“An offer you couldn't refuse.”

“Of course. But I was cautious. Everyone in California has a get-rich scheme. He knew about my ties to Enrico. So I had to make sure this guy wasn't working in an official capacity. I had a private detective check him out. He was legit.”

Austin smiled faintly at the irony of a crooked lawyer worrying about honesty. “What did he hire you to do?”

“The people he represented wanted to find land in the Baja. It had to be remote and on the coast. Then he wanted me to handle the paperwork and red tape involved in starting a business in Mexico.”

“Baja Tortillas.”

“Yes. He wanted a Mexican to hold the actual ownership for the plant. He said it would be easier that way. It would be a turnkey operation. He supplied the plant specifications and brought in a construction crew. His clients would require access to the plant after it was built, but they would not interfere in the operation. They said Enrico could keep half the profits, and the plant would be his free and clear after five years.”

“Did you ever wonder why anyone would be so generous with what must have been a considerable investment?”

“I am paid substantially because I don't ask questions like that.”

“Seems your friends wanted a cover operation,” Zavala said.

“That certainly crossed my mind. The Japanese ran into all sorts of flak when they tried to build a salt-producing plant along the coast. A bunch of whale huggers made a big stink with the Mexican government. I assumed the man's clients saw what had happened with the Japanese and didn't want to go through the same headaches.”

“Who was this broker?”

“His name was Jones. Oh yes, that's his real name,” Hanley added when he saw the skeptical glances. “He's a matchmaker who specializes in buying and selling businesses.”

“Who was he representing?”

“He never told me.”

Austin leaned forward onto Hanley's desk. “Don't jerk us around, Mr. Hanley. You're a careful man. You would have had your private detective poke into this guy.”

Hanley shrugged. “Why deny it? The clients tried to hide their identity behind a web of corporate paper.”

“You said tried. Who are they?”

“I only got as far as an outfit called the Mulholland Group. It's a closed corporation with ties to companies involved in large-scale hydraulic projects.”

“What else?”

“That's all I know.” Hanley checked his Cartier wrist watch. “If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with a real client.”

“We want the broker's address and phone number.”

“It won't do you any good. He died a few weeks ago. His car went off a mountain road.”

Austin had been gazing through the floor-to-ceiling window behind Hanley at a helicopter going back and forth across the harbor. It was moving closer with each pass. At the mention of unusual death, he brought his full attention back to Hanley.

“We'd like whatever information you have on him anyway. And your whole file as well.”