The Consummata

bad enough when they learn of this, this...treachery. After yet another failure, who will trust us to act on their behalf?”

I frowned. “You haven’t told your people here that their contributions were snatched?”

Saladar shook his head firmly, frowning. “Do you realize how many here are making preparations to see their families again? Others long to help relieve the miseries at home, and see their people fed, and for medicines to be made available... to give hope that one day Cuba will be liberated from the madmen who rule over them.”

“Sooner or later they’re going to get wise.”

Saladar nodded solemnly. “We have until that day to look for Jaimie Halaquez.”

I felt that funny little touch of excitement again. It was like sensing a ship over the horizon. You couldn’t see it, but you knew it was there. The anticipation of a raid. Then I felt pretty damned ashamed of myself, and wiped the feeling away.

I said, “You can’t mean the son of a bitch is still around? With that much swag on hand?”

“We frankly do not know, senor,” Saladar said softly. “We do know Halaquez has not reached Cuba yet. Where he is, in this country? We have no notion...but our sources on the island tell us he most certainly is not there.”

“Maybe I had it wrong,” I admitted. “Maybe he isn’t going to live the Havana high life. Easy enough for him to spend that money in the States, amigos, even if it wouldn’t go as far.”

But Saladar was shaking his head. “Unlikely, SenorMorgan. Our people are diversified now. They have taken jobs in every state in the union. Key people have been alerted, and if Halaquez tries to spend our money here in the States? Well, then, we will have him.”

“Is that likely?”

“Unfortunately, no—he is smarter than that—it is like you say before, senor...to get the most out of that money, he must return to Cuba. As for now, he is...hiding out. Lying low.” He paused a second and watched me carefully. “That is why I ask if you have a suggestion.”

“For locating Halaquez?”

“Exactly.”

I grinned at him. “Tell me something, Luis. Did you guys use ESP or something, to lead me here?”

Saladar didn’t see the humor. “No, my friend. We are simply taking advantage of an opportunity. Naturally, I learned at once of your presence here. I am fully aware of your past history. That is why I ask you for the suggestion. In these matters, you are the expert, the professional.”

“Not in the political arena, amigo. Sorry to disappoint.”

Once again Saladar paused and leaned forward, his hands still clenched. “Know this, Senor Morgan, we do not seek repayment for aiding you. You need to banish any such thought from your mind.”

“Okay.”

“We will make sure you escape from this place. We do so with gratitude. We are your true friends.”

“You’ve proved it, Luis.”

He smiled and it was a sly thing. “So...can not a friend ask another friend for a suggestion? Whatever you say, we will attempt to do. At this point, we are desperate for a solution.”

“I won’t suggest anything,” I said.

His eyes grew a little sad. “Very well. May I ask why?”

I held up a hand. “Because somebody might get hurt taking my advice. Like you said, I’m the pro. A generous definition for a hood, but apt enough.”

“We can try our best.”

“No.”

He started to cover his disappointment with a shrug, then I added, “I’ll do it myself.”

His eyes widened abruptly and he unlocked his fingers and ran them through his hair. “No, senor, it will be enough for you merely to escape. You cannot jeopardize yourself on our account.”

I laughed, once. “Hell, it’ll keep me in practice.”

“Your suggestion would be enough, senor. Tell us what to do and—”

“My suggestion is you listen to the pro. You can conduct your own search in your own way, and if you’re smart, you’ll get one of the friendlier police agencies to help you. You want to go that route, fine.”

“We do not.”

“Then I have my own methods and my own contacts and I don’t want any amateurs screwing them up.”

“Senor...”

I cocked my head. “That is, unless you’re afraid to let me loose on this thing.”

They glanced at each other, then back to me. “Why would that be, senor?”

“Maybe if I get my hands on that dough, I’ll just take off with it myself.”

Because I was grinning at them, they didn’t take it as an offense. Both of them smiled back and Maria’s smile was the biggest of all.

Finally Saladar said, “No, senor, we are not afraid of that at all. You are a man of honor.”

I was glad I wasn’t taking a swig of beer when he said that. “Say that in front of some people,” I said, “and you’ll get the biggest laugh of your life.”

There was silence for a moment, then Saladar reached in his inside suitcoat pocket and withdrew an envelope. He opened it on the table and bills spilled out.

“Jaimie Halaquez did not find everything, SenorMorgan,” he said. “To do what you must do, you will need money. Here is the last of it—five thousand dollars. I trust it will be enough to serve the purpose.”

“You’re a trusting group.”

Saladar nodded. “That is our nature, senor. Our mistake before was not picking the right one to trust.”

“You could be making the same mistake now.”

“We don’t think so.”

“I tell you what.” I reached for the bills and tucked them back into the envelope. “We’ll call this a down payment. Toward fifteen percent of what I recover.”

“That is fair, senor,” Saladar said.

“If I don’t get your money back,” I said, “I reimburse you for everything but expenses. Okay?”

“You are too generous,” Pedro said.

“Not really. Got a picture of this character?”

They did. A snapshot taken a street festival right here in Little Havana—Jaimie Halaquez had an arm around Pedro and they were all smiles. Wearing a black leather vest over a purple shirt, his hair a long, perfect, shining black crown, Halaquez stood a head higher than Pedro, loomed above everyone around him. A handsome son of a bitch, but for a boxer’s pushed-in nose and a jagged scar on one cheek.

“Can you find him, senor?” Maria asked, wearing the same expression she no doubt wore to mass. “Can you return what he took from us?”

“Well, I can’t get back the betrayed loyalty. But the money I have a shot at.” I slipped the photo in a pocket, then gestured with the envelope of bills. “And tell you what—if I have to kill your amigo Jaimie Halaquez, along the way?”

Saladar said, “Yes, senor?”

“Well, I’ll just toss that in.”

And I pocketed the five thou.

CHAPTER THREE

Getting through the loosened cordon that still peppered the area wouldn’t be too hard—not when you had the back alley knowledge my escort did.