Where There's Smoke (21 page)

“What the fuck?” Red whispered staring at the man. He no longer looked old, instead he seemed to be around their age. “What'd you do? Wear make-up or something?” Red asked, staring at the man. Smoke moved to the desk and pulled the receptionist away. Fine tremors wracked her frame.

“Mister Towling? What's going on?” Her voice wavered. He scowled at her from Red's hands.

“Shut up, you fool,” he shouted. “You were supposed to screen them and you couldn't do that?”

She gasped and narrowed her eyes. “If you were on the up and up, it shouldn't matter,” she sneered as Smoke took her into the next room. He motioned for her to sit in the chair.

“Who are you guys?” she asked while he rummaged through the desks and files. He smiled and didn't answer. They needed more information tying the Frenches to the shoddy buildings. He tried the filing cabinet, it was locked.

“Where's the key?” He looked at her.

“Who are you?”

“The man who’s going to kick your ass into next week if you don't tell me where the keys are to this file cabinet.” His hardened voice matched the scowl on his face. She swallowed hard.

“Mister Towling keeps it with him.”

He strode to the door. “I need his keys.”

Red snatched the man up, patted him down and tossed Smoke the bundle.

After three tries the file cabinet opened. Inside, were the contracts for the botched construction jobs, employee information, bank deposits and supply manifests. He saw a file on Cathy, Rubie's niece who'd betrayed them. A file on Geary, one on him, Red and Ross. There were files on some of his ex-employees and some still in the Prison Build Program who would be sent to work for them in the future. A map with dots and dates caught his attention. The dots were near jobs they'd done in the past. Smoke wondered what was the connection.

But it was the file on Felicia that solved the mystery for him. He leaned back in the chair stunned. His fingers itched to call Julio for confirmation. He knew his friend wouldn't lie to him, even if he didn't like the answers. Damn. Things just became more complicated.

The phone rang and no one answered. Frenche looked frightened and made another attempt to bargain. “This isn't what you think. The construction company's not the big deal here. There's more at stake.” Ross sat away from the door, holding the gun on him. The man sighed. “This is big, they're not going to let this kind of money go. Someone else will pick it up.”

“Why use us? Why not some other company?” Red asked.

“Because your company's the best and we needed that edge. Look, we'll reimburse you for everything, I think that process has already began.”

“Why'd you steal our inventory, send bad workers, take money in our name, if you only wanted to use the name as cover?” Red asked.

“Yes, Timothy,” a low voice asked walking into the room. The man was accompanied by three hulking men strapped with automatic fire-power. They motioned for Ross to drop his gun, and Red to release the man. He opened his hand and Frenche hit the floor.

The men spread out and opened the door where Smoke had been listening. The woman's breath hitched as she walked into the outer office. Smoke closed the folder he'd been reading and followed behind her. The man who'd asked the question was about Rubie's age, fifties or early sixties. There was a ruthlessness around his eyes as he glanced at each person in the room, before returning to the man slowly standing from the floor.

“You were not supposed to draw attention to the company, yet your greed preceded you. Why would you use convicts as runners when you had a stable of competent stools?”

“I tried to save costs and return a favor to a friend.” The man's brow rose.

“I have heard of this tattooed man and he had no friends. Only slaves. Were you a slave of his?”

“No, I swear I wasn't.” He swallowed hard. “When I was in Thumb, he helped me once and asked for a favor. I didn't refuse him.”

“You allowed this personal favor to interfere with my business?” The voice dropped an octave in outrage.

“No, I didn't think it would. We had everything under control.”

“When? I see no signs of this. Shipments were late and short. Deliveries were missed, and monies were short.” Smoke stared at the floor, wondering how they'd get out of this alive. The more the man talked the slimmer their chances of survival.

“You,” he pointed at Red. “Have you seen him before?” He pointed at Frenche. Red nodded. “Yes, I've seen him.”

The man stared. “Where?” he snapped at Red's reticence.

“We built a house for him and his wife. Just finished it a month or so ago.”

The man walked over to Frenche and slapped him across the face. A second later a pistol was in his hand pointed at the man's face. The receptionist screamed and was knocked out by one of the hulking men. No, things didn't look good for them right now.

“How?” The man breathed through the words. “How did he and his wife pay you? Was it cash?” he gritted.

“No, they gave us checks,” Red continued blandly.

“How much did the house cost to build?” He stared at the shaking man.

“How much?” Red thought aloud. “Around a million.” No one spoke as the hand holding the gun dropped without firing.

“A million?” He sputtered. “You spent a million of my money on a fucking house?”

“No.Yes. Let me explain,” Frenche begged. “Can we go into the office so I can explain? Please?” The man gestured to the man closest to Frenche.

“Take him to the car. If he tries to talk to anyone, punch him in the mouth. If he tries to run, break his leg.” The stooge nodded and pushed a babbling Frenche out the door.

Smoke looked up as the man returned his gun to his coat. Hope shriveled in his chest. Trembling, he thought of Vianca—and their new relationship. It hadn't had a chance to blossom fully. His heart raced thinking of Red's twins, his upcoming marriage and his brothers. They'd asked Smoke to watch out for Red and he'd failed. Lenore, Ross's daughter, recently lost her mama and might lose her father in the next few minutes. He was on the verge of a full blown panic attack and missed the next words that came from the man's mouth.

“It seems a problem has been created by the lack of my direct oversight.” He sighed and sat down in the chair near the door. “Your company was never supposed to be involved. In fact, your company was the only one I gave explicit directions not to involve.” He shook his head. “Too many people I know are aware of your enterprise and appreciate what you've done for many men. Good, loyal men.” He clasped his hands together as they dropped between his legs. “It was not supposed to come to this.” He looked at Ross. “You built the house for him in Big Lakes?”

Ross nodded. “Yeah.”

“I wonder who the woman was. Timmy has no interest in women. He's not married. Not to a woman at least.” He paused. “Perhaps it was his sister or maybe his mama.” He shrugged. Smoke watched, trying to process everything. Hope sprung in his chest as he prayed they'd walk away unscathed.

“Nevertheless, restitution has to be made. What will it take to fix this problem?”

“We want our name cleared publicly,” Red said. Ross nodded.

“How has your name been damaged?”

“There are three outstanding lawsuits from homeowners against our company for the bad work Frenche 's company did. Since he used our name, it's used in the lawsuit. The press covered the story a few days ago.” Ross straightened, looking at the man in the chair.

Once again he shook his head. “Incompetence at the highest level.” He stared ahead. “Okay, give me a month, I need to line some things up and your name will be cleared.” He looked at them. “Anything else?” He gazed at Smoke.

“Nothing I can think of. We got all our inventory and supplies,” Smoke said.

“Inventory and supplies? What do you mean?”

Smoke swallowed, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. “They stole our inventory, had our receptionist order supplies and send it to their jobs, or to a warehouse.”

The man straightened in the chair. “What do you mean you got them back?”

“We discovered the warehouse and removed our inventory,” Smoke said, holding the man's eye.

“What if you took something that wasn't yours?”

“Then it can be returned. Better yet, if Frenche knows exactly which building materials it is, you can have one of your men retrieve it. Our guys took the things from the warehouse and stored them inside ours.”

“Has anyone had an opportunity to go through all the merchandise?”

“Not that I'm aware of,” Smoke answered, avoiding Red and Ross's gaze. They picked up the discussion was about something other than building materials. He couldn't mess up now. Too many lives were at stake.

The man waved over one of his stooges and whispered something into his ear. The man walked out. No one said anything the entire time the man was out of the room. The third stooge stood near the door with his automatic rifle. Finally, the man returned and spoke into his boss's ear.

“I have discovered you have taken something that does not belong to you. I am dispatching my assistant to retrieve the materials. Is there someone at your establishment to allow my man entry?”

“Yes, we should call and let her know someone is coming to pick up something from inventory. That way, she'll let him through,” Red said.

The man nodded. “By all means.”

“Do you want her to pull it, so it'll be ready?” Red asked.

“No, it's heavy, my assistant will be there momentarily. Make sure he has access.”

Red made the call and talked to Denise.

“It's good, she'll send him to the back.” The man nodded.

“We'll wait for my associate's call.” No one mistook the comment as a suggestion.

Red and Ross sat and waited in silence. Smoke was so grateful they were still alive, he sat quietly. It wasn't until the phone call ten minutes later that he remembered his text messages to Garcia and Whiteside. Neither party had showed up. Was it possible he'd picked two law enforcement officials who were on this man's payroll? It was something to consider.

Once the call came in, the man nodded and stood. “Once again, my apologies. Your company should not have been involved. My nephew has allowed his common sense to fly away from him, but I will make sure you have no further problems.” He reached inside his coat pocket. “My card, if you should need me.” He handed Ross the card and walked out. The receptionist looked at Smoke.

“Can I go home now?”

“I guess so.” He stood and stretched, surprised and thankful to be alive. Red and Ross stood as well.

The woman grabbed her purse and ran out the door. Smoke placed his finger to his lips and walked into the inner office. He gathered the files he'd placed to the side and handed Red and Ross a few each before they left. They exited down the stairs and moved into their vehicle. Although they didn't see anyone, they knew someone nearby watched.

After thirty minutes of driving in silence, Smoke sat in the rear and exhaled. They weren't in the clear completely yet, but they'd beaten the odds.

“That, my friends, was a close call,” Smoke said softly. “Frenche wasn't lying. The set-up deals with drugs. Remember the powder in Cherise's car?”

Ross nodded. Red glanced at him through the rear view mirror.

“It was probably a part of a shipment. Andre may have been a distributor. Frenche had a file on him.” No one spoke. “They hid the drugs in the building materials, that's why he picked up something from the office.”

“Shit.” Red said with feeling.

“Yeah. Remember we tried to connect the dots when your brothers were here and a lot of stuff seemed random?

“Yeah.” Red nodded.

“It's because they needed us away from certain parts of the state for pick-ups or deliveries. We were so well known that some of the materials were delivered to active sites. And that was a big problem. So they'd arrange something to pull us away.”

“Why'd they murder Pam?” Ross asked.

Smoke looked through the file he'd been reading when the men stopped him. “One of the runners was her new boyfriend. It doesn't say what he did, but both of them were killed at the same time.” He looked up. “Nobody mentioned two deaths.”

“Maybe they didn't know. She could've been a witness or something when they removed him.” Red shrugged.

“Could be,” Smoke said, reading the file. “Felicia worked for Frenche.”

“What?” Red shouted. “What'd she do? A runner?”

“No. She was some type of scout. Her boyfriend became suspicious and caused some problems. According to this, he really did kill her. Garcia got that one right.”

“The five men at the hotel, anything on that?” Ross asked looking in the files he'd brought out. “They had a lot of information on us. Damn, I didn't know Cherise's dad had a high security clearance and worked on covert missions.”

“For real?” Red said, trying to peak in the file.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Smoke said without looking up. “I don't see anything about the five men in this file. I'll have to check the others.”

“Is there anything about Denise's old man in one of those files?” Red asked. Smoke shuffled the files and opened the one on Red.

“Hold on, let me see,” Smoke said, reading. “Damn, man. They got stuff on your parents, your brothers, your sister. I didn't know her husband's name was Theophilus.” Smoke chuckled.

Red laughed. “I know, right. He goes by Theo, hardly ever uses his whole name. Now you know why. What else?”

“Let me see.” Smoke continued reading. “Ah, not much on her dad. It does say her mom's the main provider. And he's a Pastor of a small church and he doesn't like you.”

“Wonder where they got all the personal info from?” Red asked.

“Not sure, but most of it's accurate,” Ross said, opening another file. “Well, I'll be damned. Denise was right.”

“About what?” Red asked.

“The deal with Smoke was about the Judge. Some case hit his court and they used his relationship with the prostitute as leverage. Threatened him, seems like he had some principles and wouldn't bite. So they set him up. Ruined him.”