chip factories and Nair-filled Halloweens.
'It's Woods.'
'Welcome to Miami,' I said.
'We've got a problem,' Woods said.
'We don't. You might. We don't.'
'You don't seem to exist,' Woods said. 'I don't like to do business with people who don't exist.'
'Hank Fitch doesn't exist,' I said. 'But his money does.'
'You got any proof of that?'
I didn't. Not yet. I'd need Stanley Rosencrantz to come through. 'This afternoon,' I said. 'My friend from the East is staying at the Hotel Oro. Are you familiar with that hotel?' Woods said nothing. I'd tried to play my hand too early, but now I had to keep bluffing. 'We could meet there this evening, handle all of our business, and by morning you could be back on a plane for Afghanistan tending to your fields.'
'It's off,' he said and hung up.
I'd had conversations like that in the past. They were never good news.
'What was that?' Sam said. I told him. 'Did it sound like he was in town?'
I thought about it. 'Hard to tell,' I said. 'He wasn't bouncing. There was no delay. Phone sounded like a cell. He could be in the PR for all that's worth.'
'What now?'
'We make him show,' I said.
I called Nate, whom we'd left at my mother's so he could watch over everything, in case any Communists showed up again, and to keep an eye on Cricket, who, for whatever reason, perhaps the same poor judgment that got her in this problem to start with, confided to Fiona that she felt safe around Nate whereas I scared her. 'What time is it?' Nate asked when he finally answered his cell.
'It's after ten,' I said. 'Listen. Plans have changed. I need you to go to Cricket's and get the tear gas from the garage.'
'I don't do business until noon,' he said.
'It's already tomorrow in Australia,' I said.
'So it's ten a.m. tomorrow,' he said.
Nate's socialization process ended right around his sixteenth birthday. I had to constantly remind myself of this so that I didn't end up shooting him. 'Nate,' I said, 'go to Cricket's. Now.'
'Can I shower?'
'I don't know, Nate, can you?' Problem was, my socialization process as it related to dealing with Nate had stopped at around twelve. That was when we decided it would be easier to just fight over everything.
'Fine, fine,' he said.
I gave him some specific instruction on how to handle the tear gas. And upon reflection, told him to dig up the Malibu lights Sam had installed, too, which made Sam grunt with displeasure. I'd hear about that. But I thought we'd be able to use them in a more guerrilla-style soon. I should have known things were too perfect.
'You clear on everything?' I asked Nate. Asking Nate to do something came with a particular hazard: His involvement always made things worse. I was trying to learn to trust him, but I also knew that the definition of madness is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result.
'How much am I getting for this job?' Nate asked.
'Nothing,' I said.
'You have to be kidding,' Nate said. 'Cricket gets her money back, she could float us a couple Gs no problem. You want me to talk to her about that?'
'No,' I said. 'I just want you to do what I've asked.'
'If there's some back end, I expect to be remunerated,' Nate said.
'Consider that truck of suits your salary,' I said.
'You're not nice,' Nate said.
'Call me when you're back on the road,' I said and hung up.
Next, I called Barry, who unlike Nate was awake and alert, if still Barry. 'I need you to set up two bank accounts for me,' I said. 'But put them somewhere close. Nothing Swiss.'
'How does the Dominican sound? I'm getting great rates there.'
'Fine,' I said. 'I need one for Cricket O'Connor, one for Hank Fitch.'
'Real ones or fake ones?' he said.
'Real for Cricket, fake for Hank,' I said. I gave Barry Cricket's social security number, driver's license number, everything he might need.
'This Hank Fitch is a bad guy,' Barry said.
'Yeah, I know,' I said.
'He shot a guy I've done some business with in the past,' Barry said.
'You don't say,' I said.
'Heard things went down on the Fish,' Barry said.
'Where'd you hear that, Barry?'
'Around,' he said. 'This might surprise you, but you aren't the only person who talks to me.'
'Nothing surprises me,' I said.
'People are moving money around on account of this Hank Fitch,' he said. 'Lots of it.'
'Maybe the Fed is cutting the interest rate next week,' I said. 'How long to get this done?'
'Couple hours. What about that other favor? The loans? Or did that idea get shot up?'
'Funny,' I said, again trying with the limited words thing. 'I want you to set up an account for Eddie Champagne. See if you can fund a loan for him using this address as financial collateral,' I gave him the address of Longstreet. I then gave him all the information contained on the police report Sam had finagled out of his guy at the FBI, which was enough to set up a legit account, except that Eddie Champagne's felony sheet would never allow him the loan without some fudging on Barry's part. 'Run it through a real bank. Just keep yourself as out as possible. This is going to wake up some heat.'
'Heat I can handle,' Barry said.
'IRS heat,' I said.
'Those guys are puppies,' Barry said, but he actually had a touch of uneasiness in his voice. 'Took them a decade to catch up to Barry Bonds. What do you think they'll do with me?'
'I appreciate it,' I said.
Barry told me everything would be up within a few hours. 'I'll text you all the numbers,' he said, 'but this phone is in the Atlantic. You need to find me, you know where to look.'
'Keep whatever you can for yourself,' I said.
'Implied,' he said and was gone.
I had one more call to make. To Natalya.
'You think that's a good idea?' Sam said.
'It's not an idea,' I said. 'It's a trigger.'
'You should just use a real one,' Fiona said.
I dialed the hotel's general number, opting not to use the 800 number provided for me earlier. I told the operator I was calling from Palm Life magazine about doing a photo shoot at the hotel the following month and absolutely had to speak to the GM.
'This is Ms. Copeland,' Natalya said, her accent perfect again.
'I have your money,' I said.
'Smart,' Natalya said. 'Better for everyone that you come clean.'
'Six o'clock,' I said, 'poolside at your lovely establishment. That way everyone goes home alive. I assume you have an account I can wire to?'
'Of course,' she said.
'Good,' I said. 'And, Natalya, just so you know? I'm bringing my pit bull with me.' I turned to see how Fiona took that.
Elated.
'What a nice reunion,' Natalya said. 'I haven't seen her since you and I slept together, Michael. At least not
