The Retirement Plan

Chapter 32

In a plush, carpeted office in the bowels of the U.S. Embassy in Madrid, Leyland sat across from a smiling, silver-haired D.S.S. Official.

"You know, the Feds have been chasing this Diamond character for years," the Regional Security Officer said. "Those Hoover boys are spitting feathers that our office made the arrest happen. Pays to have an open line of communication with the Spanish national police. Tell me, how did you ever manage to track him down?"

Leyland shot him a tired smile. "Blind luck. Ran into him in a supermarket."

"A supermarket?"

"I was standing in line at the till with a deep-dish pizza. Two tills down, I see this guy packing his groceries into bags—"

"Irritating, isn't it?" the R.S.O. interrupted him. "How they make you pack your own bags over here. I order on-line. Always surprises the delivery guys when I give them a tip."

"Anyhow," Leland continued, "the face set off a red flag in my head, so I tailed him back to his villa."

"A good bureau man never loses his instinct for the job."

"I dug in for the night. Bright and early next morning he went down the local beach for a jog. I bumped into him. He dropped his cell."

"That was clumsy of him."

"He's a clumsy guy. Forgets to file his tax returns for over a decade. Anyway, seeing as I'm in possession of his cell, I call a guy who works for my old company. He—"

"Ill have to stop you there, Leyland. The official version we gave our Spanish colleagues is that a former field agent, holidaying in Alicante, came across mister Diamond in an intoxicated state at phoned it in. I don't need to hear anything that would contradict said version of events."

"Sure. And the Spanish are happy with that?"

"Officially. Though they are investigating the matter. They arrested a Reginald Jones, an ex-pat who was admitted to San Juan Hospital with a gunshot shot wound a few hours before the picked up Diamond. The guy has served time for armed-robbery."

"What did he have to say?"

"What every professional criminal you get in the box says; A big fat nothing. Claims he doesn't know who shot him."

"Terrible how many folk in the criminal fraternity suffer from early-onset dementia praecox. Someone should commission a study into that phenomena."

The RSO laughed. "I think this particular case is down to drugs."

"Yeah?" Leyland said.

"Seems mister Jones was involved with Dutch drug-dealers. A few of whom have the unfortunate habit of dying."

"Shame."

"Indeed."

"So, what is to become of this upstanding former American citizen?"

"Soon as his twenty-fours is up, they'll turn him loose."

"Figures. You think they give any credence to this cockamamie story Diamond told them about his being kidnapped?"

"Well, he also claimed that the last thing he remembers is speaking with the devil."

"Like I told you, he was incoherent and babbling when I found him."

There followed a brief silence.

The RSO shook his head in amazement. "A deep-dish pizza."

"Pepperoni."

"Incredible."

"I guess you might call it serendipity," Leyland said with a wry smile, recalling Elana's words.