Fashionably Late (For My Funeral) Pt. 02

CHAPTER 5

My work finished in Hollywood, I sadly bade farewell to Sendi and returned to a chilly New York. Melissa wasn't home when I got there so I rang her office to be informed that she was in a meeting but had left a message for me that she would be home no later than seven.

Shortly before seven she breezed in. "Hello Darling! How was Hollywood? Did you see much of Sendi?"

"Terrible, and yes I saw a bit of her. I have some news for you."

"Me first, me first! I have wonderful news, Darling we're going to have a baby! Now you tell me yours."

I was shocked. "It pales into insignificance compared with yours. That's wonderful. And when can I expect to hear the pitter patter of tiny feet?"

"My Gynecologist estimates that I am about two months pregnant."

"And you have waited this long to tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure before I told you and then it was all I could do to stop telling you over the phone. I wanted to see the look on your face when I broke the news."

"Did I disappoint you?"

"No. It was how I expected you to react." (I must have been around actors for too long.) "You are happy with the news, aren't you Darling?"

"Of course I am! What can we do to celebrate?"

"I thought we could order in something special and I have had this bottle of champagne on ice for just this moment."

We ordered a meal for two from a gourmet take out and sat down to our celebratory feast with the champagne. It was a pleasant meal and the evening only got better.

Melissa had already started making plans to convert the second bedroom into a nursery for the impending addition. She was so happy that I couldn't bear to break the news that I knew that she must have been having an affair, I suspected that it was with James, and that I could not be the child's father.

I broke the news to Sendi and she was suitably supportive, offering her shoulder for my tears. I declined the offer, choosing instead to make the most of the situation.

I immersed myself in a new book that revolved around the conversation that I had overheard before I went to Hollywood. My research showed that the drug trade between Colombia and the US was much bigger than I had imagined it to be, and while the estimates were huge, the general consensus was that this was just the tip of a very large iceberg.

One method of importing the drugs was by air. There were almost daily flights of light planes at low level over land and sea bringing the stuff into the country. The pilots were taking huge risks during these flights. At first they ran the risk of crashing by taking off in overloaded planes in the rarefied atmosphere of the Colombian highlands. They carried long range fuel tanks but if they ran into strong headwinds they would have to put down in some remote area to refuel. This was not a real problem until Noriega was deposed as the President of Panama. Then they had to fly low under the radar screen until they arrived in the US where they then had to run the gauntlet of the DEA as well as the Border Patrol who were always on the lookout for illegal immigrants crossing from Mexico.

Once on the ground in the US it had to be shipped to its final destination and this could prove to be a problem for any number of things could go wrong and often did. The risks were high but the profits from a successful shipment more than justified any risk.

Then there was by sea. Much larger quantities could be moved by sea. Some of it was concealed in legitimate cargoes and cleared through customs, usually with some inside assistance, or dropped off the coast and picked up later by fishing boats or private yachts.

The money for these operations came from a variety of sources, some 'legitimate' some not. Here again there were risks, if the right palms weren't greased the dealers ran the risk of being busted. If a dealer muscled in on another dealer's territory he could find himself floating in the Hudson River or as part of a landfill somewhere.

My research named names although it made itself clear that these names were rumors, but there was little hard evidence to support the allegations. Some of the names surprised me, some didn't. Some were well known for their criminal involvement, and had bobbed up in my research before. Some were well known for championing the anti-drug cause, and their involvement came as a complete surprise.

One name that stood out was that of James Craigmore. I was not at all surprised at this but I was concerned that he had, against my explicit instructions, used my money in this way. If he had then I would have to take my money back and distance myself as far as possible from him.

"James, Jason Feldham here. I would like to arrange a meeting with you as soon as possible. I want to discuss finances with you." I told his answering machine, "Could you ring me to arrange a meeting, soon, very soon."

The very soon was the next day. We met at the bar that was his habitual meeting place. There were different almost naked waitresses, all of whom seemed to be on close terms with James, they all knew his name and he tipped them extravagantly. We sat in a corner booth away from the normal hustle and bustle. "You sound serious, what is the problem?"

"I am researching a new novel about the drug trade and as part of that research I came across your name in connection with the alleged financing of drugs. Now what you do with your money is your business, what you do with other people's money is your business and theirs, but what you do with my money is my business. I want my money back plus of course the interest that you have earned on it and I want it back today."

"I can't do that."

"Why can't you?"

"It is tied up in an investment and I won't be able to access it until that investment matures."

"And when will that be?"

"In a week or two, should be no more than a month."

"What sort of investment is it?"

"Let us say it is in agricultural futures."

"In other words you have used my money against my instructions to finance the importation and distribution of drugs."

"You wanted maximum return on your investment, this gives you maximum return. Do you know how much that million dollars that you gave me is worth today?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"Until the crop arrives in the market place, and is paid for, the investment is worth nothing. Am I the only investor in this venture?"

"No. There are other investors."

"How much profit do I stand to make out of this?"

"Your share of the proceeds should be around four million."

"Am I the biggest investor?"

"No."

"Christ it must be a huge shipment. Aren't you and your other partners worried that the price will drop when you flood the market?"

"No, of course it won't. The goods will be placed in cold storage and fed into the market to meet the needs of the customer. We are hoping to corner the market by having the product instantly available. Other importers will still have to wait for the next shipment to arrive while, by doing it this way, we will have a buffer in case one shipment doesn't make it. If that happens then we can arrange another shipment immediately."

"Let me get this straight, what you are telling me is that you have some scheme that has the return on the initial investment being available as soon as the drugs are in storage, how does that work?

"I don't know the finer details but it seems as if the dealers have lodged a deposit on their order up-front that is more than enough to cover our outlay and our profits, so our return happens as soon as the drugs arrive and are ready for distribution. The money that is paid to us after that is our profits and the up-front for the next shipment."

"What happens if the dealer can't come up with the rest of the money?"

"He forfeits his deposit along with his allocation and we find another buyer. It has never been a problem now that demand is much greater than supply. The dealers are queuing up for our coke.

"I don't want any part in this venture. I want my money back and I want it now."

"You're telling me that you want the full amount and I'm telling you that there is no way that I can do that."

"How much can you give me?"

"I can give you half but that will be leaving me over- stretched."

"You'll just have to approach one of your other investors to see if you can get him to up the ante."

"There's little chance of that happening. If they hear that one investor is pulling out then they will get cold feet and want to pull out themselves. I can't afford to have that happen."

"That my friend is your problem. You tell me that my return from this enterprise is five million, half of that is two and a half million give or take, I want to see that money this time tomorrow."

"Half tomorrow the rest in four weeks, that's the best that I can offer."

"I guess that will have to do."

I left him seated in the cubicle talking to one of the waitresses who, as I walked through the door, scurried off to talk to a man in the office upstairs from the bar. She returned a few minutes later. "Mr. Costanzo will give you five minutes."

James walked through the door at the rear of the bar and climbed the narrow stairs to the next level. As he approached the office a large person dressed in a not as large suit stepped in front of him. "Lou it's me, James Craigmore."

"That don't matter. The boss says I'm to frisk everyone, so I frisk everyone. Turn around."

James did as he was told and suffered in silence the indignity of being frisked by this heavy handed thug.

"Okay you can go in." Lou stepped aside.

James opened the door and walked into the cloudy office. The haze from countless cigars and poor ventilation hung in the air. The voice was raspy, also from the same countless cigars. "I'm told that you have a problem."

Guido Costanzo sat in a large chair behind a large desk trying hard to look and act like Marlon Brando in 'The Godfather'. In this he failed mainly because he had neither the physical or psychological stature to carry it off. He was a small man with a dark complexion faded by an almost continuous lack of exposure to the sun. His expensive suit didn't fit and, although it was clean and immaculately pressed, still managed to give the impression that the wearer was a person trying too hard to be someone he could never be.

His empire, which he had inherited from his father, was based on what was seen as the typical Mafia core business of protection, gambling, drugs and prostitution all now positioned behind the 'legitimate' facade of a topless bar.

Guido thought of himself as a benevolent dictator, distributing largesse to his lieutenants and soldiers in return for loyalty and unquestioned obedience to his every command.

James Craigmore had acquired a pivotal role in this empire. His duties were to attract legitimate investments in the empire's pharmaceutical enterprises, in particular the importation of heroin and cocaine, while at the same time laundering the profits through legitimate investments. The investors came from a broad cross section of the New York establishment and some well connected people were included in the list of contributors.

"It could be a problem, I don't know." James was facing, for the first time, the real threat to his involvement.

"Well?"

"One of my investors wants to pull out of the venture."

"So?"

"He wants his money back tomorrow."

"So?"

"I can't give him his money, at least not the full amount."

"So, give him what you can and pay him the rest later."

"I can't even give him half and that's what I promised him."

"So don't give him half, what's your problem?"

"If I don't give him half he might do something stupid like use the information that he has and we could be in very big trouble."

Guido was suddenly more interested in the conversation. "What information does he have?"

"He knows where his money is invested."

"You told him this? Are you stupid or something?"

"I told him nothing that he didn't already know. It seems that in the course of some investigation he is doing he came across my name, and probably yours, in connection with our enterprise. He put two and two together and came up with the fact that I was using his money to finance the operation."

"Is he complaining about the return that he gets on the money?"

"No."

"Then what's his problem? If he goes to the police he loses the same as we do, if he wants his money back, and I mean all of it, he'll have to keep his mouth shut."

"It isn't that easy. He is one of those people who would make sure that he wasn't implicated in any dealings that we have had with the Colombians. I don't know how he can do that but, knowing him I'm sure that he can. The simplest thing would be to pay him his share and get him out of the system. I can always find another investor, one with fewer scruples."

"You're going too easy on him, why?"

"If anything happens to him the police will probably suspect me."

"Why would this be? It wouldn't be because you have been indiscreet with his wife now would it?"

"What do you know about this?"

"I know it all. You are stupid letting your dick get you into trouble like this."

"But Melissa and I have known each other much longer than we have known him."

"Could it be that the police will see this as a scam?"

"Why do you say that?"

"She meets with this guy, he's loaded and she marries him, then she introduces him to her lover who, she tells him, will be able to turn his money into a lot more money. He finds out about where the money is invested and demands his money back and if anything happens to him the police will suspect that this has been a setup from the start."

"Something like that."

"Is there anything else that I should know about this affair?"

"No."

"There had better not be. If I hear that you have been even stupider than you already have I might just get very angry with you. Tell me now, how much of my money do you need to cover what you have promised him?"

"Two million will be enough."

"Okay." Guido scribbled a note on a slip of paper and signed it with a flourish before handing it to James. "Take this to my accountant and he will give you the money. Make sure that nothing else goes wrong."

On that note James left the office. As he walked through the bar the waitress came over to him, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, couldn't be better."

"Will I see you later?"

"What? Oh, I suppose so. When do you finish tonight?"

"That depends on what happens, if I get a customer who is paying well it could be very late."

"I'll pay you better than any customer will. Come around to my apartment when you finish."

"Sure lover."

As he left the bar the waitress told the barman that she was going for a short break and walked through the back door to the dressing room. She picked up the receiver of the wall phone and rang a number. "Hi Honey, I think something is about to go down."

Ruiz at the other end of the phone was instantly alert. "What is happening?"

"I'm not sure but our friend James Craigmore has just left here after a conference with one of his clients followed by a short talk with Guido. He just left with a very worried look on his face. He's asked me to make myself available for him tonight."

"You be careful now. I'll see you when you get home."

"It could be an all night effort."

"I guess that's the price we have to pay for the information."

Guido picked up the phone as soon as James had left his office and issued a simple instruction to the person at the other end, "I want you to find as much information as you can about James Craigmore and Melissa Feldham. Go back as far as necessary but I want it all. While you're at it I want a complete run down on Jason Feldham, I want it all yesterday."

James walked the short distance from the bar to the office of Guido's accountant. It was on the third storey of a small untidy office building set among other small untidy office buildings that made up a block of small untidy office buildings.

"I don't know about this." Paulo Prinzi looked over the top of his pebble glasses that gave him the look of an ancient school teacher. His suit was old, crumpled and not very clean because he resented the cost of suits even more than he resented the cost of getting his suit cleaned and pressed. He had no wife to do this for him because he resented the cost of marriage. His father had taught him that the money that was paid to the priest for the marriage ceremony was only a small part of the cost. The money that you had to pay in alimony when the marriage failed was the straw that breaks the camel's back. Paulo decided to spare himself the financial and emotional ruin that he saw his father go through by not getting married, all the money that he earned was his and his alone.

"You don't have to know about this. Guido has authorized the payment to me. I want the money."

"You will have to wait until tomorrow for it, I don't carry that amount in cash with me."

"What time can I expect it?"

"When does this man want his money?"

"By three o'clock."

"Then you will have it by two-thirty."

"Very good. I'll see you then."

"I hope that you will bring someone with you because I don't want to see anything happen to you or the money."

"What could happen? I'm just calling on my accountant, who would suspect that I'm carrying a large amount of money?"

"Who would do that?"

James left and walked back to where he had parked his car. He drove in silence to his office. He might have driven in silence but he wasn't alone, several car lengths behind him as he drove down the street was an unmarked police car.

The unmarked police car wasn't the only vehicle that followed James. The other was an insignificant van, operated by an insignificant company manufacturing an insignificant product through an address that was a vacant building and listing a phone number that didn't exist. It contained a driver who was dressed in a workman's uniform that carried the logo of the company. In the rear of the van sat a man dressed in no particular uniform seated in front of a huge array of electronic equipment. This equipment was designed to look and/or listen to a target from a distance of up to one hundred yards. It was designed to record conversations and if vision was available, to video record these conversations.

The occupants of the vehicle had become very interested in the conversations between myself and James, James and Guido and James and Paulo. While the initial reaction to my meeting with James had resulted in them deciding that I was merely an innocent party caught up in the operation they decided that they should see if I had any other contacts with the operation.

The equipment operator in the back of the van dialed a number. "We could have a problem."

"What's happening?"

"It looks as if one of the other investors has gotten cold feet and wants out. He's demanding the return of his investment."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"I don't know but I get the impression that Craigmore is about to do something stupid. If he does we may have to go into damage control mode."

"Thanks for the heads up, keep me informed."

It was dark by the time that James left his office. He knew this because he had sat thinking for several hours in his darkening office before leaving. If he hadn't been so deep in thought he would have noticed that he was followed from his office to his apartment building. He prepared a light meal of whisky and a cigar and settled back in front of his television set. It was turned on but he wasn't watching it.

He had no sooner sat down when a man walked from his bedroom.

"How did you get in here?" James was incredulous.

"I have my ways. Now, let's get down to business." His tone re-enforced his intent on business.