A Touch of Regret (A Nick Bracco Thriller Book 8), page 9
“Uh-huh.”
Nick took a bite of his burger and got ketchup on his fingers. He got up and went to the sink to rinse off his hands. As he wiped them on a paper towel, he looked at Tommy. “Gallardo ran up a big gambling debt. Maybe we could exploit that.”
Tommy took a sip of his drink and said, “I know a guy in Tucson who runs book for an Indian casino. I could meet with him, see what he knows. He’s pretty well connected.”
“Perfect,” Nick said, then looked at his partner. “What about us?”
“We start with this Berto guy,” Matt said. “Then work our way up.”
Tommy looked at Emilio. “You know Berto?”
“He’s just a pawn,” Nick said.
Emilio shrugged. “Don’t I get a phone call? Isn’t that the law?”
Matt shook his head. “You’re watching too many movies. There’s no law about giving you a phone call. We haven’t even arrested you yet.”
“So what do—”
“Just shut up,” Nick said. “You’ll get arrested soon enough.”
Nick’s phone buzzed with a Facetime call from his wife, Julie. When he tapped the screen, his son Thomas’s bright smile filled the screen.
“Dad!” Thomas shouted. “Look, Mom, it’s Dad. He answered.”
“I see him,” Julie said from the background.
Nick got up and walked through the living room and stood by the bulletproof window. “Hey, buddy, what are you doing?”
Thomas held up a plastic Wiffle Ball bat. “I’m playing baseball in the backyard.”
One of the reasons they’d decided to live in Payson, Arizona, was to avoid the summer heat in Phoenix. Just seventy miles could lower the temperature by fifteen degrees in the small mountain town.
Julie stuck her head into the screen. “Apparently, I’m not a very good pitcher.”
“She stinks, Dad. When are you coming home?”
Nick grinned at his boy, almost five and wanting to play with his father.
Nick looked out the window as an orange pickup truck rolled to a stop at the neighbor’s house across the street. Three men hopped out. They went to the back of the truck and pulled out gardening equipment, a rake, a grass trimmer, and a lawnmower. The driver glanced in Nick’s direction.
“I moved my vacation back a couple of days,” Nick explained. “But when I get there, we can play ball every day if you want, buddy.”
“Yeah!” Thomas screamed.
“Everything okay?” Julie asked.
Nick put on his relaxed face. “Everything is fine. Just need to clean up some loose ends. Nothing but some paperwork.”
Julie understood the code for ‘I’m not in the field of danger.’
“Good to hear,” she said.
“I’ll call you tonight before bed,” Nick said to Thomas.
“Okay, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, buddy.”
Nick ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Something about the landscapers across the street concerned him.
Matt came up next to him, both staring at the same thing.
“Halcones?” Matt asked.
Nick didn’t like that the yard looked freshly trimmed. The three workers appeared casual as they trimmed the edges of the manicured lawn and raked a sparsity of leaves.
“Does that yard look like it needs maintenance?” Nick asked.
Matt didn’t respond, but Nick already knew the answer.
“It’s like we have targets on our backs,” Nick said.
“Yup.”
“We need to find a safe place to operate,” he said, pulling a loose pill from his pocket and swallowing it.
“I thought you were tapering off those things.”
“I’m getting there. The more stress I deal with, the harder it gets.”
“You want to sit this one out? I’ll take over.”
Nick frowned. “Cut it out.”
“Then get over it.”
The landscapers moved in a slow, methodical pace, as if they were paid by the hour. They were terrible at hiding their interest in the safehouse.
“These guys are like termites,” Matt said. “Can’t get rid of them.”
Nick turned to see Tommy in deep conversation with Jake while Stevie stayed glued to Emilio’s phone. Tommy was asking Jake questions, and Jake seemed interested in telling his story, giving furtive glances Nick’s way between stories.
“We need to tell Lloyd what’s going on. He’s the only one I would trust.”
“Agreed.”
“Hey,” Stevie said, getting up and making his way toward Nick and Matt. He handed Nick the phone. “It’s not good. There’s actually a copy of all the current safehouses in our database listed on this site.”
All three looked at the landscapers across the street pretending to be working.
“They only know this is one of twenty safehouses in the state,” Nick said. “So this is a fishing expedition.”
“We need to get out of here,” Matt said.
Nick’s phone vibrated with an incoming call from UNKNOWN. “This is Nick,” he said.
There was a pause, and in that empty space he could sense the danger emanating from the other side of the connection. Intuition? Premonition? It was there.
“You have what I’m looking for, Agent Bracco,” came the firm, male voice.
“Who is this?” Nick asked, walking away from Matt.
“I think you know.”
Nick knew. It was certainly Caesar Gallardo. A knot of anxiety swam through his nervous system. “How’d you get my number?”
“I have my ways.”
“And what exactly are you looking for?”
“Jake Marino.”
“What makes you think I know where he is?”
“Please. Do not insult me.”
Nick turned to see the group staring at him from twenty feet away. “Well, you’re right, I have been in contact with him. But you’ve sufficiently scared him into believing everyone is working for you, so he’s not ready to come in yet.”
“I want him.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can make a trade?”
“Sure, what do you have in mind?”
“Let’s face it, Agent Bracco. This Marino guy is the black sheep of the family, eh? I know his history. I’ll trade him straight up for his friend the chef.”
“Yeah, it’s tempting, but that’s not happening.”
Nick couldn’t let Gallardo know that he was aware of the blackmailing scheme with Senator Walker. It was the one thing that might keep Bruce alive.
“Do you like to gamble?” Gallardo asked.
“My father loved to bet on the ponies. So, yeah, I have a little of that in my blood.”
“I’ll bet you if I start sending pieces of his dear friend to the FBI office in Phoenix, Agent Marino will gladly trade himself for what’s left of this guy. Would you care to bet?”
“You don’t need to do that. We can negotiate.”
“Besides Marino, what else do you have to negotiate with?”
“I work for the Department of Justice. We’re in charge of the prison system. I’m sure I could come up with something or someone of interest. Or I could just find you and put an end to this charade.”
“You do not want to cross me,” Gallardo said. “It would not end well for you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you familiar with Sun Tzu?” Gallardo asked.
“The Chinese General who wrote The Art of War.”
“Very good. He once said, ‘He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.’” Gallardo was showing off his Ivy League education.
“You know what else he said?” Nick could feel the eyes in the room on him. “Appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak.”
Gallardo chuckled. “I use that quote all the time. You know what really solves most problems?”
“A clear conscience?”
“Money.”
“So now you’re negotiating ransom with an FBI agent?”
“I’m thinking two million. Do not forget, I am always one step ahead of you, Agent Bracco.”
“I’m not exactly peeing my pants over here, especially since you can’t even keep prisoners captive for more than a few hours.”
“I still have one who is going nowhere.”
“Listen, why don’t you let the guy go and I’ll see about getting you a new door lock. How’s that sound?”
There was a moment of quiet where Nick could feel the anger brewing in Gallardo’s silence.
“I’m afraid you will have to pay for your interference. It’s a penalty that will not be forgiven. It may seem like you are in the clear, but in a few days, or a few months, your son Thomas will be playing at the park, or maybe in the schoolyard, and he will be the victim of a drive-by shooting. It will seem random, but when you are staring at that miniature casket you will know that—”
Nick hung up, strangling the phone while watching the landscapers move leaves from one side of the yard to the other.
He went over to the table with Matt trailing him and said, “We’re leaving.”
“To go where?” Jake asked.
“First, we’re going to a safe location,” Nick said. “Then I’m going to have to kill Gallardo.”
Stevie’s mouth hung open.
Jake smiled.
Tommy kept eating fries.
Nick pointed a sharp index finger at Jake and simply said, “Don’t.”
Chapter 15
“I never understood this fascination you have with gambling,” Iggy said, looking through her walk-in closet for something fancy to wear.
Gallardo sat across from her in the master bedroom on an overpriced brown leather chair from Central Africa, playing online poker on his laptop. His mind kept wandering back to his conversation with Bracco. The FBI agent had been frazzled by his threat and he wondered how he could use that to his benefit.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Gallardo said searching for a spade to make his flush.
That stopped her. “What wouldn’t I understand? A gambling addiction? It’s too complicated?”
“It’s only a problem if you lose.”
“That’s right on page one of the Gambler’s Anonymous handbook. First thing you do is deny you have a problem.”
“Please. I am winning,” he said. “Let me have my peace.”
“But why can’t you play for small stakes? Then it’s a fun hobby.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be exciting. I need to have something substantial on the line for it to be a thrill. I can’t enjoy playing for a mere hundred dollars a hand.”
“That’s actually on page two of the handbook. You need to bet an excessive amount of money to give you a high.”
“Yes, that’s just what it is. A high.”
“You keep spending more time on that computer, you’re going to lose your girlfriend.”
“Let me guess. That’s on page three?”
He missed his flush and was forced to raise his opponent or he would appear weak. The only way he could win now was with a bluff. He raised the bet another $20,000.
Iggy held up a black dress with white trim to her torso. “What do you think?”
Gallardo quickly glanced up. “Beautiful.”
“Whose daughter is getting married?” Iggy asked.
“Daunte Morales. His nineteen-year-old daughter, Isabela.”
“Who gets married on a Wednesday?”
“It’s the luckiest day of the week to get married,” Gallardo glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “Go look it up. It’s true.”
“You are amazing,” Iggy said. “How do you know all of that worthless information?”
“That worthless information keeps us alive.”
“Uh-huh.”
Gallardo’s online opponent raised him back another fifty thousand. “Shit,” he muttered.
“What? Are you not winning now?”
“Stop, I cannot think.”
He should have folded the crummy hand, but his temper got the best of him and he called the bet. A moment later he was out another hundred thousand, losing a total of $800,000 for this session.
“Well?”
“I won again. Please allow me some time here.”
“Liar,” she said. “I can tell when you lose, you have the face of a baby who just had his candy taken from him.”
Gallardo’s mind drifted to the mounting losses he had accumulated with his online gambling account. Over a hundred thousand in just the past week. A half a million over the past month. Plus today’s loss. That didn’t include what he owed Giordano. But it was simply monopoly money to him. One quick plane trip across the border and he’ll net another eight hundred thousand. Six or seven plane rides and he’d be back to even before anyone knew a thing. He’d used his drug trafficking business to pay for his gambling. Ransomware created his real fortune.
But now he’d bottomed out his account and needed to replenish the funds.
Another thought occurred to him. Nick Bracco had hung up on Gallardo when he’d threatened Bracco’s family. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe the FBI agent didn’t even tell Jake about the offer. Maybe Bracco decided to go rogue. Was that possible? The threat was merely the musclebound side of his brain temporarily taking over. However, if this Bracco is going to move in his direction, Gallardo needed to be proactive.
Gallardo slapped his computer shut and texted Arturo to meet him out front in ten minutes.
“Okay,” he told Iggy. “Are you almost ready?”
Iggy was in her underwear, slipping into a tight summer dress that showed off her slim frame. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be in the car,” he said and went downstairs.
Once on the main floor, he turned right and pressed the the keypad to open a thick, oak door. In the large room, computers whirred and the hushed tone of fans cooled the workspace. He immediately sensed the attitude change. Three young men in comfortable leather chairs stared at thirty-two-inch monitors. They almost certainly sat more vertical than they had moments before.
Gallardo roamed the large room like an inspector at a meat factory. The walls were filled with portraits of Napolean Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, and other autocratic leaders who gazed out into the room with malicious eyes.
Gallardo walked behind Kalif’s chair to view his computer screen. “And?” Gallardo asked.
Kalif clicked his mouse. A moment later, a spreadsheet full of names and numbers populated the screen. On the left side of the monitor were the names of ransomware targets. To the right of each name was a dollar figure.
Gallardo pointed to a particular account and growled, “I told you about this hospital already. You are asking too much. There is an art to understanding the threshold of pain any one customer will endure before they simply lose ability to pay. This is a small facility in the middle of Kansas. You can’t go asking for fifty thousand. They are more of the ten thousand type. At ten thousand, they will comply and get their network back up and running quickly. At fifty thousand, they’ll consider other options. Maybe even law enforcement.”
“But I was starting high to negotiate,” Kalif said.
Gallardo shook his head. He had spent so much time developing his crew to navigate the proper settlements. “You can’t start so high without a frame of reference. You have to work with these people. You need to find the sweet spot where they feel the payment will be the easiest remedy for their business.”
Kalif was nodding, but Gallardo was dubious about his understanding. “Listen to me,” Gallardo said. “Ninety percent of a small number is still better than zero percent of a large number.”
“Who said that?” Kalif smirked. “Socrates?”
“No, no, no,” Gallardo said, pointing his finger. “You do not know me well enough to make jokes. Do your job or I will have you shoveling graves in the desert. Do you understand?”
Kalif went stiff straight. “Yes.”
Gallardo went over to the other two ransomware operatives to see their totals for the day. One had acquired forty-two thousand and the other eighteen thousand.
“Make sure you maintain the routes I gave you,” Gallardo said. “Safety before greed.”
A mass of sycophantic approvals filled the room.
Gallardo passed Kalif’s monitor and gestured at the screen. “What is that?”
“What?”
“That,” he said, pointing to the emblem on the bottom right of the screen.
“That’s a falcon,” Kalif said. “I created a logo for our operation.”
Gallardo squinted.
“Do you remember telling me about Charles Kettering, the inventor?” Kalif asked. “The guy who was head of research at GM?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he said when you write down your problem it is half solved.”
That wasn’t precisely what Kettering had said, but Gallardo liked where he was heading. “Continue.”
“We were having problems getting people to remember who we were when we messaged them. I kept having to remind them, so I came up with this logo to keep their memory refreshed. People might forget a name, but a logo brings instant recognition.”
Gallardo had to smile at that. He gave Kalif a tap on his cheek and said, “You are not as dumb as you appear.”
Kalif frowned, and Gallardo made his way out the door. He walked down the hallway to the front door, where three black Range Rovers idled in his semicircle driveway. Arturo stood by the second vehicle, wearing sunglasses and a grim expression.
“What is wrong with you,” Gallardo said. “Always with the mood.”
“We haven’t received payment from Daunte yet. We went to the drop, but the package wasn’t there.”
“Did you contact him?”
“Yes. He said he will talk to you at the wedding. I do not like it. It smells bad.”
“Yes, it does,” Gallardo said, taking in the long stretch of desert as if someone out there was watching. He tried to piece it together in his mind. What would Sun Tzu say about this? He recalled one of the general’s quotes, ‘If you know the enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the result of one hundred battles.’ Gallardo knew himself very well and certainly knew his enemy. Daunte would save money wherever he could, but he would not start a war with the Gallardo family, of that he was certain.
Nick took a bite of his burger and got ketchup on his fingers. He got up and went to the sink to rinse off his hands. As he wiped them on a paper towel, he looked at Tommy. “Gallardo ran up a big gambling debt. Maybe we could exploit that.”
Tommy took a sip of his drink and said, “I know a guy in Tucson who runs book for an Indian casino. I could meet with him, see what he knows. He’s pretty well connected.”
“Perfect,” Nick said, then looked at his partner. “What about us?”
“We start with this Berto guy,” Matt said. “Then work our way up.”
Tommy looked at Emilio. “You know Berto?”
“He’s just a pawn,” Nick said.
Emilio shrugged. “Don’t I get a phone call? Isn’t that the law?”
Matt shook his head. “You’re watching too many movies. There’s no law about giving you a phone call. We haven’t even arrested you yet.”
“So what do—”
“Just shut up,” Nick said. “You’ll get arrested soon enough.”
Nick’s phone buzzed with a Facetime call from his wife, Julie. When he tapped the screen, his son Thomas’s bright smile filled the screen.
“Dad!” Thomas shouted. “Look, Mom, it’s Dad. He answered.”
“I see him,” Julie said from the background.
Nick got up and walked through the living room and stood by the bulletproof window. “Hey, buddy, what are you doing?”
Thomas held up a plastic Wiffle Ball bat. “I’m playing baseball in the backyard.”
One of the reasons they’d decided to live in Payson, Arizona, was to avoid the summer heat in Phoenix. Just seventy miles could lower the temperature by fifteen degrees in the small mountain town.
Julie stuck her head into the screen. “Apparently, I’m not a very good pitcher.”
“She stinks, Dad. When are you coming home?”
Nick grinned at his boy, almost five and wanting to play with his father.
Nick looked out the window as an orange pickup truck rolled to a stop at the neighbor’s house across the street. Three men hopped out. They went to the back of the truck and pulled out gardening equipment, a rake, a grass trimmer, and a lawnmower. The driver glanced in Nick’s direction.
“I moved my vacation back a couple of days,” Nick explained. “But when I get there, we can play ball every day if you want, buddy.”
“Yeah!” Thomas screamed.
“Everything okay?” Julie asked.
Nick put on his relaxed face. “Everything is fine. Just need to clean up some loose ends. Nothing but some paperwork.”
Julie understood the code for ‘I’m not in the field of danger.’
“Good to hear,” she said.
“I’ll call you tonight before bed,” Nick said to Thomas.
“Okay, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, buddy.”
Nick ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Something about the landscapers across the street concerned him.
Matt came up next to him, both staring at the same thing.
“Halcones?” Matt asked.
Nick didn’t like that the yard looked freshly trimmed. The three workers appeared casual as they trimmed the edges of the manicured lawn and raked a sparsity of leaves.
“Does that yard look like it needs maintenance?” Nick asked.
Matt didn’t respond, but Nick already knew the answer.
“It’s like we have targets on our backs,” Nick said.
“Yup.”
“We need to find a safe place to operate,” he said, pulling a loose pill from his pocket and swallowing it.
“I thought you were tapering off those things.”
“I’m getting there. The more stress I deal with, the harder it gets.”
“You want to sit this one out? I’ll take over.”
Nick frowned. “Cut it out.”
“Then get over it.”
The landscapers moved in a slow, methodical pace, as if they were paid by the hour. They were terrible at hiding their interest in the safehouse.
“These guys are like termites,” Matt said. “Can’t get rid of them.”
Nick turned to see Tommy in deep conversation with Jake while Stevie stayed glued to Emilio’s phone. Tommy was asking Jake questions, and Jake seemed interested in telling his story, giving furtive glances Nick’s way between stories.
“We need to tell Lloyd what’s going on. He’s the only one I would trust.”
“Agreed.”
“Hey,” Stevie said, getting up and making his way toward Nick and Matt. He handed Nick the phone. “It’s not good. There’s actually a copy of all the current safehouses in our database listed on this site.”
All three looked at the landscapers across the street pretending to be working.
“They only know this is one of twenty safehouses in the state,” Nick said. “So this is a fishing expedition.”
“We need to get out of here,” Matt said.
Nick’s phone vibrated with an incoming call from UNKNOWN. “This is Nick,” he said.
There was a pause, and in that empty space he could sense the danger emanating from the other side of the connection. Intuition? Premonition? It was there.
“You have what I’m looking for, Agent Bracco,” came the firm, male voice.
“Who is this?” Nick asked, walking away from Matt.
“I think you know.”
Nick knew. It was certainly Caesar Gallardo. A knot of anxiety swam through his nervous system. “How’d you get my number?”
“I have my ways.”
“And what exactly are you looking for?”
“Jake Marino.”
“What makes you think I know where he is?”
“Please. Do not insult me.”
Nick turned to see the group staring at him from twenty feet away. “Well, you’re right, I have been in contact with him. But you’ve sufficiently scared him into believing everyone is working for you, so he’s not ready to come in yet.”
“I want him.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can make a trade?”
“Sure, what do you have in mind?”
“Let’s face it, Agent Bracco. This Marino guy is the black sheep of the family, eh? I know his history. I’ll trade him straight up for his friend the chef.”
“Yeah, it’s tempting, but that’s not happening.”
Nick couldn’t let Gallardo know that he was aware of the blackmailing scheme with Senator Walker. It was the one thing that might keep Bruce alive.
“Do you like to gamble?” Gallardo asked.
“My father loved to bet on the ponies. So, yeah, I have a little of that in my blood.”
“I’ll bet you if I start sending pieces of his dear friend to the FBI office in Phoenix, Agent Marino will gladly trade himself for what’s left of this guy. Would you care to bet?”
“You don’t need to do that. We can negotiate.”
“Besides Marino, what else do you have to negotiate with?”
“I work for the Department of Justice. We’re in charge of the prison system. I’m sure I could come up with something or someone of interest. Or I could just find you and put an end to this charade.”
“You do not want to cross me,” Gallardo said. “It would not end well for you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you familiar with Sun Tzu?” Gallardo asked.
“The Chinese General who wrote The Art of War.”
“Very good. He once said, ‘He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.’” Gallardo was showing off his Ivy League education.
“You know what else he said?” Nick could feel the eyes in the room on him. “Appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak.”
Gallardo chuckled. “I use that quote all the time. You know what really solves most problems?”
“A clear conscience?”
“Money.”
“So now you’re negotiating ransom with an FBI agent?”
“I’m thinking two million. Do not forget, I am always one step ahead of you, Agent Bracco.”
“I’m not exactly peeing my pants over here, especially since you can’t even keep prisoners captive for more than a few hours.”
“I still have one who is going nowhere.”
“Listen, why don’t you let the guy go and I’ll see about getting you a new door lock. How’s that sound?”
There was a moment of quiet where Nick could feel the anger brewing in Gallardo’s silence.
“I’m afraid you will have to pay for your interference. It’s a penalty that will not be forgiven. It may seem like you are in the clear, but in a few days, or a few months, your son Thomas will be playing at the park, or maybe in the schoolyard, and he will be the victim of a drive-by shooting. It will seem random, but when you are staring at that miniature casket you will know that—”
Nick hung up, strangling the phone while watching the landscapers move leaves from one side of the yard to the other.
He went over to the table with Matt trailing him and said, “We’re leaving.”
“To go where?” Jake asked.
“First, we’re going to a safe location,” Nick said. “Then I’m going to have to kill Gallardo.”
Stevie’s mouth hung open.
Jake smiled.
Tommy kept eating fries.
Nick pointed a sharp index finger at Jake and simply said, “Don’t.”
Chapter 15
“I never understood this fascination you have with gambling,” Iggy said, looking through her walk-in closet for something fancy to wear.
Gallardo sat across from her in the master bedroom on an overpriced brown leather chair from Central Africa, playing online poker on his laptop. His mind kept wandering back to his conversation with Bracco. The FBI agent had been frazzled by his threat and he wondered how he could use that to his benefit.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Gallardo said searching for a spade to make his flush.
That stopped her. “What wouldn’t I understand? A gambling addiction? It’s too complicated?”
“It’s only a problem if you lose.”
“That’s right on page one of the Gambler’s Anonymous handbook. First thing you do is deny you have a problem.”
“Please. I am winning,” he said. “Let me have my peace.”
“But why can’t you play for small stakes? Then it’s a fun hobby.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be exciting. I need to have something substantial on the line for it to be a thrill. I can’t enjoy playing for a mere hundred dollars a hand.”
“That’s actually on page two of the handbook. You need to bet an excessive amount of money to give you a high.”
“Yes, that’s just what it is. A high.”
“You keep spending more time on that computer, you’re going to lose your girlfriend.”
“Let me guess. That’s on page three?”
He missed his flush and was forced to raise his opponent or he would appear weak. The only way he could win now was with a bluff. He raised the bet another $20,000.
Iggy held up a black dress with white trim to her torso. “What do you think?”
Gallardo quickly glanced up. “Beautiful.”
“Whose daughter is getting married?” Iggy asked.
“Daunte Morales. His nineteen-year-old daughter, Isabela.”
“Who gets married on a Wednesday?”
“It’s the luckiest day of the week to get married,” Gallardo glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “Go look it up. It’s true.”
“You are amazing,” Iggy said. “How do you know all of that worthless information?”
“That worthless information keeps us alive.”
“Uh-huh.”
Gallardo’s online opponent raised him back another fifty thousand. “Shit,” he muttered.
“What? Are you not winning now?”
“Stop, I cannot think.”
He should have folded the crummy hand, but his temper got the best of him and he called the bet. A moment later he was out another hundred thousand, losing a total of $800,000 for this session.
“Well?”
“I won again. Please allow me some time here.”
“Liar,” she said. “I can tell when you lose, you have the face of a baby who just had his candy taken from him.”
Gallardo’s mind drifted to the mounting losses he had accumulated with his online gambling account. Over a hundred thousand in just the past week. A half a million over the past month. Plus today’s loss. That didn’t include what he owed Giordano. But it was simply monopoly money to him. One quick plane trip across the border and he’ll net another eight hundred thousand. Six or seven plane rides and he’d be back to even before anyone knew a thing. He’d used his drug trafficking business to pay for his gambling. Ransomware created his real fortune.
But now he’d bottomed out his account and needed to replenish the funds.
Another thought occurred to him. Nick Bracco had hung up on Gallardo when he’d threatened Bracco’s family. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe the FBI agent didn’t even tell Jake about the offer. Maybe Bracco decided to go rogue. Was that possible? The threat was merely the musclebound side of his brain temporarily taking over. However, if this Bracco is going to move in his direction, Gallardo needed to be proactive.
Gallardo slapped his computer shut and texted Arturo to meet him out front in ten minutes.
“Okay,” he told Iggy. “Are you almost ready?”
Iggy was in her underwear, slipping into a tight summer dress that showed off her slim frame. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be in the car,” he said and went downstairs.
Once on the main floor, he turned right and pressed the the keypad to open a thick, oak door. In the large room, computers whirred and the hushed tone of fans cooled the workspace. He immediately sensed the attitude change. Three young men in comfortable leather chairs stared at thirty-two-inch monitors. They almost certainly sat more vertical than they had moments before.
Gallardo roamed the large room like an inspector at a meat factory. The walls were filled with portraits of Napolean Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, and other autocratic leaders who gazed out into the room with malicious eyes.
Gallardo walked behind Kalif’s chair to view his computer screen. “And?” Gallardo asked.
Kalif clicked his mouse. A moment later, a spreadsheet full of names and numbers populated the screen. On the left side of the monitor were the names of ransomware targets. To the right of each name was a dollar figure.
Gallardo pointed to a particular account and growled, “I told you about this hospital already. You are asking too much. There is an art to understanding the threshold of pain any one customer will endure before they simply lose ability to pay. This is a small facility in the middle of Kansas. You can’t go asking for fifty thousand. They are more of the ten thousand type. At ten thousand, they will comply and get their network back up and running quickly. At fifty thousand, they’ll consider other options. Maybe even law enforcement.”
“But I was starting high to negotiate,” Kalif said.
Gallardo shook his head. He had spent so much time developing his crew to navigate the proper settlements. “You can’t start so high without a frame of reference. You have to work with these people. You need to find the sweet spot where they feel the payment will be the easiest remedy for their business.”
Kalif was nodding, but Gallardo was dubious about his understanding. “Listen to me,” Gallardo said. “Ninety percent of a small number is still better than zero percent of a large number.”
“Who said that?” Kalif smirked. “Socrates?”
“No, no, no,” Gallardo said, pointing his finger. “You do not know me well enough to make jokes. Do your job or I will have you shoveling graves in the desert. Do you understand?”
Kalif went stiff straight. “Yes.”
Gallardo went over to the other two ransomware operatives to see their totals for the day. One had acquired forty-two thousand and the other eighteen thousand.
“Make sure you maintain the routes I gave you,” Gallardo said. “Safety before greed.”
A mass of sycophantic approvals filled the room.
Gallardo passed Kalif’s monitor and gestured at the screen. “What is that?”
“What?”
“That,” he said, pointing to the emblem on the bottom right of the screen.
“That’s a falcon,” Kalif said. “I created a logo for our operation.”
Gallardo squinted.
“Do you remember telling me about Charles Kettering, the inventor?” Kalif asked. “The guy who was head of research at GM?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he said when you write down your problem it is half solved.”
That wasn’t precisely what Kettering had said, but Gallardo liked where he was heading. “Continue.”
“We were having problems getting people to remember who we were when we messaged them. I kept having to remind them, so I came up with this logo to keep their memory refreshed. People might forget a name, but a logo brings instant recognition.”
Gallardo had to smile at that. He gave Kalif a tap on his cheek and said, “You are not as dumb as you appear.”
Kalif frowned, and Gallardo made his way out the door. He walked down the hallway to the front door, where three black Range Rovers idled in his semicircle driveway. Arturo stood by the second vehicle, wearing sunglasses and a grim expression.
“What is wrong with you,” Gallardo said. “Always with the mood.”
“We haven’t received payment from Daunte yet. We went to the drop, but the package wasn’t there.”
“Did you contact him?”
“Yes. He said he will talk to you at the wedding. I do not like it. It smells bad.”
“Yes, it does,” Gallardo said, taking in the long stretch of desert as if someone out there was watching. He tried to piece it together in his mind. What would Sun Tzu say about this? He recalled one of the general’s quotes, ‘If you know the enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the result of one hundred battles.’ Gallardo knew himself very well and certainly knew his enemy. Daunte would save money wherever he could, but he would not start a war with the Gallardo family, of that he was certain.
