The Argentine Triangle: A Craig Page Thriller Read online

  “But I know of another game you’re already good at. Let’s go upstairs.”

  She decided to accede. After all, he had done what she had asked with the arms. When they reached the bedroom, he rushed her to take off her clothes. It was as if he was worried he would lose his desire. He became angry at her when she insisted on folding up her clothes. She took off her cross. Then she pulled a condom out of her purse and slipped it on him.

  “Do we really need that?” he protested.

  “Absolutely.”

  She wasn’t worried about pregnancy. She was on the pill. She simply didn’t want his fluid inside of her. He was on top of her in an instant, sliding himself back and forth. Feeling nothing, she wondered if this was how prostitutes did it time after time.

  She began moaning. “Oh, Edward … oh Edward … That feels so good. Really good.”

  To speed him up, she reached down and grabbed the upper part of his penis that wasn’t inside of her.

  That worked.

  He cried out. “Oh God yes.” She felt his body shudder and he was done.

  She reached down, pulled him out, then slipped off the condom and tossed it on the floor.

  “Thank you so much,” he said.

  In a few minutes he was sleeping. But not Gina. She had something else to do tonight.

  She checked the clock next to the bed. It was eleven forty. She decided to wait an hour to make certain he was truly asleep.

  At twelve forty she took one final look at the snoring Bryce, eased herself out of bed and over to her purse resting on a chair. She grabbed her cell phone, then put on her cross and her white silk panties. Cell phone in hand, she tiptoed down the stairs to the living room.

  The first floor of the house was deserted. All of the help was asleep in a separate, smaller building twenty yards from the manor house.

  Enough light was coming in the windows that she didn’t need to turn on a lamp. She sat down on a sofa. From memory, she punched in the number for Estrada’s cell phone. He answered immediately, “Yes,” in his normal curt voice.

  “Alfredo, it’s Gina.”

  “Do you have news for me, dear?”

  “Very good news. Bryce told me that the surface-to-air missiles and rocket grenade launchers will arrive tomorrow in Buenos Aires.”

  “That is good. Very well done.”

  “Now can I stop seeing Bryce?”

  In a sharp tone that displayed his irritation, Estrada snapped, “I’ll tell you when, and stop asking me.”

  Suddenly a light came on above the staircase leading down from the bedroom. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted Bryce, dressed in a blue velvet robe, at the top of the stairs watching her on the sofa. The cell phone was tight against her ear; her arms bunched in close against her naked breasts. She was terrified. My God, did he hear my conversation?

  “Can’t talk any more now,” she whispered to Estrada and hung up the phone.

  With Bryce, she decided to take the offensive. “What’s wrong, Edward? Why are you up?”

  Moving down the stairs, he brushed her words aside. “Who were you calling?” he demanded to know.

  Then it struck her. He didn’t understand Spanish or Italian. The relief she felt quickly evaporated. She had spoken the words, “surface-to-air missiles and rocket-grenade launchers” in English. She hoped he hadn’t heard them.

  Looking sad, she shook her head. “I was calling my grandmother in Mendoza. She hasn’t been well.”

  Bryce looked at her skeptically. “Argentina’s practically on the same time as we are. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Since she got cancer, she can’t sleep. She was happy to hear from me.”

  “I’m sorry. What kind of cancer is it?”

  “Lymphoma. It’s spreading.” Please God, she thought. Forgive me for lying.

  “Come to bed. I’ll comfort you.”

  “You’re a nice man, Edward, but go back to sleep. Leave me alone with my pain. Later I’ll come upstairs.”

  “Okay. But wake me if there’s anything I can do.”

  When he disappeared up the stairs, she began crying. She wept for what she was doing, for what she had become. They were both using her. Alfredo, for his political reasons. Bryce, for sex and to fill a void in his life left by the flight of his wife. She thought about her evening with Barry Gorman. He was someone who wanted her for herself. With him, she could be a regular person. She closed her eyes and smiled, thinking of the evening with Barry Gorman.

  London

  At eight Sunday evening, a black Rolls Royce, the house car from the Blue Giraffe, was waiting on Park Place in front of the St. James Club. Craig had to admit that Estrada’s appearance in his army uniform exuded power as the general bounded down the five stone stairs and into the car.

  Everything was in place at the Blue Giraffe when they arrived, just as Craig had wanted. Jane and Lucy, both blond, busty, and dressed in tight black sweaters and short black miniskirts—matching bookends—werewaiting in the bar next to the dining room at a table. A bottle of Dom Perignon was chilling in a nearby ice bucket. Downstairs, the casino was still quiet. It was early.

  Let the games begin, he thought as he led General Estrada across the bar to Jane and Lucy.

  A tuxedo-clad waiter rushed over with a large dish of Beluga caviar. “The manager would like you to be his guest for dinner. Please order anything you’d like.”

  Craig could tell that Estrada was impressed.

  Three hours later, Craig was pleased at the good time Estrada was having. Despite Craig’s effort to minimize his own alcoholic consumption, the four of them consumed two bottles of Dom Perignon, a bottle of Corton Charlemagne, a bottle of Chateau Margaux, and four glasses of Remy Martin along with a superb meal. Even Estrada had to concede that the Scottish beef was in a class with the finest Argentine.

  Jane and Lucy were educated women who could talk. They both had day jobs in the financial sector. The escort business was a way to pick up some extra cash because share prices were tumbling and action was slow in the city. During dinner they maintained a constant banter with Estrada and Craig about world political and economic affairs, life in Argentina, as well as about their careers as models, which were mostly in the past.

  When they were finished eating, Craig led the other three to the lift that took them downstairs to the casino. It was now going full blast with the main room crowded with an international polyglot of Arabs, Russians, Americans, and Chinese predominating. “Let’s get some chips,” Craig said to Estrada.

  At the cash window, Estrada reached into the leather case he was carrying, took out a hundred thousand dollars and converted it into chips.

  You don’t get that on a military salary, Craig thought. Big surprise. Estrada has his hand in the public till. “What do you like to play?” Craig asked the general as he cashed $100K of his own into chips.

  “Craps. The fastest game. You can win the most in the shortest time. I have a system for winning.”

  Craig suppressed a smile. Every gambler thought he had a system, but the odds of any of them winning were still less than 50 percent. “What is it?” he asked.

  “The key to winning big is to wait for one of those streaks that sometimes occurs when the dice get hot. Then you have to ride it hard, betting more and more on each roll, while siphoning off some of the winnings from each bet. The other key is to make bets that bring the odds as close to fifty-fifty as possible.”

  “So what so you do?”

  “I bet the pass line. Over here, they call it the win line. I’m betting that the shooter will make his point. I also add come bets to increase my possible winnings.”

  Craig had to admit that Estrada’s “system” was well thought out mathematically and increased the chances of winning to the max—just a fraction below 50 percent

  “I like it,” Craig said. “I’ll bet with you.”

  “Good, but don’t get impatient. Like much of life, patience is often rewarded. I keep bett
ing small amounts until someone gets a hot hand and a streak begins, then I make my move. If it never happens, we move on to other forms of amusement.” He smiled. “I mean the two women who are waiting for us in the other room.”

  “Got it.”

  “And I’m not greedy. I try to quit before the streak ends.”

  Without saying a word, Craig led Estrada through the hoi polloi into a private back room where five men, two of whom were accompanied by heavily jeweled women, stood around a craps table.

  Jane and Lucy had their marching orders. One of them was on each arm of the general.

  With his military uniform garnering respect and Jane and Lucy turning heads, Estrada moved up to the edge of the table. Craig went to the other side, chips in hand, prepared to mimic the general’s bets.

  For the first hour, Estrada showed great restraint. The dice were cold regardless of who threw them. He bet only small amounts. At that point, he and Craig were each down a couple of thousand. Then a Chinese man picked up the dice. He scored the point on each of his first two rolls. Estrada was ready. He bet ten thousand on the next point. When that won, he put aside five and let the rest ride. Each time he won, Jane and Lucy were cheering. For the next point, he put aside fifteen and let fifty-five ride. Craig was doing the same. After the Chinese made his point three more times, Estrada wasn’t willing to push his luck any further. Ready to quit, the general signaled to Craig and began gathering up his chips. Craig did the same.

  Craig estimated each of their winnings at a little over $300,000. That should help Betty’s budget.

  Estrada was thrilled as they cashed in their winnings. Smiling broadly, he nodded to Craig and headed toward the men’s room. Craig followed him inside.

  When they were standing at adjacent urinals relieving themselves, Estrada said, “I assume we’re going back to the hotel now.”

  “You got it.”

  “What’s the arrangement with Jane and Lucy?”

  “They’re ours until the sun comes up tomorrow.”

  “Well, you were so good to set this all up, I’ll give you first choice.”

  Craig zipped up his pants and smiled. “Listen, Alfredo, you take them both up to your suite. I have a little piece of my own. Sally. Lives nearby. She’s waiting for me to call.”

  “You hiding her on me?”

  “You’ll meet her the next time we come to London. So have a good time with Jane and Lucy, but there’s only one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t pay them a cent. Please. I’ve made sure they’re well taken care of.”

  Estrada washed his hands and reached into his bag. “I should pay you back for the girls.”

  Craig shook his head. “Put your money away. What are friends for?”

  Estrada nodded, giving Craig the impression that he had expected that response. The offer had been a formality. The general was whistling with joy as they approached the front door of the Blue Giraffe where Jane and Lucy were waiting. The black Rolls Royce was out in front.

  At the St. James Club, the four of them exited and climbed the stairs. Inside the reception area, Craig said, “Here’s where we split. So I’ll say good night.”

  Estrada refused to shake hands. He insisted on a giant hug. Craig kissed each of the women on the cheek, then watched them disappear into the small elevator for their ride to the sixth floor and room 603, “The Palace Suite.” Craig’s own suite was one floor below, 503. Craig was pleased that he had solidly ingratiated himself with the general.

  He went into the small bar off the lobby and turned the corner of the L-shaped room. As he had arranged, Tim Fuller was sitting at the bar, a drink in front of him.

  “Did you see us come in?” Craig asked.

  “How could I miss you, pal. Mother of God, those two …”

  “The objective was for you to get a good view of the general. I wanted you to see what he looks like.”

  “Man the headlights on those two.”

  “Did you see the general?” Craig said irritably. It was late. He was in no mood for Tim’s humor.

  “Yeah, yeah. I saw him. Why’s he got both of them?”

  “It’s good for business. You really think I’d prefer to be down here with you instead of up there with one of them?”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Let’s go up to my suite. So we can talk.”

  Tim picked up his briefcase and followed Craig into the elevator. “Jesus, the scent of those broads is still in here. When you’re finished with me, I think I’ll camp out in the lobby. I should be able to pick up one of them when he’s done with her.”

  “Don’t be disgusting. Besides, you need sleep. I have big plans for you tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay, pal.”

  Craig let them into suite 503, took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “Do you have anything for me?” he asked.

  Tim reached into his briefcase and extracted two volumes of transcript. “These are the only worthwhile discussions to come off the tapes.”

  “With whom?”

  “One with Bryce. Live in Gina’s bedroom. Yesterday. The other with your gambling buddy, Estrada, later the same evening. She must have reached him when he was on the plane with you.”

  That was certainly possible, Craig thought. Estrada had been in his own cabin in the rear of the plane for much of the flight.

  Craig raised his eyebrows. “How’d you get them already? Weren’t you flying yourself?”

  “Transmitted to me electronically. I travel with my own printer. The advantages of modern technology.”

  “I assume I can destroy these when I’ve read them.”

  “I wish you would. Generally, I don’t like to leave around evidence of a felony I’ve committed.”

  “You still worried about that?”

  “I don’t think I’d enjoy jail. Now tell me what nefarious things you want me to do tomorrow.”

  Before Craig had a chance to answer, he heard a loud pounding on the ceiling.

  “Jesus. What’s that?” Tim asked.

  Craig raised his hand and pointed upward. “The general’s suite.”

  “One of the three of them must have fallen out of bed.”

  “Something like that.”

  Tim started toward the door. “Don’t you think I should go up and make sure they’re okay? Maybe apply some mouth-to-mouth.”

  “You don’t quit. We have a job to do and a narrow window in which to do it. So sit down and listen.”

  Tim did as he was told. “Okay pal, what about tomorrow?”

  “I want you to stake out the St. James Club from the crack of dawn. At some point in the morning, General Estrada will leave for a meeting. I have no idea when, or where he’s going. I want you to follow him. Find out everything you can about his destination. Call me periodically with reports. This could be the break I need.”

  At eight the next morning, Craig was seated at the desk in his suite. After a continental breakfast with two double espressos, he was ready for the transcripts. The first one was Bryce and Gina in her bedroom.

  Gina: Oh Edward. You’re a wonderful lover, but you’re really heavy now. Could you get off me?

  Bryce: Sure. Whatever you want.

  [Pause.]

  [Snoring sounds.]

  Gina: I’m going to the bathroom now. As if you’d know … you’re asleep … pig.

  Craig broke into a broad smile. You’re quite a lover, Bryce.

  The telephone rang. Craig grabbed it from the cradle. It was Tim Fuller.

  “Subject is on the move.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Just came out of the St. James Club. Dressed in a dark suit and tie. No military uniform or insignia. I’m around the corner on St. James. He’s walking in my direction.”

  “Don’t let him see you.”

  Tim laughed. “Don’t worry, pal. I’m good at what I do.”

  “Well? What now?”

  “Patience. Patience … Subject
raised his hand and hailed a cab. Hold on. I gotta jump in the car. I’ll tell my driver to follow him.”

  Craig could guess why Estrada had eschewed a private car in favor of a cab. Fewer records. More anonymity.

  Wherever he was going, he didn’t want anyone to know about it.

  “We’re crossing Piccadilly and moving north through Mayfair. I’ll let you know when I have a destination.”

  Craig turned back to the transcript.

  Gina: C’mon, Edward, wake up. You have to go home.

  Bryce: I’m so tired. Can’t I stay the night?

  Gina: You have to leave. Tomorrow morning I have to be up early to cover a story.

  Bryce: Skip it. The paper will survive.

  Gina: Don’t talk to me that way. I’m not your property.

  Bryce: Hey. What’s wrong with you?

  Gina: Nothing’s wrong.

  Bryce: You’ve been acting differently the last several days. Since you broke the date with me last Monday. Not like my angel. Did you meet someone else?

  Craig remembered that Monday was the evening he had taken Gina to dinner.

  Gina: No, of course not.

  Bryce: Well what is it?

  Gina: I’m worried about my friends and my family back home. I talk to them all of the time. They’re terrified.

  Bryce: Nothing will happen, honey. They’ll be safe. You don’t have to worry.

  Gina: It’s easy for you to say. You don’t know those Brazilians. They’re illiterate animals, those people, and they hate us. They’re moving troops up to our border. The only thing that will stop them is if they know we have enough arms to destroy them if they attack us.

  Bryce: They’re not going to attack. You don’t have to worry.

  Gina: Then why are they moving troops up to our border?

  Jesus, what the hell’s going on? Craig thought. He reread the last lines several lines to make sure he had it right.

  Bryce: Because of you, Gina, and our relationship, the Pentagon has already sent so many arms to Argentina. I was told that the surface to air missiles and rocket grenade launchers you wanted so badly arrived today in Buenos Aires. Don’t worry. Your people will be safe.