“Would you mind providing me with specifics about what you were purchasing?”
“The list of items is exhaustive. Everything from painkillers to highly advanced heart drugs to chemo pills.”
“All European?”
“With a few exceptions, yes.”
“Do you have sources in other countries?”
“Of course.”
But none like Karl Vogel, Gage thought to himself. “Another question: what sort of money are we talking about?”
Il Magnifico narrowed his eyes and lowered his cigar. “It concerns me that you don’t know this.”
“Honestly, I’d be concerned, too.” Gage eyed his host. “I think my lack of information speaks to the very point you made about Karl Vogel controlling this operation. And if it sets your mind at ease, I don’t give a damn about trying to harm your business in any way. I’m here on behalf of the Vogels.” While what Gage just said was misleading, it certainly wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t after Il Magnifico.
The Italian fingered his cigar as he pondered this. “Karl took a percentage of each deal. The prices I paid were firm. His percentage was taken from the seller’s cost. I don’t know how much it was, but suffice it to say it was significant—double digit millions, annually.”
“Am I correct in assuming he was laundering his portion of the money through his real estate holdings?”
“That would be my guess. Other than a few bull periods where everyone made money, it’s my understanding that Karl was decades-removed from any prolonged real estate success.”
Or, since Claudia stepped away from the business.
After letting that unsubstantiated news sink in, Gage came to a question he was certain would have repercussions. But he had to ask it. Had to. He shifted himself slightly, feeling the exact position of the cheap Llama pistol in his jacket. While he seriously doubted anything would go down on this yacht, he quickly pondered the scenario.
His guest would probably give a signal of some sort. It could be as simple as how he positioned his hands. Because, despite their having moved to the sun deck, Gage was certain there were protective eyes on Il Magnifico at this very moment.
As soon as Gage sensed coming aggression, he’d shoot Il Magnifico first, of course. Always cut off the head—then go for the body.
There would be at least one shooter coming up each rear staircase. That was for sure. Probably more. Someone would also likely appear from the forward area, either via a hatch or from climbing up the superstructure.
Regardless, Gage gave himself little chance for survival if the shooting happened. He’d probably be best advised to take a header over the side. The water would be quite cold, but perhaps he could surface under the long sharp bow of the yacht. No one would have a clear shot at him.
But these men weren’t stupid. They’d either move the yacht or get in the launch for a better angle. On the ride in, Gage had noted that the closest other vessels were several kilometers away.
It might be Wild West for a few minutes, but in the end, Gage would buy the farm. Automatic fire everywhere—white geysers of foam—pink in the water—an icy death.
Despite the looming threat, even if it got him killed, he still had to ask this question.
“I need to ask you a sensitive question. I apologize in advance for its content.”
Il Magnifico’s tanned face grew stony. He twirled his cigar as if to tell Gage to get on with it.
“Did you owe Karl Vogel any money when he died?”
The pause was excruciatingly long. Eyes were narrowed. Fingers were cracked. Eventually, the Italian answered.
“Such a query is highly insulting.”
“I understand, and I mean no offense.”
“The answer is no. I always paid costs and freight before any purchases occurred. Anyone in this business will tell you that’s how things are done.”
Gage believed him.
“How many average transactions per year?” Gage asked.
A mild shrug. “At least one per month. Maybe up to fifteen total per year.”
“Would you mind giving me a range of each transaction?”
“You’re trying to arrive at what he was making.”
“Yes.”
“In some years, I’d assume he netted twenty million. Other years, three times that. It all depended on the deal he cut with the sellers. I know what the market will bear. For instance, if I purchased a million pills of the latest erectile drug, I know I can retail it for ten dollars a pill online. I’d never pay more than half that. Ever.”
“So, you’d pay five million?”
“At most, yes.”
“What would you guess he kept?”
“Probably twenty percent of my cost.”
“So, he’d net a million on that one.”
“Roughly. And such a transaction would be rather small. My e-commerce sites range in the hundreds, in over thirty languages.”
Gage was quiet as he ran the numbers.
Il Magnifico puffed his cigar before finishing his coffee. “And now I have a question for you, Mister Hartline. It is also sensitive.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“Did Karl die—or was he murdered?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Based on all you just asked me, I’m beginning to feel there is a cloud of suspicion around my supplier’s death.”
Il Magnifico, despite being a criminal, obviously didn’t ascend to his current position by being a dummy. Gage recalled that he’d once been a pharmaceutical executive. Even still, Gage once again bent the truth when he said he didn’t know. It wasn’t a complete lie, at least until he confirmed the results of the additional blood tests. The questions from Il Magnifico continued.
“And when did you begin your term of employment with the Vogels?” the drug baron asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“If you’re intimating that I’m a suspect—I’m not. I started working for the Vogels several months after he perished. I didn’t even know who they were at the time and I was in the
