One of the things that Colin had discovered for me was that during the foreclosure, the shell companies for Pickering and Sons had ended up with the deeds to Cinco Padres. I thought those deeds had been sold on the courthouse steps, but when the Cinco Padres companies were closed, all assets were not sold but transferred to Pickering. Aka, to Marshall. Where the deeds collected dust with more than a hundred other companies. Though I had not known this until Colin dug it up in his research, I’d be willing to bet it had been Marshall’s plan all along.

Marshall attempted to look like he didn’t know what I was talking about, but the old man had aged and his bluffs weren’t quite as polished. Or maybe the time away had seasoned me as a player after all. He scratched his chin and nodded, attempting to act as if the cloud were clearing and the fog lifting. “Seems like I remember something about some coffee and Central America. Nicaragua maybe.” He turned to Brendan. “What do we know about Cinco Padres?”

The two-word shortening of the name told me he knew exactly what I was talking about. A check and a raise. Brendan walked behind Marshall’s desk, punched several keys, and the screens quickly changed. He scanned them and then began reciting values like a robot. He finished with his assessment, which Marshall neither wanted nor cared about. “Dead weight. No production. It’s a total of five farms and the dirt is worth more than any possible coffee production as those ignorant people have never recovered from the mudslide that put them out of business in the first place—along with that stubborn old man who, I imagine, wishes he had sold now. Might find a possible buyer in a rum company looking for sugarcane soil.”

Amanda sat across from me. Legs crossed. The beginnings of a slight smirk. She was enjoying herself. Marshall leaned on the front of his desk, one leg to the side, his foot off the ground. The total value of his suit, shoes, and watch was hovering around two hundred and fifty. He spoke to Brendan while never taking his eyes off me. He knew the answer without asking. “And what’s the value of that dirt to the right buyer?”

Brendan checked his screens. “Five. Maybe six.”

Marshall considered his cards. Then raised. “Seven.” The smiled spread across his face as he expected me to fold. I paused and turned to Amanda, who shook her head ever so slightly. Marshall saw something he must not have liked in my eyes because he raised again. He tapped the table. “Closing in seventy-two hours.”

I stepped toward Marshall into his personal space—which he did not like—and extended my hand, shaking his firmly. “Deal.”

I walked to the door and turned to stare at two ashen white faces and one smiling. Guess I don’t need to tell you who was smiling.

I returned to Miami and knocked on Colin’s door. I had three days to find a lot of money. I had about half in the bank. I still owned my childhood home across from the beach in Jacksonville. My shack in Bimini. And I felt I could get a loan from Colin, but I needed to do some digging first. Zaul answered the door, shadowed by Colin. “Was wondering if you felt like flexing those muscles.”

“Sure.”

Two hours later, Colin, Zaul, and I walked into the San Angeles Catholic Chapel on the northern tip of Bimini. They’d ceased services here decades ago and now used the chapel only for weddings. It was tucked into the trees but backed up to the beach just a few yards away. Making sure we were alone, Zaul and I slid the stone altar out of the way and began hacking at the floor with an ax and a pick. The double layer of boards beneath the tile were solid, reminding me that when I’d buried this money, I’d buried it. Zaul swung with an apparent glee at the thought of tearing something up and finding money. He smashed through the floor and there beneath sat my duffel bag and my $250,000. He unzipped the bag. “Good thing I didn’t know that was here until now.”

I smiled.

He was stepping out of the hole when I pointed at the concrete below him. He shrugged. “More?”

“Let’s just call it a hunch.”

Zaul began breaking up the concrete while I sat on the front pew and remembered my friend Hack and how he loved cigarettes and a good cup of coffee. When Zaul’s pick smashed through the floor into a cavity beneath him, he looked at me with wide eyes. I told him, “Be careful. I’m not real sure what’s down there.”

An hour later, Zaul had unearthed four large trunks. “Jamaican Rum” had been stamped on the top. We lined them up and pried off the top of the first. Zaul’s jaw dropped. “That’s a lot of money.”

The other three were just like it. Colin smiled. “Always loved that old guy.”

Zaul looked up at me. “What’re you planning on doing with all this?”

I smiled at Colin, then Zaul. “How would you like to learn the coffee business?”

*  *  *

After seventy-one hours and fifty-three minutes, I pushed a cart carrying five duffel bags into Marshall’s building and rode the elevator to the top. The receptionist didn’t protest as I walked by. Marshall was standing at the window. Three men in suits I did not know sat busying themselves with a pile of papers at the conference table. I pushed in the cart prompting Marshall to acknowledge it and then me. Amanda and Brendan followed me in.

When Colin had heard my plan, he immediately offered to finance whatever I needed. Thanks to Hack, I didn’t need much. To help me and help me quickly, Colin agreed to buy my house in Jacksonville Beach along with my shack in Bimini—where he told me I was welcome to stay anytime. Then I took out a gentleman’s agreement loan with Colin for $500,000—using the land as collateral. Given that I was employing Zaul, he offered to give it to me, but I declined, stating that it might help for Zaul to play some role in paying it back. That gave me $5 million plus Hack’s $2 million. Marshall would never see it coming.

I placed the transfer confirmations on top of the duffels. “Five million transferred this morning, plus…two million in cash.” The attorneys raised their eyebrows. Marshall had never said “how” he’d like me to make payment and that was coming back to bite him at this moment. Which is what the awkward smile on his face told me.

His question was the first time I sensed a crack in his wall. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

“I’m sure you can launder it through a hundred different companies or pay your hired guns in cash, so through your ingenious bonus system, you can avoid any taxes or payments of penalties.”

The attorneys looked up at me, wondering how I knew about the payment scale for bonuses. I walked to the table and checked the deeds to make sure they’d been designated per my instructions. Finding them in order, I ignored Marshall and looked at the lawyers. “Where do I sign?” They looked at Marshall, who reluctantly nodded, bringing a satisfied smile out of Amanda.

There was always the chance that Marshall could double-cross me after I’d left, but I still had one ace in the hole. She stopped me as I turned to walk out. She said, “I’ll ride down with you.” When we stepped onto the elevator, Brendan tried to ride with us, but I put my index finger on his chest and pushed him backward. The doors shut, Amanda stood at my side. We stared at each other in the reflection of the doors. She spoke first. “I’ll make sure that goes through.”

“Thank you.”

The elevator signaled as we descended each floor.

She turned to me. “You look good.”

“I am.”

“Any regrets?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She nodded once. “I have one.”

The doors opened, and we walked out into the glass-walled foyer. She kissed my cheek and then gently wiped off the lipstick with her thumb. “Take care.” Holding my hand, she kissed me again. “Send us some coffee.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Colin offered to fly me, but I told him I was a child of the water. Always had been. As a thank-you for finding Zaul, and for giving him a job when he was quite certain no one else would, he handed me the title to Storied Career. When I tried to protest, he waved me off. “Charlie, shut up and take the boat.”