Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies

"He doesn't need to, and believe me, he doesn't want to. Sean's greatest pleasure in life is driving other lawyers crazy. He'll set up the meeting for you."

She checked her calendar. Monday morning… she'd have to excuse herself from the monthly meeting of the infectious disease department… but nothing else was pressing.

"Okay. Can do it. But the earlier the better."

"Good. That makes two of us."

"This is all very weird, Jack. I'd like to know what's going on."

"I'll explain everything Sunday night when we have our rehearsal."

"Rehearsal?"

"Yeah. You, me, and Sean. But the important thing for you to know right now is that setting up this meeting with the lawyers gives us a breather. No one's going to be making another grab for you or threaten you if they think an agreement might be reached on Monday. That means you can stop looking over your shoulder—at least for the weekend."

"That's a relief."

"For both of us. Gotta run. Talk to you later."

And then he was gone.

Alicia hung up and attacked her sandwich with new gusto. She felt as if a lead weight had been removed from the pit of her stomach. She wouldn't have to live like a fugitive for the next couple of days.

But what on earth was Jack planning? And how reliable was he? Sure he seemed extraordinary with the strong-arm stuff, but this was different. He'd be dealing with a big law firm, some extremely sharp minds. Could a guy from the street outwit the Harvard grads on the twenty-first floor?

She didn't know, but if she had to bet, Alicia didn't think she'd risk her money on the suits.

3.

"Is that him?" Jack said as a new voice spoke from the cassette player's speaker.

Jorge shook his big head. He was dressed for business—his workday started when the offices began emptying—in a cutoff sweatshirt that exposed his thick arms to the shoulder.

The two of them sat in the cramped extra bedroom of Jorge's apartment that doubled as a business office. Down the hall his wife was clearing dinner while his two sons played the latest Mario; the apartment was redolent of spicy meat.

Jack fast-forwarded the tape, stopping and starting until he heard a new voice.

"How about this guy?"

Another head shake. "No. Not Ramirez."

"Better be soon," Jack said. "We're getting to the end of the tape."

Jorge had had one of his cousins slip the flyers under all the doors in Ramirez's building. The overkill had been necessary to keep Ramirez off guard. The flyer used the Hudak Realty letterhead but substitute a voice mail number Jack had rented, saying it was the direct line to David Johns, the Hudak agent who had an exclusive on this property. Jack had left an outgoing message saying that Mr. Johns was with a client and would get back to you as soon as possible.

He'd brought a tape of all the calls to Jorge's apartment.

"Maybe he's not interested," Jorge said.

"If what you told me about him is true," Jack said, "he'll call. He won't be able to resist. Just look at all these other—"

"There!" Jorge said as someone new spoke from the tape player. "That's him. That's the hijo de puta!"

Jack didn't know much Spanish, but he knew what that meant. He leaned back and listened to Ramirez's smooth, lightly accented voice. Obviously he'd been in the country longer than Jorge.

"Yes, Mr. Johns. I would like very much to meet with you about the property you describe in your flyer. I must leave town this weekend on a business trip, and I wish to inspect the property before I depart. "

Ramirez left his office and home phone numbers.

Smooth, Jack thought. He's probably been by the place and seen it from the sidewalk. He knows it's a steal and he wants it. So he uses a phony trip to push for a quick look-see without appearing anxious.

From what Jack had gathered from Jorge, Mr. Paco Ramirez fancied himself a wheeler-dealer, especially in real estate. Liked to pick up bargains in the current upmarket and turn them around for a quick profit. Guys like him were always on the lookout for someone in a hurry to sell. Jack's flyer had served up a deal he was sure Mr. Ramirez was salivating over.

"All right," Jack said. "He's nibbling the bait. Now we've got to set the hook and reel him in."

He used Jorge's phone to call Ramirez's office. The man was on the line only seconds after Jack told the receptionist he was David Johns. After a little polite small talk, Ramirez cut to the chase and they set up an appointment to inspect the property the following morning at nine sharp.

"What do we do now?" Jorge asked.