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“We need to do a little more digging. He left FREDO under a cloud. Maybe it followed him,” Charles suggested.
“Looks like we still have work to do. There must be several more jobs he has planned going forward. Shall we reconvene this evening?” Annie asked.
“Nine our time?” Myra asked.
“Roger that. You girls behave.” With that, Charles and Fergus signed off.
REBAR manufacturing plant
Santo Domingo
Alexis busied herself opening filing cabinet drawers, getting accustomed to the company system. It was easy. Old-school. Everything was in alphabetical order. She was making her way through when Segundo popped up behind her. He nearly scared her wig off. “Oh my, you startled me!” she exclaimed, then quickly batted her eyes at him.
“My apologies.” Segundo seemed quite sincere. Alexis wondered just how involved he was with this charade. “I wanted to check and see if you needed anything.”
“Thank you. I see your files are very well organized.” She looked over at her desk, where a wire basket held a ream of contracts and papers. “I’ll start work on those in a few minutes.”
“We normally take a lunch break. Could I interest you in some of our local cuisine?”
“Thank you, but I really feel as if I should go through that stack on my desk. Would you mind bringing something back for me?”
“It would be my pleasure. But I don’t want you to think we do not treat our people well.” He was almost blushing.
“Not at all. I’ve found everyone most kind. Thank you.” Alexis tried to end the conversation and get back to her snooping. She shut the file drawer and moved toward her desk.
He clasped his hands in front of him. “I am very grateful to have someone with your level of commitment.” Then he turned and walked away.
Alexis was beginning to feel guilty. Not about what she was doing, but how disappointed Segundo would be when she left. He seemed like a nice man.
As it turned out, everyone took their lunch break at the same time. The phones could ring off the hook, but there was no one to answer them. Alexis knew it was not unusual for Latin and South American companies to operate that way. She remembered a trip she once took to Brazil to check on a shoe manufacturing facility. At one o’clock a whistle blew, the machines stopped, and people went to the cafeteria. It was almost like school. When the last person left the floor, she went back to the cabinets and flipped through the files. There it was: El Cemento. She pulled out her phone and began to snap photos of the invoices. The one thing that was not included on the paperwork was the company’s address.
What was there was the routing number to a bank in the Cayman Islands. She also found information for an order that had completed its curing process and was awaiting shipping. It was destined for a school in Italy. She flipped through the rest of the invoices and was stopped in her tracks. A folder containing invoices for processed goods indicated that another shipment had already reached the U.S. and was enroute to a school in Ohio. Alexis quickly sent a pic of the paperwork to Charles, Avery, Myra, and Annie. Now she had to do what she’d actually been hired to do—go through the pile of contracts.
New York
REBAR corporate office
Malcolm Fielder booked a flight to Miami. Previously he’d had his hand slapped by the CEO for using the company jet one too many times. So first class on a commercial jet would have to do. His plan was to spend a few days carousing about, and then it would be a quick hour and a half hop to Grand Cayman. He had his eye on a new car. This time it was an Aston Martin DBS with a price tag of three-hundred-fifteen thousand, almost two hundred grand more than the Maserati. It was time for a step-up. He phoned Walsh. “I need to see you before I leave. Be in my office by two. I have a flight at six.”
Walsh showed up on time. He was nervous. It seemed he was always nervous. Perhaps it was because he was always on the brink of being found out, and he really wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Walsh knew in the world of criminal offenders he would be considered a two-bit crook. Unlike his father, he had no expectations of being a mob boss. “Getting over and getting a taste” was enough for him. He was a miserable, sour, pathetic man who resented anyone who he perceived had a better life. One could almost feel sorry for him, but he had no redeeming qualities.
“Walsh. Come in. Close the door.” Fielder had his feet up on his desk, displaying his fancy red-soled leather shoes. “I take it we have that Danfield situation tidied up?”
“Yeah. I don’t think she’ll be a problem anymore.”
“And what of that chap she knows in the U.K.?”
“I don’t think he has anything to do with any of our business. Besides, we pulled out of there.” Walsh tried to suppress a grin.
“What’s so amusing?” Fielder asked.
“Let’s just say he had a bit of an accident.”
Fielder pulled his legs off his desk and sat upright. “What?” he roared. “Listen, I told you that little stunt at the subway station was unnecessary. Now you’re telling me her friend had ‘an accident’?” He was standing at this point. “We’re not thugs, Donald. I want no more of that sort of thing. We do not need any more attention. Do you understand?”
“Completely.” Walsh hung his head. “I was just trying to scare her.”
“What about him?”
