“So, that’s how my father wound up doing what he’s doing now,” I said, the connections beginning to fall into place.
“Yes,” Benicio said. “You’re starting to see now, right? Your father and I were in a position to be privy to knowledge and contacts that we exploited. We got involved in the smuggling trade. And we were successful beyond belief, rich beyond our wildest dreams. But we were smart-we funneled the money offshore, prepared for any eventuality. We both maintained dual United States citizenship. Your father is an intelligent man. He knew that Noriega was a problem for the United States, and that one day we would need to flee. It was a dangerous game we played back then.”
“But what does any of it have to do with my mother?”
“Your mother-” he began. “Your father was with her for a year before we fell in love. They had married, and your mother had begun to see the side of him I knew existed since we were children. Your father is a shrewd businessman, but he is also a cruel man.
“Before the invasion in eighty-nine, I knew Guillermo had found out about us. I was afraid he would kill your mother, that he had somehow discovered we’d planned to run away together. But she was pregnant, and even your father would not harm her at that time.” He paused, sipping from his glass, and I waited for him to finish, barely able to contain myself.
“Your father found out about the planned invasion two days before it happened. That was a benefit of having all of those military contacts. He arranged transport for himself and your mother.” Benicio paused. “And you, in your mother’s belly at the time.”
“But not you,” I said. “You stayed behind. If you loved my mother so much, why did you let my father leave with her?”
“Yes, I did not benefit from receiving that piece of intelligence in time,” Benicio said. “And three days later, a day after the invasion, I was arrested.”
“Guillermo,” Blaze said.
“Yes. My brother had set me up, left a paper trail implicating me in the corruption. It wasn’t anything false, of course. We were both heavily involved in it, you see. But he left evidence linking me, and then fled-with his half of the cash.”
“And that’s why he was able to just continue what he’d been doing, but here,” I said. Things were starting to become clear.
Benicio nodded. “And with a massive reservoir of cash. We had been funneling millions and millions of dollars into offshore accounts. We’d divided it up, and he couldn’t touch mine. That was probably the only reason he didn’t kill me when he found out about your mother and I. Even your father couldn’t resist the chance to come after half a billion dollars eventually.”
“Half a billion dollars,” Blaze said. “Holy shit.”
“As I said, we did very well under General Noriega. It was a very lucrative period for us,” Benicio said. He sipped from his scotch glass.
“So you’ve been in prison this whole time?” I asked.
“Yes,” Benicio said. “I’ve been waiting for this chance for twenty years. The chance to meet you.”
“The chance to get revenge,” I said. I thought I was finally beginning to understand. “You’re the one who wants to kill my father. But why does he think someone wants to kill me?”
“Well, I do want to kill your father, that part is true,” Benicio said. “And I’m not the only one who feels that way, I’m sure. But I’m not a threat to you, and neither is anyone else.”
“What, then?”
“Your father is not a good man.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that much,” I said. In fact, he was sounding worse and worse by the second.
“We’ve both been waiting for my release, even though he walked away with more money than I had. Your father could buy a small country with his profits from his smuggling operation alone. But, you see, it’s not enough. He wants mine. It’s all about your mother, and about you. It always has been.”
“I don’t understand. It was an affair. Even my father isn’t that possessive,” I said, although this was making me start to wonder. “He wants your money because you had an affair with my mother twenty years ago?”
“He deprived me of my freedom,” Benicio said. “He wants to deprive me of the money as well. It’s not only about your mother. It’s also about you.”
“Me? What do you mean?”
Benicio reached into his desk, pulling out an envelope. “You’re not Guillermo’s daughter.”
I heard him say the words, but it was like he was far away, like I was listening from underwater or something.
Not Guillermo’s daughter.
“What-what do you mean?”
“This is a copy of a DNA test,” he said, handing me the envelope.
“But-I don’t understand.” I opened the envelope, staring at the paper, unable to comprehend. I felt like I drowning.
Not Guillermo’s daughter.