to be careful.
“You live around here?” asked Puller in English.
The boy nodded. “
Sí
.” He pointed to his left. “
Mi casa
.”
“What’s your name?”
“Diego.”
“Okay, Diego, I’m Puller.” They shook hands. “You know Paradise really well?”
Diego nodded. “Very good. I live here all the time.”
“You live with your mom and dad.”
He shook his head. “
Mi abuela
.”
So his grandmother was raising him, thought Puller.
“You want to earn some money?”
Diego nodded so vigorously that his soft brown curls bounced up and down. “
Sí. Me gusta el dinero
.”
Puller handed him a five-dollar bill and then took out his cell phone. He showed him the picture of the Chrysler.
“Keep an eye out for this car,” he said. “Don’t go near it, don’t talk to the people in it, don’t let them see you watching, but get the rest of the license plate for me if you can, and what the people inside look like.
Entiendes
?”
“
Sí
.”
Puller held out his hand for the boy to shake. He did so. Puller noticed the ring on the boy’s finger. It was silver with a lion’s head engraved on it.
“Nice ring.”
“
Mi padre
gave it to me.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Diego.”
“But how will I find you?” asked Diego.
“You won’t have to. I’ll find you.”
19
T HE HOME WAS one of the largest on the Emerald Coast, ten acres on prime waterfront on its own point with sweeping views of the Gulf across an infinite horizon. Its total cost was far more than a thousand middle-class folks collectively would earn in a year.
He pushed lawnmowers and hefted bags of yard debris and loaded them onto trucks parked in the service area behind the mansion. The landscape trucks were not allowed to come through the front entrance with its fine cobblestone drive. They were relegated to the asphalt in the rear.
There were two pools in the rear grounds, one an infinity pool and the other an Olympic-sized oval. The grandeur of the grounds was matched only by the beauty of the interior of the thirty-five-thousand-square-foot home with an additional twenty thousand square feet in various other buildings, including a pool house, guesthouse, gymnasium, theater, and security quarters.
He had seen one of the indoor maids venture outside to receive a package from a FedEx driver, who also was relegated to the service entrance. She was a Latina dressed in an old-fashioned maid’s uniform complete with white apron and black cap. Her body was slim but curvy. Her face was pretty. Her hair was dark and luxurious-looking.
At the end of the dock that ran straight out into the Gulf was a 250-foot yacht with a chopper resting on top of an aft helipad.
He labored hard, the sweat running down his back and into his eyes. While other workers stopped for water or shade breaks he continued to push on. Yet his tasks had a purpose. They allowed him to circumnavigate the grounds. In his mind he placed all ofthe buildings onto a chessboard, moving pieces in accordance with various scenarios.
What he focused on most of all was the deployment of the security forces. There were six on duty during the day. All seemed professional, worked as a team, were well armed, observant, and loyal to their employer. In sum, there didn’t seem to be many weaknesses.
He assumed there were at least a fresh half dozen deployed at night and maybe more, since the darkness was a more apt time for an attack.
He drew near enough to the main gate coming in to see the alarm pad and surveillance camera mounted there. The gates were wrought iron and massive. They looked like the ones in front of the White House main entrance. The walls surrounding the front of the estate were stucco and over six feet high. The homeowner obviously wanted privacy.
He dropped to one knee and was performing some pruning tasks around a mound of bushes when he saw a Maserati convertible pull up to the gate. Inside were a man and a woman. They were both in their early thirties and
“You live around here?” asked Puller in English.
The boy nodded. “
Sí
.” He pointed to his left. “
Mi casa
.”
“What’s your name?”
“Diego.”
“Okay, Diego, I’m Puller.” They shook hands. “You know Paradise really well?”
Diego nodded. “Very good. I live here all the time.”
“You live with your mom and dad.”
He shook his head. “
Mi abuela
.”
So his grandmother was raising him, thought Puller.
“You want to earn some money?”
Diego nodded so vigorously that his soft brown curls bounced up and down. “
Sí. Me gusta el dinero
.”
Puller handed him a five-dollar bill and then took out his cell phone. He showed him the picture of the Chrysler.
“Keep an eye out for this car,” he said. “Don’t go near it, don’t talk to the people in it, don’t let them see you watching, but get the rest of the license plate for me if you can, and what the people inside look like.
Entiendes
?”
“
Sí
.”
Puller held out his hand for the boy to shake. He did so. Puller noticed the ring on the boy’s finger. It was silver with a lion’s head engraved on it.
“Nice ring.”
“
Mi padre
gave it to me.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Diego.”
“But how will I find you?” asked Diego.
“You won’t have to. I’ll find you.”
19
T HE HOME WAS one of the largest on the Emerald Coast, ten acres on prime waterfront on its own point with sweeping views of the Gulf across an infinite horizon. Its total cost was far more than a thousand middle-class folks collectively would earn in a year.
He pushed lawnmowers and hefted bags of yard debris and loaded them onto trucks parked in the service area behind the mansion. The landscape trucks were not allowed to come through the front entrance with its fine cobblestone drive. They were relegated to the asphalt in the rear.
There were two pools in the rear grounds, one an infinity pool and the other an Olympic-sized oval. The grandeur of the grounds was matched only by the beauty of the interior of the thirty-five-thousand-square-foot home with an additional twenty thousand square feet in various other buildings, including a pool house, guesthouse, gymnasium, theater, and security quarters.
He had seen one of the indoor maids venture outside to receive a package from a FedEx driver, who also was relegated to the service entrance. She was a Latina dressed in an old-fashioned maid’s uniform complete with white apron and black cap. Her body was slim but curvy. Her face was pretty. Her hair was dark and luxurious-looking.
At the end of the dock that ran straight out into the Gulf was a 250-foot yacht with a chopper resting on top of an aft helipad.
He labored hard, the sweat running down his back and into his eyes. While other workers stopped for water or shade breaks he continued to push on. Yet his tasks had a purpose. They allowed him to circumnavigate the grounds. In his mind he placed all ofthe buildings onto a chessboard, moving pieces in accordance with various scenarios.
What he focused on most of all was the deployment of the security forces. There were six on duty during the day. All seemed professional, worked as a team, were well armed, observant, and loyal to their employer. In sum, there didn’t seem to be many weaknesses.
He assumed there were at least a fresh half dozen deployed at night and maybe more, since the darkness was a more apt time for an attack.
He drew near enough to the main gate coming in to see the alarm pad and surveillance camera mounted there. The gates were wrought iron and massive. They looked like the ones in front of the White House main entrance. The walls surrounding the front of the estate were stucco and over six feet high. The homeowner obviously wanted privacy.
He dropped to one knee and was performing some pruning tasks around a mound of bushes when he saw a Maserati convertible pull up to the gate. Inside were a man and a woman. They were both in their early thirties and
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