“It would have to be more than adventure. I turned down a job on a gold dredge in Alaska. I’d have gotten a good share but I wanted to stay home for a while.”
“How much money?” asked Roland.
“It’s negotiable. But I can tell you this right now, that any money would be tax free.”
“So the CIA is not paying the bills?”
“No. But they sure a hell want to keep track of what’s going on.”
“OK. But where do the checks come from?”
“All I can tell you now is Houston”
“So it’s oil money. I guess their checks will clear the bank.”
“So how are you connected with all this, Mike?” Roland asked.
“Remember the Chinese in Cho Lon?”
“How could I forget.” I said. “Them and their roulette wheels still owe me. I paid them off in MPC one time and the next day was money change day and they came after DB to collect in piasters. Of course I had to pay DB back. Bastards. A deal’s a deal. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Well, here’s a chance to get it back.”
“Again, How are you connected with all this Angola stuff?” Roland pressed him.
“I consigned shipments for them with a Vietnamese shipping company. The owner was one of the Saigon elite that I made it my business to know, a Frenchman who wasn’t too loyal to the Thieu Regime.”
“The Cho Lon Chinese.”
“What kind of shipments?” asked Roland.
“Oh, helicopter parts, rifle magazines, that kind of stuff. The manifests weren’t always accurate.”
“No drugs. That couldn’t ship out of Saigon. That was Thieu’s business. Way too much heat.”
“ I wouldn’t think that Army CID was cruising the docks and checking manifests.”
“The Cowboys? The Mayor’s cops?”
“They worked for Thieu too.”