Payroll by William James Johnson Chapter 30

Emotionally exhausted after their traumatic experience of the previous morning, Silky and Rona tried to relax by the pool, enjoying the shrieks of pleasure from Miguel and their servants' children, splashing in the shallow end. Behind high walls and a locked iron gate, they lived in a protected world, no one chasing them, or kidnapping kids for the "chicken trade". Now that Pedro had been found, and returned to his father, they could concentrate on getting their lives going again.
They were surprised little Miguel showed no reaction to his shooting of Sanchez. He was very excited about his part in the return of Pedro, and happy to learn that he would be living with his father. Like most young children abandoned to the streets, Miguel's survival instincts made him act much older. At ten, he had the wit and charm of a teenager and knew how to use his wiles to ingratiate himself. Now that the concern for Pedro had been put to rest, he reverted to being a child.
It didn't take long for Sandy to get back to normal. Breathing slowly, he slept on the pool tiles in Rona's shadow, getting what relief he could from the morning sun. Like a successful executive who knows how to relax after pulling off a big deal, taking unscheduled cat naps was Sandy's personal method of unwinding.
"Look at that crazy mutt knocking it off like that, as if nothing happened. Hard to believe how much we've been through together...the three of us."
"And to think there was a time when you almost poisoned him."
"I know. I think about it every time he does something special. I'm not what you would call religious, but there are times I've gotta admit, someone seems to be keeping an eye on us."
"I'm surprised to hear you talk like that."
"Why's that?"
"When Sanchez said he was going to kill us, I prayed like hell for God's help."
"I know what you mean. I've made a lot of deals with God myself."
"Deals with God?"
"Yeah...you know how sometimes you get yourself in a helluva predicament, then beg God to help you get out of it, and promise you'll never do it again...that kinda deal."
Rona began to laugh. "I guess I've made deals with God too...everybody does."
Despite his part in the payroll robbery, Silky considered himself a moral person. As far as he was concerned there was no morality involved in the robbery...just money. As he saw it, morality dealt with more serious matters...life and death matters. Risking his neck to save a child from the nefarious Sanchez, was a serious moral decision, and he was proud he had the courage to make the right choice. It was this warm feeling of accomplishing something good which probably made him think about God. He and Rona seldom talked like this. Careful to conceal his vulnerability, he changed the subject back to the dog.
"Wasn't that fantastic how fast Sandy took down that bodyguard when I opened the door? For an old pooch, he's sure quick."
"You can say that again. And did you see how he went right for his throat?"
"But he didn't bite him...Had his throat in his teeth, and didn't bite him. That's what I call training."
"And what about how he found Pedro so fast. Can you imagine in a house that big trying to find the boy without old Sandy?"
At the mention of his name, the dog's stubby tail gave a few brief wiggles to let them know he was listening. Silky got out of his chair and knelt beside the beautiful Doberman, and stroked his black and brown coat gently, letting the animal know how much he loved him.
Carmelita came in with the morning paper and paused briefly at the pool deck, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.
"Come in Carmelita and give me the paper," said Silky, wondering if the shooting had been reported.
Across the whole front page in glaring black were the words, "Sanchez Shot By Robbers."
"What the hell?"
"What is it Silky?"
"See for yourself."
The headline of the Tijuana Times could not have had more impact.
"My gawd...What do they say?...Read it out loud."
Silky began to read in a low voice so that the children would not pick up on the stress he was feeling.
"Millionaire businessman, Emilio Sanchez, noted art collector, lies close to death in the Intensive Care Unit of Tijuana General Hospital after being shot at point blank range by an ambush set up by two Canadian fugitives, wanted for robbing an army payroll in Canada earlier this summer. Sanchez identified his two assailants as, Stanislaus Zylkowski and a woman companion Rona Menard. Before lapsing into a coma, Sanchez said, the two aliens kidnapped his ward, the young street child known as Pedro.
"Mr. Sanchez told this reporter in an exclusive interview that the two robbers, posing as art importers had made an appointment to show him an original cabinet designed by well known local artist, Carlos Velasquez. Hidden inside the cabinet was a confederate who shot Sanchez in the chest when he opened the side panel of the leather box. Police have been unable to establish a motive for the shooting. The artist Carlos has disappeared.
"Captain Simon Juarez of the Tijuana Police, stated that Canadian authorities are sending investigators to verify these fugitives are the persons they have been seeking since the army payroll robbery. Captain Juarez warned they are still at large, and are armed and dangerous. An arrest is expected soon."
Silky passed her the paper when he finished the brief account.
"Well that's it...and this picture of Sanchez with tubes running in and out of his rotten carcass. He's so gross, he looks like the plans for a new stadium."
Rona was stunned as she read the story again, then folded over the paper to hide the front page.
"My gawd Silky. What're we going to do?"
"Damned if I know...Jeezus...the whole ball of wax. Just when I thought all our troubles were over."
"Maybe Fernando would have some idea...Call him."
"You know he doesn't have a phone. Besides this is the real thing. No hiding in bales of straw this time."
"Then call Eduardo...He'll help us...I know he will."
"You're right. What the hell we've trusted the guy with all our money...This is no time to question his loyalty."
Looking in a small book he kept by the phone, Silky dialled Eduardo's number, and waited a few moments.
"Eduardo...Si...It's Silky."
"I've already seen the paper my friend. I was going to call you if you hadn't called me first."
"I'd like to meet with you as soon as possible."
"Stay where you are, and I'll come there. You'll be safer that way... and keep your gate locked. Don't let anyone in. No one. I'm on my way."
Silky let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank God. He's coming right away. I wish I knew what to do."
"Me too Silky. I'm tired of running."
"I know...I feel the same way. Look at little Miguel and the other kids. We've just got to find an idea that works...We've got to."
Rona came over and sat on the chaise with him, touching his bare legs gently. He smiled at her affectionate gesture. It had been weeks since they had made love. His mind had been so focussed on getting Pedro back, he had forgotten about himself.
"I can't believe all those lies in the paper."
"Maybe if we went to the police and told then the truth about Sanchez," said Rona.
"That's the last thing we should do..."
"But we saved Pedro. If the people of Tijuana knew the truth about the chicken trade, I'm sure they'd be on our side."
"And if they don't believe us...I hate to say it darling but it looks like we're gonna have to split again."
"But our money...and Miguel. What about our plans Silky?"
"Jeezus,,,and I said someone was keepin' and eye on us...who was I kidding."
Carmelita apologized for interrupting.
"Pardon me Senor. There's someone at the front gate to see you."
"Who is it?"
"A man Senor. He says his name is Hansen."
"Hansen!...Did you hear that? Tom's here. I'm sure he'll be able to help us...what the hell, didn't we save his ass. Keep an eye on the kids and I'll go let him in."
The mention of his name gave him a surge of optimism. He had almost forgotten about him. This was just what he needed to get his mind off his other problem. He hurried through the house and out to the courtyard to open the gate.
"Tom...Come in...Come in."
As the gate swung open, Tom was followed into the courtyard by the two men who had searched Silky when he arrived at Sanchez' estate. Carrying Uzi machine guns, they had been hiding against the wall, until he unlocked the metal gate. Echoing inside his head was Eduardo's warning, "Don't let anyone in...No one."
"What the hell. What are these guys doing here?"
"They're my men," replied Hansen.
"Your men...these were the guys who frisked us outside of Sanchez' place...What do you mean your men?"
Rona had grown curious about the delay and was about to join them, when she saw the weapons and recognized the men. Quietly slipping away, she took the phone in the kitchen and called the police.
"Captain Juarez...Rona Menard. I'm the lady you're looking for. Hurry Captain. Some men with guns are threatening to shoot my husband. We live in that mansion south of Tijuana, where the man who used to smuggle aliens lived. Hurry...our lives depend on you."
Suddenly the line went dead. The crook had pulled the line off the wall.
"Who were you talking to?"
"My friend Lucia, Fernando's wife."
Apparently the thug had not listened to her conversation. He was just following orders.
"Get those kids out of the water and everyone get into the house...Now. Get a move on."
Keeping her cool, Rona told the children to follow her into the large sitting room. Without being asked to join, Sandy wandered in lazily, and dropped down by the chesterfield. Hansen walked up and down in front of them.
"What's wrong Silky?" asked Rona, pretending she was unaware of the seriousness of the situation.
"Shut up Rona," said Tom. "We've come for the money."
"Money! What money?" asked Silky.
"The goddamn payroll you ripped off in Canada."
"I don't have any money...what the hell do you think?...I keep it in tin cans in the house."
"Get it..." He looked at his watch. "You've got until four o'clock to come up with the dough, or you're all dead."
"I don't understand. What's going on Silky?" asked Rona, stalling for time. "When Carmelita said Tom was here, you said you thought he would help us, after we helped him."
Hansen began to laugh.
"You sure did help me baby. Sanchez was going to snuff me because he learned I was taking over the chicken trade. I've been trying to get that fat fuck off my back for months, and you did the job for me."
Silky was confused at what he was hearing.
"You wanted Sanchez killed?"
"Of course you idiot. He wasn't running the chicken trade...I was. I got into it when I left the navy. I came down here looking for my wife, but she was dead. That was when for the first time I learned I had a son. For months I searched for him. I checked hundreds of street kids. That's when I got the idea for the chicken trade. All kinds of wealthy Americans, including an exclusive gang of pedophiles in Frisco, would pay to have their own personal pet or slave...whatever was their taste, and these kids were the merchandise. I used Sanchez art connections to build a client list. It was a helluva lot of work, but it's been worth it. Then a few months ago, one of my men told me about you trying to find the white Mexican child and I knew it was my boy. But I was too late, the man who used to live here, in this house, got Pedro and sold him to Sanchez. I had to get him back. Carlos helped me set the whole thing up."
"Carlos! I felt there was something about that sonofabitch that didn't ring true. He made everything happen very quickly. Kept asking me to trust him. But Sanchez and the chicken trade...Carlos told us about the leather horse and everything."
"Of course he did...the guy's an artist. He even made out like he really wanted to help poor Fernando and his friends from up north. He was shocked to find out who you two were. But like I say, he's an artist, and a damn good one. You would expect him to have a good imagination."
"And Sanchez?"
"Imports and exports art. He adopted Pedro because he's loaded and he's never been married. He wanted to have someone to inherit his estate, Even fat pigs want to be loved."
"Then the story in the paper was the truth?"
"So help me God," said Hansen, raising his right hand, "Every word of it."
"But why did Sanchez threaten to kill us?" asked Rona.
"I told him to scare the shit outa you and he would probably get a better deal on the cabinet. That was a wonderful creation Carlos made. Sanchez over did it. His hugeness scared the hell out of all those folks he came in contact with, that and the lies we created about his monster actions. None of that was true, but it worked for us. Let's face it, the pig was a ham." Hansen began to laugh at his wry sense of humour.
The front door chimes sounded.
"You expecting someone?" asked Hansen.
"Could be anybody after that front page story."
"Check it out Raoul. Don't let them see your gun unless you have to."
A few minutes later, Eduardo was led into the room, his hands clasped behind his head.
"Senor Hansen...What is the meaning of this?"
"Well if it isn't my old friend, no-questions-asked Eduardo the banker. This should make everything much easier now."
"What do you mean Senor?"
"I mean, you're going to transfer our Canadians' deposits into my chicken franchise account, and everyone is going to be much happier."
"Happier!...I don't understand Senor."
"You're all going to be happier, because I'm going to let you live...not as plush as this maybe, but when you think of the alternatives, I would say that's a deal you can't refuse."
"Why did you let him in Senor Silky?"
"Look at their guns for Chrissake..."
"You want me to do as he says Senor?" asked Eduardo.
"Jeezus Edurado. The guy's gonna kill us if we don't give him the money...give him the goddamn money. What the hell, its been fun while it lasted."
"Now that's what I call talking sense," said Hansen.
"Senor,.it will take sometime to liquidate Senor Silky's assets."
"Out of curiosity Mr. Banker, how much is left?"
"I have the exact figures in my brief case. I was coming to have a business meeting, that is why I have the information with me."
"Skip all the crap. What's he worth right now?"
"You realize of course how volatile the market has been, especially the energy stocks. Senor Silky is almost entirely involved in energy stocks."
"Bull shit...I don't need all this crap. How much is it worth...today?"
Eduardo looked at the report he had prepared. "If the market figures remain as they were when I checked them this morning, a complete liquidation would be worth almost two million dollars."
Silky's jaw fell open.
"Two million dollars...are you sure?"
"I'm sure...that's if the market is the same as it was a half hour ago."
Hansen exploded with enthusiasm.
"Shit hot...two great big million dollars. That's what your lives are worth my friends. Get on the phone and sell right now."
Raoul was reluctant to interrupt his boss.
"The phone won't work boss."
"Oh!..Why not?"
"You told me to pull out the wires, and I did."
"Jeezus...I wonder sometimes why the hell I put up with you idiots?"
"I only did like you asked."
"Okay...okay. I'm going to go back to the bank with Eduardo and finish the deal, and you keep an eye on them. If they try anything, shoot first and ask questions later...and as for you Silky, keep your family in line. And no one's gonna get hurt. Come on Eduardo, we have business to finish."

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