Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) (7 page)

“Oh, we’re always with you these days. It’s more a matter of whether we choose to reveal ourselves.”

I laughed out loud. The tone of the laughter seemed to irk my companion, I noticed a small frown on his face.

“I notice when you stiffs are around.”

“What is it about us that makes us so noticeable, Sophia?”

“Mm—where do I begin? The cheap, Italian shoes? The plastic digital watches? The uniformly awful suits that never quite fit?”

He smirked.

“Yes, it’s true. Our undercover capabilities are badly underfunded.”

“You don’t need a big budget for decent disguises.”

“Just a little creativity. I know, I know,” he said.

“You’re worse at undercover work than the Florida police.”

“You’re probably right. But enough about our shortcomings. What about yours?”

“You tell me. What are they?”

I was genuinely curious to know, though I was pretty sure he was talking out of his ass.

“You’re perfect.”

“Now I know you’re talking out of your ass.”

“No. We haven’t found your imperfections yet. We’re still searching.”

“That could take years.”

He laughed.

“You think you’re smooth, Sophia. My advice to you: don’t get caught up.”

“As in?”

“Don’t let your ego swell to the point where you think you can do no wrong. That’s when the danger comes.”

He looked at me closely, studying my reaction.

“I’m a law abiding citizen, Mr. Carter. That’s not going to change for anyone.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Let’s.”

He looked at me hard.

“I’ll ask you once more. If the answer is no—fine. Will you wear a wire?”

“No.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of obstruction of justice.”

“I have. Would you like to take me in and book me?”

He smiled and took a drink of ice water.

“We’ll take the audio from your phone as you said we could.”

“You’re more than welcome to that.”

“Just don’t sit on your phone, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Has Mr. Stafford clued you in to any details about the meeting yet?”

“It’s something about textiles with a Pakistani businessman. That’s all.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He pressed an earpiece into his ear before getting up and moving away from the bar.

A moment later Stafford sat down next to me.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Just an American traveler.”

I looked at him for a moment too long. He returned my gaze for the extra beat. He knew exactly who I was talking to.

“Are you ready to meet the Pakistani—Omar Massood?”

“Sure. Here?”

“He’s on his way. We’ll probably end up taking a walk on the beach. It’s all very casual.”

I looked at him another moment to see if there was any hidden meaning in what he said. I couldn’t discern any. My heart began to beat faster, but I didn’t quite know why.

“How well do you know Omar Massood?”

“He’s an associate of one of my African connections. Other than that, I don’t know much. This will be our first meeting in person.”

Omar Massood, approached us in a well fitted suit. I was sure it was him because he was the only one I’d seen since our arrival that looked remotely Pakistani.

He greeted us warmly.

“Mr. Mark…and you’re lovely assistant.”

“This is my friend—Julie.”

I nodded. We all shook hands.

“Julie, how lovely to meet you? Are all your friends so extraordinarily beautiful, Mr. Mark?”

“Julie is a special friend.”

Stafford smiled enigmatically.

“Very well.”

He looked me up and down. I felt slightly uncomfortable at his intense gaze.

“Shall we conduct our business here, sir? Or would you prefer a stroll on the beach?” he asked.

“Entirely up to you, my friend.”

I made a fleeting glance to one side. I saw Carter sitting about twenty-five feet away at one of the tables, looking at us over his menu.
What a fucking conspicuous twat
. I observed one of the cheap, Italian, leather shoes tapping the ground nervously under the table and looked back at my companions.

“What would the lovely Miss Julie prefer?”

“The beach, please.”

I followed the two of them in the direction of the crashing waves. I knew the sound of the ocean would somewhat mask the conversation for the FBI and it was my way of further asserting what little control I now had over the situation. I wondered why Stafford told the man I was Julie. I assumed it was for my safety, but if this was a legit meeting, I didn’t know why such a precaution was necessary.

“I am here to make you an offer to buy the business. I have heard you are a serious man of business and not one to beat around the bush, as they say, so I am ready to begin if you are,” said Massood.

“I’m ready. Are you, Julie?”

“Go for it.”

“I have a figure for you here.”

Massood pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Stafford. I smiled inwardly, thinking about how this would further confound the FBI.

“I’ve done my own calculations with the firm,” said Stafford.

“And…”

“That would be high by about $750,000.”

“Seven hundred fifty-thousand. I see.”

He seemed to be thinking it over in his head.

“Why?”

“Considering the economy and your lower volume of sales in the last quarter—we think our price fits the projections. We don’t figure we stand to earn a lot on this deal. I’m sorry if you find our number too low. Unfortunately, in times like these, we cannot do better than that.”

“Life is a gamble. I understand perfectly. We expected you to come back with something lower. Just not that low. What is your perception of the textile industry? How do you think it will fare on the whole in the next—say—ten years?”

“It’s a great industry. Once the economy recovers substantially it is only onward and upward. An essential industry. We just don’t know when the economy will recover. Therefore we don’t know if we can maintain the standards of the company provided the strong possibility it will bleed money in years to come. That is, before a full economic recovery.”

Stafford seemed tired and disengaged for the course of the conversation.

A member of the hotel staff approached us on the beach. A light rain commenced and we all headed back to the bar with him. He handed Stafford a card on the way back.

Stafford pocketed the card and the three of us sat at a table not far from where Carter sat behind his menu. For a moment Stafford sized up the Pakistani. Then he said, “I’ve got to make a call. Excuse me for a minute.”

“By all means.”

Stafford went to the bar.

“Julie, tell me about yourself. You are a good friend of Mr. Mark, no?”

“We’ve known each other for a time.”

“I see. He’s a good man. A stellar reputation in business. I’m quite happy he consented to meeting with me. I know he will buy. I feel it in my bones. I believe that is the English expression.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“You are very beautiful, Julie.”

I wondered why he repeated it.

“Thank you.”

Stafford came back to the table.

“I’d like to acquire your company. I’m sure we can agree on a price. Is it possible for you to meet with a member of my team later in the day to hash out the details?”

“Of course. You name the time and the place.”

Stafford smiled as we stood up.