Page 386 of The Black Trilogy

I nestled between his thighs, and he held the iPad in front of us. His chin rested on my shoulder, and we both read what Carlos had to say.

Charles, or is it Black?

I’m not even sure what to call you. But then, I guess at this stage, it doesn’t really matter. If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m dead and Jane’s alive. I’ve got a favour to ask there, but before I get to that, I’d better start at the beginning.

First of all, congratulations to Mackenzie for breaking through my encryption. I had every confidence that she would. From what I’ve seen, you only hire the best.

So…

My name is Carlos Ramos. At least that’s the one I’ve always known myself by. I was brought up as a Ramos, I lived as a Ramos, and now I’ve died as one. But I wasn’t born a Ramos.

I was five years old before I found out the truth. It started out like any other Saturday, at least until I twisted my ankle playing hide-and-seek with Mama. My foot swelled up, and yes, I cried. Mama never liked to see me sad, so she promised to buy me a gift. A surprise, she said, but I knew what it would be: a keyboard. I used to sit beside her when she played the piano, and I’d been asking for my own for weeks.

That afternoon, she went into town and came back in a casket.

The man I thought was my father told me it was my fault. That my mama died because I wanted a new toy, and if I hadn’t been such a difficult child, she’d still be alive. It wasn’t until years later I found out the bullet was meant for him. She’d died because she borrowed his car. The day I realised that was the day I promised myself I would bring him down.

Every day I lived in Hector’s house, I hated him more. And my stepbrother, Diego. Every night, I dreamed of escape, but before I left, I wanted to give my so-called family something to think about. And I did. Now I’m dead, and I’m lying six feet under with a smile on my face. Because I took their money. Twelve years of their work, countless laws broken, too many lives lost, six hundred million dollars, and I took every last dime.

The money’s locked away in various funds. One matures every three months, and will continue to do so for the next thirty years. If I don’t sign the release forms personally within a week of each anniversary date, the money goes to charity. Drugs rehab. I thought that was a nice touch.

So, you’re probably asking, why has this man sent a rambling letter when we haven’t even met? Well, look in the mirror. Literally, just do it. See the man staring back at you? There I am. Believe me, I was as surprised about it as you would have been if we’d ever come face to face.

I found out about you a couple of years ago when Hector sent me to New York to fix up a problem. Normally, Diego would have gone, but he’d accidentally killed his girlfriend and Hector told him he had to clean up his own mess for once. That argument was something to behold. Anyway, I digress.

I asked around to find out who was interfering in Hector’s business. Not so I could do Hector’s dirty work, but because I was tempted to send a congratulations card. Imagine my surprise when my informant sent me a surveillance photo of myself. Clean shaven, a little paler, but me nonetheless. Only it was you. I covered up your meddling and started finding out everything I could about Charles Edward Black. It wasn’t easy, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear. Congratulations on everything you’ve achieved with Blackwood—building a behemoth like that out of nothing took some doing.

Months passed, and I decided I had to meet you. After I finished this letter, I was leaving for the United States to do exactly that. Obviously, I never made it. That’s my biggest regret, I think, that I had a brother out there, and I never got to know him. From what I saw of you, you’re a man I’d have liked spending time with.

So, that’s the story. Now onto the things I need to ask of you.

Firstly, Jane. You’ll have met her by now, and maybe you’ll see why I fell in love with her. She’s quiet, but once you get to know her, you’ll find a sweetness like no other. Please look after her for me. She doesn’t have anyone else.

I’ve set up a bank account for her. You’re the signatory, the account details are at the bottom of this letter, and the passcode is in her head. I used to say it to her every time we parted. Flip it backwards and match each letter to the alphabet.

The second thing I ask is that you carry on where I left off against Hector and Diego. I’ve copied everything I can get hold of onto this memory stick—details of their supply routes, dealers, money laundering strategies, suppliers. Pass it to someone you can trust to bring them down.

Finally, in case you want to know, I found my mama’s diary a year back. We came from a village called Valento on the banks of the Amazon, about a hundred miles east of Hector’s compound. With your resources, I’m sure you can find out where that is, but I’ve included a map just in case. Mama wrote that Hector brought me home as a surprise and said he picked the one that was smiling. When Mama found out he’d left you behind, she made him go back, but you were gone. In her words, she withheld conjugal rights for a month until he apologised properly. But she couldn’t turn back the clock.

I don’t know what’s left of the village now; I was always too scared to find out. I’d hoped one day we might go together.

So, that’s it. Not much of a letter is it, for a lifetime? Then again, I never was good with words.

Got to go.

I have a plane to catch.

C.

Black took a shuddering breath behind me, and his arms tightened around my stomach.

“Shoot,” I whispered. A tear ran down my cheek. I’d spent twenty years not crying, and this was twice in a week. Was I making up for lost time or something?

Black took my “shoot” and raised me.

“Fudge.” He let out a sigh. “Isn’t that how I’m supposed to swear now?” He tried to smile, but it didn’t work out.

Neither of us spoke for a full minute, then I turned around and hugged him tightly. He buried his head in my shoulder. All I could do was hang on while he battled with his emotions.

---