The Devil's Necktie Read Online Free PDF Page B

minimize his limp as he crossed the expansive living room. He wore a metal brace that was undetectable under the tailored, navy linen slacks he was wearing. Unseen was a rage that could erupt at any moment. He could still kill a man with his bare hands. Success was all about control.
    The sound of his cell phone brought Delgado back to now. He didn’t give Manuel Alvarez a chance to speak. “I’m being told there was no iPad. They delivered her phone, but there were no financials, no information I didn’t already have.”
    â€œThe cunt always used an iPad,” Alvarez stated. “All of her notes, all of my accounts, so that she could manage my affairs when she traveled.”
    â€œMia’s gone, don’t worry about a loss. We’ll make it up in six months.”
    â€œI want what’s mine,” Alvarez hissed, unable to control his emotion.
    Delgado didn’t respond at first, wondering why the hell Alvarez was worried about something stupid like this. Then his voice became stern. “I delivered on a promise made. You don’t sound grateful. You should rethink your tone.”
    â€œYou don’t understand.”
    â€œSure I do. Send me everything you’ve got,” Delgado said. “Banks, offshore accounts, passwords, the entire portfolio. I’ll get my people on it.”
    The other end of the line was silent for several beats. Then Alvarez admitted, “She had it all. I had nothing on paper.”
    Now the situation became clear. The anger, the wet work. Delgado understood what it took for Alvarez to admit weakness. He himself had never traveled that road, but he understood the emotion in lesser men. He became conciliatory, the benevolent leader.
    â€œWhat are we talking about, Manuel? How much did she take?”
    Alvarez all but whispered, “Twenty-four million.”
    The six zeros were enough to give Delgado pause. That was a formidable amount. It could, he realized instantly, comfortably round off his own bank accounts.
    â€œThen I’ll find another way. But don’t waste my time, Manuel,” he said softly, with a trace of menace. “We’re on the eve of greatness. Trust is an issue.”
    â€œIt won’t buy me any time,” Alvarez said bitterly.
    â€œBut they will remember you on the outside when you’re released. You’ll be older but revered. Money alone can’t buy what I offer.”
    And Delgado clicked off with something to add to his personal mission statement. Find the Colombian puta’ s iPad.

7
    The Miami sky was gunmetal gray. Billowing cumulus clouds threaded with black created the illusion of a mountain range towering over the Everglades. The humidity was as thick as the cloud cover, and the still air smelled of ozone. Rain wouldn’t be too far behind.
    Kenny Ortega had taken his usual long, cold morning shower after his daily five-mile run and regimen of push-ups and sit-ups. The shower had gone south on him in the amount of time it took to walk from his government-issue gray Ford Taurus through the automatic doors of the Federal Building.
    He draped his gray sports jacket over the worn upholstered chair in front of his desk and pulled his blue pin-striped dress shirt away from his back, hoping it would dry before lunch. Was he thinking about lunch already?
    Kenny didn’t know when work had changed for him, but lately he spent more time thinking about fishing for grouper. Not that retirement was without its own perils. His father had retired after thirty years of teaching high school math and dropped dead of a massive coronary two weeks later.
    But the DEA wasn’t an agency where you could sleepwalk. It was a dangerous business. Lives were at stake, and Kenny knew he had to man up or get out.
    His secretary, Claire, buzzed his intercom and announced that a Jack Bertolino was on line two. That elicited Ortega’s first smile of the day. He picked up his phone, cradled it