And they started talking. But now it was time for them to talk to me.
Hawks put them on speakerphone.
I said, “You’re the guy I met at Starbucks.”
“I am . . . yeah.”
“Nicolas Jacoby. The guy with two fake IDs.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“The guy I took in the bathroom.”
“You beat me up. That really wasn’t necessary. I’m a pacifist. I detest violence.”
“Jacoby. That’s not your real name.”
“No. It’s not my real name.”
“Who are you?”
“Todd Parker. My name is Todd Parker.”
“What’s your job? You’re not in the wet-works business. Are you con men?”
The young man said, “We’re cyberpunks.”
“And that means?”
“We’re hackers, that’s all. Just computer hackers trying to make it big.”
“Opportunistic computer hackers.”
“Well, yeah. You could say that. We’re not on the level with hackers like Kevin Mitnick and Adrian Lamo, but we’re in the same business. We’re the best hackers in the area.”
“Why are you in Memphis?”
Todd said, “I went to Rhodes College.”
“What was your major?”
“Biology.”
I said, “You majored in biology and you want to bribe me for two-point-five-million dollars.”
The girl spoke up, “We’re sorry. We’re really sorry.”
“Who are you?”
“Nasheeta. My name is Nasheeta Rizk Tannous.”
I said, “You’re Lebanese.”
She said, “Yes.”
“You were at the Starbucks in Florida.”
“Yes.”
“You are the girl who had on the pink blouse and all the tattoos.”
“Yes.”
“You left Starbucks and Todd stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because I was afraid. I didn’t want to do it. I told him not to do it.”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
I asked, “How did you two get information on me?”
Nasheeta did the talking. “I used to work for the mayor in Detroit. I did some work on her computers. After she was killed in Antigua, I decrypted her files. Her workers had erased her hard drive. That was in her instructions. If anything happened to her, they were to immediately erase the files on her personal computers and burn other files she had hidden in her home and office. They didn’t destroy her laptop. So, after they were done, I bought her laptop when they auctioned her belongings. I ran a program, a mirror file, and decrypted what was on her hard drive. She kept detailed information on everyone. She had phone logs. She had records. And she had information that she had gathered on Gideon. She had hired you to kill her husband.”
“And you and Todd decided to blackmail me.”
Todd said, “Well. Yes. It seemed like it would be . . . easy. It’s easy in the movies.”
“Todd, let’s not bullshit. Tell me the truth.”
Nasheeta said, “That is the truth.”
I paused, “Todd, who do you work for?”
“No one.”
I said, “Todd, you were at Starbucks
before
I made it to Starbucks. You knew I was going to be at Starbucks. Last time, tell me who you’re working for.”
He didn’t answer.
I said, “Is that how you want to play it?”
He stuttered, “We . . . we don’t work for anyone.”
I paused for a moment. “Okay. Then we’re done.”
Nasheeta said, “Wait. I’ll tell you who we work for.”
Todd snapped, “Shut up, Nasheeta.”
She said, “I don’t know who the man is, but Todd knows. Todd met with him in Florida. That is why we went to Florida, to meet with him. He only met Todd. I am just the computer person. I promise. That’s all I did. I told Todd that this was dangerous. I didn’t want to do it.”
I waited a few seconds, then said, “Todd?”
He didn’t say anything.
Nasheeta cried, “Todd . . . please . . . tell them . . . please Todd.”
Todd said nothing.
I said, “You threatened me. You threatened to ruin my life and send what you had to Scotland Yard. Interpol. CIA. FBI. NTSB. DHS. You said you’d send information about me to every law-enforcement agency in the islands and Canada. To every social networking site. Said you would do all of that with one click.”
Todd remained silent as Nasheeta begged for her life.
I whispered, “We’re done.”
Todd said, “Wait.”
I said, “Okay.”
“I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“Were you ever going to pay?”
“Of course not. I would’ve tracked you down and done a blackout.”
“What is that?”
“I would’ve killed you and everybody in your family.”
“Jesus.”
“You’ll see him soon.”
Hawks took them off speakerphone.
She was a ruthless killer and a passionate woman.
Today she’d be a ruthless killer.
I asked, “What do you have?”
“Gun and no silencer. But I brought duct tape and Glad plastic wrap.”
I said, “You’re one creative woman.”
“Doesn’t cost much to do a job. Two dollars is all you need to do a job.”
“Yeah.”
“I can do this job with a sharp number-two pencil. Or a hotel ink pen.”
“No blood.”
Hawks said, “I’ll cover their heads in Glad plastic and wrap them up with duct tape.”
“You have an exit?”
“Mapped it out before I came up the stairs to the room. I’ll be out of here and walking down Beale Street in the next five minutes. Will be across from the Peabody and eating ribs at the Rendezvous in ten. Two hours after that I’ll be walking through Graceland. Can’t come to Memphis and not see Elvis.”
I paused. “They’re kids. They’re in the wrong business.”
“They stepped into the major leagues.”
“They know too much.”
“I know. Damn shame. But what has to be done has to be done.”
“Make sure it looks like a hit.”
Hawks said, “Sounds like you’re sending a message.”
“I am sending a message.”
“To whom?”
“He knows. I can’t prove it. Evidence is circumstantial at best. But he knows.”
Hawks asked, “You want to stay on the line and listen in until I’m done.”
“No. I’ll let you do your thing.”
Hawks said, “I’m going to be on the road, have to do a job in Char goggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungama, but I hope I see you soon.”
“Same here.”
“Miss you.”
“Same here.”
“Hey. Got your text. My contact will have information on those names in the morning.”
“Jeremy Bentham in Smyrna, Georgia, and Nathalie Marie Masreliez from Yerres, France.”
“Until then, take it easy. And tell
mi jefe
I said
hola
.”
“Will do, Hawks. Will do.”
Hawks hung up the phone. I did the same.
I didn’t care about Jeremy Bentham from Smyrna or Nathalie-Marie Masreliez from Yerres right now.
I’d address those issues tomorrow.
Right now my mind remained on Todd Parker and Nasheeta Rizk Tannous.
There was one problem with their story.
The details about Detroit were on point. And maybe they did access her laptop.
The big problem was that they had arrived at Starbucks before I got there.
They were waiting on me. They didn’t follow me there.
They knew I was going to meet Arizona there.
Todd Parker had said Arizona’s name. He had stood in my face and said Arizona’s name. I’d bet that only one other person knew where I was meeting Arizona.
And that would’ve been Scamz.
He was a man who could arrange the kind of fake IDs Todd Parker had had.
I doubted if Arizona would’ve tried to con me out of two-point-five million.
But I think that somewhere along the line, she knew that Scamz was running that con.
Or maybe she didn’t. If she did, the stakes were too high to let that be known.
When we were in Florida sitting at Starbucks, I remembered how Arizona had taken out all of her toys, how she had taken out her electronic devices that kept our conversation from being monitored. I wondered if that was because of Scamz. I knew stealing the credit card information was for Arizona, that was her thing, but she had told me to turn my iPhone off.
She wasn’t trying to rob me like she robbed everyone else.
No matter how I turned around in that maze of thoughts, it always ended at Scamz.
Maybe because I didn’t like him.
It went back to the man Arizona didn’t trust with the passwords to their big scheme.
There was a lot I didn’t know. And there was a lot I didn’t care to know.
But I was sure about one thing. Konstantin was right.
In Arizona’s business, family meant nothing.
A grifter’s world was all about the grift.
I closed my eyes. I saw two naked men. Men stripped of all identification.
I saw a father and son shivering, icebergs and mountains in the distance.
I heard the mercy that came from a silenced nine millimeter.
Then I saw frozen blood in the land of fire.
Do the job. Take the money. Keep it moving.
I always did the job. I always took the money. It was time to keep it moving.
I looked out at the rain as we pulled up into the capital of Uruguay.
My injuries told me that this hadn’t been a bad dream.
Medianoche was alive. Midnight was out there in the world.
Just as sure as I had bullets and a gun, I knew we’d meet again.
acknowledgments
Hola! ¿Como está, usted? ¿Todo bien? Cuatro Chiclets, por favor.
Okay, that’s all the Spanish I know.
Sorry.
Guess I’ll have to crack open that Rosetta Stone Spanish One tutorial I bought at the airport back in 2001.
LOL.
I went to Argentina for the first time back in September of 2008. It was a random trip in search of another international location for a novel. I had never been there, didn’t know anyone who had been there. That was enough for me. I was going to try to fly to Venezuela, but their prez was tripping at the time, trying to kick people out of the American embassy and saying some pretty harsh things about the United States, and not knowing how the rest of the citizens felt about North Americans who lived in the lower forty-nine, I canceled that trip and ended up going to Argentina.
On a winter day in September, I stepped off the plane into a brand-new world and had no idea what to expect. As soon as I exited the plane, I was immediately overwhelmed, in a good way. Filled with both beauty and danger, I knew Buenos Aires was going to be a great location, a country with a history both powerful and touching.
Eduardo Windhausen! My favorite
remis
! Thanks for picking me up from the airport! I was as lost as the people on
Lost
!
As we left the airport, I looked around and thought, What if?
That is the foundation of all storytelling.
What if?
Camera in one hand, video recorder in the other, I looked at everything and imagined.
What if . . . what if . . . what if. . . .
No matter what type of story I chose to work on, Buenos Aires had many wonderful locations.
And Argentina has a history that is astounding.
So far as the story, I knew I wanted something dark and gritty, populated with wonderful, damaged characters who weren’t politically correct. That’s what I like about writing, the troubled characters who operate outside the box. It has nothing to do with romance. They might have passing romantic moments, but they are (fictional) humans and they have to eat, meaning that at times their lust must be fed. And I’m not shy about giving up the details. Because there is always something else going on. Even when they have sex, there is darkness. In the classic noir stories, the women are as much bad news for men as men are bad news for women.
Orgasm is the great deceiver and they know that.
If not, the characters will learn that lesson before the book ends.
What I like about the characters the most, maybe, is that they have their own rules and own sense of morality. If they have any morality at all. The unpredictable are always the most interesting. I love the characters in the graphic novels
The Dead and the Dying
,
Coward
,
Lawless
,
100 Bullets
,
Batman: Year One
, and
The Punisher
. Some of my favorite writers in that genre are Garth Ennis, Frank Miller, Ed Brubaker, and Brian Azzarello. Those guys can throw down, no holds barred. It doesn’t matter if the character is a super-assassin or a softhearted guy who happens to be at the wrong place and at the wrong time, the characters they create are untouchable. My hat is off to those writers. I want to join that club when I grow up.
And I hope I can bring Gideon, Shotgun, Driver, and Dante along. They belong in that medium.
Anyway, back to chatting about the thick book you have in your hand.
Initially I had started writing a few scenes with Gideon already on a job down in Buenos Aires, something divorced from his other dealings, maybe a prequel to his first appearance in
Sleeping with Strangers
, but after a month or so, that wasn’t working; the scenes didn’t impress me, and I needed a new approach.
Gideon had to remain connected to his other adventures. It had to remain ongoing.
I hit reset and started over. First I created Medianoche, then decided he wasn’t enough, not for what I had in mind. Then I looked back at some old, unused chapters from my previous works, in particular one scene I had created for
Dying for Revenge
, but had cut halfway through that project. It was the scene with Arizona walking into Starbucks in Aventura. It was a good scene, but it didn’t fit into
Dying for Revenge
.