Free Once a Crooked Man by David McCallum

to a plate of crepas was a long dish filled with a mixture of chopped meat, tomatoes and peppers. On a wide wooden board were piled freshly barbecued chorizo sausages, colorful salads and a variety of hot and cold vegetables. As this was not the man he had expected to meet, Max took a quick look around to see if he could spot anyone else, either in the room or out on the terrace. The man looked up, wiped his mouth with a huge white napkin and gave Max a wave.
    â€œSeñor Bruschetti! It is good to see you.” His voice was reedy and nasal. “Please take a seat. You must be hungry after your long flight. Please, come join me in a little sustenance.” He waved again, this time to a chair across the table.
    â€œThank you,” said Max, sitting down. Immediately a waiter in a white coat placed a rush mat in front of him. On it were neatly arranged cutlery, a napkin and two long-stemmed glasses. As one waiter left, another arrived with a tray on which were a small glass of aquardiente, a glass of water and a small plate of coconut. Max drank down the strong liquor in one gulp, ignored the water, but slipped a piece of the white nut into his mouth to reduce the heat.
    His host smiled. The gold fillings in his front teeth glinted as he spoke.
    â€œNo doubt you are surprised to see me. I am sure you were expecting Rodrigo. Regrettably, since the extradition and incarceration of certain prominent members of our little fraternity and the demise of several others, it has been necessary to change the way we operate. But I hasten to assure you we are in business as usual; it is only some of our methods that have changed. Did you know we are now in the gold business? Yes, of course you did. A commodity that is proving surprisingly easy to control. I never thought that one day I would be concerned with the safety of miners!”
    He laughed a little too loudly.
    Max speared a couple of sausages, helped himself to some fresh sliced pimientos and took a bite. The flavor of the meat was delicious. Chorizos in Spanish Harlem never tasted like these.
    â€œGood, eh?” his host asked proudly.
    â€œExcellent,” answered Max, mopping the fat that trickled down his chin.
    An arm waved towards the terrace. “Roberto is an artist at the grill. He’s from Venezuela. They make the world’s finest butchers and cooks.” Giving a chuckle, he whispered, “I had to strangle his last employer to get him!”
    Max smiled. After exchanging a few pleasantries about the weather in New York the little man quickly came to the point.
    â€œYour message spoke of changes. As you are no doubt aware we do not take kindly to change. It leads to trouble and we prefer to avoid trouble whenever possible.”
    â€œI’ve come to talk about ending our relationship,” said Max laying down his knife and fork. “I’m also aware that we’re only a part of your East Coast operation. You have many others who can take over. The time has come for the Bruschettis to hand over to someone else. I’m here to work out the best way to do it.”
    His host raised his eyebrows and then after a moment asked, “And what made you come to this decision?”
    â€œWe are concerned about our moneyman,” said Max.
    â€œSeñor Carter Allinson?”
    â€œYes. I have a feeling he’s planning to quit. To retire. I think he’s had enough.”
    The little man gave Max an amused smile. “As I remember, Señor Allinson was never too happy about the manner of his recruitment.”
    â€œYou know about that?”
    â€œI try to know as much as I can about everything, Señor Bruschetti,” he answered. “Are you telling me he’s now a danger?”
    Max continued. “No. Not at all. I don’t think so. It’s only that the time has come when we might have to replace him. That would mean setting up a whole new financial arrangement. I’m not absolutely sure we could