THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 32

Servito stepped from his taxi and hurried into the Brass Rail Tavern, one of the numerous components of the neon jungle at the south end of Yonge Street. Allison was seated at the bar, flanked by Dianne Thorpe and another extremely attractive young prostitute. The number of cigarette butts in the ashtray in front of the three indicated that they had been there for a few hours already.

He marched to the bar and slapped Allison's right shoulder. "I want to talk to you," he said, and then kept on walking.

Allison nodded and stood. "I'll be right with you." He kissed the girl to his right. "Keep your sweet ass right here, baby. I'll be back." He turned and followed Servito to the washroom.

Servito waited until Allison was facing the urinal, and then turned to him. "Did you get the stuff?" he asked.

"What stuff?"

"The cocaine, asshole! What stuff did you think I was talking about?"

Allison nodded and flashed a proud smile. "It was in the manifolds of two of the trucks that came in from Buffalo this afternoon."

Servito shook his head. "Come on, Jerry! Wake up! Where's the nose-candy for the farm tonight?"

"Got it," Allison said, patting the left breast of his suit jacket. "Right in here, baby."

"Great!" Servito declared. He raised his right thumb, and then frowned. "While we're in here, I want to talk to you about another couple of items.... The first is my wife—I want her followed. I want to know where she is at all times."

"You think she's fooling around?"

"I'm not sure. I just wanna know."

"Okay. I'll start tomorrow."

"No. Get Lanotti to do it. Tell him I want him to start immediately."

"I'll phone him right now," Allison said, zipping up.

"Don't go away—I'm not finished. Tomorrow, I want you to see a man by the name of Lou Patelski. He runs a chemical operation in Erie called Polyco Inc. Patelski wants to pay us a lot of money to get rid of some poly chlorinated biphenyls. He claims he can cut gasoline with as much as two percent of the shit without changing the performance. I want you to go down there and get him to prove it to you. If Patelski's right, we're gonna be in the PCB business in a big way."

Allison nodded, his mouth slightly opened. "What the hell is PCB?"

"A very nasty chemical. It's used in electrical transformers. It's hard to dispose of because it's toxic and it takes a long time to break down. Nobody wants anything to do with it."

"But we do?"

"Goddamned right we do! The money Patelski's offering us is unbelievable, and it's all cash."

"I'll leave first thing in the morning."

After giving Servito a high five, Allison hurried to the pay telephone outside the washroom door.

Karen searched every cubic inch of the penthouse in an effort to find something that would link her husband to criminal activity. Frustrated and tired, she rested on a stool in her kitchen. When the telephone rang, she placed the coffee on the counter and lifted the receiver.

"Hi, it's me. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm just fine, now that you called," she said, smiling.

"I want to see you again, very soon."

"I want that, too, but I can't until I know where Jim is.

"Will you call me when you do?"

"Are you at your office?"

"Yup. I should be here all day."

Karen sighed. "I just spent the last four hours turning this place upside down. Jim doesn't keep anything here. The only place we're going to find anything is at the farm."

"Do you have a key?"

"Yes."

"Does your husband know you have it?"

"No. I borrowed his and had a copy made."

"Smart girl." She heard his smile, and it delighted her. "When can we go?"

"As soon as he takes another plane trip. He should be taking one soon—it's been almost four weeks since his last one."

"Great. Then I'll wait for your call. I love you."

"Me too, you." Karen hung up just as Servito entered the kitchen. She froze in terror as she watched him march straight for the refrigerator, open the door, and snatch a can of beer. He snapped the lid and took a sip, then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his brown leather jacket. He took another sip before sitting on the stool beside Karen. "Sorry I didn't make it home last night. We had a meeting at the farm. It didn't end until three-thirty, so I decided to stay there and come back this morning."

Karen sat silently, forcing herself not to tremble.

"Aren't you going to welcome your husband home?" he asked with a devilish smirk.

Relieved, Karen forced a smile. "Welcome home," she said, her voice oozing with contempt.

"I hate to tell you this, but it looks like I have to go away again."

Karen gave him a blank stare, attempting to appear disappointed. "When?" she asked.

"Today. I'm taking the plane to Florida."

"When will you be back?"

"Friday. When I get back, we'll go out and blow a wad on dinner. Just the two of us."

Karen frowned, deliberately showing her displeasure. "You should consider staying home and spending some time with your son. He's eight years old and he hardly knows you."

"I will. I promise. We'll have a fabulous dinner on Friday night. Then I'll spend the rest of the weekend with Phillip," he promised. He stood and headed for the kitchen door.

After Jim left, Karen waited for five minutes, and then raced to telephone Mike. "He's gone," she said. "He left five minutes ago. I've never been so happy to see him go."

"Where did he go?"

"He said he was taking the plane to Florida, but I don't believe him."

"Why Florida? And why don't you believe him?"

"He said he needed to arrange to have some work done on the house in Palm Beach, but I think he uses the plane to take money somewhere else."

"He has a house in Palm Beach?"

"That's how we met. He bought a house beside my parents' place.

"Okay, if he doesn't take his money to Florida, where do you think he takes it?"

"Grand Cayman. I think. I found a copy of a deposit slip in his wallet. It was from a branch of The Banco International Venezolano, in Grand Cayman."

"How much was deposited?"

"Two million, four hundred thousand dollars."

"Wow! Whatever his game is, he's obviously a big player. Did you keep the deposit slip?"

"No. I didn't want him to find it missing and I didn't have time to make a copy."

"Make a copy of the next one you find."

"I will. I'll keep the original if I have to.... Do you have any idea how he could accumulate so much money?"

"If he's really in the gasoline business, there's only one way. He's evading taxes. Did he say how long he would be gone?"

"Until Friday."

"Are you sure he'll be gone that long?"

"No, but I don't care. I just want to be with you."

"You say all the right things. I'll pick you up at your place at seven."