Page 43 of The Perfect Stranger

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, I entered the kitchen and caught the object inches before it hit my face. Gabriel laughed as I stared at the dragon fruit.

“Reflexes are strong for an early riser,” he quipped.

This was late for me, and I felt like shit. On the other hand, despite an all-night bender of coke, alcohol, and abusive sex, Gabriel looked fresh faced and ready to start the day.

I looked to the bench where Gabriel was preparing breakfast to see it covered with more dragon fruit.

“What’s with all this?” I asked, pointing.

“Payday, brother.”

“Someone paid you with dragon fruit?”

“Something like that, but not quite.” He sliced through a piece of fruit, the halves falling to the side, one landing on the tiled floor. “I have a shipment leaving the docks around noon. Your flight leaves around ten, and you’ll have a good two hours to inspect the shipment.”

“What am I looking for exactly?”

“I have a shipment of dragon fruit destined for the States. Sixty boxes of them. Each one must be counted, double and triple checked. I want you to wait until that ship leaves port. If anyone goes near it, take them out.”

I digested the information and contemplated the importance placed on the fruit. “You’re moving coke through dragon fruit?”

“One of my ways. Can’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

“And this doesn’t raise suspicions?”

“Why should it?”

“Because it’s coming from Colombia!”

“This is my sixth such shipment of this product, one even reaching as far as Singapore.”

“That’s quite the risk. How much is this run worth?”

“Over fifteen million dollars.”

I exhaled sharply, the gravity of the situation bearing down on me. I didn’t trust Gabriel enough to believe he had my best intentions at heart. And he barely knew anything about me to trust me with his fortune. It was very likely it was a setup, and I would have to walk straight into it.

Gabriel placed the knife down, slowly, steady, studying my reaction to his request.

“I have nothing to be concerned about do I, Antonio?”

“Can’t think why you should.”

Again he waited, looking for any tell-tale signs.

“That’s not all.” He continued, “I need a particular situation taken care of.”

“Turn off the highway and head up the 61.”

“Boss wants us to go straight to the docks,” my driver Anton replied short and curt.

“I know what he wants, but I’m telling you to make a stop.”

He was a man of rules and right now he was pissed to be breaking them.

“What’s the location?”

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