A Short Visit With Franks
The next morning, Trace had breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. He checked out at the front desk and paid his bill. He caught a cab to the prison and paid the driver to wait.
Soon, he sat alone in the prison’s visiting room. The door opened, and Franks’s came in and sat across from him.
“It’s good to see you,” Franks said.
“And you as well,” Trace replied.
“Everything is in motion,” Franks said.
“You work fast,” Trace said.
“Things need a couple of days to brew and simmer,” Franks said. “Deals and relationships have to move quickly. One never knows when they’ll end up in the hoosegow.” Franks grinned and surveyed his surroundings. “We can’t take time to judge a man’s character or his credit report. The way we do our business, if ya don’t pay, you’re in the hospital or worse.” He chuckled.
“And that’s why you don’t want your son wrapped up in all this?” Trace asked.
“Exactly,” Franks said. “I started out in collections. You’re waiting for calls. I’m not a muscle guy, as you can tell. But I had my ways, and I hired a couple of brutes. Next thing ya know, the guys who I worked for owed me. And I built on that.”
Trace leaned back in his chair. He wondered why Franks was telling him these things. He thought that even though he seemed to have had a change of heart, at the same time, he felt Franks was sending a warning.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Franks said.
“I never understood why one man would want to hurt another,” Trace said. “I know there are circumstances, but to make a living at it, it baffles me.”
“It’s all around us,” Franks said. “And I thought, why not cash in on it. My casino, people come in there and lose everything. A farmer has a bad year or two, and the bank takes all his land. The banker borrows from the bank, depositors. Because he’s the banker, he gets a good rate of interest. He rents the land back to the farmer. That’s just one way. And that’s in the legitimate world. I don’t know, which is best, my way or your way?”
“It’s a compelling argument,” Trace said, “but not a moral one.”
“Let’s back away from ethics and deal with reality, if you don’t mind,” Franks said.
Trace sensed Franks becoming uncomfortable. An unusual position for Franks.
“What am I to expect when I get back to Port Vila?” Trace asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” Franks said.
“How do these types of things usually run?” Trace asked.
“There’s no playbook, if that’s what you're asking,” Franks said. “You learn what’s expected. It’s like being in a family.”
“A very bad family,” Trace added.
“Indeed,” Franks agreed, “but that’s how things work.”
“What about me?” Trace said. “I’m unfamiliar with the ways of your world.”
“It’s not my world anymore,” Franks said sharply.
Trace noted every muscle in Franks’ face; every eye blink, curve of the mouth, a movement of the eyebrow, the slightest twitch of any muscle. He hated to feel suspicious, but he knew it was instinctive. Franks would be watching the same thing. Trace felt he had one thing on his side; Texans play poker and they make deals on horses, hides, water, wells, land, loot, cattle, crops, canine’s and cash.
Franks puckered his lips. “You’ll do fine. Just deal like you already know what you want. Nobody will know how to read you.”
“What about you?” Trace asked. “Do you know how to read me?“
“I know a good man when I see one,” Franks said.
“I’ll take care of your son,” Trace said.
“I put him in your hands,” Franks said.
“He’s more than what you think he is,” Trace said.
“Coming from you, that means a lot.”
Trace stood.
Franks looked up at him, surprised that he wasn’t going to stay longer.
“That’s it?” Franks said.
“You got anything more?” Trace asked.
“I guess not,” Franks replied.
“I have a plane to catch,” Trace said.
Franks stood and shook Trace’s hand. “Have a safe flight.”
Trace nodded.
A guard opened the door, and Franks walked out. The door on the other side of the visiting room opened, and Trace walked out.
Trace walked out of the prison. The cab pulled up, and he climbed in.
“Where to?” The driver said.
“The airport in Nadi,” Trace said.
The driver hesitated.
Trace handed him three hundred dollars.
“It will take over three hours,” the driver said.
“Trace looked at his watch. “My plane doesn’t leave for another five.”
The cab pulled away. Trace glanced out the rear window. He was being followed.
“Do you want me to lose them?” The driver said.
“They already know where I’m going,” Trace said.
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