Taming Blaze (16 page)

I heard the words, but it took me a minute to register what he had just said.  “Arias.  My name.”  I shook my head, furrowing my brow.  “No.  I don’t have any other family.”

“Yes, I suppose that is what you’re father has told you,” he said. 
"But I can assure you, I’m his brother.”

“He said his brother was dead.”

Benicio sipped from his glass.  “Well, that sounds about right.  You could say I’ve been dead for the past twenty years.  However, I have come back to life.”

“So you kidnapped us at gunpoint and threw us in the car for, what, a little family reunion?”  I was angry
about the entire situation, and this guy - my uncle - was making it worse with his blasé attitude, drawing things out like he had all the time in the world for a chat.

“Your father and I have some unfinished business,” he said.  “And you, Dani, are a part of that.  I made a solemn vow to your mother that one day you would know the t
ruth.  And that day is today.”

“Don’t speak about my mother,” I said, hearing the volume of my voice rise.  “What do you know about her?”

“I loved her once, and she loved me,” Benicio said.  He stared into his glass, and I almost believed him. 
Almost.

“That’s not true.”  I turned to Blaze.  “It’s lies, all lies.  It’s some kind of cruel game he’s playing.  I don’t want
to be here.  I want to leave.”

Benicio reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a wrinkled and worn photo, and handed it to me.  It was a photo of a younger man and woman, her arms wrapped around his neck.  My
mother, and a younger man, clearly Benicio.  I felt my eyes well up with tears, and I bit my lip, trying to hold them back.

“No,” I said.  “It can’t be.  This can’t be right.  Photos can be doctored.  They can be photoshopped.”  But I knew it was her, the minute I looked a
t the photo.

“They can,” Benicio said.  “But this isn’t photoshopped.  You know it hasn’t been altered.  This is your mother and I.  S
he loved me, and I loved her.”

My hands shook as I turned the photo over, reading the handwriting.  My mother’s handwriting.  I would recognize it anywhere. 

With love, Eileen.

Her name.  I looked up at Benicio.  “What do you want from us?” I asked, no longer accusat
ory and angry.  Now I wanted to know why he was here.

“She and I were everything to each other,” Benicio said.  “That was a long time ago.  Seeing you here, it was like seeing a ghost.”  His voice cracked
.

“Why am I just meeting you now?”  I couldn’t imagine why my father would tell me that all his family members were dead.

“It’s a long story,” Benicio said.  “And the reason I brought you here.  That, and also I needed to ensure you were protected.”

“Protected from who?” Blaze asked.  I could tell he was still pissed off at the
way Benicio had taken us from the cabin.

“My father said someone was trying to kill me
- the person who killed my mother,” I said, suddenly tense.  What if Benicio was the one who killed her?

Benicio’s expression turned dark.  “Yes,” he said. 
“That is exactly what I fear.”

“Then who is it?  Who killed my mother?”

“I have my suspicions,” Benicio said.  “If I tell you the story, I think you may agree with me.”

“Why not just give me the name and be done with it?”  It was beyond irritating, the way this man approached the conversation, casually, like we were lingering over a four-course meal.  I wanted to know what information he had about my mother’s murder.

Benicio sighed.  “I think it would be much better if I told you the whole story before I told you who I suspect.”

Blaze touched my arm.  “Dani,” he said.  “Let’s
listen to what he has to say.”

I reached for the scotch, swallowing, feeling the burn of the alcohol on my throat.  “Okay, go ahead.”  Whatever his tone, Benicio didn’t strike me as a
liar.

Benicio leaned forward, arms on the desk.  “How much do you know about your father, about where he came from, what he does?”

“He came from Panama, years ago,” I said.  “I’ve asked him about it, and he told me not to ask questions.  Just like everything else.  You're always asking too many questions, he said.”  I paused.  “Shipping.  I don’t know exactly what he does, not anymore.  I’ve been in college.  Things could have changed in the past few years.”

Benicio nodded.  “And what do you know about the history of Panama?”

“A little bit.  Daddy rarely talks about it.  Mom used to tell me stories of living there before they moved here.”

Benicio looked at Blaze, who shrugged,
palms in the air.  “I know other areas of history," Blaze said.  "But Panamanian history is not one of them.  I know how to find the country on a map, and that's about it.”

“Well then,” he said.  “You’ve heard of Manuel Noriega, of
course.”

“Sure,” I said.

He looked at Blaze, clearly unsure whether Blaze knew who Noriega was, then returned his gaze to me.  “Manuel Noriega was a military dictator of Panama during the latter half of the eighties.  Your father and I were promoted to powerful positions in the administration, positions in economics and finance.”

“The U.S. invaded Panama in the eighties, didn’t we?”  Blaze asked.  

Benicio nodded.  “Yes, but I’ll get there in a moment.  General Noriega was extremely pragmatic, motivated by money and power.  Corruption was rampant through the administration in those days.  And your father and I? We were not innocents, but what can you do?”  He shrugged.  “If Noriega and others were going to get rich, we were going to get richer.”

“How?” I asked.

“Your father, my brother, was one of General Noriega’s most trusted advisors.  He handled the money.  He was the one who suggested buying property in Paris to launder money.”  Benicio shook his head.  “The French, they didn’t end up taking kindly to that.  It was a mistake on Guillermo’s part.”

“What does this have to do with my mother?”

“Patience, my dear,” he said, and a sad smile crossed his face.  “You are remarkably like her in that regard.  You have the same impatience she had.  She was reckless sometimes, your mother.  It was something I loved about her.  She was like a wild horse.”

I opened my mouth, dying to ask more about my mother, but shut it again.

“We benefited from Noriega’s corruption, and from our positions in the administration.  We funneled money, billions of dollars in drug money.  We laundered it, stashed it in offshore accounts, including our own.  But your father wasn’t stupid.  He never stole directly from Noriega.  The money laundering, that was for Noriega.  What we did was use all the contacts for ourselves - military, senior officials, shipping contacts, contacts in the PCA.”

“What’s the PCA?” I asked.

“The Panama Canal Authority.  The part of the government that oversees the canal.”

“So, that’s how my father wound up doing what he’s doing now,” I said, the connections
beginning to fall into place.

“Yes,” Benicio said.  “You’re starting to see now, right?  Your father and I were in a position to be privy to knowledge and contacts that we exploited.  We got involved in the smuggling trade.  And we were successful beyond belief, rich beyond our wildest dreams.  But we were smart- we funneled the money offshore, prepared for any eventuality.  We both maintained dual United States citizenship.  Your father is an intelligent man.  He knew that Noriega was a problem for the United States,
and that one day we would need to flee.  It was a dangerous game we played back then.”

“But what does any of it have to do with my mother?”

“Your mother-” he began.  “Your father was with her for a year before we fell in love.  They had married, and your mother had begun to see the side of him I knew existed since we were children.  Your father is a shrewd businessman, but he is also a cruel man.

“B
efore the invasion in eighty-nine, I knew Guillermo had found out about us.  I was afraid he would kill your mother, that he had somehow discovered we’d planned to run away together.  But she was pregnant, and even your father would not harm her at that time.”  He paused, sipping from his glass, and I waited for him to finish, barely able to contain myself.

“Your father found out about the planned invasion two days before it happened.  That was a benefit of having all of those military contacts.  He arranged transport for himself and your mother.”  Benicio paused.  “And you, in your mot
her’s belly at the time.”

“But not you,” I said.  “You stayed behind.  If you loved my mother so much, why did you
let my father leave with her?”

“Yes, I did not benefit from receiving that piece of intelligence in time,” Benicio said.  “And three days later, a day after the invasion, I was arrested.”

“Guillermo,” Blaze said.

“Yes.  My brother had set me up, left a paper trail implicating me in the corruption.  It wasn’t anything false, of course.  We were both heavily involved in it, you see.  But he left evidence linking me, and then fled- with his half of the cash.”

“And that’s why he was able to just continue what he’d been doing, but here,” I said.  Things were starting to become clear.

Benicio nodded.  “And with a massive reservoir of cash.  We had been funneling millions and millions of dollars into offshore accounts.  We’d divided it up, and he couldn’t touch mine.  That was probably the only reason he didn’t kill me when he found out about your mother and I.  Even your father couldn’t resist the chance to come after half
a billion dollars eventually.”

“Half a billion doll
ars,” Blaze said.  “Holy shit.”

“As I said, we did very well under General Noriega.  It was a very lucrative period for us,” Benicio said.  He
sipped from his scotch glass.

“So you’ve been in pri
son this whole time?” I asked.

“Yes,” Benicio said.  “I’ve been waiting for this chance for twenty years.  The chance to meet you.”

“The chance to get revenge,” I said.  I thought I was finally beginning to understand.  “You’re the one who wants to kill my father.  But why does he think someone wants to kill me?”

“Well, I do want to kill your father, that part is true,” Benicio said.  “And I’m not the only one who feels that way, I’m sure.  But I’m not a threat to you, and neither is
anyone else.”

“What, then?”

“Your father is not a good man.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that much,” I said.  In fact, he was sounding
worse and worse by the second.

“We’ve both been waiting for my release, even though he walked away with more money than I had.  Your father could buy a small country with his profits from his smuggling operation
alone.  But, you see, it’s not enough.  He wants mine.  It’s all about your mother, and about you.  It always has been.”

“I don’t understand.  It was an affair.  Even my father isn’t that possessive,” I said, although this was making me start to wonder.  “He wants your money because you had an affair with my mother twenty years ago?”

“He deprived me of my freedom,” Benicio said.  “He wants to deprive me of the money as well.  It’s not only about your mother.  It’s also about you.”