Savages

196

Jaime is a skilled forensic accountant.

He and Ben sit in a booth at the bar in the St. Regis.

“What do you want?” Jaime asks.

“Uncomfortable?” Ben responds. “I know you and Alex usually come to these meetings together. You’re like Mormon missionaries, the two of you. All you need is the white shirts and the skinny black ties.”

“So why did you want to meet me alone?”

Ben says, “I had my people do a little research.”

He slides a folder of documents over to Jaime, who looks at it like it’s some foreign object from outer space.

“Open it,” Ben says.

Jaime opens the file. Starts looking at it and then can’t stop. Starts turning pages faster and faster, flipping back and forth, his face bent closer to the file, his finger tracing lines and columns.

This stuff, Ben thinks, is like porn to an accountant.

Yeah, sort of, but not really. Jaime and Alex are boys, and when the former finally looks up his face is ashen.

He is seriously bummed. Ben bums him more. Cranks up the dial on the bum-meter. “Check the deposit dates, match them up with the hijackings, and then try to tell yourself that our little Alex isn’t getting rich off my dope.”

“Where did you get this?”

“I got it,” Ben says. “But run it again yourself. By all means, check my homework.”

“I will,” Jaime says. “Alex has a wife and three kids. I’m godfather to his oldest daughter.”

“You have kids of your own?”

“Two boys. Eight and six.”

“Well,” Ben says, “you’re the accountant on this and it happened on your watch. Knowing the temperament of your client, I’d say it’s either his kids grow up without a daddy, or yours do. Unless … oh, J, you’re not in on this with him, are you?”

Ben leaves a twenty and Jaime sitting there.