Pierre was putting miles on his second-hand Acura, trying to placate our displeased customer base while Bolo sorted out his pipeline problem.
I was doing my best to keep my focus on PanStar business but found that tending to the little parking lot enterprise I’d started with Prentiss and socializing with my weekend cricket league teammates were far more satisfying pursuits.
And the kids were doing their best to infiltrate PanStar’s back room. Instead of showing up once a week on payday, I’d find them trying to worm their way in almost every evening, asking me what I had in the beer fridge or if they could watch a baseball game on cable.
“Hell no,” I’d say. “Stay out of my fridge and find some other clubhouse to take over!”
Without directly saying it, Mundo, Lucci and Biz were letting me know that if I didn’t give them their own headquarters, they were going to take mine over. And I was not having it.
Eventually, I got so fed up that I told them they were no longer allowed in the back room under any circumstances. All business would be conducted at the front of the store.
“But that’s why we need our own HQ,” Mundo finally told me.
“Yes, I know,” I replied. “You keep telling me that and I’m getting tired of listening to you.”
A few weeks later, I landed in Panama, committed to breaking through Bolo’s inertia. I refused to leave without confirming that PanStar was a going concern or a ghost ship.
But first, I decided to get up with Mano before I subjected myself to yet another frustrating country club sit-down. He’d offered to drive out of Panama City with me to check on my remaining apartment- it was between tenants and the maintenance company had recommended I get some repairs made before renting it out again.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you this time out,” I said as I slid into the passenger seat of his late model Montero. Mano had done well for himself over the past several years- he was working his way up the construction industry food chain and was now a Superintendent on large-scale projects.
“Most of my jobs are directly in the city now,” Mano told me. “There’s a lot of stuff going on here. People are gearing up for the final handover next year.”
“That’s going to be good for you,” I replied. “And now Bolo’s getting ready to throw his hat into the ring. I’m sure he’s come at you hard.”
Mano laughed, a bit uncomfortably.
“I’m not in any hurry to sign on with Bolo,” he said. “The last thing I would want is to be on his payroll.”
“You and me both,” I agreed. Mano knew I was ready to move on from PanStar.
Our visit to the apartment was very productive. I agreed to a series of structural improvements and some light-touch renovations. The apartment would be back on the rental market within two months, if all went well.
After we returned to the city, Mano joined me for dinner at my hotel, then said he had to call it a night and head back to Rio Abajo.
“I’m only here for a day or two more, then I’m heading back to Brooklyn,” I said. “But I plan to be out here a lot more frequently for the rest of the year.”
“We always keep in touch,” Mano replied.
I asked him to send my love to his mother and sister, then he took off for home.
The next morning, Bolo sent a driver for me. We were to meet at the future site of his first mid-scale construction project, a small condominium complex in El Carmen.
The minute I saw him, I could tell Bolo had finally lost any last vestiges of his New York edge. He had absolutely no hunger for conquering new territories and didn’t even seem to be interested in straightening out the supply side of things, here in Panama.
Bolo walked me through the site and showed me where everything was going to be- three six-story condo buildings would flank a central green space bordered by flower beds and mature trees. A small indoor pool and gym would be built off to the side. It was very tasteful and surprisingly modest. I told him I knew it would be a smashing success.
“Let’s go into the office and talk business,” Bolo suggested. “I know that’s why you’re here.”
I got right to it, once we’d settled ourselves in the air-conditioned trailer.
“Word on the street is that your old associates in Far Rock found their own source and are wholesaling out of Edgemere,” I began.
“I’m surprised to hear that,” Bolo replied. “But Edgemere always finds a way to do whatever it wants.”
“Yes, but it’s putting a big hole in our operation,” I said.
Bolo shrugged. The vagaries of the NYC drug game were no longer a priority.
“PanStar is almost bone dry,” I continued. “This summer is hot and my people are being put in an uncomfortable position. I need you to let me know if you have something worked out or if I should just close up shop and go fishing.”
“No, you’re still viable,” Bolo said. “I just released funds for a shipment from a new contact in Barranquilla. Good quality, and almost double the quantity of the last shipment we got through.”
I did not like the sound of that. Bolo was getting me product, yes- but he was also handing me a logistical nightmare.
“It should arrive shortly after Labor Day, if all goes well,” he said. “Staff up and be prepared.”
We worked out a few additional details of the upcoming shipment, and then our business meeting was over.
Before I got ready to take my leave, I brought up one last topic of discussion.
“We need to talk about your heir,” I said. “He wants his own little kingdom, and at this point I’m inclined to say you should give it to him.”
