No Rules, Ridge King [the snowy day read aloud TXT] 📗

Ramona that while surveilling Derek, they’d been led to Omer Flores and Laurencio Duarte and the sunken sub.

“Good,” said Ramona, picking up her fork as the waiter left the chicken salad. “What have you found out about the wire transfers? Where are they ending up?”

Jack was on delicate ground here. He didn’t want to tell Ramona so much that she went into a rage and upset the applecart by firing Derek and Lucy and God know who else in the firm. There was still too much to learn from Derek. No, it was not a good idea to tell Ramona that her ex-son-in-law was sleeping with Lucy Azzinaro and was up to his neck in wiring drug money out of the country through DIB. While the damage was done, there was no need for her to know about it—yet.

“We think we have a couple of very solid leads on this,” Jack said carefully. “A couple of things lead us to think drug money’s involved.”

“That’s what I thought the minute Héctor told me to look into Derek.”

“Well, this is Miami,” Jack said.

“If only Héctor had lived long enough to tell me more,” said Ramona.

“Yes,” said Jack, reveling in the rich fatty taste of the pulled pork and the thin toasted buttered bun.

“And how are you treating my dear Babylon?”

“Babe and I are getting along quite well, thanks,” he smiled.

“What do you think about your brother and Antonia?”

Jack shrugged and shook his head.

“As long as they’re happy. Who am I to say?”

“That’s what I think,” said Ramona. “Raven is of course on the warpath. I’ve quit taking her calls. She’ll never get over you, Jack.”

“She’ll have to, Ramona, there’s no other way. I gave it everything I could, you know that.”

“I do know that, which is why I’m so hard on her.”

“It doesn’t help that her boyfriend is Rafael’s captain on the Fearless.”

“No, that doesn’t help.”

Jack looked up as Santiago moved across the thick carpet as quietly as a Special Ops soldier might crawl toward a nighttime target under cover.

“Your father is landing, Mr. St. Clair.”

“Thanks, Santi.”

“Let’s go out and meet him,” said Ramona.

“Yes.”

They got up and walked into the Great Hall and outside toward the helipad. They stood back as Gargrave brought the LongRanger to a gentle landing and the rotors powered down. Sam hopped out of the machine and walked over to Ramona, taking her hands and giving her a big kiss on the cheek, immediately throwing his arm around her shoulder, shaking hands with Jack with his free arm.

“Very sweet of you to be here, Ramona.”

“I spent some time with Sofia and then had lunch with Jack.”

“That’s great. How’s she holding up?”

“As well as can be expected.”

At the imposing entrance were gathered several club members watching the show. Sam played the candidate and dutifully shook hands with everybody as Jack and Ramona stood aside.

“I can’t imagine putting up with this for four years in the White House,” said Ramona.

“No,” said Jack. “Me, either.”

They pulled up the rear as Sam went inside and straight up to see Sofia. Standing by the entrance were some of the onlookers. One was a St. Clair Island resident, Tony Verges, a big Democratic fundraiser and assistant secretary of defense in the Administration preceding Norwalk’s. Jack could tell he’d just finished a round of golf with Roberto Duva, the billionaire condo developer who was almost singlehandedly responsible for the towering buildings that lined Brickell Avenue downtown.

Duva greeted Ramona.

“Ramona! You look ravishing!”

“Oh, thank you, Robby. You’re such a flirt.”

“Tony,” Jack nodded to Verges. “Robby.”

They all shook hands.

“Jack. Your dad’s looking quite well, given what he’s going through with Sofia,” said Verges.

“Yeah, it’s tough on him, sure.”

“Our thoughts are with you,” said Duva.

“Thank you, Robby.”

“Not to change the subject, Jack, but I was just talking to Tony when we finished our round, and it doesn’t make sense that I’m the only billionaire in Miami who’s not a member of the St. Clair Island Club.”

“How many billionaires do we have in Miami anyway?” Jack asked. “There’s Micky Arison, Norman Braman, Ed Ansin and a couple in the Grove, right?”

“It would be a nice gesture to invite Robby,” said Verges.

“I’ll certainly speak to my dad about this, but only after things settle down.”

“Of course,” said Duva. “Thanks, Jack.”

Everyone said goodbye and Ramona took her leave as the valet brought her car around.

Jack had seen Gargrave standing discreetly behind them, and as soon as Ramona was gone, Gargrave moved over.

“What’s the latest?”

“Well, sir,” said Gargrave. “I’ve had some additional feedback from contacts of mine at four banks that received the wire transfers through DIB that were initiated by Derek Gilbertson at the Fuentes law firm.”

“Which banks?”

“The Banco Ruiz Crespo in Buenos Aires, the Rio Sonoma Banco in Rio, the Banco de Crédito de Caracas and the Unibancolombia in Bogota.”

“And?”

“The money, just as we thought based on the initial feedback, is definitely going into the Cuban National Bank in Havana after two or three more transfers through third countries.”

“Do you suppose Derek even knows this?”

Gargrave shook his impressively large bald head.

“I seriously doubt it, sir. They get their cut after the first transfer is made into the banks where I have the contacts. There’s no way he or Mr. Rothberg could be sure where the money goes after that.”

“And no reason why they’d give a damn. They’re just smuggling drug money out for all they know, not helping to fund the Cubans.”

“Exactly.”

“How are we doing getting the money from the Mirta out of Camilo’s safe house in the Keys?”

“We’ve been moving quite a bit of it. We have to stop every time your father comes to town because the Secret Service