From thirty-thousand feet the east end of Cuba was a green finger poking into a blue-eyed dream. A passing stewardess asked the passenger in seat 1-A, if he needed anything. He signaled for her to wait a few seconds, then decided almost everything in his world was perfect, which was more than most everyone on the 747 could say, so he shook his head and returned his gaze onto the ocean below.
After so many years of dissolute behavior Lukas Von Hausen knew plenty of the wrong people in the right places. An old Swiss friend in the Caymans had bounced the wire transfer to an affiliate bank in Jersey, then to its final destination in back in the Caymans, thus creating a double veil of secrecy even Interpol could not pierce.
Lukas could live very comfortably with the nearly five million dollars in the Caymans bank earning 11% interest if he was only interested in retirement, instead the money was enough to finance one film in Hollywood, five in Germany, ten in France, and hundreds in India or New York on 8mm.
His wastrel years might have been viewed with regret, except they would be the foundation for all the scripts in the years to come. He would remake his life in films, only this time everything would work out. Resting in the wide seat in first-class, Lukas reflected on how well this scheme had gone, especially, since the loose ends were snipped off.
SS Tommy had shipped his wife off to the Middle East. Some sheik would be very happy with her. Lukas would return to Hamburg and the police would investigate her disappearance. A phone call and ransom note indicated a kidnapping and he would play the sorrowful husband for them and the newspapers,
Some might suspect foul play on his part, but he had been out of town on business, plus everyone would fall for his role of the tragic husband. Maybe not that policeman, Alex Brucken, but he had nothing on Lukas.
Nothing concrete.
He was a wronged husband.
There was no crime in that.
Kurt was the most trouble, once he connected Vanessa's disappearance with Lukas' trip to the Caymans. Sadly tears solved nothing. He was helpless with Cali out of the picture, so that left only SS Tommy. The pimp would not see his end of the money in this world or the next.
Lukas asked the stewardess on her next round to bring him a split of champagne. He had lots of reasons to celebrate. He had money. He had rescued his family name from oblivion. Cali and Kurt were out of the picture, so were the American and his wife. Petra was his again. In his mind he saw his entire future.
All that was remained was the living of it.
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