Coincidence - Alan May [73]
The strength and clarity of Stefano’s response took Phillip by surprise. He hadn’t been sure the man had even heard his words, much less comprehended them.
“Once we get to the island, we need four days, minimum,” Stefano said. “Maybe six, depending on what time of day we get there. My contact, Giorgio, he lives in Hanga Roa, on the west coast. He’s got a factory there. Makes these little statues, plastic, of the big statues—Moai, they’re called. He ships these little plastic Moai statues all over the world. Done it for years. It’s all legit.”
Get on with it, Phillip thought. I don’t need to hear all about your amigo’s gewgaw souvenir business. Maybe Stefano wasn’t so clear-headed after all.
“We gonna tie up at a wharf near his place. The first night, we gonna move the bales of coke into his factory. Then it’s gonna take two days to do the conversion.”
“Conversion?”
Stefano and Juan had never been explicit about what was going to happen once they had the cocaine in their possession, figuring what the hired help didn’t know they couldn’t be made to tell. Best to keep them in the dark, letting them in on the plan one step at a time as it became necessary.
A smile flitted across Stefano’s lips.
“What better way to get our load of coke shipped home than to turn it into a thousand cute little Moai statues, identical to the thousands of cute little plastic statues Giorgio been shipping every month for the last twelve years?”
Holy shit, Phillip thought. It was a brilliant plan. Easter Island was about the last place anybody would think of as a source of illegal drugs to begin with, and to convert the white powder into what would look exactly like the same innocuous merchandise that had been coming out of this Giorgio guy’s factory for years—hell, customs wouldn’t even give the shipment a second glance.
Stefano’s eyes were open now, watching Phillip’s reaction with amusement.
“Bueno,” he continued. “One day to tie up and unload. Two to cast the statues, and one more to package them for shipping to the States.”
“So, we’d be flying back on the same plane with the shipment?” Phillip asked.
“No. We’ll already be there. As soon as we get the statues packed, we gonna be on the next plane out. Giorgio’s gonna wait a coupla days, then send our pretty little statues to his distribution warehouse, consigned to me. All we gotta do is pick them up at the warehouse and then …”
Stefano smiled again and shrugged. And then. Then they would be home free, divvying up their riches. As long as they could pull off the next few days.
“Okay,” Phillip said. “So we’ll say four to five days on the island. Plus the time it takes to get there. If we left tomorrow morning, that’d be about four days.”
His mind was racing now. Eight or nine days was the very least amount of time they would require. Could they count on the Inspiration to go undicovered for that long? Damn, it was risky.
Stefano was easing himself into a sitting position, pulling himself up by the bed railing. He drew his breath in sharply, grimacing, but when he spoke, his voice was steady and decisive.
“Right. This is what we gonna do. You knock out the engine of this boat and make sure there’s no way they can call for help. No satellite phone, no radio, no nothing. Tell Polo and Severo to get the Coincidence ready to go. Tell my brother to come here. And get the doctor and that girl—the director—in here, too, and the captain. We’re not going alone.”
Phillip stared at Stefano.
“The sooner we cut them loose, the better,” Stefano went on. “Too close to the island and a boat or a plane could spot them. We gotta do it now, pronto. And the doctor and the girl are gonna be our insurance.
“You tell the captain: Nine days. He don’t make a move for nine days, or the doctor and the girl are dead.”
30
“Whatever happens,” Melissa said, so softly that Pierre had to lean even closer to hear her, “whatever happens, I want …”
“You want …?” he asked.
He himself wanted only to take her