Read Online A Billion Ways to Die by Chris Knopf - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Knopf
Ads: Link
palm. He paused to rub the meaty calluses that had built up over months raising, dousing and adjusting Detour’s restless sails.
“Not all professionals live behind desks, am I right Señor Rana?”
“There are many ways to earn money in this world,” I said.
The general sat back and used his long, thin fingers to turn his Cuba Libre by the lip of the glass.
“How do you earn yours, Señor Rana?” he asked.
“I buy and sell something we all want.”
“Love?” said Fernanda, surprising everyone, most of all Norberto.
“Information,” I said to her. “Not as sweet, but more valuable.”
“Not to me,” she said, tossing a false smile at Norberto in a challenge he chose to ignore.
The general reached across the table and gripped Fernanda’s wrist. She sat back in her chair and flicked an ash off the end of her cigarro . Message received.
I took a sip of the Cuba Libre, wondering why you’d want to louse up the flavor of a perfectly good soft drink with that sour rum.
“What happened to your head?” the general asked.
“Accident.”
“Same one that put a bullet in your leg?”
“Yes.”
“You should be more careful, especially with a diet like yours.”
“Some diet,” said Fernanda. “The guy’s a bean.”
The general told Norberto in French that she better be a good fuck. See for yourself, Norberto answered. Any time.
“You won’t be surprised to learn that I am frequently approached by people wishing to claim my attention,” said the general. “The legitimate ones I listen to. The others I turn over to Norberto who is charged with discouraging further inquiry.”
Norberto shrugged as if apologizing in advance for carrying out this responsibility. Fernanda moved closer and stroked his meaty arm. I wondered if she liked to watch him at his work.
“Understood,” I said. I slipped the cocktail napkin out from under my Cuba Libre and took out a pen. “Go to your bank, or any bank, and open an account with a minimum balance. Use this e-mail address to send me the account number and the bank’s routing number, and I will deposit five thousand dollars as a show of good faith.” I wrote the address on the napkin. “Once you have the money secured, I will ask for the courtesy of a meeting where we can discuss the project I have in mind.”
I dropped the napkin in front of him and stood up, gratefully leaving half my Cuba Libre undisturbed. The general ignored it, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Not before tonight,” I said. “But you don’t have to.”
“That’s right. It doesn’t matter.”
Norberto was also on his feet at this point, looking at his boss for the signal to stop me from leaving. He didn’t get it, so I left through the proper doorway to the inside restaurant and then through the tired little storefront joint and out into the night air, suddenly damp and heavy, too far away to catch an errant breeze from the sleepless Atlantic Ocean.
C HAPTER 6
I t took me three cab rides and a trip through the kitchen of another aromatic Cuban restaurant to shake the tails. Inconvenience aside, it was a fine showing of the general’s bona fides, a welcome assurance before dropping five grand into a wildly speculative venture. I shared that with Natsumi when I got back to the hotel room.
“You have to start somewhere,” she said.
Before we went to bed I checked my e-mail where the general had left a message moments before. It included the routing and account numbers, and evidence that bona fides were established on both sides of the pending transaction: “Nicely done, Sr. Rana,” he wrote. “You’ve embarrassed my team, a healthy antidote to overconfidence. And by the way, add another fifteen thousand. We’ll take it from there.”
Natsumi went to bed alone, recognizing that sleep for me at this point was impossible. For my part, I went shopping.
There are people in the world who stockpile illicitly acquired information the
“Not all professionals live behind desks, am I right Señor Rana?”
“There are many ways to earn money in this world,” I said.
The general sat back and used his long, thin fingers to turn his Cuba Libre by the lip of the glass.
“How do you earn yours, Señor Rana?” he asked.
“I buy and sell something we all want.”
“Love?” said Fernanda, surprising everyone, most of all Norberto.
“Information,” I said to her. “Not as sweet, but more valuable.”
“Not to me,” she said, tossing a false smile at Norberto in a challenge he chose to ignore.
The general reached across the table and gripped Fernanda’s wrist. She sat back in her chair and flicked an ash off the end of her cigarro . Message received.
I took a sip of the Cuba Libre, wondering why you’d want to louse up the flavor of a perfectly good soft drink with that sour rum.
“What happened to your head?” the general asked.
“Accident.”
“Same one that put a bullet in your leg?”
“Yes.”
“You should be more careful, especially with a diet like yours.”
“Some diet,” said Fernanda. “The guy’s a bean.”
The general told Norberto in French that she better be a good fuck. See for yourself, Norberto answered. Any time.
“You won’t be surprised to learn that I am frequently approached by people wishing to claim my attention,” said the general. “The legitimate ones I listen to. The others I turn over to Norberto who is charged with discouraging further inquiry.”
Norberto shrugged as if apologizing in advance for carrying out this responsibility. Fernanda moved closer and stroked his meaty arm. I wondered if she liked to watch him at his work.
“Understood,” I said. I slipped the cocktail napkin out from under my Cuba Libre and took out a pen. “Go to your bank, or any bank, and open an account with a minimum balance. Use this e-mail address to send me the account number and the bank’s routing number, and I will deposit five thousand dollars as a show of good faith.” I wrote the address on the napkin. “Once you have the money secured, I will ask for the courtesy of a meeting where we can discuss the project I have in mind.”
I dropped the napkin in front of him and stood up, gratefully leaving half my Cuba Libre undisturbed. The general ignored it, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Not before tonight,” I said. “But you don’t have to.”
“That’s right. It doesn’t matter.”
Norberto was also on his feet at this point, looking at his boss for the signal to stop me from leaving. He didn’t get it, so I left through the proper doorway to the inside restaurant and then through the tired little storefront joint and out into the night air, suddenly damp and heavy, too far away to catch an errant breeze from the sleepless Atlantic Ocean.
C HAPTER 6
I t took me three cab rides and a trip through the kitchen of another aromatic Cuban restaurant to shake the tails. Inconvenience aside, it was a fine showing of the general’s bona fides, a welcome assurance before dropping five grand into a wildly speculative venture. I shared that with Natsumi when I got back to the hotel room.
“You have to start somewhere,” she said.
Before we went to bed I checked my e-mail where the general had left a message moments before. It included the routing and account numbers, and evidence that bona fides were established on both sides of the pending transaction: “Nicely done, Sr. Rana,” he wrote. “You’ve embarrassed my team, a healthy antidote to overconfidence. And by the way, add another fifteen thousand. We’ll take it from there.”
Natsumi went to bed alone, recognizing that sleep for me at this point was impossible. For my part, I went shopping.
There are people in the world who stockpile illicitly acquired information the
Similar Books
