The Finishing School

43

BUD HAD the logistics worked out with split-second timing, but he was concerned the relevant players would refuse to go along with the plan. Turned out he was worrying for nothing. It was candy from a baby with these idiots.

First he convinced Jay that it would be stupid for him to show his face in San Juan with the feds watching. Piece a’ cake. Jay was only too happy to delegate the shipment and get busy making the scene around town. Covering his own ass was the dickhead’s primary concern. Little did he know that he was setting himself up to look like the perpetrator of a particularly gruesome crime that hadn’t been committed yet. Sweet.

The next part was even easier, if that was possible. Once Jay told Pavel that Bud was temporarily running the show, it took no convincing whatsoever to get Pavel to follow his somewhat unexpected instructions. He should’ve known. Anything that required violence, the Russian was only too happy to do. With relish, no questions asked.

“Where you want I should take him?” was the only thing Pavel had inquired about when Bud called him that morning. Bud was relatively confident the communication was secure, since his own cell phone was brand spanking new and Pavel wasn’t a big enough fish for the feds to bother wiretapping.

“Pick the kid up just like Jay told you,” Bud instructed. “You drive, the kid sits in the front passenger seat, Lamar sits behind him. Take him to that warehouse Jay owns. You know where I mean?”

“Sure, sure. Williamsburg, right?”

“Right.”

“What do I say when he notice we not going JFK?” Pavel asked.

“Tell him you need to take a leak. Or just hit him over the head. Who gives a shit?”

“Oh. Is okay, then, if he show up damage?”

“I’d like to get some information out of him first, is all,” Bud said.

“So he need to be able to talk still.”

“Yes.”

“Wery good, I understand,” Pavel said, and hung up.