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“Ahhh.” Everything he's saying makes sense. I have no reason to believe this kid would lead me astray—and it isn't like I couldn't get confirmation of his story. “Are you assuming that means Moroni would be stupid enough to hijack my weapons?”
“It’s not an assumption. His son told one of my men. He thinks he's smooth,” he continues, scoffing. “He’s so sure his daddy won't let anybody make a fool out of him. That sort of stupid, childish bullshit.”
Eyeing him, I speak with care and purpose. “It was my understanding that your family always worked closely with Moroni and his crew. Has that changed?”
Rather than waiting for me to lead him in the direction my thoughts are going, he picks up the hint. “My father did. He didn't like Moroni or respect him, but felt it was more wise to be a friend rather than foe. Violence was never his thing.” The glimpse of what I catch in his eyes reminds me of a psychopath barely holding onto themselves. There’s the real Sebastian.
“And under your leadership, things are going in a different direction?”
“I can't stand the son of a bitch,” he shrugs, “I never could. Plus I am not, how do I say it, the diplomat my old man was. With all due respect to his memory, I miss him like crazy, but he ran things very differently than I do.”
“Of course.” I appreciate his candor, even if the disapproval on Romero's face says otherwise from his perspective. Probably because I try to fall on the side of the diplomat since there is no point in letting a slip of the tongue earn me an enemy.
“I guess that brings us to the bigger question.” I make it a point to grin as I look him up and down. “Why are you here? I understand hating Moroni is a common factor, yet is that all there is? Are you trying to honor an old relationship or are you looking to get something else out of it?” I feel the need to be open and honest with him.
“Bottom line, I have a cache of weapons and the means to keep them coming. You have the means of transporting them. I think we could arrange a deal that would benefit both of us. It would mean your buyers are getting what they want. At the same time, it’ll increase your cash flow while I expand our operation. My father was never interested much in this portion of the business, although he was old school. He was very intelligent and a respectable leader, but he didn't have the vision it takes nowadays to keep up with changing times. I'm not leaving money on the table anymore. I hope I can count on you to partner with me.”
I appreciate his honesty, and I'm never one to overlook the opportunity for a profitable deal. Still, I withhold judgment, mulling it over silently while Romero waits for my answer. I don't think he trusts this kid, and I can understand why, but again, Romero isn’t in charge.
Yes, Sebastian is young, but he’s hungry. He wants to succeed, and it’s undoubtedly noticeable. I can’t possibly pass up the opportunity to work with him.
“Send me the specifics, and I’ll look it over,” I vow, standing and extending a hand. “And as a gesture of good faith, when I recover my missing shipment, I'll be happy to offer a percentage to you in thanks.”
“I appreciate the gesture. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help in the recovery efforts.” He shakes my hand, his grip firm, before turning to Romero and offering him a shake as well. The momentary pause as Romero sizes him up isn't lost on me. “I have men that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty if you need the assistance. I simply want to help.”
I nod, and Romero shows him to the door. As soon as he’s gone, I pour myself a generous amount of scotch. Tough kid, rough around the edges even with all his posturing in that suit and expensive haircut. Certainly somebody I’d prefer to call an ally than an enemy. When Romero returns, he immediately launches into the earful he's dying to give me.
“We didn't need him to tell us it was Jack. I think it was obvious from the beginning that he’s behind this shit.”
“Did you pay any attention to that kid?” I sip my scotch, shaking my head. “That is someone we want as an ally. He thinks he's doing us a favor, and in a way, he is.”
“How so?”
“He came in here as a gesture of friendship. He wants us to know he intends to make good on the relationship I had with his old man. That's extremely valuable.” Then I lift a shoulder, grinning. “And it means more money in our pockets if we can work out a deal. It's a win-win all around. The more guns we sell, the happier I am and the happier our clients are.”
