20. The Meeting
The Meeting
Captain Smith paced back and forth in his small office.
He had spent the better part of the morning on the phone speaking to the county Mayor and the department’s legal department only to learn that his hands were tied; the feds had taken over all the investigations.
Detective Hernandez was officially off the case; the captain was flummoxed.
He crashed onto his chair and rolled up against the desk.
An old picture frame fell upon the decades old oak desk that belonged to his predecessor.
Coffee stained and weathered; it was long overdue for retirement.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Captain Smith said, placing the picture frame back in place.
His gaze remained fixed on her. Not a wrinkle graced her nor a strand of white hair.
It was an old photo of someone he cherished long after they passed.
He turned his attention to a business card buried under a stack of papers just beside the photo.
The words Michael Jones emblazoned the edge of it.
Suddenly, he swiped at it and jumped out of his seat; the stack of papers careened onto his already messy desk mixing carelessly until the piles became indiscernible.
“It’s worth a try,” he said, dialing the number; they answered immediately.
“Hello?” Michael Jones said. “Who is this?”
“Hi! Mr. Jones. It’s Captain Smith. Miami Beach PD. You gave me your card with your private number to call if anything came up; well, something’s come up,” Captain Smith said.
“Oh, I remember.”
“My detective, the one who was so unceremoniously dragged into the case, was just let go like a used rag,” Captain Smith said. “And I don’t appreciate it.”
“Is that so?” Michael Jones replied. He went silent on the line for a second.
“I was informed that they found the men responsible for the robbery deceased. I understand that he’s a robbery detective, but we have no further use of him.
His sole task was to find those men. And he did.
It’s unfortunate they weren’t alive for questioning. ”
“And the jewels? He still needs to find out what happened —”
“My team will forward a report suitable for his eyes when they finish the investigation, Captain Smith; have him work on some other case while we finish up here.”
“He’s not going to like that.”
“He doesn’t have a choice in the matter,” Michael Jones said. “I’ll be in touch.”
The line went silent. Captain Smith smacked the phone against the receiver and shook his head in frustration. An old twitch he once thought gone had returned.
* * *
The large jet’s engines roared to life as the plane sped down the runway.
It was wet. The tires treaded through the slick pavement towards the end as it struggled to take flight.
Beside it travelled a black SUV. Though it slowed down instead.
As the plane took off, it came to a stop in front of a white hangar at the end of the runway at the airport.
There was no one else around. Suddenly, the hangar opened.
Its large doors parted to the left and to the right with a soft grind.
Inside another large jet was parked, and at the front stood one man.
As the doors opened fully, more men emerged to his right, organizing large boxes, moving crates, and unloading bags from two black SUVs similar to the one in front of the hangar.
The car entered slowly just as the hangar doors began to close and parked right next to a dark oak table.
The man at the front never moved. He observed, like an eagle, as the SUV came to a halt and five men exited.
“You’re late, Samir,” said the man by the door.
The jet cabin door sprang open, and out came two more men.
They were all dressed similarly. Black suits with no ties.
Their shirts varied in color, as did the weapons each carried.
They carried bags in and out of the plane in a cadence, but during their second trip, a man emerged from inside the jet. “Was the package secured?”
“We took a wrong turn combing back and ended up on the wrong highway exit,” Samir said, dangling the bag at him. The man gripped the hilt of his rifle and scoffed.
“Amir Pons doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Samir said, walking over to the man who had exited the plane.
He lifted the bag to hand it to him, but was stopped.
Amir’s men approached Samir and took it from him instead.
Though they all appeared Middle Eastern, had accents, and were dressed similarly.
Amir stood out from the rest of the men in the room.
He was taller. And a tad darker. His clothes were less flashy than Samir’s, but more functional than his men's, and he had a no-nonsense attitude that had the rest of the men on edge.
You could see it in their faces. His own men feared him.
“Have you seen this?” Amir said. His silk shirt was matte blue, subdued like his suit; it didn’t stand out or draw attention. A simple but elegant luxury watch adorned his right wrist. And his obsidian-black hair was slicked back with much care.
“No, we haven’t touched it, as requested,” Samir replied.
Amir signaled to his men to hand him the bag; he grabbed the bottom of it and squeezed it once.
The metal pieces inside clanked together.
The rough edges protruded from the thin canvas of the bag.
He caressed the top and pulled back when a diamond ring poked his finger.
And the weight. It was much too heavy for a simple USB flash drive.
His face quickly soured. He looked at Samir and his men with disdain; disgusted at their absolute failure to accomplish such a simple task.
“I’m disappointed in you, Samir. I gave you a simple task, and yet,” Amir said.
He carefully unfurled the tie at the top of the bag and looked inside, and grimaced.
Then turned the bag upside down and emptied its contents on the ground in front of Samir.
Jewels rained down to the ground like hail in a storm.
Rings and necklaces and bracelets, and more.
Diamonds and pearls and rubies bounced from the floor towards him and all around.
“I don’t understand,” Samir said. He took a step back in frustration. “The thieves. They stole the item; we saw them. They brought us the package, and we eliminated them as agreed. This can’t be.”
“Tell me, Samir. Why did you not check the bag before killing these men?” Amir said. He tossed the bag at his feet.
“You said not to look inside, so?—.”
“Correct. I said do not look inside the drive. I did not say do not look inside the bag. I did not say kill the men before securing the package. I did not say waste my time by bringing me these useless trinkets!” Amir howled.
Suddenly, Amir reached into his waistband and pulled out a coal-black Desert Eagle. He aimed it at Samir’s head.
“Wait! Wait! I’m sorry! Give me a chance.
I’ll fix this. Please!” Samir pleaded. But his cries fell on deaf ears.
Amir, with his anger overflowing and thoughts of betrayal, pulled the trigger with icy precision and executed his own man.
Samir fell to the ground while the rest of the men watched his blood soak the scattered jewelry.
“I will not tolerate incompetence in my organization,” Amir said as he slipped the gun back into his waist holster. “You four, do any of you know where my package is?”
The other four men who had been at the exchange in the warehouse remained silent. Not only because they were horrified, but because they did not know where the package was. Amir grew impatient with their silence and placed his hand on the gun once more when one man spoke.
“Yes! I think I know! We met the thieves at a restaurant, and there was a girl. She will know,” said the one man.
“A girl? What’s your name?” Amir said.
“Nazim, sir. This is Salim, Omar, and he is Ahmed. We all come from the same village in Naciria,” Nazim said.
“Is that so? I come from Tigzirt. That practically makes us brothers. Listen, Nazim, I’m putting you in charge of this, okay? I hope you don’t disappoint me like Samir,” Amir said, sporting a menacing smile.
“No, Mr. Amir. We won’t,” replied Nazim. The four men quickly mounted their SUV and left the hangar; driving off as the sun set in search of a girl and a hard drive.