Ch 12 - No Todo Lo Que Brille Es Oro
James hated the London fog, as it looked like steam escaping from the street gutters and made one feel the chill in their bones, at the same time turning the city into shades of gray. London in March was as obnoxious as Chicago in winter! He couldn't believe that just two weeks ago he and Teresa had enjoyed lazy mornings in Paris, with a view of La Tour Eiffel from their window, and now he was chasing a secretary in some sketchy neighborhoods.
At least the wind had died down, when they stopped in front of the office building again.
James reasoned that Jenna, the secretary, could have gotten on the road a long time ago, but there was the chance that she hadn't! He didn't leave stones unturned, so he forced himself to look, and sound composed as they entered the office building again.
There was a different woman at reception, who smiled unpleasantly and advised them that Jenna Rourke had not yet come to work. Maybe she was working from home today! No insistence could make her give out her address. Then her phone rang, and she was called into one of the adjacent offices.
Of course, she locked her computer screen! James had not expected it to be that easy. He couldn't help but notice that her clothes and shoes had seen better times. A quick look at her desk revealed a picture of three children of different young ages sitting on the hood of an old Honda, dressed in oversized hand-me-downs.
"You're still here!" the woman said impatiently as she came back carrying a huge binder.
James pulled out the roll of cash he always carried on him.
"How about you get yourself some coffee…", he peeled off a few hundred dollar bills, and as her eyes eagerly followed his movements, he peeled a few more.
She put out her hand saying: "I'm due for a 10 minute break anyway…password is 'johnycat'…Look for a shortcut in the lower right corner of the screen!" She stuffed the bills in her blouse and walked out.
As their vehicle had been compromised the previous day, they had left it at the hotel, and James had been prepared to ride the famous London Tube. Much to his surprise though, he had felt an adrenaline rush when Chicho had shown him the two Yamaha bikes parked on the side street from the hotel. Stealing bikes was not something he thought he would be doing ever again, but he shrugged and went along.
Jenna Rourke lived in a two story building bordering on a green ravine. She opened the door cautiously and once James got his foot in, she realized it was useless to try to close the door, so she let them in.
She played 'hard to get' and James figured she too needed cash, so he offered: "Look, Jenna! You would have died yesterday…your boss and his little gang don't care about you."
"It's not like you do!" she glared at him.
"I saved your life…didn't I?" James was getting annoyed.
"Touche!" she said. "I assume you are some undercover cops…or…", she let her voice trail off.
"We'll pay you to talk so we can locate Lancaster, but you're better off not knowing!" Chicho was getting annoyed with her stupid questions.
She looked them up and down: "Americans?"
"Yeah…I'm sure we sound like it!" James handed her five bills and added: "Start talking about the …ahh…LIIP you mentioned yesterday! If you give us good information, I will give you another $500."
She sighed and dragged her hand through her hair, which gesture was way too familiar for James, so he sensed her doubts: "Are you in any danger here? Because someone knows we are looking for Lancaster…They set the fire to destroy evidence."
"This is Blake and his team. They're his enforcement team…about 5 or 6 of them, some come, some go…" She sat on the couch, which signaled to the men that they could sit down too on the opposite one.
"What is LIIP?" James said.
"It stands for 'Land Investment Improvement Plan'." Jenna pulled a bottle of water from under the table and drank.
"Sounds like a bunch of bull to me…" Chicho said angrily as the mention of 'land' cut close to his heart.
"It's not. I assure you…just that I don't know how wise it's for me to tell you…Blake can find me and …ahh…you saw they had me tied to a frigging desk…", her voice had started to break down.
"I can't help you unless I know who and what I'm dealing with!" James said simply.
Chicho, however, was losing his cool: "Your boss duped my partner and I of more money than I care to admit…and made us buy useless land …What is he involved in? Because if you don't open this pretty mouth of yours, we'll get the cops involved!"
James decided to intervene because the woman was getting nervous. She almost hugged herself, which was a protective gesture, so he took over: "We'll protect you…I promise…just help us out here!" As she kept silent and looked down, he said: "I'll give you enough cash to disappear for a while, okay!"
"Okay!" She dug out a pack of smokes, lit one and started talking. "My boss and an associate of his… from Bath…in mid country, whose name I don't know…they launder land."
The men gave her weird looks as she shook her head and went on: "I don't know the scale of the whole operation, but…they search out companies who have trouble …that are buried in litigation or are going under…they get them to sell the land for cheap and then sell it to investors with promises to finance its development." She butted out her cigarette: "Then they disappear...move offices, change names … and start all over!"
"We bought from different entities each time!" Chicho exclaimed. "Are you saying Lancaster was behind all of them!" She nodded.
"And then he entered into a contract with us to finance 30% of the development using another company of his!" Chicho was upset as a fraudulent scheme was taking shape in front of his eyes.
"So, they 'launder' land in the third world only?" James said, thinking about the NYC hotels the men had built with Lancaster's help.
"Yes…they maintain a portfolio of legal projects in the US and in Europe." She seemed nervous. "I can lose my life for what I told you…I don't know more…"
"How long have you been with them?" James asked.
"Six months only!" she replied.
"I really don't know more…please give me the cash and get out now…because if he has me followed…" her voice broke down again, which made James pull out the cash, give her the bills and head out the door.
He felt like they were making progress, but the more details he found, the less he liked the story. His pocket also felt way lighter and that was not a feeling he cherished.
He knelt to tie his shoelace as Chicho went ahead towards the bikes, anger written in his gait.
James saw him pull on his helmet, start the bike, tap it into gear and ease it forward. He heard him accelerate and then his attention was drawn to the gassy roar of a battered pickup truck that shot out from between two small warehouses and aimed right at Chicho.
The ugly Ford bore down at him and Chicho had no choice but to brake and spin the bars. The pickup passed within two feet of his front fender. His friend tried to steer into the skid, but the sandy surface didn't help, and his wheels spun out of control.
The Yamaha went down and Chicho tumbled off with the bike pinning his right leg under its two hundred pounds. Not a huge weight, James hoped as he pulled his weapon and ran towards him.
He noticed that the driver and the passenger had climbed out of the pickup and he recognized the driver: the Serbian he had relieved of his weapon and left tied up. The men reached under their untucked shirts, pulling their gun and still walking menacingly towards the fallen bike.
Chicho shouldered the bike up and crouched pushing it off him with a visible effort. He got up ignoring his scrapped knee, staring at the approaching hostiles briefly before pulling off his helmet and taking out his knife: the only weapon he had.
The Serbian's face stretched into a recognition smile as he saw James, who touched the grip of his weapon with two fingers. To the trained eye, it was obvious that he was preparing to draw. The men stopped, the Serbian whispered to the other and they shared a laugh. James was closing his hand on the gun's handle as they were all startled by the sudden loud roar of an engine.
The two men turned to the direction of the noise, their backs to Chicho and James. The roar filled the parking lot and in the next moment they saw it was a muscle car, which was coming from the side of the building. The smiles had vanished from the men's faces as they lifted their weapons towards the car but were too late. The black Dodge Charger slammed into them: one flew against the wall, while the other caromed off the hood. They lay still eyes closed, not clear if breathing.
The car skidded to a stop. James's eyes were fixed on the driver. A woman in a black outfit with long black hair tied in a bun! She opened the door and stepped out fast, her eyes taking in the situation in a trained manner. Her face was stern but beautiful, her make up just right. She had a holstered weapon and before James could react, she took the steps to Chicho and after they stared at each other for a few seconds, they went into each other's arms.
A black van pulled in from the same direction the Dodge had arrived. Two men got out and swiftly lifted the fallen bodies off the ground and put them in the back. Everything took less than 30 seconds. It was quick, efficient, and organized. James could only stare as Chicho let go of the woman and turned to him:
"This is Anat Moshe, Avi's sister. James Valdez." Chicho's eyes moved from the woman's face to James's to observe James slowly shaking his head and extending his hand, which Anat took eagerly: "I have heard about you… a lot!", her accent was the same as Avi's and it reminded James of times long gone. A little smile creeped up on his face.
James was not surprised that Anat's team had tagged them when they had landed in London. The Radio Frequency Dust technology had been far too sophisticated for private citizens.
Marcel and Tony were glad to hear that they had been under Mossad's protection all along, while James couldn't shake the feeling that Avi might have given Chicho 'some gear', but it was Anat who had bothered to extend the real help when Chicho had made contact. There was more than met the eye between these two!
Once Anat had received approval for them to fly to Tel Aviv in the Mossad private plane the next day, Chico had gone out with the 'team'. Mossad had put some tracking on Lancaster's organization because of raised suspicions once Chicho had sought 'assistance'.
Tony, who had been pacing the hotel room, turned to James and Marcel and said: "What's the point of having been here and not having seen the show in front of the Buckingham palace?"
James looked at him pointedly: "We came here to work!"
"Well …now that the work is done….can we go see the change of the guards? Or…can we at least try the famous fish and chips somewhere….We gotta eat, right?"