rain that had been falling had given way to a light drizzle. “Don’t you think it would have been better if Juan was here in person, you know, to show that there’s peace between our families?”

“Juan has his own problems.” Jorge frowned. “Apart from that scumbag nephew of his, he has this Tobias guy with whatever he has on him. No, I’ll be fine with Hector. Juan’s giving him the best deal he’ll get. He’d be crazy to say no.”

Rodrigo took a left onto Franklin Avenue and glanced at his watch—9 p.m. “Hector’s already here,” he said, pointing to a dark grey Mercedes stretch limo. Jorge gestured toward a space between two SUVs. Rodrigo backed the car in and switched the engine off.

“Are you sure we don’t need more people?” Rodrigo said. “One call and I can have twenty more guys watching our backs.”

“No. Hector will see that as a lack of trust in him. I’ll step in with you and we’ll walk out together.” He got out of his car and glanced at his sparkling black shoes, which had been polished the night before.

He looked through the windows of Kelso, one of his favorite Spanish restaurants. It was almost empty and exactly what he wanted.

***

Rain pelted down without warning, prompting Fernando to run back to the driver’s seat of the parked Chrysler sedan. He wiped his shaved head with a gray handkerchief and passed Rico a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of water. Rico groaned in pain as he stretched his neck.

“It still hurts, huh?” Fernando said.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Rico lit a cigarette and passed it to Fernando before lighting one for himself.

“Does Marie know you’ve started smoking again?”

Rico shook his head. “She’ll kill me if she finds out.” He smiled at the thought of Marie discovering cigarettes in his pants.

“About that thing,” Fernando started.

Rico cut him off with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing to talk about. These are probably the worst times our family’s ever faced. Antonio had to check all the angles. You were just doing what I would have done.”

Fernando patted Rico on the back and smoked quietly for a few minutes. “Remember that time at the zoo?” he finally asked.

Rico glanced at him. “Which time? We used to go there every Friday, remember?”

“The time Antonio snuck into the python’s cage to impress that girl. What was her name again?”

“Selena.”

“That was it. Selena Andrews. How old were we again?”

“Twelve, I think.”

Fernando smiled as he took a swig from his water bottle. “I remember how you ran there and practically dragged him out. Making all that noise, the snake could’ve killed you.”

“I know, but we always looked after each other. He would have done the same for me.”

“You do know we’re still the same people. The other day was just business. We change the minute we start this job. None of what we’ve been through matters anymore.”

Rico stared toward the heavens. The rain had turned to a drizzle. “But don’t you sometimes wish we could be 12 again? Even if to just sit at home watching movies and goofing around and sneaking to hear Juan talking business like we used to.”

“I think about that every day.” Fernando turned around and looked Rico squarely in the face. “Let me ask you something. Do you think we’re doing the right thing here?”

“If I didn’t believe it, I wouldn’t be here.” He glanced at his watch—9 p.m.

“They’re here,” Fernando said. He quickly turned the windshield wipers on to clear their view.

***

The waiter recognized Jorge upon seeing him walk through the door with Rodrigo. The
comisionado
wiped drops of water from his burgundy suit and scanned the tables. The restaurant’s food always struck a chord with him, as did the décor—old-fashioned wooden chairs and tables and dim lighting. It was a place where he could happily collect his thoughts, and he had access to it long after closing time if necessary.

“Mr. Huerta,” the waiter said. “You’re favorite table again?”

Jorge patted the waiter on the shoulder as he continued to look around the room. He spotted a corner table seating six men, all in black suits. “It’s okay, Alejandro. I’ve found who I’m looking for.”

The
comisionado
glanced at Rodrigo and nodded toward the men at the table. Rodrigo’s face tightened as he looked at the well-dressed men. They walked quickly to the table, which was occupied mostly by young, dark-haired lothario types, even younger than some of
los corredores
in Rodrigo’s crew. All except the only person actually eating, who had his back to them. He had a large bald patch in the middle of his head.

“Hector Guerrero?” Rodrigo said, ignoring the piercing stares from the young crew.

The bald man turned. “Jorge,” he said with a thick Spanish accent. He pushed his seat back and stood up. “Come here, you.” He embraced the
comisionado
, his large frame easily dwarfing his old friend’s.

Jorge gestured toward his
ejecutor.
“You remember Rodrigo, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Hector embraced Rodrigo and turned to the seated men, his face hardening. “Why are you still sitting down like that? Get up and let our friends sit.”

The two men sitting beside Hector quickly rose and walked past Jorge and Rodrigo, nodding as their eyes met. The two Americans sat down and watched as the bald man devoured a king prawn. Hector wiped his hands on his napkin and picked his teeth before speaking. “It’s so good to see you, Jorge.”

“And you, too, Hector.”

“I’m so sorry about Reynaldo.” Jorge nodded somberly. “I know he was like a son to you. It’s such a shame to work so hard in life and then get killed by a mindless thief.” He picked up another prawn and sucked on it.

“Well, Reynaldo’s death shall be avenged.”

Hector put the empty prawn shell on his plate and sipped on his red wine. “I would expect no less from you, my friend.” He wiped his mouth and folded his arms. “Anyway, I’m here now. What have you got for me?”

Jorge leaned forward and looked around the table. “Juan wants this deal to go through and is prepared to meet any of your demands.”

Hector laughed loudly and nodded to his men, who joined in the laughter. “My demands, you say.” He picked up another prawn and held it to his mouth but put it back down. He pointed at Jorge. “Remember one thing, my friend. I didn’t break the truce, Juan did. I’m here against the advice of my people. They tell me that your family is losing control of New York.”

Jorge’s eyes widened.

“Don’t give me that look, Jorge,” Hector snapped. “Remember that I’m no midlevel boy. I started out in this business with you and Juan. We took our business to the heavens. We are the people that will be talked about when students write theses on our businesses—me, you and Juan.” He leaned forward, his chest knocking some empty glasses over. “But remember that you’re no better than me. I hear what you hear. I know what you know. And I know your family is in the middle of a war with the cops and the FBI. I know Juan is having problems with some parts of the family. I’ve been hearing other things I would rather not mention here, because if they’re true, it would mean that you lied to get me to America.”

Jorge looked around the restaurant and saw that the only other diners left were a young black couple who held hands as they drank their wine. “I only speak the truth between us, Hector. You’re right, Juan has some problems here in America, but it’s no different from when you had those problems with the Mexicans fifteen years ago. Did you tell us about it? No, but we stood by you and still did business. All that I ask is that you listen to what Juan and I have to say.”

“Then why isn’t he here now? He’s the
gobernador
of the family and he sends you alone. This deal could make us more money than we’ve ever seen. Do I not command enough respect for his presence?”

Jorge sighed. “I told you, he has to take care of some personal problems, but he’s given me permission to make a deal with you.”

Hector leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine. “What is he proposing?”

“Sixty-five to you and thirty-five to us.”

Hector glanced at the four men across the table and shrugged. They all nodded their heads in unison.

“That’s very generous of Juan,” Hector said. “Why is he doing me this kind of favor? What have I done to make him so happy in the time we haven’t spoken?”

“He doesn’t want money to get in the way of what we could achieve. See it as his welcome bonus to you.”

Hector laughed broadly as he looked toward his men again. “It’s a good offer.”

One of the men’s cell phones rang. He answered and placed his hand over the phone after a moment. “It’s a call for you,” he said to Hector in Spanish.

Hector put his napkin on the table and stood up. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” Jorge nodded. Hector put the cell to his ear and walked toward the exit, his voice too low for Jorge to make out what he was saying.

He returned after two minutes and stood at the head of the table before signaling his men to rise. “I’ve got urgent business to take care of,” he said to Jorge.

The
comisionado
rose. “Now? We’re in the middle of a business meeting.”

“I’m afraid this can’t wait. Besides, your terms are acceptable.” He nodded to his men, and they walked toward the restaurant’s entrance. “Tell Juan that I will go into business with him again. Hopefully, this time we’ll completely understand each other.”

Jorge put his hands on Hector’s shoulders. “He’ll like that very much.”

“It was good seeing you, my friend. You have always been loyal to me. Until next time.” He joined his men and walked out of the restaurant.

Jorge sat back down and glanced around. He and the Rodrigo were the only customers left. “Alejandro!” he shouted.

The waiter rushed out. He was no longer wearing his apron. “Yes, Mr. Huerta?”

“We’ll be staying here for a while. Bring me your best bottle of Champagne.”

“At once, sir.” Alejandro rushed toward the back.

“Is this a good idea, boss?” Rodrigo said.

Jorge smiled as he spun an empty wine glass on the table. “We’ve done it, Rodrigo. We’ve started what will be the largest drug transaction in the history of man. We should celebrate.”

Rodrigo pulled his cell out. “I’ll call the girls.”

Jorge stopped him with the raising of his hand. “Who did you get to handle that thing?”

“One of our Italian friends. He’ll make it quick and painless.”

“No,” Jorge snapped. “I want that punk to suffer, the same way he beat Reynaldo to death. You call your guy and tell him I want pieces of him sent to me. I want to know how much that bastard begged to die.”

“Are you sure, boss? Juan—”

‘Don’t worry about Juan. He’s given me permission to do it. How I kill him is my business.’

‘I’ll get right on it.’ Rodrigo walked toward the entrance, his cell to his ear.

As Pablo shook him awake, Tobias wished he could punch him in the face. He caught a glimpse of Annabel walking into the bathroom and scowled at the one-eyed man.

“It’s time to get up,” Pablo said. “We’ve got to get there by 9, remember?”

Tobias stretched and yawned. His watch said 7:30 a.m. “You’re gonna let me have a shower, right?”

Pablo looked at him with a blank expression.

Tobias shrugged. “It’s up to you, but if you want me to go in there looking professional, I’ll need that shower.”

“And so you’ll have one,” Juan said. He held the door open for Andrés and Nino to enter. “I trust you had a nice sleep?”

Tobias glared at Pablo. “How can I sleep comfortably with your guy pointing that shotgun at me?”

Juan approached Tobias and gently struck his palm against his face and held it there. “Do not misunderstand this situation. I’m letting you live for now mainly because you’re Albert’s grandson. The money is a nice amount also, and I don’t need the headache of what killing you will bring.” He leaned closer. “But make no mistake, if that money doesn’t get into my account and by any strange magic you escape from some secret underground tunnel in the bank, I’ll devote my life to hunting you down. I won’t care who your grandfather was.”

Tobias stood up in a huff and zipped his pants. “And I’ve already told you, I don’t want anyone in your family after me. I just want a fresh start.”

The bathroom door clicked open and Annabel walked out in a figure-hugging gray dress, her breasts and supple butt prominent. Juan joined the rest of the men in staring at her wide-eyed. Tobias was captivated, too.

“You’re one lucky man,” Juan said to Tobias. “Come and join us, Annabel.” He tapped the bed. “Take a seat right here.”

She looked back and forth between the
gobernador
and Tobias, remaining where she stood. Nino pulled out his Glock and aimed it in her direction. “Now, bitch!”

“Whoa!” Juan said. “Haven’t you got any manners? She’s dressed like a lady, so treat her like one. Put the gun away.”

Nino lowered the gun and leaned against the door. Annabel walked toward the bed in as seductive a manner as Tobias had ever seen. She could just as easily have been gliding.