“Roberto liked it that we’re not a charity. We call ourselves a distributor of resources. My organization doesn’t just give money away to the indigent. We fund schools, which teach people skills so they can work their way out of poverty. I don’t have any patience for anyone with their hands out. It really irks me when…”

Cross stopped speaking, raised a hand and laughed. “Like Roberto, I tend to lecture. Sorry. But I’m speaking from experience, speaking from getting my hands dirty on the job, speaking from knowing what it’s like to live in the trenches. I used to work in the shipping industry and one thing I noticed was that most people want to work hard. They want to improve themselves. But they can’t do it without a good education, and schools down there were basically shit, excuse me. I wanted to change it. That’s how I met Roberto. We were setting up an office in Mexico and he was in town speaking at some empowerment group for farmers. We kind of connected.” The big lips formed a wan smile. “Power to the people…It’s not a bad sentiment, I have to say. Roberto did his thing through microbusinesses; I do mine through education.”

Though he still seemed more like the owner of a button factory in the Fashion District or a personal injury lawyer than a foundation director.

“So you’re here about those drug assholes who killed him?” Cross barked. Chewed on his cigar ferociously for a moment then set it down on a glass ashtray in the shape of a maple leaf.

“We’re just getting information at this point,” Sachs said noncommittally. “We’re looking into his whereabouts on the recent trip to New York—when he met with you. Can you tell me where else he went in the city?”

“Some other nonprofits, he said, three or four of them. I know he needed an interpreter for some of them, if that helps.”

“Did he mention which ones?”

“No, he just came by to drop off a check and find out about some new projects we were putting together. He wanted something named after him. A classroom. Not a whole school. See, that was Roberto. He was realistic. He donated X amount of money, not a zillion dollars, so he knew he wouldn’t have a whole school named after him. He was happy with a classroom. Modest guy, you know what I’m saying? But he wanted some recognition.”

“Did he seem worried about his safety?”