He had a feeling his little scam was about to crash into ruin. But he couldn’t be too evasive… not with Ramirez in earshot.

“May I ask who—?”

He saw the man stiffen as he looked over Jack’s shoulder.

“Mr. Ramirez,” the Oriental said.

Jack turned. Ramirez was standing in the front hall, staring at the newcomer.

“Hello… Sung.”

The scene had a surreal deja vu feel to it, like Jerry and Newman meeting in a Third World Seinfeld.

When Jack turned back to the Oriental, he saw that the man had slipped into the front hall.

“I wish to see the property,” he said.

This was bad—bad because Jack had no contingency for a third player. The new guy wasn’t simply a wild card, he was a wild card who knew Ramirez.

“I’m sorry, Mr… Sung, is it? This is by appointment only.”

“But I tried to get an appointment. I called three times but no one called back.”

“Really?” Jack said slowly, knowing Ramirez was listening. “That’s strange. I never got your messages. Perhaps the answering machine isn’t working properly.” He snapped his fingers as if he’d just had an epiphany. “That’s why the response has been so poor! The machine’s on the fritz.”

“Perhaps,” said Sung. “I decided to come over to see if anyone was here.”

“And now you have seen,” Ramirez said. “I am here, so now you can go.”

No love lost between these two, Jack thought. And was that a hint of anxiety in Ramirez’s cold dark eyes? Obviously they both had offices in the same building—that was the only way Sung could have seen the flyer.

And maybe they’d butted heads before in a real estate deal.

It hit Jack then that maybe he could stick this wild card in his own hand and play him against Ramirez.

“I’m glad you did, Mr. Sung. Mr. Ramirez was just leaving, so I’ll be free to—”

“Wait one minute,” Ramirez said. “I made an offer and it was accepted. We have a deal.”

“But you said you never leave a cash deposit.”

“I said that I never have. I did not say that I never will.” He pointed back to the sitting room. “Come. We will talk.”

Sung folded his arms across his chest. “I will wait.”

Jack stepped back into the makeshift office with Ramirez and closed the door behind them.

“I will give you a check,” Ramirez said.

Gotcha, Jack thought.

Now he could play hard to get.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Mr. Gates stated that it must be cash.”

“But I do not carry that sort of money with me. No one does. Why does he want it to be cash?”