By July, construction on the Lincoln Road house was underway, PanStar security had been scaled up and I’d finally been able to connect with Prentiss on my labor issues. By way of the young apprentice workers ever present in his own staffing plan (they all had crews of friends in search of a steady source of income), Prentiss was my link to a never ending, though not particularly reliable, supply of kids willing to sign on for long hours and relatively low pay. Scheduling and managing entry-level workers was the least enjoyable part of my job, but it wasn’t something I could delegate. No matter how busy I was, the labor pool of juniors needed my constant attention. I had to find a way to solve this problem. It was time to head down to Panama to pay Bolo a visit.
I had other business to take care of in Panama City, and to be frank that was my main priority. I was in no position to break with Bolo and go out on my own, but nothing lasts forever. I needed to prepare myself and set the foundation for that inevitability, even if it was years away.
To that end, I’d recently bought a pair of apartments in a newly constructed gated community located inland. Bolo’s wife Carolina’s friend, the real estate broker, had overseen the deal for me. The units were located on the top floor of a recently constructed building, and there was the option to combine the two into a single, spacious apartment. But I had no intention of ever living there- these were strictly income generating assets. Carolina’s friend had already helped me find long-term tenants, and I’d signed an agreement with another of her social connections- a woman who owned an apartment management company that would take care of maintenance issues for me. Bolo, who knew about the Lincoln Road house, had taken to teasing me about being an international real estate mogul.
I got together with Bolo for lunch on Friday. We met at his club campestre. My plan was not to beat him in the head with ongoing labor problems- we’d analyzed that to death over the past several years, and Bolo’s only solution so far was to bring Mundo into the fold, and even that seemed to be on its own special timeline. What I was really after was confirmation of the next step. Where were we going with this all? Would the empire be allowed to crumble?
Lunch was the usual upper echelon institutional fare- green salad and parker house rolls, well-done steaks with marsala sauce, whisky on the rocks or vodka martinis- dealer’s choice. But the food was never the focus.
“So, what’s on your mind, Hopeton?” Bolo asked, as soon as we were settled at our table and drinks orders had been placed. “I can tell you have something you need to get off your chest.”
“I want to get you up to speed with what’s been going on at PanStar,” I began. Then I walked Bolo through the last few months of instability, my growing sense of dread and overall feeling that what we’d built together was not tenable for the long run.
“So, what can you use as concrete examples?” Bolo asked. “Are we losing money? Has anyone on our side been arrested or attacked?”
“No,” I replied. “But Brooklyn is changing and we’re not going to be able to hide in plain sight for much longer. I can feel it.”
Bolo gave a skeptical look.
“Is this some of your Jamaican medicine man mierda or does this feeling have any basis in reality?”
“No, Bolo, this isn’t some of my Jamaican medicine man shit. White people are moving in, the cops have been told to make a show of force on the streets and act like they’re cleaning things up. This is making everyone nervous- things are getting shaky.”
“But, what does that have to do with PanStar?” Bolo asked.
“PanStar is right in the middle of everything,” I explained. “Street dealers are getting pushed off their blocks and they’re all sniffing around the avenue. It’s only a matter of time before someone or another figures out we have an access point through the back yard.”
“That sounds far-fetched,” Bolo challenged.
“You don’t know Brooklyn, Bolo,” I replied. “People aren’t stupid. Everyone knows what we have going on in there, and we’ve only gotten by on a combination of luck and pay-offs. But I’m telling you- that’s all about to change. We need to get ahead of it. And eventually, we’re going to have to get out of it. PanStar will have to shut down at some point. It’s inevitable.”
Bolo signaled to the waiter, who hurried over to take our dessert order- two glasses of brandy, neat and a plate of profiteroles.
I waited until Bolo returned his attention back to me. He gave me a tight smile and gestured for me to continue.
“I’ve stepped up security,” I told him. “We have licensed guards manning the back entrance twenty-four hours a day, in eight-hour shifts.”
“When did this happen?” Bolo wanted to know.
“Last month,” I replied. “It’s not cheap, but it’s a necessary expense.”
“Necessary,” Bolo repeated, deadpan.
“Yes, necessary. In fact, it’s non-negotiable. We can’t leave PanStar unattended anymore. Those days are over. And I can’t sit there, minding the shop twenty-four hours a day. I have no one, so I had to hire someone.”
Bolo nodded, but kept silent. He knew I was right.
I seized my opportunity to change the subject.
“So, Mundo’s graduated,” I remarked.
“Yes, he did well,” Bolo said.
“Lali wasn’t too pleased that he didn’t receive at least cum laude,” I replied. “Téo told me.”
Bolo chuckled fondly, and said, "Olmando will be fine."
This was my chance to do some digging.
“Do you know what the plans are yet?” I asked. “Are you still sending him to me come fall?”
“Those are the plans,” Bolo confirmed.
“Is there anything I should be preparing for?” I persisted.
“No, nothing really,” Bolo said lightly. “I’m sure once Mundo is on board, you’ll figure out the best way to bring him along.”
Bolo’s vagueness confirmed to me that there was no plan for Mundo, unless I could come up with something that allowed Mundo to do whatever he wanted, without getting us all killed.
“Alright,” I sighed. “Please just give me at least two weeks’ notice, so I can prepare myself.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Bolo replied.
Seeing this discussion had reached its conclusion, I doubled back to my original point of concern.
“Now that I’ve gotten you up to speed on the Brooklyn side of things, I’d very much like for you to tell me what’s going on here,” I said. “How’s everything on the import side of things? Are we still stable? Should I anticipate any slow-down at the Port?”
“Everything is still status quo here,” Bolo said in a reassuring tone. “Maybe a bit slower for shipments to arrive, but the quantity is actually up.”
I smelled instability.
“What’s going on?”
Now it was Bolo’s turn to sigh.
“Well,” he began, a bit reluctantly, “word from on high is that the DEA is giving us a few years to clean up our trafficking situation on our own. They’re currently too busy trying to stem the problem at the source.”
“So, Colombia’s taking a hit on production and is trying to double up on export wherever they can,” I mused.
“Precisely,” said Bolo.
I saw my next in and jumped on it.
“Maybe it’s time to start thinking in terms of a two-year off-ramp,” I suggested. “Everything we’ve discussed today is pointing to the fact that we may be coming towards the end of PanStar as it currently exists. There’s got to be something new for us. Our current product cannot be the only option.”
“I see your point, Hopeton,” Bolo replied. “But let’s just get through the fall. Let’s sit down and discuss this again. Maybe around end of November?”
I nodded silently. Bolo was going to continue to run the string until something forced him to pivot.
“In the meantime,” Bolo finished, “you handle things in Brooklyn as you see fit. Just keep in touch with me about any major expenses before you pull the trigger.”
And with that, lunch was over.
I drove over to Mano’s mother’s house the day before I was scheduled to fly back to New York. Miss Leonora was in her usual spot on the verandah, listening to an afternoon news program on the radio.
“Hopeton!” she called to me. “You’re in town!”
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I replied. “But I had to come check you before I left. It’s been a while.”
“And you’re right on time,” Miss Leonora said. “Mano’s here too and he’ll be back any minute now.”
Sure enough, Mano turned up less than fifteen minutes later.
“What are you doing back my way?” he asked.
“I couldn’t leave town without saying good-bye,” I replied. “I’m heading back to Brooklyn tomorrow. And what are you doing in back in town?”
“Construction is picking up directly near the city,” Mano explained. “I’m closer to home most of the time.”
“I bet that’s making your mother really happy,” I said.
“More like Delcy,” Mano said with a laugh. “She’s happy to have someone else to help pick up the slack. She keeps complaining to me that she can’t run two households anymore.”
“Her kids are getting big,” I mused.
“And that husband of hers isn’t about much,” Mano said in a slightly bitter tone.
“Well, it’s good that things are booming here,” I said, changing the subject. “Things are starting to look really shaky over in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re out here now? Talking with Bolo?” Mano asked.
“That is why,” I confirmed. “But Bolo doesn’t seem to share my concern. He’s happy with the status quo. All that means is that I’m the only one carrying the load.”
Mano laughed and said, “That sounds like Bolo.”
“But things need to change, Mano, before it all goes to hell,” I said. “I’m telling you! I have no interest in being a part of anyone’s downfall, especially not my own.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to let the issue force itself,” I replied. “And I’m going to make sure I keep myself out of the line of fire when it happens.”
