The Vermeer

I had always rationalized that it was just a power show, and, in my view, really just a sign of weakness. Nevertheless, Camilo was okay. I'd known him for years. Between Pops and I, we'd done a gazillion dollars of business with him over the years. It should have been smooth sailing, but I knew it was not going to be.

I bought up all of the cold Bud Lites for the gang. It was the only American beer that Marguerite carried. I paid her two US fifties for the beer, telling her to keep the change. It was fucking hot out, and I'd already finished my first one. I certainly needed the fluids.

"Ben, you owe me two and one half million dollars." Me-lee-yon is how he pronounced it.

"Yes I do Camilo. Yes I do."

Chickens pecked the ground nearby.

"Ben, you were short on the last money transfer."

"Yes I was Camilo. I certainly was. That's why I'm here."

"What the fuck happened?" He motioned me towards a pair of tables just around the back.

Ernesto followed.

"You heard about the bust I had last year?" I asked Camilo. Everyone else was out of earshot range.

We sat down facing each other on the table-tops of adjoining picnic benches. Ernesto kind of leaned on the side of Camilo's picnic table.

"No," Camilo answered flatly.

"In Athens? Heroin."

After a moment of adjusting his big ass on the table top as it creaked from his weight, he finally said, "I remember something. Was that you?"

"Yeah." I said almost dismissively.

"So what? You didn't get nailed. You're sitting in front of me, so obviously you didn't get nailed."

"No, that aspect was covered, the point is though, I took a financial hit."

"So? We all have losses from time to time."

"I get that Camilo, trust me I get that. It's just that that one, from my perspective, was really big, and before I'd had a chance to recover, I suffered another loss."

He was silent for a second or two.

"So what are you saying? Is your network compromised, is that what you're thinking?"

"Fuck no. Not at all. The Athens bust happened because one engine failed shortly after take-off on a commercial airline flight from Istanbul. They landed in Athens and then all of a sudden, we were off script. A fucking beagle sniffed us out."

"But you didn't go down."

"Camilo. Like you, I'm a professional; what the fuck are you thinking? I'm layered, too."

"Okay. You're right, Ben," he paused for a moment.

"What's the issue and where is my money?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about."

"Why? You owe me two and one half million dollars. That's the end of the discussion. I'm not renegotiating." He didn't look very pleasant or happy.

"Camilo, please, listen to me. Mallory died. Do you know who he is?"

"Of course, your shipping guy into Europe. What the fuck? He was a young man."

"Well, pushing fifty I think. And he was my guy into the middle-east, not Europe."

"Who took him down, or is it impolite for me to ask?"

"It's not impolite, after all, self preservation is the name of the game, right?" I smiled.

Camilo half smiled back at me. I think that was the first time I ever saw him smile.

"A bee."

"A bee?"

"Yes Mallory was stung by a bee and had an allergic reaction."

Camilo said something very quickly in Spanish to Ernesto that I couldn't quite comprehend.

"Camilo, the fucking bee has done me serious harm."

"What harm?"

"It killed Mallory at a most inopportune time."

"What do you mean?"

"He hadn't paid me fully for the transfer of your product."

"Ben, Ben, please, please dear Jesus don't be saying you can't pay me."

"I can't pay you right now Camilo."

"Oh dear mother Mary! Please don't make this so..."

"Camilo, I just need some time, I'll pay you. I just need a bit of latitude."

"Ben. With all due respect. I like you. We've been doing business together for how long? Sixteen years?"

"Something like that."

"We've always been successful and kept our professional distances, but I feel that perhaps you don't have a full understanding of our respective positions in this business."

"Well, I think I've always imagined fairly accurately."

"Imagine all you want, Ben, but here is the cold reality. I have hundreds of families growing coca. They're not planting coffee or corn or any other crop, they are growing coca. For me. Collectively, with their children and extended families, there are thousands of people. They're all relying on me. Uncle Camilo. They grow it, they harvest it, they turn it into chagra paste which costs them money to do, and I then crystallize it, package it and give it to you, and others, for shipping."

Camilo was wound up. Sweating.

"I need to pay them. They need food, tampons, pants, a new frying pan, cooking oil, just the basic necessities is really all they get. I'd love to give them the moon, but I can't. And now, Ben, for the love of God, are you really saying that you can't pay me the two and one half million dollars that you owe me? Have you any idea of what that much money means to this community?"

I couldn't say a word.

"My people, the thousands that rely on me, will go hungry. I will be a failure. Ultimately, it will be the end of me."

His head hung low. Was it just a show? After a few moments and after that little bit of self humiliation, Camilo sat up and took a deep breath. In that breath, I was certain, that I saw, what he had resolved in his mind: my death.

A chill ran through my spine.

"Ben. You have to pay me, there's no other way."

This was my life on the line.

"Camilo, I have several solutions to the problem bubbling away. I just need a little time to make it happen."

"Explain that to a hungry belly."

"Camilo, we need to work together on this."

He slammed his Bud Lite bottle down onto a concrete paver scattering glass and chickens everywhere. He stood up and put his fat brown finger in my face, "Listen to me, Ben! WE are not working on this together. I've got my own problems which you have just made two and one half million times worse. You owe me two and one half me-lee-yon, US. Fucking pay me!"

He stepped away. Ernesto was suddenly in my face.

"Camilo, please, just give me a little time..." I said trying to ignore him.

He stopped, took a deep breath and stepped back towards me. Ernesto backed away a little. "Ben, personally I'd give you all the time in the world. In fact, I'd forgive your debt. But I'm not in a position to do so. As I said, that money is already allocated for fry pans and insulin and pork chops and rice and pencils and chicken feed. Ben! I don't have room to fuck up on this."

I was speechless. He had a very ugly look in his face. But then he inexplicably softened his expression.

"Ben, if you set me back," he said very carefully, "and if I can't look after my people as a result, I will look weak." He took a deep breath. "There are many who will try to step into my shoes." He took another deep breath but couldn't look me in the eye. "In the situation I'm in, Ben, I need to appear strong." He glanced at me quickly with his black eyes. "Ben, sometimes appearing to be strong means... appearing to be ruthless and bloodthirsty." Then he looked me straight in the eyes.

He had cold eyes. I got the message.

"What's my timeline?"

"I don't know, not long."

"I ask you, Camilo, run it out as long as you can. And please don't involve my family."

After a long silence he said, "Ben, I can't even make that promise."

Oh fuck.

Clearly, he didn't want a Vermeer.

I had to make the sale work. Camilo had galvanized my thinking.

I grunted, waved goodbye and stepped towards the iron gate. Chickens ran.

Ernesto suddenly was in my face! Subtly menacingly in his personal demonic manner, he quietly said to me, "You fight for money, we fight for honour."

I leaned into his ear, "Ernesto, you're absolutely right," I whispered, "we all fight for what we really need."

Scar-chin got it as I stepped into the car. He wasn't happy. He made an index finger cut across the neck motion while watching me pulling out in the taxi.

I didn't even get a fucking empanada.

I flew back home a nervous wreck.

*****

I was in a mental state, a very rare place for me to be, wherein things were very clear to me. Everything was in sharp relief. Black and white. Although Marcella and I had been effectively divorced for the last number of years, I didn't love her anymore, but I didn't hate her. I certainly loved my daughters. Normally I would think things through. Calculate. Eliminate the risks.

Not now.

I didn't have time and only limited funds. I knew I had to go out on the limb, to take risks. It was my last roll of the dice.

Literally, a life roll.

The other notion that jolted into my brain was, strangely enough... yes, I'm a walking dead man. And yes, I probably have only a very limited time on this planet. Therefore, I was somehow obligated to collect as much pleasure and happiness as I possibly could in the short time I had left. It was an extremely greedy, fully hedonistic thought.

But there it was. Crazy.

Flo, naturally, worried me. Was she going to succumb to police pressure? That was a huge question. I needed to find out. Trust but verify.

It had been five days since our walk along the Thames.

*****

I flew to London with a fake passport and another pre-paid cell phone.

I texted Flo. 'Let's meet today. Make your aft free. Be in your office, will text again with info after 12.'

I figured that should give her, and hopefully not the police, sufficient time to get organized.

I sat outside her office in a rented car. I watched her pull up in her little white Mercedes just after eleven; that was twenty five minutes after I sent her the text. About twenty minutes after that, two people, a man and a woman, pulled up in a clean, white minivan and went into her law offices. They were wearing business suits. Cops?

The two people never came back out.

At twelve twenty, I pulled out of my parking spot and re-positioned myself about a hundred yards down the road. I could just see her parked Mercedes and the sidewalk in front of her office. I texted her, 'Go to Biggin Hill in Kent, now. Pull off the road and park in front of the Crown Inn on the A233. Leave personal cell phone on desk. Go now!'

I watched her leave and then, five seconds later, the two people wearing suits emerged from the law offices, too. They had to be cops.

With a little GoPro miniature camera and video recorder connected to a laptop open and sitting on the seat next to me, I did a little video shoot of the traffic flow. I watched Flo drive past me and recorded the next three minutes of cars that were following her in the same direction. I couldn't believe the resolution of that little thing on my laptop. The clean, white minivan seemingly wasn't one of the vehicles that followed.

Although I hate driving right hand drive vehicles, I managed. I too took off down the A21 in pursuit.

I checked the sky. I didn't see an obvious helicopter. I was worried a little about drones.

A few minutes later, I saw her and her Mercedes parked in front of The Crown Inn just before Biggin Hill, as directed. I pulled off a hundred yards or so past.

'Proceed south along the A233 for exactly 1.2 km. Pull off on the left as if you have broken down. Lift bonnet and wait in car.'

I saw and videoed her pulling out from the parking lot and the next three minutes of traffic following.

Still nothing in the sky above.

I followed and videotaped the whole trip. I came across her Mercedes with the hood raised, as directed. I kept videotaping as I drove past her heading south.

I kept checking the sky.

In the town of Westerham I pulled into The Kings Arms parking lot where I had already checked in. I parked behind the little hotel.

'Proceed south to Westerham. Pretend to break down again at the main junction of London Road and the A25 right next to General Wolfe's statue.'

From my hotel room, I videotaped the whole thing with the GoPro. The main junction was a very tight little space.

I spent the better part of the next hour reviewing all of the videos on my laptop as Flo waited in her car creating a bit of a traffic congestion.

I saw nothing. She seemed clean from a traffic tail perspective. If they were following her, they had to be switching cars and drivers which didn't make sense at this stage of the game. Once proof of life for the Vermeer was submitted, sure I could see them using elaborate techniques to follow her, but not at this stage in the game.

But then maybe I was wrong. Maybe they tagged her car with a device. Maybe there's a drone watching her. Fuck, it was only my neck on the line.

I left the building and walked up to her and her car. I was sure she didn't see me coming. As I stepped up to her I slipped my latex gloves on. I motioned to her to unlock the passenger door. She did. I got in.

"Hi Flo, nice to see you again."

"Sam, what a surprise." She was smiling.

"Flo, I know it's a little awkward, can you make your way behind that building?" I pointed to the Kings Arms and carefully didn't name it, "and park your car. Do you see the entrance right there?"

"Sure," she said with a grin on her face.

She did.

"Why the gloves?"

I didn't like that she was asking me a question, but I let it go. "No fingerprints or DNA, Flo," I whispered, almost mouthed.

She parked.

"Okay, leave your handbag and your thin jacket in the car and follow me." She did. She followed me into the hotel and up to my little room.

"Flo," I held my gloved palms out, "naked please."

"Sam, I'm not getting naked unless you do, too."

"Flo, why would I be wearing a wire?" I pulled off my gloves.

"No one's wearing a wire, Sam. I'm sorry, your middle man is pushing back a little. I'm not getting naked unless you do, too. It's that simple. You said this is all about trust."

"Fine." I started unbuttoning my shirt. Her red painted manicured fingernails started unbuttoning her white blouse.

She continued, "If you expect me to bare all, then I expect you to do so, also. It's just that simple."

She was wrong about that. She wasn't going to learn anything about me except for, apparently, the size and shape of my cock.

We stood facing each other with shirts off. A lacy white bra covered her small breasts. I could just make out the outline of her areola through the lacy material.

She was grinning.

I was getting a hardon.

I sat down on the end of the bed and pulled off my black loafers and socks. She sat down onto one of the armchairs and took off her sandals. Her toenails were painted a matching red.

I stood up, undid my belt buckle and unzipped. She did the same to her blue jeans and thin gold coloured belt. We both sat back down to wrestle off our pants.

I was most definitely getting stiff as I stood up to face her just in my white underwear. She stood with just her lacy white bra and matching white panties sporting a massive ear to ear grin.

She unhooked the back of her bra and let it slide down her slender arms. Her boobs were smallish, but still nicely curved, her areola a dark coral colour, her nipples wide and meaty, definitely very suckable.

I could see white teeth flashing from beneath her grin as she watched me pull down my underwear. My circumcised cock sprang to life, pointing straight at her as the elastic slid down. I stepped out of my underwear as it pooled at my ankles.

Flo was staring. Her eyes were wide open. Her mouth was open, but a hint of the grin still remained. She lifted her eyes to mine and reestablished her wide toothy grin.

Her slender painted fingernails slid into her panties, just below her hip bones. She slowly slid them down revealing reddish brown pussy hair, trimmed into a slender vee, and coral coloured pussy lips all crinkly and soft hanging below her slit. Only then did I realize she had an inch gap at the top of her thighs.

Her panties slid down to the top of her feet. I watched as a red painted toenail held the white lace panty as one foot slipped out, then with the opposite toe, the other.

My cock was raging hard.

I looked into her face. Her brown eyes were sparkling, her grin had turned to a toothy smile. She lifted her right arm to her neck scooping up her shoulder length, straight reddish brown hair to reveal the sexy nape of her neck. Slowly she spun around.

"See, no wire."

I didn't see a wire but I did see a sexy tight little ass sweeping to two dimples on her lower back and the length of her spine and her rib cage from behind.

"What I see is a sexy woman."

She completed the spin, dropped her hair and stepped towards me. The painted fingernails of her left hand slipped into curly black chest hairs on my sternum. Red fingernails from her right hand encircled my cock shaft.

"And what I see, Sam, is that you are very pleased to see me." She was smirking wildly as if she was trying to contain outright laughter.

She was gorgeous. My heart was beating away.

Christo = genius.

But this wasn't going according to the plan.

"Some white wine, Flo?" I squeaked.

I stepped back, freeing myself from her grip and motioned her to sit on one of the two armchairs in the room. I couldn't keep my eyes off her; she was just so gorgeous.

"Sure." She sat down.

Every time I looked at her naked body my sphincter would automatically tighten up and my cock would flex up in response. It was bobbing up and down as if it had a life of its own. Every time she saw that, she giggled. My cock was level with her face.

I opened a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio.

"I'm sorry I'm a little off script here, I wasn't planning this." I looked down at my stiff cock as I poured the wine.

I handed her a glass of wine which she sipped and then placed on the table next to her.

"I have to say, you look stunningly beautiful, just as sexy as can be." I set my own wineglass down and sat on the armchair next to her. I moved the little table lamp back so I could maintain a good view of her and those suckable nipples, which I noticed had stiffened a little.

My cock was pointing straight up.

"You're not a bad looking guy yourself, Sam. Tall, dark and handsome. You've got that exotic Mediterranean look, nice brown eyes, nice jaw, straight white teeth, lovely smile. Sam is my Casanova."

We each sipped our wine. She was grinning, I'm pretty certain I was blushing. I held a mouthful of wine in my mouth without swallowing.

A red painted fingernail brushed a dark coral coloured nipple.

I couldn't believe what she just did.

I gulped.

Sweat broke out on my forehead. With that one little deft move, she just upped the sexual tension stakes a million-fold.

I took another sip of wine trying to cool off my head. My cock was standing at complete attention. I put my wineglass down with slightly shaky hands.

"Sam, I don't mean to pry, but I notice that you are not wearing a ring. I take it that means you're not married."

A question!

I sighed trying to decide what to say. The truth I decided, "I'm married," I stammered and then blurted out, "she wants a divorce; we can't agree to terms. We sleep in separate bedrooms. The bitch hates me." I gazed at her.

Her eyes went wide and then after a long moment the grin reappeared.

I took another sip of my wine. As I set the glass down I noticed that she parted her knees. A red fingernail brushed her other nipple and then another one slipped down to her pussy.

I was way off script. She had me.

She was diddling her clit. Her eyes hooded over a little.

"...I love chest hair on a man..." she sighed.

My cock was raging. My mind, too. Was this woman trying to get my DNA via a semen sample? Fuck! Give it to her then, half my brain said and then followed up with... up the ass. Don't come inside her, just clean her off. Don't even touch her...