I got to the big city, took
a city bus to college and settled in. I
got a room in a dorm. I started
classes. I very quickly found that the
high school classes that I had taken were totally inadequate. As a result, my world consisted pretty much
of get up in the morning, get breakfast at the training table, go to class, get
lunch at the training table, study in the library, workout with the wrestling
team, get supper in the cafeteria, study in the library, go back and sleep in
the dorm. (I was a member of the
wrestling team, which let me save on meals, because of the training table, and
even paid a bit of my college costs.
Between my scholarship and my wrestling benefits, I was nearly self
supporting. I did need a bit of money
from my father, but not a lot.) There
were no classes on Saturdays or Sundays, so it was just study, except that I
had to do my washing at the Student Center Saturdays, or Sundays, if we had a
wrestling match on Saturday.
I finally began to catch up
with my studies and I had a bit of free time.
I used the computers in the library to track down the mysterious address
in the note that my father gave me. I
recalled that Don Jose had mentioned something about Tijuana, the Mexican
border town. I found that there was
indeed an address in Tijuana that matched the address in the note. I also found that the address was that of a
Mexican Bank. If the address and the
mysterious number were related, the number was probably an account number for
the Mexican bank.
I was finishing up my freshman
year in college, when I got a largish check from my father and a note saying,
“This is probably the last one. Don't
call me, hide the money. An address in
the note is for Don Jose.”
I was shocked. I suspected that the old man was in really
big trouble. I finished my last final
and took a bus down to the border and then a Mexican bus into Tijuana. I got to the bank at the address in the note. I walked in and asked to speak with Don
Jose. The lady that I first talked with
was very cool to me.
The lady then walked
somewhere in the back of the bank. She
then returned, all smiles and 'Right this way, for Don Jose!”
I find myself in a fancy
sort of office with the Don Jose that I once toured Hidden Bay with.
Don Jose says,
“Bienvenidos, welcome, what can I do for you?”
I tell Don Jose, “I
received a very mysterious note from my father.
He had earlier given me an address, the address of this bank. The last note contained a check and said that
it was probably the last one. He told me
not to call him and that the earlier address was your address. I suspect that my father is in some sort of
trouble. I tried to contact him and the
phone doesn't work.”
Don Jose gets very serious,
“Your father was involved in some very dangerous things. He was performing some money laundering
services for people who were importing certain products from Mexico into the
United States. He was also involved in
investments for some of the same people.
Your father was making a lot of money, but he was risking his life. Your FBI found him. Unfortunately, some of the Mexican people
found him first. Your father is dead.”
I'm stunned. “You mean that they just killed him, over
money?”
Don Jose says, “I don't
know exactly why they killed him. He was
involved in so many dangerous things.
Eventually the dangerous things caught up with him. I just got word of the murder yesterday. The Mexicans are also looking for his son,
Kenneth Smith.”
(My mother's name was
Smith. She married my father, John
Lee. My full legal name is Jed Palmer
Lee. My parents divorced when I was just
a baby. My mother had custody of me and
she always called me Kenneth Smith, maybe because she, by then, hated John Lee. All of my early records are under the name
Kenneth Smith, however, that's not my legal name. Maybe the name thing is why I'm still alive.)
I tell Don Jose, “My mother
had a son, Kenneth Smith. She and my
father divorced. She moved away, to the
town in the southern US, where she was born.
She later died in an auto accident.
I believe that Kenneth Smith is also dead.”
Don Jose says, “That would
explain why the Mexicans failed to find him.
Ah well, it's now time to talk of money.”
I tell Don Jose, “I'm a
college student. I just finished my
first year. At least, I finished my
first year if I passed all of my final exams.
I'm confident, but I'm still waiting for the results of my last two
finals. However, if my father is dead, I
won't have enough money to finish school.”
Don Jose laughs, “Your
father has an account with my bank. In
addition, he also has an account with a stock broker, here in Tijuana. We, my bank and the stock broker, worked back
and forth with your late father's financial affairs. Your father had substantial funds. We were moving the funds from secret
accounts, here in Tijuana, to open accounts in the US, with taxes paid. The transactions were very complicated and
were designed to minimize the US taxes due.”
“Then, there will be enough
money available for me to finish my college degree?”
Don Jose again laughs, “In
round numbers, you currently have access to 5.6 million United States
dollars. If you can wait for a year, we
will have completed the transfer of perhaps another 600,000 United States
dollars, on an after tax basis.
Currently, your father's, now your, investment account is returning a
bit more than a projected 20% for the year.
There will be more than enough money for you to finish college.”
My mind reels at the
amounts of money. However, I can feel
the cold grip of fear. “Don Jose, my
father raised me in an environment of little money. We lived a maybe lower middle class
existence. My father did send me a
little money, while I was at college.
However, the money that my father sent and the food that I get as a
member of the college wresting team just enable me to get by. Given the circumstances of my father's death,
I would think that it would be to my advantage to live low for a bit.”
Don Jose thinks over what I
have said and says, “That would seem a wise course. No one is going to bother a poor college
student about money. By the time you
graduate, there should be no problem, so long as you don't try to live a really
flashy existence.”
“You tell me that I
currently have access to some 5.6 million US dollars. What I would plan to do is to have the brokerage,
that currently handles the money, send me a check each month. The check would be enough to maintain a
college student, maybe just a bit further away from the ragged edge, however,
not enough that anyone should notice.”
Don Jose nods and says, “I
can give you a letter of introduction to the stock broker. I will, of course, also call and talk with
the broker, to set things up.”
“You are being very
kind. I hesitate to mention it, but it
would seem that the less contact that I have with Mexico would be good, at
least at the current time.”
Don Jose smiles and says,
“Yes, I understand. I have a working
relationship with a senior partner at the United States brokerage firm. He is a trustworthy individual and he and
I can handle the final money transfers.
You need not be involved.”
“Thank you, Don Jose. I'm taking business courses at school. I will want to get a little involved with the
investments, to learn a little as I finish school. If I get a check each month and my brokerage
statements, I can learn a bit and perhaps begin to manage a little of my
money.”
Don Jose says, “What you
plan seems to be a wise course. Follow
your plan and you should do well. By the
way, how did you get here?”
“I took a bus to the border
crossing at San Ysidro and then a local bus to within walking distance.”
Don Jose smiles and says,
“That sort of itinerary will attract no attention. That's good.
My secretary will give you the name and address of the man you need to
talk to, back in the United States. She
will also give you $500, in cash, for incidental expenses and my private phone
number, for use in emergencies only.”
I then wrap up with Don
Jose, get information and $500 from his Secretary and then start my trip back.
As I ride back to towards
school, I think things over. My father
was into some very dangerous, very lucrative things. Someone, probably the people he dealt with
killed him. The only reason that I can
come up with is that they killed him over money. I now have the money. However, I doubt that anyone involved with
the killing knows that I have the money.
I had better keep it that way.
I stop, on the way back,
and talk with the stock broker who's handling the money that once was my
father's and is now mine. I get the idea
that the stock broker is an honorable type and will look out for my best
interest. I tell the man that I want a
check each month and a summary of my holdings, also each month.
The broker then talks with
me a bit and finds out that I want less money each month than he thinks that
I'll need.
I point out to the man that
I get free food and even some of my college expenses paid, since I'm a wrestler
on the college team.
Okay, we set up a check and
statement mailing for each month. Since
the man now knows me, I can change the amount of the check by just calling and
using my account number and a password.
We then finish up.
I find that I can take city
buses back to school, as I'm not all that far away. As I ride, I think of the men who killed my
father. At some point in time, I'll try
to settle accounts. For right now, all I
can really do is just stay in hiding.
When I get back to the
dorm, I have a phone message from Adele Baker.
Adele Baker is the Hidden
Bay 'real estate lady.' Adele apparently
has enough to live on without the real estate money, but she does handle the
infrequent real estate transactions in Hidden Bay.
I return Adele's call and
pretend to be shocked when she tells me that my father is dead. I ask the lady, “What happened to my father?”
Adele tells me, “Someone shot
him.