His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he stepped into the back hallway outside the office to answer it. “Yes?”
“Mr. Kapak?” It was the voice of Morgan, the manager at Siren. “I thought I should let you know that one of Mr. Rogoso’s people called a minute ago. They said he’s coming here.”
“To Siren?”
“That’s what the guy said. He was conveying the message that Rogoso was on the way.”
“Thanks, Morgan. He probably just wants somebody to know he’s coming so they’ll pay attention to him. I’ll drive over and meet him.”
“Should I get one of the girls to keep him distracted until you’re here? Maybe give him a lap dance and so on?”
“No. Give him what he pays for and nothing else. Which of my guys is there right now?”
“Jerry Gaffney. Guzman and Corona.”
“Good. Can you reach any of them?”
“Jerry’s right in the office.”
“Put him on.”
After a bit of shuffling, Kapak heard Jerry Gaffney come on. “Mr. Kapak.”
“Jerry, I want you to handle Rogoso until I get there. He’s apparently coming to deliver the cash himself.”
“What should I do?”
“Keep a gun on you, and maybe a second one he won’t see. Meet him outside the door. Smile and be friendly, and take him right into the back office. Make him feel important, but get him out of sight so we don’t have him drinking and scaring people and attracting attention.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I hear Guzman and Corona are there.”
“They’re out in the club.”
“Tell them to stick close to you. Rogoso hardly ever goes anywhere without Alvin and Chuy, and they talk to each other in Spanish. Corona and Guzman will pick it up first if what they’re saying isn’t good. Rogoso will give you some cash. He’ll tell you how much it is, but count it. Then get him out of the club. Be friendly, but don’t show any weakness. He’s always looking for it.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’m leaving Temptress now. I should be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. You’d better get ready for him.”
“Right. See you.”
Manuel Rogoso arrived at the door of Siren a few minutes later in a black four-door Maserati. The driver sat in front of the entrance for a few seconds, goading the engine into a grumble a couple of times while the three men in the car studied the building and the parking lot. Then the car glided forward and made a wide turn into a space in the middle of the lot. Two men got out of the front seat and stepped to the right rear door. They were both big men who had obviously lifted a great deal of iron to get that way. Both wore lightly tinted glasses, leather jackets, boots, and black jeans. One of them opened the door and Manuel Rogoso swung his legs out and stood.
Rogoso was only five feet seven, but he too was a body builder. The impression he gave was not of a small man: with his wide shoulders and thick limbs he seemed to be a creature designed for fighting. As the three men walked away from the car, they moved stiffly, listing a bit from side to side.
Jerry Gaffney was leaning against the front of the building smoking a cigarette a few feet from the door. As Rogoso and his men approached the door, he pushed off the wall and stepped in front of them as he flicked his cigarette away. He held out his hand, smiled, and said, “Mr. Rogoso. I’m Jerry Gaffney. Mr. Kapak asked me to welcome you to Siren.”
Rogoso’s eyebrows pinched together in a scowl. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He was over at Temptress when he got the call that you were coming here. Come with me, and we’ll go inside where we’ll be comfortable.”
Jerry Gaffney stepped in and nodded to the bouncer, who stepped back to let the four men pass him. Gaffney led them along the front of the bar past the gaggle of customers three-deep waiting for drinks.
Rogoso stopped for a second. “How about getting us a drink?”
“I’ll have drinks sent in, so we can hear ourselves talk.”
Rogoso didn’t look happy. He glanced up at the face of his driver and bodyguard, Alvin, then at Chuy and conveyed irritation, but he went with Jerry Gaffney to the hallway that led to the back room.
Gaffney stopped, reached out to detain a passing waitress, and said, “Honey, we’d like some drinks in the office, please. Gentlemen, what would you like?”
“Three zombies,” Rogoso said. “With 151 rum.”
“Got it,” the woman said, and walked off toward the bar.
Gaffney opened the office door and the three men entered. Sitting in chairs on either side of the door were Guzman and Corona. It was not lost on Rogoso that there were now three men from each side in this one relatively small room, all of them armed.
Rogoso spoke to Guzman and Corona in Spanish. “I remember you two. If you want to make some real money you can come work for me.”
Guzman said, “No, thanks. I don’t want to be a drug dealer.”
“Oh, I wasn’t offering anything like that. You’d need some balls to deal. I just figured two matching Honduran boys could shine both my shoes alike.”
Alvin and Chuy and Rogoso laughed, but Guzman and Corona stared at them, their faces unreadable. Gaffney said, “What’s that all about?”
“Nothing,” said Corona. “He’s just telling jokes.”
Rogoso seemed frustrated. “How long is this going to take?”
“I don’t know,” said Gaffney. “Mr. Kapak said he would be around twenty minutes.”
Rogoso took off his raincoat and set it on the table along the wall. He unzipped the lining and revealed a row of pockets full of money, and began taking the stacks of cash out of it and tossing them on the table with an audible flap. When he was finished, he said, “This is eighteen thousand five hundred dollars. I don’t have time for him to drive over here at ten miles an hour like an old lady.”
Gaffney took the money and began counting rapidly, laying each thousand to the side as he finished counting. Alvin and Chuy, Guzman and Corona stared into each other’s eyes and occasionally touched the pocket of a coat or behind their backs, the places where they had hidden their weapons.
There was a knock on the door, and Guzman backed to the door and opened it. The waitress tried to come in, but Corona stood and said, “I’ll take the tray.”
She looked unwilling, because she could probably see at least some of the money, and she wanted her tip. She caught sight of Rogoso and his men, and seemed to reconsider. “All right.”
“Bring her in,” Rogoso said.
“No, that’s okay,” she said, and started down the hall.
Alvin and Chuy brushed past Guzman, ran three steps, and caught up with her. They seemed to lift her by her elbows, then turned around, walked back with her, and shut the door.
Rogoso came close, smiling. “Are the zombies any good?”
“Sure. But I just deliver them. I don’t make them.”
He took one from the tray and held it up to her lips. “Taste it for me.”
“I’m not supposed to drink when I’m working.”
“Sip it or I’ll think you put something in it.” He pushed it against her mouth and began to pour.
The waitress looked at Gaffney for help, but he was still counting rapidly, unaware of her, so she took some in and gulped. She started to cough, and Rogoso put his hand on her back and patted it, hard. “Here. You’d better finish it and bring me another one.”
Gaffney said, “You made a mistake. It’s not eighteen five. It’s only seventeen thousand.”
Rogoso put the glass down and glared at Gaffney. “I think you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. I put each thousand in a stack on the table as I went along. You can count it for yourself. Did you forget some, leave it in the car by mistake?”
