Sunset Key - Crouch Blake - Страница 2
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“Bacon tax.” He smiled and bit it in half. “Have you heard of a man named John Fitch?”
She didn’t look up from the scrambled eggs she was shoveling into her mouth. “No.”
“He was the ceo of PowerTech.”
“What’s that?”
“A global energy and commodities company based in Houston.”
“Wait, maybe I did see something about it on the news. There was a scandal, right?”
“They cooked the books, defrauded investors. Thousands of PowerTech employees lost their pensions. Fitch and his inner circle were behind it all. A month ago, he was convicted for securities fraud. Sentenced to twenty-six years in prison.”
“What he deserves.”
“Says the thief. He’s out on a seventy-five-million-dollar bail. Scheduled to report to a federal prison in North Carolina in nine days.”
Letty set her fork down and took a sip of black coffee. She hadn’t had caffeine in weeks, and already she was feeling jittery. “Where’s this going, Jav?”
“Fitch’s family has abandoned him. He has no one. He’s sixty-six and will very likely die in prison. I happen to know that he’s looking for some female companionship for his last night of freedom. Not a call girl from some—” Letty was already shaking her head “—high-end escort service. Someone very, very special.”
“I’m not a prostitute,” Letty said. “I’ve never done that, never will. I don’t care how much money you wave in my face.”
“Do you think I couldn’t find a woman who is younger, more beautiful and more…experienced…than you if all I wanted was a hooker?”
“Charming.”
“Letty, this could be the score of a lifetime for you.”
“I’m not following.”
Javier smiled, a terrifying spectacle.
The entire restaurant shook as a jet thundered overhead.
“It’s not a trick,” he said. “It’s a heist.”
CHAPTER TWO
The last work Letty had done with Javier had involved stealing from high rollers in Vegas. He’d hooked her up with universal keycards and supplied surveillance to let her know when marks had left their rooms. That job had presented a degree of risk for sure, but nothing beyond her comfort level. Nothing like this.
She cut into a waffle, said, “Gotta be honest—I’m not over the moon about the word heist.”
“No? It’s one of my favorites.”
“It sounds like something you need a gun for. And a getaway car. The type of job where people get killed.”
She swabbed the piece of waffle through a pool of syrup and took a bite.
“See, that’s the beautiful thing about this job, Letty. It’s high return on a low-risk venture.”
“You just asked me if I’d be willing to risk my life for a million-dollar payday.”
“I didn’t say there was no risk. Just that it’s low considering the potential payout.”
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that and then the opposite proved to be—”
“Are you accusing me of glossing over risk in our prior dealings?”
Letty realized with a jolt of panic that she’d insulted him. Not a wise course. Javier didn’t get angry. He just killed people. The stories she’d heard were the stuff of legend.
“I guess not.” She backtracked. “It’s just that I’ve been burned in the past. But not by you. You’ve always been on the level with me.”
“I’m glad you see that. So would you like to hear me out, or should I leave?”
“Please continue.”
“Fitch is spending his last days on his private island fifteen miles south of Key West. Most of his property has been lost to forfeiture to pay back the victims. However, I have a man in Fitch’s security detail. He tells me there’s something of great value at Fitch’s residence in the Keys.”
The waitress stopped at the booth and freshened up Letty’s coffee.
When she was gone, Letty stared across the table at Javier.
“Well, do I have to guess?” she asked.
He glanced around the restaurant as he reached into his leather jacket. The sheet of paper he pulled out had been folded. Javier slid it across the table. Letty pushed her plate aside and opened it.
She stared down at a painting printed in full color from a Wikipedia page—a skull with a burning cigarette in its mouth.
“What’s this?” Letty asked.
“Skull with Burning Cigarette. You familiar with your post-Impressionists?”
“Not so much.”
“You don’t recognize the style?”
“I’m a thief, not an art collector.”
“But you have heard of Vincent Van Gogh…”
“Of course.”
“He painted this one in the mid-eighteen-eighties.”
“Good for him.”
“The original is hanging in Fitch’s office in the Keys.”
“Get to the good part.”
Letty managed to smile through her driving headache.
“When we discuss the value,” Javier said, “we’re talking about two numbers. First, what could we sell it for at auction? In nineteen-ninety, Van Gogh’s Portrait of Doctor Gachet sold for eighty million. In adjusted dollars, that’s a hundred and forty.”
Letty felt something catch inside her chest. It was a strange sensation, like being dealt four aces. She fought to maintain her poker face.
“You said there were two numbers?” she asked.
“Obviously, we can’t just steal this painting and put it up for a public auction through Sotheby’s.”
“Black market?”
“I already have a buyer.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen million.”
“What did Fitch pay for it?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re selling it for fifteen. You’re rolling your eyes over fifteen mil? Really?”
“I just think we can—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Look at me.” She looked at him. “You don’t know me well. But from what you do know, do you honestly believe I would broker a deal for anything less than the most favorable payout to me? To my crew?”
When she didn’t respond right away, he continued, “The answer you’re looking for is ‘no.’ That should leave you with one question.”
“What’s my cut?”
“Two.”
It was more money than Letty had ever imagined acquiring in a lifetime of theft, but she forced herself to shake her head. Strictly on principle of not accepting a first offer, if nothing else.
“No?” Javier seemed amused. “Two isn’t a fair cut for a tweaker?”
“That’s not even fifteen percent of the take, Jav.”
“You think it’s just you and me on this deal? That there aren’t some other people I have to pay off? You wouldn’t even have this opportunity without me. Sounds like you’d be living in a box somewhere.”
“Why do you need me? Why not have your guy on the inside handle this?”
“That was the initial plan, but he was let go last week.”
“Why?”
“Nothing related to this.”
“So you had a man on the inside.”
“This can still work, Letty. I can get you on that island with all the tools, all the intel you’ll need.”
She sighed.
“What?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you might have put this together, but I’ll be taking on most of the risk.”
Javier cocked his head as if he might disagree.
Instead, he held up four fingers and then waved her off before she could respond. “I know it’s hard for you, but just accept graciously, Letty. It’ll buy you enough crystal to kill yourself a thousand times over.”
“Go to hell.”
Javier reached into his jacket again and tossed a blank white envelope on the table.
Letty opened the flap, peered inside.
A bunch of fifties and an airline ticket.
“You fly down to Miami a week from today,” Javier said. “I’ll be there to pick you up. There’s a thousand in there. I assume that’ll cover you until then?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t even see his arm move. Suddenly, Javier had a grip on the envelope. She instinctively pulled back, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “this is for your room and board. And to get yourself a world-class makeover. Keep receipts for every purchase. If you use this money to buy meth…If you look anything like the car crash that’s sitting across the table from me when you get off the plane in Miami…You know how this will end.”
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