“We white goddesses see all and know all.” She laughed when she saw the puzzlement deepen even more. “I'm a poor host, teasing my guests.”

She smiled and clapped her hands lightly. The Trouts were in for another surprise. The beaded curtains behind the throne parted with a rustle, and Dieter's wife, Tessa, stepped out.

NUMA 2 - Blue Gold

CHAPTER 15

The law office of Francis Xavier Hanley was on the twelfth floor of a blue glass tower that looked out onto San Diego Harbor. Austin and Zavala stepped from the elevator into the office lobby and gave the attractive young receptionist their names. She punched a button on her intercom and after a murmured conversation smiled brightly and told them to go right in. A ruddy-faced man with the body of a night club bouncer gone to flab greeted them at the door. He introduced himself as Hanley and ushered them to a pair of Empire-style chairs. Settling his bulk behind a large mahogany desk, he leaned back in his plush swivel chair, tented his fingertips, and contemplated the two men like a wolf drooling over a pair of staked goats.

After crossing back from Tijuana, Austin had called Hanley's office and asked for an appointment. He spread his story on as thick as peanut butter, saying he and his partner “had made a few mil” in the market and wanted a place to spend it. They got an immediate meeting. The predatory gleam in the lawyer's pale green eyes suggested that the bait had done its job well. He looked from one man to the other. “I believe in getting right down to business,” he purred. “You said on the phone that you're interested in foreign investment.”

“We're primarily interested in Mexico,” Zavala explained.

The attorney wore an expensive sharkskin gray suit and had enough gold and diamonds on his fleshy hands to sink the Titanic. All the tailors in the world couldn't hide the brawler's body, and no amount of jewelry could have obscured the coarseness ingrained in his every word and move. The NUMA men were dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and windbreakers. It was a studied casualness. In California, the only ones who look like millionaires are those who aren't.

Hanley took in Zavala's Latin American looks. “You've come to the right place,” he said expansively. He smiled in an attempt to exert charm, but the V-shaped mouth in the fleshy face made him look like a fat vulture. “Did you have a specific area in mind?”

“We like tortillas,” Austin said with a straight face.

A look of incomprehension appeared on Hanley's florid features. “Pardon me,” he said, not certain he had heard correctly.

“You know, tortillas,” Austin said, making a circular motion with his finger. “We hear it's a fast-growing business.”

Recovering nicely, Hanley replied, “And so it is. A booming sector in the expanding food services area.”

Austin had the feeling that the answer would have been the same had they told Hanley they were interested in making mud pies. He and Zavala had decided to use the direct approach that had worked so well in drawing a strong reaction from Pedralez.