AGAINST THE WIND (Book Two of The Miami Crime Trilogy) (18 page)

Alicia

Miami,
Florida

Tuesday,
April 10, 2012

6:30
PM

T
HE FAMILY HAD JUST SAT DOWN TO DINNER
when Alicia's cell phone
rang. The caller ID revealed one of the Miami cell phone numbers of Rafael
Flores, the top money man for her principal Colombian client.

She had never met Flores and had spoken to him only on two other
occasions. Furthermore, she knew he made periodic trips to Miami under false
passports specifically to make calls on his throwaway cell phones so there
would be no record of any international calls. This was a call she would have
to take.

Rising from the table, she said to Nick, "This'll just be a minute,
honey. Let me take this." She answered it and headed into the seclusion of
her home office. She slid the door shut behind her.

"Alicia,
¿Cómo estas?
"
said Flores, his thick, growly voice dripping with the heavy brogue of western
Colombia. He had been around since the days of Pablo Escobar and could command
respect with very few words.

"
Bién, Señor Flores. Muy bién.
¿Y usted?
"

"I am well. Thank you for asking." Instead of further
pleasantries, he got right to the point. "Alicia, I have a favor I must
ask of you."

"Of course, Don Rafael. Anything you wish."

"I understand you will be traveling tomorrow, is that right?"

Naturally, Flores knew when all the money arrived in Miami, knew Alicia
had shipped it to Panamá, and knew she had texted a contact in Miami, telling
him the date she was flying to Panamá.

"Yes, that is correct."

He said, "I would like a certain young lady to accompany you on this
trip. She already has her ticket and she can meet you at the Miami airport
right before your flight. Would you object to this arrangement?"

Alicia was stunned. She had always worked alone on these money-laundering
trips. You bring anyone else along, you run the risk of them leaking
information, which would undoubtedly end in disaster. She had heard of
situations where launderers brought along girlfriends or wives or husbands or
whatever and they would go back home and start blabbing to their country club
friends all about the swell time they had watching their significant other
launder millions of dollars in dirty drug money.

"What … what is the purpose of this, Don Rafael, if I might
ask?"

"Ahh, haa. Good for you, Alicia. I knew you would want to make sure
of everything. I knew you wouldn't just go along without knowing who this girl
is. This is why we trust you so much,
mi
hija
. Why we trust you with all our money."

"I'm only trying to protect your interests, Don Rafael. Your
interests and those of your associates."

"That is good. That is very good. Ha! All right. I will tell you.
Her name is Amy Xing" — he pronounced it "shing" —
"and she is going to eventually take care of the money that goes to Taiwan
and Hong Kong. She is from Taiwan and knows the area very well. Her father was
involved in the heroin trade over there until … until he passed away very
suddenly two years ago."

Passed away very suddenly
: cartel code for executed
by one of his rivals or by local law enforcement.

"What does she know of our operations so far?"

Flores said, "She knows who you are and who we are, and that we work
together. She knows the trade and she has deep contacts within the banking
systems of Taiwan and Hong Kong. She speaks perfect Spanish as well as English.
I want you to take her with you, show her what she will need to know."

"I — I would be happy to assist in any way I can. I'm planning
a pickup and several deposits tomorrow, so she should get a good dose of
information."

"I want you to show her how the packages arrive, how they are
opened, how their contents are arranged. I want her to go with you to the bank
so she can see everything that happens.
¿Me
entendés?
"

"I understand. She will never leave my side."

"Ha!
Muy bién, Alicia. Muy
bién.
I knew I could count on you."

"How will I know her?" Alicia asked.

"She will know you. She has your photo and she will meet you at the
gate."

"Consider it done, Don Rafael."

He said, "
Que tenga un buen
viaje
."

She swiped the call closed, deleted it from her call log, and returned to
the dining room to her waiting family.

"Who was that?" Nick asked, as he dug into his blackened
grouper. Francesca watched him and tried to imitate his movements with her
knife and fork.

"Oh, just a little problem that came up at the store. Nothing to
worry about."

Alicia

Panama
City, Panamá

Wednesday,
April 11, 2012

11:15
AM

A
LICIA AND
AMY XING CLEARED CUSTOMS
in Tocumen
International Airport
in no time at all, as usual. The only wait was the short immigration line ahead
of her. She never liked waiting in line for anything … movies, supermarket,
Post Office. The Post Office. If ever there was a fucking business that needed
major surgery, brother, that was it. She couldn't recall a single time in her
life when she'd ever seen more than two or three Post Office windows manned
with workers. The vacant six or seven windows were just there for decoration,
she was certain. Or maybe to keep customers thinking they arrived at the wrong
time. You know, like if they had only gotten there a little earlier, all the
windows would've been full, doting Postal employees crisply handling all the
packages and money orders and pickups for an eager public.

Once they exited the Customs area, they spotted
Felix Calderón looking sharp in a navy blue suit. Alicia also wore a suit, one
of tan linen, with a pencil skirt, a very expensive purchase from her favorite
boutique in Miami Beach. The ensemble was fresh from the dry cleaners, as was
every other suit she wore on these weekly or biweekly trips. Amy wore a gray,
high-necked dress, which she confided on the plane ride had cost her two
thousand dollars.

She was nice-looking and petite, Amy was, and her
breasts were large, but she lacked the glamor pizzazz Asian women often bring
to the table. Her eyes were shallow-set, removing any notion of mystery, and
her face tended toward the flat side. Soft-spoken and reserved, she revealed a
startling level of intelligence. She gave her age as twenty-four, but Alicia
could clearly see her knowledge and life experience carried her far beyond
those few years. Alicia liked her.

 
To all
observers, they were just two more businesswomen arriving in Panamá to meet a
colleague, each of them carrying briefcases. No need for any eyebrows to raise
at such a common sight in this crossroads world capital. You walk up to
immigration looking like you just stepped out of Margaritaville at two AM and
tell them you're here on business, you're going to get a second look. And
second looks were not desirable in Alicia's line of work. There was, after all,
the clear element of risk.

Calderón was a little taller than Alicia and a lot
taller than Amy, maybe around five-nine, and quite handsome. A full head of
thick, dark hair framed a delicate, almost-unlined face which looked like it
hadn't been down too many roads. Even though he looked much younger, Calderón
was somewhere north of forty and one of the sharpest lawyers in Panamá. He and
Alicia greeted each other with broad smiles and shook hands. She introduced Amy
as "her colleague from the East". They all exchanged small talk as
they stepped out into the tropical heat.

Fortunately, they didn't have time enough to work
up a sweat. Calderón's BMW appeared instantly, as if by magic, and they slid
into its air-conditioned leather interior. The driver pulled away and they
headed out on the highway toward downtown.

"So what do we have today?" Calderón
asked in English, aware that his driver spoke only Spanish.

"I'm taking the van to Colón to pick up the
money," she said, referring to the white minivan she kept in a parking
garage in Panama City year-round, and which she used for trips to Colón, fifty
miles from the capital. "Arrange for the security to go with me. I'll be
back later this afternoon. While I'm gone, set up two new companies and have
them ready when I return. Bring Panamá Building Supplies, too. Call the bank
and have them ready to open accounts for us and take the deposits. Meet me
there at …" She looked at her watch. "…
 
three o'clock."

Calderón nodded and instructed the driver to head
for the garage on Vía España, then called the security agents on his cell
phone.

Alicia turned to Amy. "Felix is my Panamanian
attorney. He takes care of setting up the companies that will hold the money.
He registers them, and each one gets a nominee director. Do you know what those
are?"

"No," said Amy.

"That's someone who is the contact person for
the company. The company's human link to the outside world. It's usually one of
his secretaries or someone like that. They don't actually have any role in the
company other than their name being listed as nominee director. There's one for
every company."

"Where are your clients' names in all
this?"

"They don't appear anywhere in the official
paperwork. If the companies are investigated for any reason, the clients' names
never show up."

Amy smiled at the beauty of the setup. "Very
clean. Very smooth," she said.

"There is a record of the clients' names in
separate paperwork in Felix's files, so they can have access to the money.
Those files are completely unrelated officially to the papers of the shell
companies."

Amy appeared to note it all in her mind. No paper,
no cell phone notes, all straight to her memory, which Alicia figured was
extensive and proficient.

Alicia then said, "Felix is going to
establish two new companies today and he's going to bring along paperwork of a
company that is already established. The two new companies will get one-third
of the money between them, or one-sixth apiece. The third company, Panamá
Building Supplies, gets the other two-thirds. That company has already been set
up and they already have a bank account here in Panamá."

"What's the difference between the building
supply company and the two new companies?" Amy asked.

 
"Panamá Building Supplies money
stays in Panamá, where the cartel has a big presence in the real estate market.
We start off by depositing this money today into an account held by Panamá
Building Supplies. Later, we take it to another local bank into another account
and later into still another. Under the names of different shell companies, of
course."

"Do they all sound like they're connected to
the construction business?"

"Absolutely. And their names are all in
English to make them sound like they're owned by English-speaking people
instead of Colombians."

Amy nodded and gave a sly grin. "Nice
touch," she said. "You have to think of everything."

"Damn right," Alicia said.
"Eventually, that money winds up back at the original bank in an account
under the name of Panamá Global Development. These are all cartel companies,
but Panamá Global develops office buildings and condo buildings and other big
real estate projects here in Panamá and in Miami, too."

"You said we're going to Colón? Is that where
that Free Zone is?"

"Yes," Alicia said. "We're going to
pick up the cash there, then bring it back to the capital. We take it to a bank
and open two new accounts, one for each of the two new companies." She
shifted in her seat. "So, Amy … what is your situation back in
Taiwan?"

Amy said in her breathy voice, "My father
passed away two years ago and his brother — my uncle — took over
his business. He is in a sort of cartel with his counterparts in Hong Kong and
Macau. He used to launder all their money, but since my father died, he hasn't
been able to run the operation
and
take care of the money, so he wants me to step in. He knows Rafael Flores, so
he reached out for help and here I am with you."

"Are you married?" Alicia was liking this
girl more and more.

"No," Amy said. Alicia thought she
caught a fleeting smirk on Amy's face when she answered, but she wasn't sure.

"A pretty girl like yourself? Not married
yet? You must have guys falling all over themselves to get to you." Of
course, she knew Amy was not that gorgeous, but it was a nice compliment in any
case and Amy took it the right way.

"My work keeps me occupied. I … I don't
really have time for men, you know?"

That smirk again.

Alicia

Colón, Panamá

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

1:10 PM

P
ANAMA CITY
IS A DAZZLING CAPITAL CITY
, noisy and swaggering, bursting with
money, much of it provided by Alicia López's clients. Monstrously tall
buildings stretch on for miles along the Pacific Ocean and well inland.
International visitors, who arrive regularly and in high numbers, can be seen
in all of the big hotels and fine dining restaurants. The
capitalinos
, the residents, enjoy the presence of a robust middle
class and display a great deal of optimism about their future. The city also
hosts the Pacific entrance to the Panamá Canal, the world's most important
waterway. The Canal accommodates thousands of ships annually, all of whom pay
dearly for the privilege of transiting from one ocean to another, and the
lion's share of that money stays in the capital.

Colón, on the other hand, sits at the Caribbean
entrance to the Canal and collects token handouts from the Canal authority. A
ramshackle town of one and two-story buildings, it is a third world city in
every respect. Poverty visible on every street corner and in every tumbledown
cantina where they wash the glasses once a week. People in makeshift kiosks
hawk fruit and trinkets on the street to uninterested passersby. Colón has very
little going for it. Except …

… it is the site of
La
Zona Libre
, the Free
Zone.

The Free Zone is a bubbling cauldron of capitalism
in its rawest form. Walled in like some sprawling city of an ancient empire, it
spreads out over dozens of city blocks, one storefront after another, on and
on, crisscrossing the zone, almost as far as the eye can see. The streets are
thick with traffic and the pedestrians are a mix of tourists looking to pick up
retail items on the cheap and representatives of foreign retailers scouring the
stores for deals on bulk purchases. The whole place resembles another city
altogether, wholly apart from Colón.

The items themselves are shipped in great
containers from around the world, transiting the Panamá Canal and unloaded in
Colón, where they make their way to the stores and warehouses in the Free Zone.
There they await buyers who come with cash to negotiate their best price.
Theoretically, tourists are not allowed to leave the area with any goods. Their
purchases are sent to Tocumen Airport where they may be picked up just before
boarding their flight out of the country.

But that's the theory.

As with most things in Panamá, the reality is
quite different.

≈ ≈ ≈

Because of unbearably thick
traffic while leaving Panama City, Alicia's two-car convoy didn't reach Colón
until a little after one o'clock. A black SUV had shadowed her since her exit
out of the parking garage in downtown Panama City. Three men rode in it,
bearing all manner of semi-automatic weapons.

Amy asked, "Have you ever had any problems? I
mean, with carrying the money? Ever been attacked?"

"Never," Alicia replied. "But
having these guys along ups my chances of survival considerably if we ever are
attacked."

"Do you employ the same security team on
every trip?" Amy asked, gesturing toward the SUV behind them.

"I have a deal with the security
company," Alicia said. "We try to get the same three guys every time,
you know, because you get used to them. Comfortable." Amy nodded.
"But you never want to schedule your trips too far in advance, because you
don't know when you'll be getting the money. It never arrives at the same time
or the same day or anything like that. You have to avoid the appearance of
patterns. Otherwise, the authorities can spot it. And believe me, they're
looking for it."

"So what happens when you book a quick trip
and get different guys? Does it make a difference?"

"The first couple of times it happened it
made me a little nervous," Alicia said, "but I got over it. The guys
are always hard and efficient. Hell, the security company's getting ten
thousand dollars for about three hours work. They better be efficient."

"And hard," Amy said with a giggle.

Upon entering Colón, Alicia called Nando, her
contact at the Free Zone gate. Here groups of men congregate daily just outside
the gate, waiting for tourists who want to enter, but may not do so by
themselves, according to law. A "security agent" must accompany them
inside and stay with them until they exit and their car is searched for
purchases. A typical agent will generally demand fifty dollars for performing
this service, which he cuts up with the gate attendant, but Alicia pays her man
two hundred. For that, she enters and exits without incident, with her own
security following in the SUV, and without any vehicle search.

Ten minutes later, she spotted Nando as her convoy
approached the gate. He leaped up from his plastic chair he brought to the gate
every day and ran over to the minivan. Alicia slid the window down.

"
Buenas
tardes, Señorita
," he said. He saw Amy in the passenger seat and
uttered a greeting to her as well. She responded and he smiled.

"Get in," Alicia said. She slipped him
the two hundred, all in twenties.

As usual, Nando climbed in the back seat of the
minivan. When they arrived at the gate, he spoke to the guard in vernacular
Spanish, palming a couple of twenties on him. He waved them through.

They went straight to a building on the northern
edge of the complex. Unlike most of the other Free Zone establishments, this
one was not a storefront. Rather it was a large, grayish, windowless structure
taking up most of the block and looming over the rest of it like a permanent
shadow. The battered sign read:

LA ENCRUCIJADA
DEL MUNDO

IMPORTADORES

The "Crossroads of the World" statement was not as grandiose as
it might have seemed, since the country of Panamá in general, and
La Zona Libre
in particular, upheld that
title very efficiently. All corners of the world did indeed meet up in this
frantic little zone of global commerce.

La Encrucijada was in fact a giant warehouse, holding imports —
mostly electronic gear — from China, Korea, Taiwan, and other countries
where such items are manufactured. From there they were sold in quantities to
retailers worldwide.

Alicia pulled her van up to a loading dock extending from a large door.
She and Amy got out and went to a smaller door next to it while Nando remained
inside the van. They rang the bell and were asked to identify themselves.
Alicia asked for Señora Cruz. The SUV sat motionless alongside the van and the
dock. Engines continued running on both vehicles.

Seconds later, a short, hefty woman of about fifty appeared in the
doorway.

"
¡Alicia!
" she cried,
opening her arms into a welcome embrace. "
¿Cómo estás? Te ves muy bien.
"

"Thank you," replied Alicia, "I am well. And you look
wonderful, too … Has Señor Cruz recovered from his dengue? … And your
grandchildren? Little Rosita and Teodoro? …"

These items were covered in detail and then Amy was introduced. Señora
Cruz remarked on how beautiful she was, but Alicia knew what she was really
commenting on was her exotic Asian appearance. Even though many Asians did
business with La Encrucijada, Señora Cruz still gaped at them, at their
foreign-ness, as though they were zoo animals.

Finally, Alicia said, "You have a shipment
for me?"

"Yes, of course," Señora Cruz replied.
"Right this way."

Alicia and Amy entered the warehouse and followed
her to a far corner, past pallets with boxes and crates piled high, all having
journeyed in shipping containers across great oceans to arrive at this spot.
Soon, Alicia saw her large box custom-made for her by the Hialeah Box Company.
The one containing her computers and all that cash. It sat on a pallet all by
itself.

"Are you ready to take delivery?" Señora
Cruz asked.

"Yes. Please bring it to the dock and load it
into my van."

Señora Cruz barked rapid orders at a worker and
within moments, a forklift appeared and began maneuvering the pallet toward the
loading dock. Alicia reached into her briefcase and extracted an envelope
containing two thousand dollars. She slipped it to a grinning Señora Cruz who
thanked her with a wink and a silent squeeze of her hand.

The workers carefully slid the box through the
rear doors of the van, and following her goodbyes to Señora Cruz, headed for
the Free Zone exit. Nando greased the palm of the exit guard who was there to
make sure no one took anything out of the Zone, then the van cleared the exit.
Nando got out and blew a kiss to Alicia. He returned to his plastic chair,
where he resumed shooting the breeze with his fellow "security
agents".

≈ ≈ ≈

When the minivan-SUV
convoy arrived back in Panama City, they headed straight to the storage
facility Alicia rented on an annual basis. Situated on the outskirts of
downtown, it contained some fifty individual units, all eight feet wide by ten
feet deep. Hers rested at the end of one of the three rows. She inserted her
keys into the two locks that secured the door, unlocked them and slid the door
upward.

The two women started sweating the instant they
walked in. The facility sat on the rim of a residential neighborhood and by an
open field, unshaded, and the year-round tropical heat made the units'
interiors unbearable. Nevertheless, she and Amy sliced open the large box and
unloaded the computers into the unit. The three security men stood by at the
door on high alert, rifles at port arms, their SUV nearby.

Alicia plugged in the power screwdriver she kept
in the storage unit and set about removing the tops of the computers, twelve in
all. She and Amy carefully transferred the cash to the five waiting carry-on
suitcases, zipped them up and reloaded them back into her van. The computer
shells would later be sold for scrap.

After locking up the unit, she threw a quick nod
to security, and the two vehicles rolled out of the storage complex and headed
for the Banco de la República de Panamá.