Page 29 of Backwater Justice

“Also a man of good taste.” Oliver lifted his glass.

“We enjoy fine things.” Ernesto swept his arm around, indicating the view.

“Indeed,” Oliver answered. “You here alone?”

“Yes. I come here to get away from the busy life. And you?”

“Same thing.” It occurred to Oliver that the man might be hitting on him, or perhaps the man thought Oliver was flirting. “Lots of beautiful women here.” He figured that would notify Ernesto of his preference for females.

“Ah. Yes. But alas, most are here with their very rich boyfriends.”

Oliver chuckled, held his shot glass up, and nodded to the bartender. “We’ll have another round.” He turned to Ernesto. “This one is on me.”

The two men chatted for about an hour. Nothing of major importance. A little politics, a little celebrity nonsense. Then the conversation turned to what the men did professionally.

“Spangler Enterprises.” Oliver was on his fourth shot of tequila. “Up in the Pacific Northwest. Oregon, actually.”

“Ah. I see your trucks. Lumber?”

“Yep.” Oliver was wondering if he should order another round. “And you?”

“Import and export,” Ernesto replied.

Oliver was now leaning with his elbow on the bar, his head resting on his fist. “Maybe we can do some business together. What do you import and export?”

Ernesto looked around the bar area. No one was paying attention. “I do custom jobs.”

Oliver was intrigued. “Oh, do tell.”

Ernesto signaled for the check. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”

Oliver hoped he wasn’t being set up to get mugged. He had a very nice buzz on. He got up from his stool and followed Ernesto to a secluded area. A large boulder blocked them from the hotel patio. Ernesto pulled out a familiar brown bottle. “Care to join me?”

Oliver thought he’d died and gone to heaven. The scenery was spectacular, his head was floating, and now he was going to be exceptionally high. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Ernesto stared at the seascape. “I wonder if you could do me a favor.” He realized he was taking a big chance, but that’s where big rewards come from.

“I can try.” Oliver was squinting at the sun.

“I have a package I need delivered to a friend in Vancouver, Canada.” His eyes were as dark as coal, burning into Oliver’s head.

“How big?”

The man turned away. “Maybe the size of a Louis Vuitton Rolling Trunk. Fifteen by twenty-two inches. It could easily be stored in one of your trucks behind the driver.”

Oliver thought he was catching on. “And you don’t want to send this via regular shipping?”

“That is correct, my friend.” Ernesto faced him again. “I will make it worth your while. Say five thousand U.S. dollars. Cash?”

“Am I not supposed to know what is in the case?”

“You are a very smart fellow.” Ernesto placed his hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Explain the logistics. How do we get the case to my truck? And then where does it go?”

“You have deliveries to Mexico, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

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