Chapter Eight
Clarity looked at the lights of the Miami skyline across the main channel, from her comfortable seat at Smith & Wollensky, the sidewalk cafe on South Beach. Nuzzled at the southern tip of Miami Beach, overlooking Government Cut, the vast steakhouse offered an affordable menu of salads and flatbreads, but the million dollar view was one of the reasons people went there to eat. Clarity took a sip of her peach juice with ice, and glanced at the immense waterfront where a massive cruise ship was passing by, on its way to the sea. The southern tip of the city offered a particular charm, a quality of elegance and a slower pace, which made everyone there feel as though they were on vacation. Across from her, Joe Mannen was chewing on some flatbread, reading a few articles on the cocoa market, which were bringing him additional insight as to how it worked, and how he could apply some of that, to his Cocoanomics configuration of entering the South Florida organized crime territory. Connecting and understanding the environment, to deal with disruption in a market or business, was another idea from the manual that he was using.
"Did Moe do anything?" Asked Clarity.
"She's called Harvege, told him about the malfunction of the swing. She scolded the guy for half an hour, telling him he wouldn't get any more girls from her. She needs his approval on the general business agreeement, so she's not going to do anything else. I've closed the pawnshop for now, Baggio is simply watching it during the day."
Clarity looked at the sun setting west, enjoying the last few rays of natural light.
"Is anyone else coming?" Asked Clarity.
"Yes, we got to go over the money for the new business."
Clarity ignored what the new business was, but she knew it had to do with buying out Mclannan's from Moe Alamy and Di Laure, and she also knew that the new business was going to be in South Florida.
"And the part for me about North Florida Bank?"
"That's different, that's a credibility issue."
"Credibility?" Clarity was learning how Cappi worked.
"You're going to the bank with the safe box information from Moe, to get my money back. All the Cappi in South Florida need to see I got my credibility back, before backing me here, after I lost that one million dollars as a result of a tip from Di Laure and Moe Alamy."
"What am I getting in return for all of this? Can we talk about crashworthy compensation?"
"We can, but not today, I want a few more things done. I might be able to find a real estate position here for you in Miami as an agent maybe."
That sounded as astoundingly little, for all the risk Clarity was taking, and all the work she was doing. And it was more work, not really a reward. She turned the topic of conversation to the following task for her.
"What do I have to do, at North Florida Bank, how am I going to get in?" She asked.
"Harvege is giving us a hand, he has one account at the North Florida branch on Alton Road, where Moe keeps her 'just in case, nice pile of cash' money."
The chubby guy gave her a piece of paper, signed by Harvege, authorizing Clarity to access his deposit box. She would simply have to open the box of Moe Alamy, instead of Harvege's safe box, using the info found in her bedroom. Mannen looked at his round-faced watch, a just walking by item which counted the steps he made, when he wanted the watch to count them. The smartwatch did not tell the time, and was compatible with Android Wear. It included a digital dial orange-yellow colored rim, which indicated completion of any project you were considering. Four blocks out of the ten blocks of operation cocoamoe were being completed or had been tackled pretty well. A stocky guy dressed in a business suit walked by, throwing a brief look at Mannen, before sitting with them on the same table. He made a sign to the waiter and ordered a Centenara cocktail, made with gin, Meldozan Malbec wine syrup, and a bitter orange zest, which completed the various layers of flavor.
"Clarity, this is Mitchell Eiesland, he is one of my golf course prospectors."
"Hi," said Clarity.
The golfers from Lofty which had disappeared, according to the monetary authorities of Cayman, over one thousand, were actually business investors working with Lofty, people who bought assets in liquidation shown in the Cayman Gazette, the publication which Mannen examined closely every couple of weeks. Those golfers liked anonymity, and preferred to do business and give their approval to Lofty while playing golf on golf courses.
"Got the valuations for Mclannan?" Asked Mannen.
"Yes, we may be able to get investors for twenty four locations of Mclannan's, not fifty four. All of them South Florida restaurant locations, they're profitable, we checked that. Got the investors from people interested in some of the liquidations of the last gazette you read."
"All right, how much you wanna offer?" Asked Mannen.
"One point two million dollars for each place, on average, it includes a thirty five thousand dollar franchise fee to join the network of Mclannan's, the service fee at three percent of gross sales, and then present value of annual profit of each franchise for ten years. Locations are in good areas, there are a few gas station and convenience store locations, prime locations, and satellites, in places like shopping centers, University of Florida, airport, etc. We can come out with a total of thirty three million six hundred thousand dollars. Need about twelve million additional, to refurbish for the new business, puts us at forty five point six million dollars."
Mannen began to eat his large steak, while Clarity ate a lighter chicken salad seasoned with a few sun dried tomatoes and avocado. Mannen told Eisland to prepare a financing vehicle in Cayman, called Oakland Capital, that would be used to buy the twenty four Mclannan locations, which would give him an entry into the South Florida meat retail market.
"Issue some notes for the golfers, five year notes, renewable. Give them five percent interest, plus capital plus twenty percent at maturity, after five or six years. Put Lofty Capital as arranger. We're missing twelve million then?"
"Yes, more or less," said Eiesland.
"Get Beverly and Somerset on that in Cayman," said Mannen, "I'll go to George Town if there is a problem with the vehicle. It's new, so there shouldn't be any problems with authorities or the vehicle indenture."
After a good dinner, they moved to the waterside bar for a drink. Mannen was deciding on the time Clarity would go into North Florida Bank. After sipping some Coperini & Onelsen whisky with Coca Cola, he turned to the girl with light brown hair.
"You're going end of day to North Florida Bank, tomorrow, just before it closes. Baggio will drop you off."
The next day, around four thirty, before North Florida Bank branch on Alton Road in Miami Beach closed its doors half an hour later, Clarity approached the bank teller in counter three.
"I'd like to access a safe deposit box, on behalf of someone," said the girl with light brown hair from Malibu.
"Got some kind of authorization?"Clarity nodded.
She gave the teller a piece of paper signed by 'Lee' Harvege, authorizing Clarity to access his box in the vault of the bank. The bank teller, a woman named Miranda, made a call, to a phone number given to the bank, by Harvege, which ensured the person requesting and the request were bona fide.
"Take the elevator on the right, press second basement button, it'll take you there. When you're finished, get back inside the elevator and type the number of your safe deposit box. There's a phone connected with us, if there is a problem."
Following directions, Clarity entered the elevator and went down two floors to reach the vault of the bank. The place showed about three hundred safe deposit boxes aligned in several rows. She was hoping the cameras would not notice that the number of the box she was going to open, was the box of Moe Alamy, not of Harvege. She looked for box two seven eight, and pressed the lock ignition key. The digital interface screen on the box requested a four digit number associated with one of the numbers on the matrix card. Clarity looked at the snapshot of the access info in her smartphone, and typed in the associated number. The safe deposit box
of Moe Alamy snapped open, and Clarity looked inside it. There was a brooch and a pile of paper which looked like bills. Calmly, she grabbed the pile of bills, and looked at them. They were U.S. treasury bonds, maturing in 2045, amounting to a total of three million dollars. Clarity took one million dollars in bonds, and placed the rest of the stack inside the deposit box. After getting back up to the ground floor of the bank, she waved at the bank teller and exited the place.
She went into a nearby sushi bar, and ordered some iced tea, until Baggio picked her up around six pm. The following day, Mannen received a message from Moe Alamy, calling all South Florida Cappi for a new sprinkler meeting, that afternoon, in an empty building on South Beach, a few blocks away from the North Florida Bank branch. Cameras at North Florida Bank had spotted Clarity opening the box of Moe Alamy, and the branch manager had called the old lady. Moe had gone to check the box, and found one million dollars in bonds missing. Mannen was spreading the word of his recovery to the other Cappi, sending snapshots of the bonds to the Cappi's Mobbagram accounts, their opaque, deep web alternative to the more sociable Instagram.
Clarity walked along with Mannen to a low rise building offering office space for lease. Harvege was already there. A few minutes later, Moe Alamy came in, with Ambrosio behind her, and the sleek, whitish-haired Gavino Di Laure by her side. Charming, not stupid, and stylish, the sixtyish South Florida mob boss shied away from direct confrontation, by usually coming up with a different topic of conversation, or making a subtle or a simple joke. He was known as il Notaio, 'the notary', because he liked to be involved in property transfer contracts, and often mediated between buyers and sellers of office buildings or businesses. Standing a respectable five foot eleven, Di Laure was also known as a playboy. When Mush Revving and Monfort came in, everyone sat around a big round table.
"We're calling off the truce Mannen," said Moe. "There is going to be a distribution war in South Florida, because of what you have done." She glared at Harvege, and at Clarity. Moe moved towards Clarity and took off the 'Swankeye security' sign from her sweater. She wanted Clarity to leave Miami. Mannen kept calm, knowing he had made Moe angry. When the old lady was angry, she thought less well.
"My assistant is staying Moe, she is doing good work here, and is in charge of fitball orders at the pawnshop. I've done nothing but doing things which legitimize my proper place here and my proper assets. We want Cocoanomics to rule South Florida, in terms of the outlook for everyone." Moe Alamy shook her head.
"No, Beefonomics has ruled South Florida for the past thirty five years. It'll keep ruling the way we do things. Ambrosio is going to check your pawnshop, I know you got my money."
"You brought in Taylor and the other guy from Cayman, it's creating a lot of problems for me. You gave me Monroe for business, where there's nothing but the Everglades. I want some business in South Florida where there's people."
Harvege sided with Mannen, and Monfort waited to show his view, until Revving had done so. The former meat butcher sided with Moe Alamy and Di Laure. Monfort remained undecided, seeing Mannen was not completely backed by other Cappi. Di Laure gave a nod to Moe, and tried bribery as usual.
"We'll reduce protection for you, Joe, you can get some affordable office space for a new pawnshop." Mannen reflected for a few seconds, before giving an answer to the white-hair local boss.
"No, there's only one pawnshop that matters in Miami, it's Gladeview. The reason it has value is that there's only one of them."