Different Circles

“He is,” Sebastian confirmed. “That is his SUV parked in front of your limousine. Ever since he heard that Jake Kingsley was considering buying his aircraft, he has been very excited to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh ... I see,” Jake said slowly, starting to feel a little nervous now. Though they did not know that Eduardo Gomez was a Colombian drug lord, the possibility was certainly high on the list of probabilities. What would such a man be like? A man who had possibly ordered the deaths of people? Who may very well own politicians, police officials, customs officials?

“Is that a problem, Jake?” Sebastian asked.

“No, not at all,” Jake told him. After all, there was really no alternative at this point, was there?

The hangar where Eduardo Gomez kept the Avanti, as well as his brand-new Cessna CitationJet 525, was the largest one at the facility. It was over two thousand square feet, temperature controlled, with room for both aircraft and a few cars as well. As soon as they walked in out of the drizzling rain into the building, Jake’s eyes went immediately to the Avanti, which was parked on the left side, facing outward. It was painted in a simple two-tone scheme, white on the top and the wings, candy-apple red on the bottom of the fuselage, below the windows. It had obviously been cleaned and polished for his particular viewing and it absolutely gleamed under the overhead lights.

He only had a moment to look at it, however, before his attention was pulled to the gathering of men standing around next to it. There were five of them in a cluster. Three were wearing business suits, one a pair of work overalls, and one a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting sweater. Two of the men in the suits were large men, intimidating in appearance, with expressionless faces and watchful eyes. They stood just behind the man in the jeans. The other suit was a smaller man, slight in appearance, clean shaven, including his head, and with a pair of wire glasses perched on his nose. The man in the overalls was thin and wiry and reasonably young; no more than forty by appearance. The man in the jeans was the oldest-appearing of the group. He was moderately overweight and appeared out of shape. He sported a thick, carelessly groomed mustache and at least two days’ worth of beard stubble. He had a jovial, amused expression on his face. When he saw Jake and Jill and Travis enter the building, the expression of amusement kicked up by a factor of two, at least.

The five of them walked across the concrete floor and met Jake and the others halfway across. Sebastian stepped forward and made the introductions.

“Jefe,” he greeted the man in the jeans, “may I present Señor Kingsley to you. Jake, this is Señor Gomez, the current owner of the aircraft you are interested in.”

Gomez held out his hand. And then, in a moderately accented English, he said, “Jake Kingsley! May I call you Jake?”

“Of course, Señor Gomez,” Jake replied, shaking with him.

“Call me Eddie,” Gomez said, “like a parcero! It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. My children are great admirers of your music. And I’m a fan as well, mostly of your newer, solo material.”

“Thank you ... uh ... Eddie,” Jake said, feeling decidedly strange to be calling the man that.

“And this,” Eddie said, pulling the slight member of the suit brigade forward, “is Nicolas Sanchez. Nick is my primary personal finance account manager. It is he who has been speaking to your accountant about your possible acquisition of the Avanti.”

Jake shook with him—his grip was weak and effeminate—and then introduced Jill to Nick and Eddie both.

“It’s nice to meet you, Señor Gomez,” Jill told the man. “And it’s nice to finally speak to you in person, Nick.”

“You as well,” Nick returned, his eyes looking everywhere but Jill’s face. It reminded Jake of Eric the violinist.

The rest of the introductions were made. The man in the overalls was Samuel Lopez, the primary mechanic who took care of the routine maintenance on the aircraft and who arranged for it to be delivered to Cali—where the Colombian Piaggio maintenance facility was located—when it needed its B checks or C checks. So far, according to Lopez, the plane had required no repairs that could not be done here in the hangar. Eddie introduced him to first Jake and then to Travis. Fortunately, Samuel spoke pretty good English.

The two large men in the suits were not introduced, not by name anyway. “They’re just my security staff,” Eddie said dismissively. “You know how it is. Just pretend they’re not there.”