'Your overall view of the market,' Little said. 'Coke especially. Where's it going-up or down? What'll the kilo price be three months from now? Six months? A year?'
'Right now there's a product surplus,' David said. 'That will disappear within three months. Demand will remain steady or increase; supply will contract. In the U.S., the price per kilo will go up, up, up.'
'How do you figure that?' Siena said.
Then, demonstrating almost total recall, Rathbone repeated the words of the renegade narc. But while Paul had merely reported, David used his words in a hard sell, leaning forward, staring steadily at Lou Siena, an easy enough trick if you concentrated your gaze on the space between a man's eyes.
He was a dynamite yak, very earnest, very sincere, very convincing. He spoke authoritatively of the global economy, the internationalization of trade, the significance of 1992, the decision of the drug cartels to concentrate their main marketing efforts in the European Community. He explained how they planned to reduce the kilo price to lure consumers in Western Europe, which would, inevitably, lead to higher prices in the U.S.
Lou Siena listened closely, fascinated. This was the first time he had heard such detailed financial information about his industry from a man who was obviously knowledgeable about the big picture and yet had enough street smarts to recognize how the relaxation of border regulations between European countries would facilitate drug trafficking.
'There's no doubt about it,' David concluded firmly. 'You'll see the wholesale price of high-quality cocaine hit 30K per kilo within three to six months, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see it go to 50K within a year. Any questions?'
'Yeah,' Siena said. 'How do I know you're giving me the straight poop?'
David stiffened, narrowed his eyes, looked coldly at the New Yorker. 'What possible reason would I have to scam you? I'm meeting you today for the first time. I don't know what kind of deal you and Frank are cooking up, and I don't want to know. You asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you as honestly as I know how. And I resent the implication that I'm involved in some kind of a con game.'
'Okay, okay,' the other man said hastily. 'I guess you're leveling.'
Rathbone nodded, finishing his drink, and stood up. 'I don't care how you use what I told you, but just don't quote me as the source. I wouldn't care to have it get back to my close friends in Bogota that I'm leaking inside information.'
'Don't worry about it, David,' Frank Little said. 'You can depend on Lou and me. Thanks for your help.'
'Now we're even,' Rathbone said. 'I wish you luck. See you around.' Then he was gone.
'What did you think of him?' Little asked Siena.
'I guess he's straight. Like he said, what possible angle could he have?'
'Right. So let's figure coke will be up to 30K within three to six months. How about taking those fifteen kilos at 25 per?'
Then they started haggling.
An hour later Rathbone phoned Little from the office of the Fort Knox Fund. Rita was perched on his desk, filing her nails, bare legs crossed. As he talked, David stroked her knee.
'How did you make out?' he asked.
'Nineteen-five,' Frank said.
'Not bad.'
'I did my best, but he wouldn't come up. It's about five Gs more per kilo than he's been paying.' 'So he bought my spiel?'
'Definitely. Very impressed. Said he'd like to meet with you again.'
'Fat chance. Did he do the contract?'
'Signed, sealed, and delivered. Fifteen thousand chairs at nineteen-five per thousand. And the guy won't welsh, David. He's very hot on personal honor.'
'Honor?' Rathbone said, laughing and leaning forward to kiss Rita's knee. 'What's that? You did a good job, Frank. See you at the Palace tonight to celebrate?'
'I'll be there.'
Rathbone hung up and grinned at Rita.
'Good news?' she asked.
'The best. We're going to be rich.'
'I thought we were.'
'You know what they say: You can never be too thin or too rich.'
'I'll take care of thin,' she said. 'Rich is your department.'
'I'm getting there,' he said. 'Now let's pick up a bottle of something cold and dry, and then go home and get some sun.'
'Beautiful,' she said. 'I like this life.'
41
Mr. Crockett had become increasingly tetchy of late, and Tony Harker could only conclude the man was under increasing pressure from Washington to show some results. And because the chief was feeling the heat, his lieutenants were, too, and in turn were leaning on their subordinates.
Harker sat on one of those uncomfortable folding chairs in front of Crockett's desk and flipped through a sheaf of messages, telexes, and photographs.
'Here's what we've got so far, sir,' he reported. 'David Rathbone, using the name Dennis Reynolds-same initials you'll note; so he doesn't have to throw away his monogrammed shirts, I guess-has purchased a home about twenty miles west of Limon in Costa Rica. Our man down there says it's a big ranch-type place with about ten acres of orchards and a vegetable garden. Plus a swimming pool. Right now there's an old couple living there, taking care of things.'
'Mortgage?' Crockett asked.
No, sir, he paid cash. Reportedly about a hundred thousand American. And under the name of Reynolds, he has a balance of about twenty thousand in a San Jose bank. We're still looking for Dennis Reynolds bank accounts in the Bahamas and Caymans.'
'He's getting ready to run?'
'Not quite yet, sir. I questioned Sullivan, and she says Rathbone has mentioned nothing about leaving the country. I figure he's waiting to make a big kill with his counterfeiting scam and the Fort Knox Commodity Trading Fund before he skedaddles.'
'Tony, what is that Fund?'
'Drug trading,' Harker said promptly. 'Got to be. What a ballsy idea-to organize a commodity fund that trades only in controlled substances. And then to sell shares to the public to finance the business! If that's not chutzpah, I don't know what is. Anyway, the DEA traced those two cars parked outside Frank Little's office. The Bentley belonged to David Rathbone, as I figured, and he fits the agents' description of the driver. The other car, a Lincoln, is registered in New York to a nephew of Lou Siena. He owns Siena Moving and Storage and is currently under investigation by the Manhattan DA for allegedly running one of the biggest cocaine operations in the city.''
'Interesting,' Crockett said, drumming his fingers on his desktop. 'You believe that links Rathbone and Little with the drug trade?'
'Definitely. The DEA is getting a court order to tap Little's office and home phones.'
The chief frowned. 'They're certainly moving swiftly on this, aren't they? I trust they'll remember their agreement to consult with us before making any arrests.'
'I think we better keep up with them,' Harker said. 'Rathbone was seen meeting with a suspected drug dealer. That's additional evidence to justify tapping his home phones, wouldn't you say?'
Crockett nodded.
'And the office of the Fort Knox Fund?'
'All right,' Crockett said. 'Let's go for broke.'
'And can we tape conversations in Rathbone's home?'
