‘You sound like a lawyer,’ Bucks said. ‘Asking questions you already know the answers to.’
‘Why’d you leave the company?’ Kiko said.
Now Bucks said nothing.
‘See, being a businessman,’ Kiko said, ‘I follow the news. Three Energis energy traders went missing after a night out drinking. Murdered. Bodies and car dumped into Galveston Bay. Looked like a robbery went wrong.’
‘That’s what it was,’ Bucks said. ‘I knew those guys.’
‘Sure you did. They all worked in your group. Then, six weeks later, your division’s at the heart of the Energis multibillion-dollar collapse.’
‘Tragedy surrounded me,’ Bucks said, ‘at that time in my life.’
‘Outrageous fortune,’ Jose said. ‘Life sucks.’
‘There were allegations about you, Mr Buckman. And your friends’ deaths. Like they knew about those only-on-paper deals that had boosted Energis stock. And your own wealth,’ Kiko said.
‘Allegations don’t mean much,’ Bucks said. ‘Proof matters.’
‘And now with your business career gone…’ Jose said.
‘My career’s fine.’
‘A disgraced energy trader. Mailing out resumes must’ve been an exercise in humiliation.’ Kiko laughed. ‘Did you get a single interview?’
‘I’ve never had a stranger so interested in me,’ Bucks said. ‘You’re on the verge of stalkerhood here.’
‘Understand,’ Kiko said, ‘that we own your ass, from this day forward.’
‘You want me to come work for you? Forget it. I’m not betraying Paul.’
‘Because you got such loyalty to your friends and coworkers, right?’ Jose asked. Coolness in his voice. He looked thick-headed but he sure wasn’t, Bucks thought.
‘You killed those three guys,’ Kiko said, his voice low. ‘Because they were gonna talk, were gonna ruin your sweet little setup. You were already getting into Paul’s pocket. So he loaned you a private spot for the kill. We were already watching Houston close, man. Watching the Bellinis’ every move. See where we could take advantage of them.’ Kiko leaned in close. ‘Alan Gillespie. Hunter Gibbs. Ricardo Montoya. You brought them to that house the Bellinis own down in Galveston.’
Bucks didn’t move. But his blood pounded in his chest, his palms went damp and he hated that. ‘You’re full of shit.’
‘It juices you up good, doesn’t it?’ Kiko whispered. ‘Knowing you have power over another person’s life. It’s okay. You’re among like-minded folks.’
‘Part of our surveillance of the Bellini properties included videotape,’ Jose said. ‘With Gillespie, Gibbs, and Montoya arriving at the house with you. Time-stamped and everything. You were wearing a nice cashmere jacket, a little warm for the season. Slate-colored shirt, khaki slacks. You were the sober one. It’s pretty high-quality stuff.’
‘Very nice,’ Kiko agreed. ‘I’m gonna thank the academy after the world gets to see it.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Jose pulled a portable DVD player from his briefcase. Slid in a disc. Let it run, leaning forward to hold the screen in front of Bucks’ face. The house in Galveston. The film image, clearly shot with a telescopic night lens, probably from a vantage point down the street. A car: Bucks’ old BMW, followed by a Lexus, pulling up in front. Four men got out of the cars, ambled into the house. Decent shots of their faces, easily identifiable. Jose fast-forwarded. Then Bucks, carrying out a wrapped body, dumping it in the trunk. Then another. Then another, then driving off in the Lexus.
‘Turn it off,’ Bucks said.
‘Your voice has lost its confidence.’ Jose clicked the player off, then sniffed. ‘Did you just crap yourself?’
‘Here’s the deal,’ Kiko said. ‘We want the five million Paul’s paying for our coke. But we’ll keep the coke at the same time.’
‘You’ll start a war,’ Bucks said.
‘A five-minute war,’ Kiko said. ‘The Bellinis, they’re in a bad jam. Organization’s falling apart. Paul-boy needs this deal. We need it to not work. And you’re gonna help us.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because we’ll give you a nice cut. And because Paul trusts you. And because we got your balls nailed to the wall,’ Kiko said.
‘And if I say no?’
‘No one ever sees you again,’ Jose said. ‘Like Willie S said, “He dies and makes no sign.” ’
‘Excuse Jose. He’s a bit dramatic, got it from his mama.’ Kiko’s voice was cool as a snake’s skin. ‘The authorities would be fascinated by that movie.’
‘So would America’s Funniest Videos,’ Jose said.
Bucks glared at Kiko. ‘So I get the five mil and just hand it to you?’
‘Sure,’ Kiko said. ‘Just think of stealing the money as a new goal we’ve articulated for you.’
5
‘I’ve been digging,’ Claudia said. ‘Into the Bellini family.’
Thursday morning dawned bright and cool on the Texas coast, and Whit and Claudia ran hard along the sand of Port Leo Beach. The beach was a crescent, with a park spooning against it, the water shallow, the bay shielded from the Gulf by the long finger of barrier islands. This was the day of the week they ran together, Whit usually preferring to run in the evening, but now it was a routine with them, starting at the county courthouse, working over the harbor and the beach, then back up through parkland and neighborhoods back to the town square.
‘And you found they have a frozen drink named after them?’ Whit asked. They hit mile one and the sweet surge of adrenaline, settling into the run, primed his muscles.
‘More than that. Harry said that Tommy Bellini was suspected of killing another family boss, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I searched the Detroit Free Press on-line archives. The rival – his name was Marino – was whipped to death with a chain. His face was gone. The flesh had been torn from his bones; his organs were in tatters. He’d been beaten long after he was dead.’
‘It doesn’t seem gangland-efficient,’ Whit said. ‘I thought they preferred guns.’
‘Don’t act like that doesn’t scare you.’ She ran a bit ahead of him, made him catch up with her. ‘I made a couple of calls to the Detroit PD. Talked with a detective, pretended that we’d heard that the Bellinis were buying a vacation home here.’
‘You lied for me; that’s sweet,’ Whit said.
‘He told me that the police believed that it wasn’t Tommy himself. That it had been done by his son, Paul.’
They turned off the beach, heading into parkland, cleanly manicured grass that stretched from the waterfront up to the highway, past wind-bent oaks kneeling almost to the ground.
‘Like father, like son,’ he said. ‘So?’
‘So if your mom’s alive and Tommy Bellini’s out of the picture, his son’s a psychopath.’ She reached out to touch his chest, slowed him. He stopped running, started walking, not looking at her.
‘The detectives in Detroit I talked to said Paul Bellini’s one of those kids who’s never been told no, doesn’t believe people feel the same pain he does. If his family’s still involved in criminal activities, he’s going to be the new head of the family.’
‘If they were criminals, why didn’t they do time?’
‘People connected to the Bellinis did. Tommy did a brief bit as a kid. But since he became a boss, no, never. Never enough evidence. Or witnesses. Doesn’t that tell you about their thoroughness in getting rid of problems?’
‘Then they got rid of my mother, probably.’
‘You… wouldn’t try to avenge her, would you? What’s the point?’
‘Avenge a murder I couldn’t prove?’ Whit laughed. ‘You must think I’m the freaking Lone Ranger, Claud. I get nervous crossing a street.’
‘Please. You have a lot more nerve than you’ve ever gotten credit for, Whit.’
‘You and your mom are close, right?’ Whit asked.
‘Yeah. When she doesn’t nag me into downing a pound of Valium, we’re tight.’
‘I used to lie awake. Wonder if when I was thinking about my mother, if she was thinking about me. If we thought of each other at the exact same time, we’d know the other was still out there. Isn’t that stupid?’