Chapter 5
Tim quickly slipped the envelope into his pocket and left the room. He thanked the boy and the woman at the counter before leaving the hotel. As he wove through the streets, Tim wondered what the envelope meant. He decided to go back to the hotel, and after a brief walk through the crowded streets, he arrived.
He went up to his room and checked to see if Nick was back yet. It appeared he was still outside on the beach enjoying the warm equatorial weather. Tim was happy to have a little bit of time to figure out what to do before having to deal with Nick as well.
He carefully took the envelope out of his pocket and set it on the table. He then turned on the kettle in the room and waited. Not knowing what was in the envelope, he wanted to ensure that he could make it look unopened if necessary.
While he waited for the kettle to boil, he had many unanswered questions. What was James doing in Mexico in the hottest part of the year? Why had he left his room in such a hurry? And, perhaps most urgently of all, what was this envelope? Tim now felt certain that James was involved in something that he wanted to keep a secret. Tim's limited Spanish did not help matters. He obviously could discern the 12th of October, but he didn't know what it meant, and Veracruz was entirely foreign to him.
While he was thinking all these things, the kettle began to whistle. Tim took the envelope over to it, and began carefully applying steam to seal. He had never had occasion to steam and envelope open before and so he wasn't entirely sure if he was even going about it properly, but sure enough, the seal slowly became unglued and he was able to open it.
Inside was a three page typed document in Spanish signed by James. Tim made an attempt to read it, but quickly realized that it was entirely beyond his capacity. Frustrated, he put the document back in the envelope which he put it in his suitcase.
Unsure of what to do, he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He started walking south along the shore and quickly found himself amidst local life. As he looked around, the scene was similar to the previous day when he took the tour. The beach was full of a combination of a handful of tourists and twice as many locals trying to sell everything from cold drinks to sombreros.
Tim quickly began to regret deciding to go for a walk during the hottest part of the day. When he was in town there were at least a selection of trees and buildings to give off some shade, but here by the water there was nothing between him and the sun. Furthermore, he was not one to perspire gracefully. Some people seem to manage to hardly perspire at all, perhaps only a slight glisten on their forehead. Tim, on the other hand, did not glisten, he sweated, profusely.
Against his better judgment, having heard stories of Montezuma’s revenge, he decided to buy a beer from one of the locals. As soon as he expressed an interest, he was surrounded by no fewer than six vendors eager to sell him a beer. Feeling unadventurous, he handed the closest one a couple dollars and asked for a Corona which he was quickly given.
He had some trouble persuading the other vendors that he did not want a second or perhaps third beer prior to having drunk the first one. However, after some persistence, they went away disappointedly. Tim opened the beer and drank it as he walked, revelling in a culture that did not have puritanical open liquor laws.
The cold, refreshing beer coupled with a lively locals and beautiful surroundings gradually improved Tim's mood. As he continued his walk, he tried to remind himself that he was at least partially on vacation. Vacation being rather a rarity in his life, as much of his own choosing as out of necessity. In truth, Tim found it a little bit challenging to relax, particularly now of course, but also generally.
He decided that whatever the meaning of the documents in the mysterious envelope it could wait until evening. While something in his driven nature, which often served him well, made it difficult to stop thinking, for the moment he was going to enjoy the afternoon.
After finishing his beer and walking a while longer, the heat began to tire him out. He found a bench looking out towards the ocean and sat down, enjoying the spectacular view. He tried very hard to commit the picture-perfect view to memory so that when he was back in Vancouver, during the perpetual rain fall and winter, he could remember what sunlight looked like.
Tim realized that there was actually no reason he needed to spend the winter in Vancouver anymore. If he chose he could become a snowbird and find a condo either here or somewhere else similarly tropical to weather the winter months and only return to Vancouver in April or May. The thought made him smile.
As he sat thinking and planning, he realized that he was getting quite warm and had not remembered to put on any sunscreen. Furthermore, all the walking and sun exposure was making him tired. He got up from the bench and headed back towards the hotel. When he arrived, he went up to his room, and decided to take a short nap. He quickly managed to fall asleep without undressing or even getting under the covers.
When he looked at the clock it was 6:55. He had slept for almost 4 hours, and was going to be late for dinner. He hastily changed into another shirt, ran a comb through his hair, and went downstairs to the restaurant.
By the time he arrived, Nick was already waiting and had a table for them. He sat down and apologized for being late, but Nick hardly seemed to have noticed. Having not eaten anything in a while, Tim spent 5 min. staring at the menu trying to make up his mind. When the waitress came around, Tim still seemed deep in concentration and so Nick ordered them couple beers. Finally, Tim settled on the quesadillas, and put the menu down. Nick had long since made his own decision, and smiled when Tim was finally ready.
In his hurry to come downstairs, Tim did not notice the substantial sunburn that was covering his face and arms. Nick tried to find a polite way of saying ‘you look like a lobster’, but nothing came to mind, and so he just laughed.
"So how was your day?" Tim asked Nick, after the laughter had subsided.
"It was incredible! I think I managed to try just about every water sport known to man. The jet ski was pretty awesome, but I think my favourite would have to be the Parasailing. I know you wouldn't have liked it with your thing about heights, but being up in the air like that, honestly, you feel like you're flying," Nick replied.
Tim had to admit that it did sound like fun, "well I'm really glad you had a good time, my day was pretty good too."
Tim thought about his day, finding James' hotel, the envelope, and the document inside. He was still no closer to finding out what it said, but he recalled that Nick spoke Spanish that he had learned living in Argentina for six months. Despite his earlier decision to keep his lottery winning entirely to himself, Tim had increasingly been thinking about telling someone else. The burden and challenges of being the only one that knew were becoming increasingly more difficult.
If he were to tell someone, Nick would be an obvious choice, being family. He could certainly use the help Nick could tell something was bothering him and asked what was the matter. Tim decided to explain.
"I'm sure you've been wondering about this whole trip. Particularly, the timing and why I've been acting so strangely. What I'm going to tell you, I haven't told anyone else and I need you to promise me that you can keep it a secret."
Nick looked at Tim and nodded. Tim took a breath and began, "it started a little over a week ago. I was sitting in front of the TV and a segment came up on the news about the lottery, so I decided to check my ticket. All the numbers matched for the 649 jackpot, I just won the lottery.
While I was obviously excited and finding it hard to believe, I also quickly became concerned about all the publicity that would follow. I didn't want to get my name the paper and get badgered constantly by charities and acquaintances, not to mention risk kidnapping if not worse. So I decided to go see a lawyer to see what my options would be.
After a bit of looking, I managed to find one who specialized in lottery winners and went to see him at his office downtown. Once I had been assured of confidentiality, I explained my situation. He told me that while the lottery required the winner's name and photograph to be published in the paper, there was no law against selling the ticket. He told me that for a small percentage of the winnings he could arrange for someone to claim the ticket in their name and then transfer the money over to me.
I agreed and signed the appropriate paperwork, and sure enough on Thursday morning the 649 winner was announced, Jeremy Evans. Shortly after, about $47 million was transferred into an account in my name in Hong Kong. Everything was going perfectly until I saw an article in the paper.
It was a reoccurring segment featuring Vancouver's newest millionaire, Jeremy Evans. This would've been fine except Jeremy only had $3 million, rather than the 50 everyone thought. If too many questions were asked were too much research done, it could be fairly easily revealed that he had transferred the majority of the money to me.
I tried to contact Jeremy, but of course couldn't get his contact information. I even tried to contact the columnist to persuade her to give me his phone number, but that didn't work either. Finally, I remembered that James, the lawyer I spoke to, must have his information as he had set up the contract. So I tried calling him, only to find that he was on vacation.
A couple days later I was checking my messages and found one from James's colleague. When I called him back he said that James had gone missing in Mexico. I knew that James was very possibly my only hope of reaching Jeremy and furthermore, him disappearing so recently after facilitating the transaction seemed very unusual. And so I called you up and booked the trip.
That brings you up to last night, but there's a little bit more. Today when you were out doing water sports, I went into town to the hotel that James had been staying at to investigate. The room had been cleaned out but there was one thing left behind. An envelope and fallen behind one of the drawers and so I brought it back with me.
The problem is, the document inside is written in Spanish and so I can't read it. That's where I was hoping you might be able to help," Tim finished and looked at Nick.
Nick was quiet only a moment and then asked if he could see the document. Tim had expected some questions and rather a lot more surprise than he displayed, however, he was quite happy to get down to business. He had left the document up in their room for safekeeping and so he assured Nick that he would show it to him after dinner.
Their meals arrived shortly after and were quite impressive. They ordered a couple more beers each during the course of the meal and made a point of enjoying themselves. Nick explained what he'd been up to the last few months and Tim did the same, revelling in finally being able to be totally honest with someone.
They enjoyed themselves so much that they decided to order dessert along with a bottle of ice wine. Nick's crème brûlée was a piece of art while Tim's triple chocolate cake à la mode was delicious. The ice wine was, coincidentally, from one of the Okanogan vineyards and served as a perfect complement to their desert. They eventually finished stuffed, and more than a little drunk. Tim took care of the bill, and they went back up to the room and quickly fell asleep.
Tim initially awoke around seven dehydrated with a splitting headache. He stumbled into the bathroom, took a handful of Advil and three glasses of water before going back to bed. Nick repeated the ritual almost exactly about 45 min. later.
They awoke a second time to the sounds of the housekeeping staff a little bit after noon feeling much better. Once each had the chance to have a shower and get dressed, they sat down and tried to plan out the day. Tim got out the document to show Nick which he looked at in silence for about 10 min.
Finally Nick spoke, "you're not going to like it. I can't understand all of the legal terms, but as far as I can tell it seems to be an order to transfer $20 million from your account in Hong Kong to an account based here in Mexico."
Tim was taken aback. It seemed that James was intending to steal his money. What he couldn't understand was why James hadn't simply transferred the money to his own account in the first place. And furthermore, how he could now authorize the transfer without Tim's signature?
"What are the details? When is his transfer supposed to take place?" asked Tim.
"As far as I can make out, it looks like the transfer will take place on Monday,” Nick replied. "Judging by this document, James opened the account in your name but left himself on as a signatory, meaning he can transfer the money at any point."
Tim decided to contact the bank in Hong Kong himself in order to either transfer the money himself or at least cancel James' transfer however he discovered that due to the time difference they were already closed for the day and wouldn't be opening again until Monday. The only way to stop the transfer would be to find James.
While the document gave them an idea of what James is up to, it provided no indication of where he might have gone. They decided to split up and try to search the city starting from his hotel and going out in circles asking the locals if someone had seen him. So they headed out into the town to try to locate James.
Unfortunately, by the time dinner rolled around, neither of them had found anything of use. Disheartened, they ate dinner quietly and had an early night, endeavouring to try again in the morning.
The next day went much the same, they covered a large area and asked countless locals if they had seen James but with no luck. Either he had blended in or they just weren't inclined to talk; either way it wasn't of much help to Tim and Nick. They came back to the hotel mid-afternoon to take a break and try and sit out the hottest part of the day, before meeting up for a drink to regroup.
When they met up at the hotel bar, they ordered a couple of beers and sat down to plan. Tim took out a map to figure out what areas they had already checked. Each of them marked off the parts that they had been responsible for. While they were doing this, Nick noticed something. He asked Tim if he still had the envelope that the document came in. Tim nodded and took it out.
Nick looked at the envelope and then at the map and then back the envelope again. After a minute, his face lit up with a smile. He pointed out an intersection on the map. There didn't seem to be anything special about it until Tim looked a little bit closer and saw the street names. It was the corner of Veracruz and 12 de Octubre. The envelope had been referring to an intersection, possibly a meeting place. They were finally on to something.
They finished their drinks and headed out to the intersection. After a 15 min. walk, they arrived. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much there. On one corner stood closed grocery store, directly opposite there was an auto repair shop, and the other two corners were houses. Again they asked the locals if any of them recognized James, providing a description of a tall white man dressed in a suit and again, no response.
There didn't seem to be much there that would indicate a meeting spot, but they decided to look around anyway. They knocked at the doors of the houses but did not get any response. The store was closed and no one appeared to be there. Finally, they went over to the repair shop. Nick spoke with the men working there and explained what they were after. At first, they didn’t seem to know anything either, but then one of the men gestured to a staircase at the back of the shop.
Nick and Tim followed the man up to the second floor which seemed to host a few very small offices. He knocked at one of the doors, waited for a moment and then opened it. Inside sat a man in a tall chair typing at a computer. The chair’s back was turned to them so all they saw were the man’s hands: two large, dark, paw-like appendages complete with a series of rings. Upon hearing the door open, he finished typing a few more sentences and turned around.
In the chair sat a large man wearing a light blue suit and a dark coloured tie. He was of an implacable ethnicity, with hints of both Latin and Eastern European colouring. He smiled, got out of his seat, and approached the three men, “Good afternoon, what can I do for you gentlemen?” he said in impeccable, unaccented English.
Neither Nick nor Tim knew what to say at first, but after a moment Tim gathered the courage to speak, “We are looking for a friend of mine that we understand was headed here a few days ago.”
The man raised his eyebrows, but his voice remained unchanged, “and what is the name of this friend of yours?” he asked.
“James Conroy, he was staying at a hotel close by on vacation,” Tim replied.
The man let out a hearty laugh that resounded through the office and the shop below. “I am sorry to correct you gentlemen, but Mr. Conroy was not here on vacation, no one comes to Puerto Vallarta for vacation in August. Mr. Conroy was here on business.”
Tim tried to appear surprised by the news that he had already pieced together for himself, “What kind of business would that be?”
The man paused for a moment and then gestured for them to have a seat, “First, I think I should ask, what exactly is your connection to Mr.Conroy?”
Tim wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal, “He is my lawyer and has been helping me with a case recently.”
The man smiled, “Well, Mr. Conroy, you will be happy to hear, is doing very well. He had to cut his business here short though and didn’t tell me where he was going, he is a difficult man to reach.”
Tim laughed by instinct, knowing this to be all too true, “Is there anything more you can tell us? For instance, what business he was doing here?”
“I am afraid,” began the man, “that I can no more tell you his business here than I would expect you to divulge your legal dealings with him. Confidentiality is vital, I am sure you understand.”
Tim did understand, though he had hoped the man wouldn’t. He thanked him for his time and headed back to the hotel with Nick in tow. They ordered room service up to their suite and ate in silence, immersed in thought. They had uncovered, at least partially, what James was up to in Mexico, but now it seemed the trail had gone cold once more and their time was quickly running out.
Where would James have gone? There were too many possibilities to count. He could still be in Puerto Vallarta, hiding somewhere right under their noses. He could be back in Vancouver in his office or at home, or he could have gone somewhere else entirely, there was really no way of knowing. It was already late on Saturday and sometime Monday, Hong Kong time; a good part of Tim’s money would be in Mexico.
He decided the best course of action would be to cut the vacation short and return home. If James had left Mexico, that seemed like the most likely place to go. Tim would have to gamble on being able to locate him there.
He told Nick that he was welcome to stay if he wanted as their accommodations had been booked for the full week, but he was disinclined. So Tim called up the airline and switched their return tickets to a flight leaving early the next day which would get them home by late afternoon. Exhausted from the day’s pursuits, both Tim and Nick went straight to bed so that they would be awake in time to leave to catch the flight the next day.
In the morning, they awoke around the same time and packed in silence. Nick felt bad that Tim hadn’t been able to find James. Tim felt bad that he had dragged his brother to Mexico promising a vacation, but had instead led him on a wild goose chase and cut the vacation short. The only upside to the trip was that they had somehow avoided the supposed monsoon season and rampant theft and only had to deal with the heat.
After getting all their things packed up and ready, Tim went down to the front desk to check out while Nick called a cab to pick them up and take them to the airport. On the way to the airport Tim thought about their trip. There were so many things that still didn’t add up. Why would James come all the way down here and then leave abruptly? Surely he could have sent the paperwork without coming himself. And furthermore, why transfer only part of the money and why wait until now to do it? He felt he was still missing some important part of the puzzle.
The journey through the airport went smoothly as they were among the few choosing to fly out at 6am on a Sunday. The plane itself was half empty, which provided the benefit of being able to have an entire row of seats to themselves so they could sleep undisturbed. They slept pretty much through the entire flight and woke up when the plane landed at YVR.
They got through immigration in good time and caught a taxi home. Nick was dropped off first and they said goodbye, a bit distractedly. Tim promised to keep Nick up to date on any developments and then parted ways. He got back to his own apartment shortly after and took a hot shower.
He accepted that there was no more he could do that day – James could be anywhere, his bank wasn’t open and no one had been forthcoming on answering any of his pressing questions. Instead, he decided to leave everything for Monday when he might be able to get some answers. In the mean time, he called Laura to see if she wanted to go see a movie.
She was up for a movie so they headed downtown and found a mindless Michael Cera blockbuster and had a good time laughing and hanging out. Tim was grateful for the opportunity to leave his thoughts behind for an evening and just enjoy a mildly entertaining movie with a good friend. The movie was fairly short so they decided to walk back from downtown, crossing over the Burrard street bridge. The sun had not yet fully set and the late summer air still held a bit of warmth. As they approached Kits from downtown they could see the lights from the legions of coffee shops supplementing the sun and moon.
They cut up Burrard to Broadway and walked west past the bars and pubs filled with those intent on making the most of the weekend. They stopped at a Blendz on the way back and rested for a bit. Tim ordered his usual latte while Laura insisted on green tea. Tim always found it remarkable that she had survived in the city for so long without developing a coffee habit like everyone else, but it was one of the quirks he found endearing in her personality. They chatted aimlessly about the city and the end of summer and the inevitable onset of the rainy season. Tim was quite content to be on vacation from what his life had become, even if only for the evening.
After a while, they took what remained of their drinks with them and continued the walk back along Broadway, passing by many familiar shops and restaurants several of which held memories of various kinds. The familiarity and comfort of being home surprised Tim a little. While he liked living in Vancouver, he always felt it to be a cold city, devoid of the warmth and life so evident in many other places. Yet on that particular evening, something about the combination of the summer wind, a good coffee and a great friend made him feel oddly nostalgic for a city he still lived in.
The sun had finally set and, as Laura had to work the next day and Tim had many other matters to attend to, they parted ways, each to their own place. Tim went to bed as soon as he got home and slept well until his alarm went off at 7. He relished in remembering that he didn’t have to go to work today or ever again if he didn’t want to. It took the sting off having to wake up on a Monday morning. He made a pot of coffee, turned on his computer and got to work.
He opened up his email and despite the usual messages that had built up when he was away, he still did not have any word from Tabitha. He did, however, have at least one piece of good news: the payment had gone through successfully for his car and it should be arriving later on that day. He smiled thinking about it, but tried not to let himself be distracted. None of the other emails were of any real importance for the moment, so he left them alone and moved on to other matters. He called up his bank in Hong Kong and as he suspected, the $20 million had been transferred to an account in Mexico under James’ authorization.
While there was nothing he could do about that, he did make a point of transferring the rest over to his Canadian account, even at the risk of losing some privacy; it would ensure that James couldn’t access it. He then tried to figure out his next move in locating James. Just in case, he tried calling both his office and cell number, but predictably there was no response. He called Matthew back at the number he had left, but he hadn’t heard anything either, at least that he was willing to admit to.
In the mean time, Tim decided to set up an appointment with a wealth advisor to manage the money that he had left. He wouldn’t have to divulge the source of his money and would have the high levels of privacy that the industry was built on. He would finally be able to sit down and figure out how to use the money rather than just have it sit in an account to be pilfered by lawyers. He thought back to Laura’s comments the previous week that seemed so long ago about how to prioritize spending.
Tim was comforted to know that, at least in the case of telling Nick, his knowledge hadn’t led to any request for money. Perhaps he had misjudged the effect of telling people, at least people close to him. He had seriously been considering telling Laura, but hadn’t quite decided if he was ready.
In the mean time, emails checked and phone calls made, he went out in search of some breakfast. He walked a ways up down Alma street to fourth avenue and eventually stumbled on a little café. He ordered a coffee while he looked at the menu, trying to decide what he felt like that morning. After considering for a while he finally settled on chocolate chip banana pancakes with a side of bacon.
The service was surprisingly quick and about 5 minutes after ordering, there was a heaping plate of pancakes, drizzled in melted butter and maple syrup in front of him. This would be a tasty breakfast. But before he had a sip of coffee dug into his meal, he heard the familiar melody of a ringing phone, his phone in particular. What kind of person would be so insensitive as to interrupt a man during breakfast, he wondered to himself as he reached into his pocket to pull it out.
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