Cliff Ryder - The Powers That Be

Judy spoke up. “Kate, I’ve got Denny on another line.

Something’s gone wrong on the Hawaiian operation—our operative just landed himself in jail.”

“What? Oh, that’s great—I hope he didn’t blow his cover.

Conference me in, and let’s see what we can do.” Kate kept her gaze on the dot that was Jonas as he walked to a pair of tables in the racetrack’s restaurant. Good luck, Jonas.

Rafael Castilo rose to meet Jonas as he approached. “I understand that we have you to thank for this excellent champagne.”

“Your fine animal made me a tidy profit, and when I recognized you, I felt it was only right to share some of my good fortune.” Jonas extended his hand. “Ferdinand Heinemann.”

Castilo took it and pumped firmly three times, then let go. Up close, his dark brown eyes were even more penetrat-ing, even through the barrier of the sunglasses. Jonas felt himself being appraised, and returned the other man’s stare with a steely one of his own, friendly enough on the outside, but all business when confronted with a fellow predator in the corporate jungle.

“Rafael Castilo, and this is my wife, Javier.” He made introductions around the table, with Jonas filing the names and faces away for future reference.

Just then a waiter brought Karen to them. “Darling, you must play those hunches more often.” She handed him the folded sheaf of bills, exposing them just enough so that Castilo saw the outermost hundred.

Jonas tucked the wad in his pocket. “Now you have the chance to thank the owner of our good-luck greyhound in person, my dear.”

Castilo’s eyes lit up. “So you are the companion of this stunning woman.” He took her hand and kissed it, with Karen acting suitably charmed.

“It is my honor, yes. May I present Joanne Seneschal.

Joanne, this is Mr. Rafael Castilo, an American competitor of mine,” Jonas said with a smile.

Castilo’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he glanced toward the bathroom.

Perfect. Now he’s trying to figure out who I am, how I compete with him and where his bodyguard is with the background check on me, Jonas thought.

“Oh, Ferdinand, always thinking about work, even on vacation.” Karen’s words were playful as she turned to Javier. “It’s a pleasure. I don’t know about your husband, but I cannot get this one to talk about anything other than business for more than five minutes, I swear—”

Just like that, Karen had Castilo’s wife in the palm of her hand. She turned to the rest of the group, providing a slight but definite barrier separating them from Jonas and Castilo.

“ Señora, you must join us for a glass of this excellent vintage. Carlos, two more glasses.” The waiters had already brought over two chairs and Castilo said, “Please, sit. I hope you’ll pardon my interest, but I haven’t seen you around the club, and I come most every week.”

The waiters filled the glasses now, and Castilo raised his.

“Care to do the honors?” he asked Jonas.

Jonas considered for a moment, then raised his glass, catching everyone’s eye. “Here is one from my homeland.

May bad fortune chase after you for the rest of your days—

and never catch you.”

The surprised looks on everyone’s faces dissolved into chuckles and nods and the crystal clinked in celebration.

“To answer your question,” Jonas said, “as if my accent didn’t give me away, I am on vacation from my import-export company in Munich, and am also doing a little side business, exploring the feasibility of bringing organized greyhound racing back to Germany. So I thought, what better place to begin than in Florida, where I can also work on my tan, as well?”

Castilo nodded and grinned. “You have definitely come to the right place, my friend.” His bodyguard appeared over his shoulder, leaning down to whisper into his ear.

Jonas leaned back in his chair and sipped champagne, watching for Castilo’s reaction to the report without appearing to. The Cuban didn’t even pause, just nodded and thanked his man, who resumed his position a few feet from the table.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” Castilo said politely.

Jonas held up his hand. “There is nothing to forgive.

After all, I was the one who interrupted your gathering.”

“Think nothing of it. Now, you had mentioned wanting to bring organized greyhound racing to Germany.”

And with that, the conversation turned to dogs, organized gambling, the exporting trade, with Castilo and Jonas each recounting tales of strange shipments and dicey situa-tions that had the table roaring with laughter. Briefly, they talked politics. Karen kept her side of the table abuzz with celebrity sightings in South Beach and other tidbits of gos-sip. As she regaled the table with an involved story about a well-known Miami drag queen, his resemblance to a current Hollywood hunk and an embarrassing mix-up at a Palm Beach hotel, Jonas caught Castilo eyeing him more than once. Then the businessman leaned over.

“The message the waiter delivered with the champagne said that it was from a gentleman who also possessed a love of freedom.”

“Yes, I must confess that I recognized you as soon as I walked in. I have followed your success in our industry for the past several years, and in doing so, I have learned something of your background, as well,” Jonas said.

“Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

Castilo’s grin didn’t come close to his eyes.

“It may have begun as something like that, but the more I learned, the more I admired what you have done. You are a true success story, in America, Germany or any other country.

Besides, with both of us taking it on the chin from the Chinese, why waste time fighting over scraps from their table, eh?”

Castilo frowned. “Perhaps Europe is knuckling under the Asian invasion, but we here in the Western Hemisphere do not intend to surrender without a fight.”

“Well spoken, indeed. When I realized I had a chance to meet you, I didn’t hesitate.”

Castilo leaned back and sipped his champagne. “Fortune favors the bold.”

“Perhaps, but I think chance has as much to say in determining success or failure in any enterprise. If I had not come here today, or if you had not, then neither of us would be sitting here drinking this excellent vintage.”

“Also true, but you still have not answered my question.”

Jonas drained his own glass. “True enough. During my research, I learned of your beginnings in America—the exile from Cuba and the rest.”

To his credit, Castilo scarcely flinched at the mention of his homeland. Anyone else would have thought he was just shifting in his seat.

Jonas continued, “I know what it is like to live under oppression, to grow up not even knowing what freedom is. You and I, growing up in Cuba and East Germany, could not have been that different. Some people, they bow to the autocratic state, reveal their necks and live lives of quiet desperation.

But men like you and me, we seek something more, to make a better life for ourselves and, if time and resources permit, a better life for others through our work.”

Castilo burst out laughing, making everyone else at the table look over. “Mr. Heinemann, you certainly had me going for a moment. I escaped Cuba, indeed, left behind that Communist bastion for a new life in America, where I could control my own destiny, true. But that was solely to become a wealthy businessman. Others may mock and insult this country, but for me it truly was paved with gold, and I am enjoying it as much as I can, every day.”

Jonas was taken aback for a moment. The ebullient businessman before him didn’t seem anything like a devoted freedom fighter. But perhaps that is what he wants me to think—at least in public.