“Making fake investments. Is that really all there is to it?”
“Sure. Say you have a pile of dough, which you stole from somebody’s granny or whoever, and everybody knows you have no excuse to be holding so much money, so what do you do? You have to find a reason for the money, right? Something that makes sense out of you getting rich all of a sudden. So you get yourself a little coin-operated Laundromat, just to mention the example in this boring screenplay I read. Seriously, most of the scenes take place in a Laundromat. Guy must be an accountant writing on the side.”
I said, “I must be missing something. What does a Laundromat have to do with money laundering?”
“Oh. Well, say you take in five hundred dollars a week legitimately. You add some of your ill-gotten gains, pay taxes on five thousand, and keep thirty-five hundred. Then you spend that any way you want. Who’s going to argue? The cops would have to sit there for a month and count the quarters.”
As I turned off the PCH, getting close to El Nido, an idea came to me, something I hadn’t considered before.
I said, “How about selling something over the Internet? Something like a book? You could just invent orders and pay yourself, and nobody would ever know, right.”
“I guess that could work. But it’s even more boring than the Laundromat.”
I wasn’t so sure.
As I turned into the driveway at El Nido and waited for the gates to part and admit us, I pondered the way you can look at something for so long, you start to think you’re seeing it the only way it can be seen. Then one little idea comes along that shifts your point of view just slightly, and suddenly everything you thought you knew for sure becomes a question, or else everything you didn’t understand before is crystal clear.
I dropped Sid at the mansion, drove over to the garage, parked the Mercedes, and walked across the grounds to the guesthouse. When I entered, Simon, Teru, and Olivia were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, playing cards.
Simon looked up at me with a startled expression. “Oh, I say, you don’t mean Mr. Gold has already returned?”
“Afraid so. I just dropped him at the big house.”
He put down his cards and rose to his feet to look down at Olivia and Teru. “Miss Soto and Mr. Fujimoto, thank you for a lovely evening. My apologies for this hasty departure, but duty calls.” Seconds later he was out the door.
Teru said, “A likely excuse. He was just tired of losing.”
I saw that most of the chips on the table were in front of Olivia. I said, “Looks like Simon isn’t the only loser.”
“Malcolm,” said Teru, “sitting across the table from me is a poker-playing machine disguised as a woman. Do not ever try to bluff her or read her mind. It isn’t possible.”
“Yes,” I said, “I’ve come to the same conclusion.”
Olivia glanced up at me and then back down at her cards.
I went into the bedroom and changed out of the suit into a polo shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. When I returned to the kitchen, Teru was gone and Olivia was washing some plates and glasses at the sink.
I said, “You already ate?”
“Simon brought over some lamb and asparagus and a Caesar salad.”
“Sounds good.” I opened a can of chili, poured it in a bowl, and put the bowl in the microwave. While it heated, I got a Heineken out of the refrigerator. “Want one of these?”
“No, thank you.”
I took the chili out of the microwave and leaned against the counter, eating it while she got the dishes squared away. It would have been a cozy little domestic scene, except for all the secrets we were hiding from each other.
With her back to me, she said, “They told me about the bomb.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It happened before we met.”
“You should have told me.”
“I don’t see why.”
She dried a glass. “They said it was probably the same men who tried to kill you in the mountains.”
“That’s possible.”
“Teru thinks it could be the same men who broke into my apartment.”
I said nothing.
She turned to face me across the kitchen. “Teru thinks it’s all part of the same thing. He says they would have killed me the way they tried to kill you.”
“So he’s convinced you they weren’t rapists after all?”
Olivia looked down. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and clutched her elbows close. She looked smaller somehow, and clearly frightened.
I said, “They’d have to get through me to hurt you, Olivia. And I can be very hard to kill when I want to be.”
“When you want to be? What does that mean?”
The best chance of getting her to come clean to go beyond just telling her I knew her secret. Trust inspires trust. I had to trust her with as much of my own secret as I could.
I said, “Things have been hard for me. I’m good in a firefight and I’m good hand-to-hand, but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the effort.”
“You’re not talking about those two men.”
“No.”
“You’re talking about the reason why you and I can’t be together.”
I nodded. “You told me once I was brokenhearted, and you’re right. There was a woman. She gone forever, and I feel awful all the time. The pain is unrelenting, and it’s very tempting to give in, to allow myself to go crazy, or to allow someone to kill me.”
She crossed the kitchen to stand in front of me. She took my hand in hers. “I wish I could do more than say I’m sorry.”
“You can. But not the way you mean. Tell me what those men want. Let me help you. Give me something I can fight for.”
“I…I want to do that, Malcolm. I want to trust you. I know I need help. I mean, obviously, I do need help. And I feel alone all the time. I’m so tired of feeling alone. But there are things I…I just…it’s just very hard to know what I should do.”
I drew in a deep breath. I let it out and said, “I know who you are, Olivia. I know you’re Alejandra’s daughter.”
She removed her hand from mine.
I said, “I went to Guatemala. I met your father. I know how he’s living, and I know he doesn’t have to live that way. He has money in the bank, and it’s the same amount of money your mother took as ransom for Doña Elena. It’s obvious that’s where he got it, and it’s obvious he’s a good man, because he won’t spend it.”
“No,” she said, crossing her arms back over her chest. “I sent him most of that money. Doña Elena is very generous with my salary, and I don’t spend much on myself. I’ve been sending him money every month.”
“Okay. Good. You’re opening up a little. Now tell me the rest.”
She stared at me. She looked down at the floor. “All right.”
44
We went into the living room. I settled onto the sofa, thinking she would want to sit beside me, but she chose the upholstered chair. There was no need for me to ask her questions. Once she started talking, it poured out like a flood over a broken dam.
“I was a senior at Belmont High School in LA when my mother kidnapped Doña Elena. My father came and took me out of class that day, and we went to the apartment and watched it on the television set. Even when they showed the video of my mother standing behind Doña Elena with the gun, Papa wouldn’t believe it. I remember he kept saying ‘No’ over and over to the television, and a couple of times, he said, ‘That’s not her,’ but anyone could that see it was her.
“When the police came, they took Papa into a bedroom and left me out in the living room. They asked me all kinds of things about my mother. Did she talk about politics a lot? Did she talk about her job? What did she say about Doña Elena and Arturo Toledo? Was she angry with them for some reason? Did my parents have some special need for money? Was I sick? Was my father or my mother sick? The questions went on and on. They asked me where I was born and when, and I knew they were asking that because they wanted to know if I was an American citizen. I remember my father started shouting in the next room, telling them to get out of his house. Papa made them leave, and I was proud of him for that, but I was also scared. I knew they would make my parents leave the country, no matter what else happened.