been part of a tombstone. He lifted the chunk and saw that it fit at the bottom right corner of the marker with the pitcher, its rough edges close enough of a match to convince him.
He propped the piece up so the prisoner could see the hooked X.
“You know
wa dis bi
?”
“I saw
dat
on the deed, Béne. On
da
deed in the archives. The one beside my bed. Simon told me to watch for
dat
X thing. I did. I did real good, Béne. It’s there. I can still do real good for you, too. I can.”
Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that. As a child his mother taught him something she’d been taught by her mother, and her mother before that. Maroons wrote little down. The spoken word had been their history book.
Speak the truth and speak it ever
,
Cost it what it will
.
His mother was always right.
And something else she said.
To hide a sin was to commit another.
Felipe was a minor government official who worked at the national archives in Spanish Town. He was somewhat educated and ambitious, but earned barely enough to survive. His main task had been to search the old records for anything on the lost mine. But, when offered the opportunity to work for someone else, this cheater had decided to bite the hand that first fed him.
Luckily, Felipe had a big mouth.
Which was appreciated, since knowing the situation had allowed Béne to cultivate a spy of his own.
He motioned for his man to bring him a phone. Reception in the mountains was excellent and he pressed one of its memory buttons, the number already programmed. Three rings and the man in Vienna answered.
“What is happening there?” he asked.
“It’s becoming … complicated.”
“Maybe it’s time you act.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Then do it. All’s quiet here.”
“Good to hear.”
He clicked off.
He’d known for the past few days that the Simon was on the move. Things were happening in both Austria and Florida. As to what, he was not entirely sure, but he knew enough to know that his European partner was double-crossing him. To his great fortune, Béne had found a new cemetery, with both a pitcher and a hooked X. Now hehad a deed. All of which helped ease the ache of betrayal, and the anxiety he felt for what had to be done.
His gaze locked on his man with the gun. He held his minion’s eyes for a split second, then gave a nod. The weapon was aimed down and a bullet to the head ended Felipe’s life.
Speak the truth and speak it ever, cost it what it will
.
“Dump him in the grave and refill the hole,” he said. “Then go bury the don.”
His dogs never ate what they did not kill.
“I’m going to Spanish Town.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T OM SAT ON THE SOFA . Z ACHARIAH S IMON HAD BEEN GONE FOR over an hour. Ever since, he’d thought of Alle. His only child. Who hated him.
What happened to them?
He could not identify one defining moment where the break occurred. Instead, their estrangement had evolved, starting when Alle was in middle school, as she became more aware of the distance between her parents. By high school, their schism was complete.
Had Michele encouraged it? Not that he could see. No, this was all his doing. He’d hurt his ex-wife beyond measure. Even worse, he’d appeared not to care. That was back in the days when he could do no wrong. When he was invincible. Or so he thought. How many affairs had he had? He shook his head. Too many to count, in too many places. Michele never knew anything for certain. She’d only suspected. Intimacy bred a radar capable of detecting even the slightest emotional change, and Michele’s had eventually identified his betrayal. Unfortunately, he’d been too self-absorbed to care.
Regrets?
So many that he was ready to die.
“Our time is over, Tom.”
“And Alle?”
“I’m afraid if you don’t act soon, that relationship will be over, too. You’ve let that slide far too long. She’s seen the pain in my eyes. I can’t hide it.”
“I’ll fix it with her. I
He propped the piece up so the prisoner could see the hooked X.
“You know
wa dis bi
?”
“I saw
dat
on the deed, Béne. On
da
deed in the archives. The one beside my bed. Simon told me to watch for
dat
X thing. I did. I did real good, Béne. It’s there. I can still do real good for you, too. I can.”
Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that. As a child his mother taught him something she’d been taught by her mother, and her mother before that. Maroons wrote little down. The spoken word had been their history book.
Speak the truth and speak it ever
,
Cost it what it will
.
His mother was always right.
And something else she said.
To hide a sin was to commit another.
Felipe was a minor government official who worked at the national archives in Spanish Town. He was somewhat educated and ambitious, but earned barely enough to survive. His main task had been to search the old records for anything on the lost mine. But, when offered the opportunity to work for someone else, this cheater had decided to bite the hand that first fed him.
Luckily, Felipe had a big mouth.
Which was appreciated, since knowing the situation had allowed Béne to cultivate a spy of his own.
He motioned for his man to bring him a phone. Reception in the mountains was excellent and he pressed one of its memory buttons, the number already programmed. Three rings and the man in Vienna answered.
“What is happening there?” he asked.
“It’s becoming … complicated.”
“Maybe it’s time you act.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Then do it. All’s quiet here.”
“Good to hear.”
He clicked off.
He’d known for the past few days that the Simon was on the move. Things were happening in both Austria and Florida. As to what, he was not entirely sure, but he knew enough to know that his European partner was double-crossing him. To his great fortune, Béne had found a new cemetery, with both a pitcher and a hooked X. Now hehad a deed. All of which helped ease the ache of betrayal, and the anxiety he felt for what had to be done.
His gaze locked on his man with the gun. He held his minion’s eyes for a split second, then gave a nod. The weapon was aimed down and a bullet to the head ended Felipe’s life.
Speak the truth and speak it ever, cost it what it will
.
“Dump him in the grave and refill the hole,” he said. “Then go bury the don.”
His dogs never ate what they did not kill.
“I’m going to Spanish Town.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T OM SAT ON THE SOFA . Z ACHARIAH S IMON HAD BEEN GONE FOR over an hour. Ever since, he’d thought of Alle. His only child. Who hated him.
What happened to them?
He could not identify one defining moment where the break occurred. Instead, their estrangement had evolved, starting when Alle was in middle school, as she became more aware of the distance between her parents. By high school, their schism was complete.
Had Michele encouraged it? Not that he could see. No, this was all his doing. He’d hurt his ex-wife beyond measure. Even worse, he’d appeared not to care. That was back in the days when he could do no wrong. When he was invincible. Or so he thought. How many affairs had he had? He shook his head. Too many to count, in too many places. Michele never knew anything for certain. She’d only suspected. Intimacy bred a radar capable of detecting even the slightest emotional change, and Michele’s had eventually identified his betrayal. Unfortunately, he’d been too self-absorbed to care.
Regrets?
So many that he was ready to die.
“Our time is over, Tom.”
“And Alle?”
“I’m afraid if you don’t act soon, that relationship will be over, too. You’ve let that slide far too long. She’s seen the pain in my eyes. I can’t hide it.”
“I’ll fix it with her. I
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