Crossover (Part 3)
By windrose
- 357 reads
“Bitch!” cried Falak when he was told of the incidence. “I don’t want the police to get involved.”
“Police investigation is crucial, besides, we have no option,” his advisor explained. “We must leave now to Buenos Aires and show our priorities are to protect your family and the members of the staff.”
“She’s ruined my whole life! My father will go mad at me. Do you know what this means? Go hell with that woman!”
“He will understand, Mr Falak. We must show our deepest concern on this serious matter and leave other things aside.” Idris told him, “I will call a meeting and see what can be done to resolve the crisis. But now it’s time to make some calls.”
“A police probe will eventually dig out that one and half billion dollars transferred to Rogers Bank in my private jet last month. And what do we get? Nothing! It’s my money. What are the chances to claim it?”
The weight of the matter was so grave as he pointed out once the transfer was done it lies at risk on the surface for any probe into the activity to find out its illegality. “Everything will be done,” said Idris, “to claim your investments. Now let’s talk sense.”
“Go on.”
Zaid Falak had travelled to South America in the recent years to negotiate investment deals in a way to hide the wealth of his father in banks abroad. Major stake of the Rogers Bank was secured by another group but still the Rogers Group looked for interested parties to invest. His father, the Old Sheik, was a conservative who inclined to stock his fortune in vaults at his palace in Sharjah and in Saudi and Kuwait banks. He saved every dollar while most depositors suffered hugely in the liquidation of BCCI that occurred just two months later. In terms with Rogers Bank he agreed to transfer four billion dollars by the end of the year and acquire a huge stake from the bank.
In the meantime, Argentina hit with recession, riots and hyperinflation was seeking funds from IMF and such sources. An injection of money from any side would help to ease tension though the true gainers from the financial crisis were the private companies and the capitalists.
Some wealthy people believed they have fallen victim to the UAE and these disputes remained in the fragments of the foundation. This move of transferring huge sums of money would concern UAE if authorities come to know. Hence UAE government would demand Argentina to freeze his deposit; a huge amount of one and half billion dollars that he was worried about. UAE could offer capital that could help an Argentine deficit.
Zaid Falak returned to make calls to assure his support and cooperation.
Jamal Carreon had shown not a slightest worry or it never occurred to him of the gravity in the criminal act involved. He was preoccupied with an intention of having sex with her.
Roco snapped, “Fish, you zip up and shut up! Dip…dip…dip…that’s all you do.”
“Only fifteen minutes. I have to check if she’s doing fine.”
“She’s fine.”
“I must see.”
“Okay, I’ll let you in.”
“Privately…”
“Go in. Only fifteen minutes.”
After the men left, she screamed and cried for help. Nobody responded. She gradually dozed off in the cold. She couldn’t tell the time but opened her eyes to hear the doors rolling. It was again dead for a moment and then he appeared at the end of the corridor. Jamal advanced in his tennis shoes making no noise on the tiles.
She cried, “Why are you doing this? Let me go!”
“You will go damn nowhere,” he came down on her. He tore her dress right down the middle.
Mariana screamed on top of her voice, “Stop it! Stop it! Let me go! Help me somebody!”
Roco didn’t leave the door expecting something nasty. He rushed in, reached him and grabbed the huge fellow by the shoulders. He tossed him like a fishnet. Jamal landed on the tiles and slid yards away to hit the wall of crate boxes.
Roco brought him out and asked Castillo, his aid, to drop him to Quilmes. “You will not come until I call.”
“What about ransom?” Jamal asked stretching his back awkwardly.
“Go away.”
Next morning the papers read, ‘Wife of Oil Baron – Kidnapped’. In the early light, Carlos Alvieri received news from his trusted sources. He called Roco and instructed to move the subject to another location. Jamal should be picked immediately and locked up. He figured now the ransom would be worth in millions of dollars.
Jamal spent the night at the marina, sleeping in his Dodge van. He glanced at the papers at breakfast. He drove to the meat-packing factory in Ezpeleta.
Workers were up and trucks were rolling like any normal day. He looked for a chance and sneaked in through the doors, eventually standing on the corridor between the crates. There was no sign of the girl. This storage was so huge that he thought he was in a wrong section. He looked everywhere and gave up after an hour. He stepped into the chopping section and asked about Roco.
“No,” the butcher slammed the knife on the wooden surface. “Get lost!” Nobody knew. Jamal should not be causing nuisance. The only way to reach him was to wait at Casa de la Rosa for him to make the call. He decided to go to Bernal. On his way he stopped at Witt in Quilmes.
“Have you read the news? That girl I told you about has been kidnapped.”
“How did that happen?” asked Witt.
“I passed the info to a group of bandits.”
“Good Lord! Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought you should know,” said Jamal.
“You kidnapped her?”
“No. It looks like I’m in some kind of trouble.”
“Tony, go to the police and tell them.”
Jamal sighed, “I was sort of in it but they have stolen the girl from me.”
“Jesus!” cried Witt, “You shouldn’t come here. They will be out looking for you. Better show up. Go to the police.”
“I can’t go to the police.”
“Why not?”
“I was practically involved.”
“Shit!”
“I can slip away,” said Jamal, “I need to get my hands on the things at my lodge, a pack of passports and money. Those prints and photography stuff, I need to dispose. Police might have gone there already.”
“Tony!”
“You can give me a hand, Danny. Nobody will notice you. Check in there, pack and carry them out in a bag. I’ll wait out there for you.”
“Gosh! Now you want me in this? I’m too old…”
Jamal swayed Witt and drove to his lodge.
There was no sign of disturbance at Casa de la Rosa. Witt climbed the floor and reached the room. He unlocked the door and entered. It required minutes to pack the items in carrier bags and remove them.
Jamal parked the van blocks away and strolled back to his lodge just to keep an eye. He watched for his friend to show up any moment.
Someone knocked on the door. And Witt was trapped inside. He opened. Two guys rushed in and they were armed.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Danny,” Witt replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s Tony…he called me to pack his things.”
“Where is Mr Fish?”
“I don’t know…” he mindfully added to escape the nozzle of the gun, “he’s out there.”
All the drawers and lockers were emptied into the bags. One guy opened the toilet door and peeked. Jamal’s new shirt was hanging on the rear side of the door. Nobody noticed it. The other one glanced out of the window. He caught sight of Jamal standing on the roadside staring at him.
Jamal immediately dashed for cover.
“It’s him, he’s there,” he drew his weapon.
“Let’s get out!” his companion said.
“What about him?” he pointed at Witt.
“Leave him to me!”
They gathered the bags on their shoulders and in a rush to get away. Witt had already done the job of packing. Unfortunately, he was shot in his chest with a muzzled pistol one of them carried.
Roco sent these guys to pick Jamal Carreon and to eliminate him. He posed a threat now. Jamal realized it wasn’t safe to hang around in town. Both the police and Roco’s men were after him. He was lucky to keep some forged passports in the van along with his camera. He still carried the black-and-white film cartridge in his pocket. The rest he lost for Roco.
He drove to the railway station and by noon he was boarding on a train heading to Uruguay border.
Diego Lopez read the papers and knew at once he was in serious trouble. He took the prints and the voodoo doll to a broken down caravan he kept at the Lugones bend among the lot of coaches where people dwelled in some. He stuck black pins to its head and heart to disease the subject – a form of revenge that would bridge evil on Jamal Carreon for he never paid.
Eventually, the two young maids sworn to keep secrets for Mariana began talking that she met a man at the Malibet and kept some photographs in her tennis kit now gone missing. Police dashed to the Malibet and some waiters remembered serving them. She was with a guy known to them as Mr Fish. He usually hangs around at the marina area looking for rock-bottom girls.
Police arrived at Casa de la Rosa to find a man shot in Jamal’s room. A bullet fired at close quarters passed inches through his shoulder. It missed his heart. Fortunately, he was not dead but unconscious. He was ushered to the hospital. Police found the room empty except for a maroon-colour shirt hanging on the toilet door and few other things. A manhunt was directed to all outlets to find this man dangerously armed, now with a face and a name obtained from immigrations, he drives a Dodge van. Anyone who could pass information was asked to come forward.
At the Palmera Club, Zaid Falak arrived that noon. He fired those two maids. He wanted to move his group to a five star accommodation in Buenos Aires. Police gave him clearance but none was allowed to leave the country. Falak was briefed and he uttered, “Another American Jamal…”
Jose Lucero was released from police custody. He returned home, a mansion with a beautiful garden in the heart of Buenos Aires. It caused embarrassment that he felt indisposed to visit the hotel and face his client that day. Even if he had to face the worse it would be at home.
At diplomatic level they shared information. Calls were exchanged even at a higher level. Falak flew from Saudi Arabia on his private jet but he was still a UAE citizen with assets in UAE. It was becoming clear this was not just a holiday trip though it collided with Eid. Involvement of a banker raised questions. Hence a money matter entered into probe. Falak called his senior lawyer to Buenos Aires. He could not handle talks on his own. In fact, he was not allowed to answer questions without advisors by his side.
They assembled at the Palmera Club. Zaid Falak and the two maids remained while the rest of the group moved to Buenos Aires. They were expecting a lead or a call for ransom.
Jamal Carreon, now known as Tony Yunis, had escaped to a bordering country believed to be Uruguay and his Dodge van was abandoned at a railway station. He was then listed on Interpol. If the maids had spoken earlier this vital lead could have been caught. Police found the Ferrari in a location that was undisclosed and it had not been approached.
Lucero was a bit at ease having no calls from the police. At work he kept mostly to his assignments. Someone else was appointed to take over matters to deal with his former client. Sunday afternoon, he sat at his garden house, drinking mate with a bombilla, trying to relax. Nobody knew what happened to Mariana. His wife was very disappointed. He felt sorry for his actions but life must go on. He was successful these years and he should continue at it. He heard the ringing from the study.
Lucero reached the phone and before picking it he noticed the number. It was his satellite phone lost with his car. He answered, “Lucero.”
“My name is Jamal Carreon,” said the voice. “I call to arrange transfer money in exchange for the girl. You have forty-eight hours to get one million US dollars and ring me up on this number.”
“That’s my phone.”
“That’s right. I borrowed it for this operation. I want you to know there must be no police involvement or anyone trailing and strictly no wires. This is between you and me or the consequences are dire.”
“She has got nothing to do with me. I can give you the number of Zaid Falak, her husband.”
“I’m asking you to find him, get the money and call me. I will instruct you what to do next.”
Lucero called the Palmera Club and reached an advisor. He said that a call was made asking for money. Idris asked him to be at the Palmera as soon as possible. He told his wife about this new development. For their safety, his family should leave abroad – his troubles just begun.
Next morning it was out on the papers that the oil baron agreed to pay ransom of one million US dollars to save his wife, along with those photos of Mariana on the beach. The kidnappers posted them to Clarìn. At the same time, Buenos Aires Herald exposed Zaid Falak’s billion dollar deal to take a stake from Rogers Bank, assumedly leaked by UAE in order to bring this matter to centre focus.
Falak’s team organised payment, collected cash from the bank. His team managed to keep the police out but monitoring progress, listening and recording calls. So far they got no news of Mariana or heard her voice. There was no way of knowing whether she was alive.
On 7th May, Monday, they called sharp at 6 pm on agreed time. Roco posing as Jamal said, “Excellent.”
“I’d like to speak to Mariana now,” Jose Lucero demanded.
“Of course, since you have done a good job, we will let you speak to her.”
Mariana cried, “Please help me! I want to speak to my husband.”
“I’m afraid. He’s not here,” Lucero responded as he was instructed, “He’s doing everything he can to help you out. Are you alright?”
“No…”
Roco grabbed the phone, “Now listen, Lucero. You will carry the money to the River Boat Casino in Buenos Aires. Go to the Blackjack floor and purchase one million gaming chips, each token of 10,000 US dollars. When you’re done, call me. I will tell you where to take it. You must carry a phone with you.”
“That’s impossible,” said Lucero.
“You will find it perfectly legal and possible. Go!”
Lucero climbed the Nissan with his driver. He wasn’t armed or wired. He carried a big case with the money and a satellite phone. Police escorted his vehicle. He arrived at the casino and the janitor who received him pointed, “This way, please!” He led him through a corridor with CCTV cameras, apparently cut out for an upgrade since yesterday, to a cash counter on the fourth floor. Without delays or questions, his cash was counted down the machine in exchange of the tokens that he received in a case. Then the janitor ushered him to the exit.
Lucero climbed the car and rang the number, “I have the gaming chips you asked.”
“Good. Now you go to the COTO Supermarket, south of Ezeiza Airport, stop on Reconquista and ring me up. You are few steps from freeing the girl.”
Lucero called the police tailing him and passed the information. They were armed and in a private car. With this police organized a helicopter and squad cars from Ezeiza, 20 miles from the casino.
He arrived at the supermarket around 9.30 pm. He gave the ring. “I’m at COTO.”
“You will walk alone with the gaming chips and your phone, climb the empty field straight ahead, you find a white Ford with the number plate, 699 064, get in the car and ring up.”
Lucero did as he was told. The car was parked under a light post in isolation.
“Leave the chips and the phone in the car and climb down, raise your arms and walk back to COTO.”
He started walking back towards the parking lot outside the supermarket, his arms raised. He did not question about the girl, he wanted to flee with his life. In the cool field he felt a hot bath. He could sense he was under a sniper or something extremely dangerous was about to happen. Police in plainclothes spied on. Under the COTO lights he could see busy crowd getting on with the night. He was few steps from the car park when the Ford blew suddenly shocking everyone. Lucero dived flat on the ground. He narrowly missed. It took the chips case in the bomb blast controlled by a remote.
Crowd gathered and police quickly drew a line.
Roco wiped the satellite phone and the small remote thoroughly, dumped them near the supermarket and slowly drove away from the scene. A moment later, he stopped at a booth and called Carlos Alvieri, “It is over.”
“Good job,” said his boss, “Lose the rear.”
Carlos Alvieri, a racketeering mastermind, had right connections and the money gone into the River Boat Casino could not be retrieved by the police or a lawsuit. Besides, he would obtain his share. Roco and his bandits would be paid.
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