“There he is”, Jesus shouted. “Do you see him? He’s 150 yards straight ahead. Here, take the wheel. I need to get something from down below.”
The scuba diver had been relaxing after his long swim and was sprawled across the stern of the boat, looking at the stars and enjoying the evening. Everything had gone well. His boss would be pleased.
Diego had been floating and treading water for over an hour and was getting tired, when he heard the boat. It was about time. In another 15 minutes he would have gone ashore to rest on the small island that was their marker. The island was supposed to be uninhabited, but Diego didn’t want to take a chance.
This time tomorrow, Diego would be living in a new country, with a new name and a $2M spending money. He was tired of this line of work. Most of the people he dealt with were fools, like this guy in the boat. Why is he lighting a flare? Is he trying to attract attention?
All of a sudden what seemed like a burning candle came at him, and Diego knew it wasn’t a flare. His survival instincts took over but it was too late. He tried to slip out of his life jacket and dive, but wasn’t fast enough. He had barely submerged when the blast from the four TNT sticks burst his eardrums and knocked him unconscious. Diego’s last thoughts were of revenge.
Mario’s friend, Michael Sahs, called Monday. He was looking for a $10,300,000 loan to purchase and renovate a 320 Room Days Inn just outside Disney World. The purchase price was $12.8M. He and his partners only had $2.5M equity.
Several lenders had turned them down. Sahs was looking for an 80% loan in a depressed market. Since 9/11, few lenders were interested in hotels, particularly in the Orlando area. Tourism was way down.
Bradford wasn’t optimistic, but decided to look at the deal as a favor to Mario. Sahs planned to spend $2.2M renovating the property and upgrading it to a Holiday Inn Express.
Bradford approached the financing in two steps. The first part was equipment leasing. GMAC approved the entire $2.2M ‘Property Improvement Program’ on a 7.5%, 84 Month lease.
He then found a commercial lender that he knew was still doing deals in the hospitality market. The lender was interested, assuming of course, that there were no surprises uncovered during due-diligence. The loan would be 75% of the purchase price, net of the $2.2M renovation cost. This provided Sahs the remaining $8M. He called Sahs.
“Michael, Dave Bradford. I have good news.” He quickly summarized the terms.
“Fabulous, send me the paperwork. Remember, anytime you are in Orlando, you have a free room.”
Bradford’s commission was 1% of the $8M Mortgage ($80,000) and 2% of the $2.2M lease ($44,000). Not a bad two-day’s work. He had worked harder on $10,000 leasing deals that only paid $500 commission.
”Romano, this is Carlos. Something is very wrong on this end. There is no trace of the boat or the crew. Juan and Diego have disappeared. They never came back last night. My man went to Juan’s home and reported that Juan’s wife and kids are worried sick. She wasn’t acting. ”
“Carlos, we need to get to the bottom of this fast. I want you here tomorrow around six. Can you make it?”
“I’ll be there. In the meantime, we’ll keep looking. Somebody knows something. A boat and two men just don’t disappear.”
“Okay, Carlos. Call this number from a payphone at the airport and someone will tell you when and where we are meeting. We’ll book a room for you. Our partners will be at the meeting. Be careful, I’m not sure who we can trust.”
The Par 3 eighth hole was 210 yards from an elevated tee, down to a large 2-tiered green protected by bunkers on either side. The green was fast with severe undulations. The pin location was back-right.
Dave had honors and chose 5-iron. The shot played no more than 175 yards. Anywhere on the lower tier was acceptable. The right bunker was dead. Anything long would be a difficult two putt. He aimed a little left of the pin and ended up on the front edge, 25 feet away. Not bad.
Buzz made a point of letting everyone know he was hitting 8-iron, which he proceeded to nail. It was headed right at the flag. Unfortunately, he hit it too well. His ball ended up on the back of the green about 45 feet from the hole. It was one of those times a golfer hits a shot perfectly and gets nothing out of it. Buzz was not happy.
Buzz’ 65-foot birdie putt came up short, leaving him a tricky 6-foot putt for par. In stroke play, Buzz might have chosen to putt out. He “marked” and asked Dave if he needed any help reading his putt. Dave politely refused and resisted the urge to point out that he hadn’t done so well in reading the speed of his own putt.
Dave’s 20-foot birdie putt was center cut, but came up inches short. He tapped in and watched helplessly as Buzz drained his putt to halve the hole.
Carlos arrived at Miami International Airport at 3:30 PM. If this flight had been cancelled, he was booked on another flight that would have gotten him in at 5:30. Romano did not like it if you were late. His return flight was scheduled for noon tomorrow, but he was flexible. Miami was a great city to visit.
He cleared customs without any problem and called the number Romano had provided. He was told to check into a small hotel on Ocean Drive in South Beach and wait for instructions. Carlos hoped this evening’s schedule would allow time to visit the local nightclubs. South Beach nightlife didn’t start until midnight so the evening had possibilities.
Carlos thoughts quickly returned to reality. There was an envelope waiting for him when he arrived at his hotel. The meeting was at 8 PM in a small room at the back of a restaurant two blocks away. Food would be served. With three hours to kill, Carlos decided to take a nap and get cleaned up. It could be a long evening. Romano and his partners would not be pleased with what he had discovered.
While Carlos napped, Mario was at home listening to Sam and Ron tell Romano what they had learned. They started at the beginning and retold their story about the missing drugs and their futile search of the surrounding waters. They omitted the part about the tarpon.
“Who else knew the coordinates for the pickup?” Romano asked.
“We didn’t tell anyone. You have to believe us. We know what would happen if we were caught with the drugs. I already spent two years in prison and the next conviction would be 5-10. We didn’t tell anyone.”
“Tell Romano how you get your instructions,” Mario directed.
“We only know the time and the general area until we’re on the boat. We left at 6:30 AM and got the call 15 minutes later on my cell phone. The message is sent in code; The Dolphins are favored to win by 13, 28 to 15. Bet 80 big ones to win. We add the spread of 13 to each of the numbers and get the longitude and latitude. This gives us the coordinates. The 80 meant there are eight bags. I repeat the numbers to confirm. The caller says thank you and hangs up. That’s all there is to it. In this case, it took about an hour to get to the drop point, but when we got there, nothing.”
“Do we know the caller?”
“We will need to ask Carlos,” said Mario. “He handles that side of it. They never tell us who our contact is. Sam, didn’t you say you thought it was somebody new this time?”
“That’s right. I don’t know if it means anything, but this guy was new. He spoke Spanish with an American accent, almost like he grew up in the U.S. The other times the caller was Mexican or Hispanic.”
“Okay, let’s wait and see what Carlos has to say before we jump to any conclusions. I’ll see you all at 9 PM. I’m going back to the hotel and get a couple hours of sleep.”
Mario breathed a sigh of relief when Romano left, and poured himself a drink. “Fellows, take it easy tonight. Keep your cell phone on and watch the booze. I may need you after the meeting.”