“Showoff.”
“Heh… heh. The thug entries at dinner didn’t sit well with the great El Muerto, huh? How close did you come to executing those two at the ‘Grotto’?”
“That is of no concern to you, Payaso. I am thinking of moving the loyal El Kabong into your hallowed position as sidekick, and reducing you in rank to minion.”
“Minions don’t sail boats out on body disposal runs, Muerto.”
“El Muerto has been contemplating the creation of a sacred thug burial ground in Carmel Valley. Muerto has all contingency plans in place to deal with disloyal minions.”
Gus couldn’t help humorous appreciation of the Muerto contingency declaration. “No way you dig potholes in your land in Carmel Valley for reformed terrorists and gangsters. Besides, you don’t own a big enough piece of land. Enough of this minion stuff. When’s Paul communicating with you on facts concerning the guy who very well might know about you: the NSA clown?”
“I know Paul. ASAP. When he knows, we’ll know. We have to keep a low profile around here for the time being, because I have no idea how soon the cops will be asking questions about Formsby’s whereabouts, or how many people he informed about his planned meeting with me.”
“Did you believe the story Formsby meant only to entertain your family while he offered you the contract on Paul?”
“He planned to hold them hostage until I finished the job. The money he offered, and steady position as lead enforcer was bullshit. With twenty-five million, he could have hired a small army of mercenaries to kill Paul. Formsby wanted Paul gone, but I’ve pissed someone off too I don’t know about. When I finished the job, I would have been killed or captured. Formsby would have then disposed of Rachel and Jean. I know you and John would have ripped the earth apart looking for us, but it would have been useless. We would simply have disappeared.”
“Do you think it was Collister?”
“I doubt it. Formsby knew all about our Nassau hit on the water. That means someone was in my old boss Frank’s confidence - someone who may have been in line to make a fortune from Stoddard and Fletcher dying, but only if Frank remained alive. We’ll have to tear into Formsby’s files Paul uncovers from the hits on Milty’s holdings. I have all the memory cards from their phones and tablets. I uploaded the contents into the computer in my safe-room with no Internet or Bluetooth capability. I didn’t want anything signaling outward during the transfer. I’ll send those on to Paul this morning.”
“Damn, Muerto, your ass is in the breeze on this one. We must have left a loose end somewhere on that damn op. It was a beauty. You knew Frank was going to nuke us from orbit. We certainly settled with him. He didn’t look the type to give out info on a lark to anyone. Your boss Frank was a blackmailer to the first degree.”
Nick kept silent, his hands clenching into fists. Gus noticed. “Uh oh. I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but it looks serious. Did you get a revelation?”
“I sure did, and I know exactly which two dodos in government to ask about the loose end I thought of. Thank you for that.”
Five minutes passed without Nick saying another word, watching Jean skip along next to Deke. It proved too much for Gus. “Muerto! Are you going to tell me or not?”
“When I confirm it, I will. I’m trying to cool off my thermostat. Something like this requires a calm voice or I will get nowhere. US Marshals Stanwick and Reinhold will sense how pissed off I am if I talk to them now. They would instinctively know that if they were in front of me, I would shoot them in the head. They know me well enough they’d pack their bags and head for Fiji.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I have to talk with Jean’s teacher about time off, and I don’t want to talk to her after talking with my US Marshal buddies. The good news is I think we may have a candidate for loose end. This is what working with government agencies gets you. They seem all warm and fuzzy on the outside, but inside, they just don’t give a crap. Details can kill us in this profession Gus – wrong details and left out details. Check out the school. What is this, mob day?”
“It looks like some kind of protest,” Gus said. “Maybe I should hang back with Jean and Deke while you go in and chat with Ms. Kader. That way you can find out before we walk right into them with Jean.”
“Agreed. Jean! Stay here with Gus until I sift through the mob, and find out why you have a crowd out in front.”
“Okay, Dad. They don’t look like parents. They’re all shouting something.”
“See Gus, even private elementary schools aren’t exempt from dolts with nothing better to do. I wonder what the hell they’re protesting. How’s the lunch menu, Jean. Maybe they don’t like the food.”
Jean giggled. “The food’s okay. Maybe I should take the day off.”