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By Root 422 0

Or wait to hear from the members of his "familia," a very close and trusted group comprised of his most devoted employees. Sometimes the familia henchmen were on a mission to deliver packages or to pick up money or to break the bones of people who didn't see the sense of cooperating with him. Some of those unfortunate people had worked for one or two of the men who sat at this table. But that was in the past, before they were united by a common goal.

Part of Ramirez yearned for those more relaxed days. Days when he was simply an apolitical middleman making a profit from smuggling guns or personnel or learning about covert activities by the Russians or Moslem fundamentalists. Days when he used familia muscle to obtain loans that the banks didn't want to give him, or to get trucks to carry goods when no trucks were available.

Things were different now. So very, very different.

Ramirez did not speak until his cellular phone rang. At the beep, he moved unhurriedly and slipped the telephone from the rightside pocket of his blazer. His small, thick fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the mouthpiece. He placed the telephone to his ear. After speaking his name he said nothing. He simply listened as he sat looking at the others.

When the caller had finished, Ramirez closed the telephone gingerly and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked down at the clean ashtray in front of him. He selected a cigar from the humidor and smelled the black wrapper. Only then did a smile break the flat smoothness of his soft, round face.

One of the other men took the cigar from his mouth. "What is it, Esteban?" he asked. "What has happened?"

"It is accomplished," he said proudly. "One of the targets, the primary target, has been eliminated."

The tips of the other cigars glowed richly as the four men drew on them. Smiles lit up as well and hands came together in polite but heartfelt applause. Now Ramirez clipped the tip of his cigar into the ashtray. He toasted the tip with a generous flame from the antique butane gas lighter in the center of the table. After rolling the cigar back and forth until the edges glowed red he puffed enthusiastically. Ramirez allowed the smoke to caress his tongue. Then he rolled it around his mouth and exhaled.

"Seńor Sanchez is now at the airport in Madrid," Ramirez said. He was using the name the killer had assumed for this mission. "He will reach Bilbao in one hour. I will ring the factory and have one of my familia drivers meet him there. And then, as planned, he will be brought out to the yacht."

"For a short stay, I trust," one of the men said anxiously.

"For a very short stay," Ramirez replied. "When Seńor Sanchez arrives I will go on deck and pay him." He patted his vest pocket, where he had an envelope stuffed with international currency. "He will not see anyone else so there is no way he can ever betray you."

"Why would he?" asked the man.

"Extortion, Alfonso," Ramirez explained. "Men like Sanchez, former soldiers who have come into money, tend to live lavishly, only for the day. When they run out of money, sometimes they come back and ask for more."

"And if he does?" asked Alfonso. "How will you protect yourself?"

Ramirez smiled. "One of my men was present with a video camera. If Sanchez betrays me, the tape will find its way into the hands of the police. But enough of what could be. Here is what will be. After Sanchez has been paid he will be escorted back to the airport and will leave the country until the investigation has been closed, as agreed."

"What of the driver in Madrid?" asked another of the men. "Is he leaving Spain as well?"

"No," said Ramirez. "The driver works for Deputy Serrador. He wants very much to rise so he will be silent. And the car used by the killers has already been left at a garage for dismantling." Ramirez drew contentedly on his cigar. "Trust me, my dear Miguel. Everything has been thought out very carefully. This action will not be traced to us."

"I trust you," sniffed the man. "But I'm still not certain we can trust Serrador. He is a Basque."

"The killer