Double Doublecross (20 page)

“Well, what did he say when he saw it?”

“He was surprised. He counted it and was even more surprised. He suggested that we turn it in and find the real owner.”

“Whatever you do, don't hand it over to anyone. Let me think for a bit.”

Carl was silent for a minute or two. Then he came to life.

“Here's what you do. Tell him you've noticed that all the bills are unmarked legal currency—that's the truth. None of the bills are new and they're not sequenced. They can't be traced. Convince him to keep the money—and I'll think of a way to get it back.”

“I know he's strapped for cash and in a cash flow dilemma.”

“Good. Convince him to use some of it to get himself out of trouble. What's a few thousand when we're talking about
millions
.”

“What's the point of that? He'll use a few thousand and then hand it in to the authorities.”

“What
authorities
? As soon as he does, the cat's out of the bag for him.”

“What do you mean? How can he get hurt by doing that?”

“The cartel will get wind of it through the media. You know how they are for spreading the
good word
to the public. Rick would be snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.”

Sara shuddered at the thought of Rick being harmed. He may have his problems when it came to money, but he wouldn't hurt a fly.

“Okay, I'll do my best. I'll keep in touch to let you know the progress I'm making. For goodness sake—answer your
phone or call me back as fast as you can when I call! I could be in a hole and need help.”

“Any other orders?” Carl retorted sarcastically.

“No rough stuff. Rick Jacobs is no powder puff. He's an ex-Marine and can probably handle himself very well.”

“Fine, now get to work,” he said breaking off.

Sara made her way to the small gift shop in the hotel. ‘Lucky for me it's still open,' she thought.

“We're just closing up ma'am,” a voice behind the counter said.

“I won't be a minute. I forgot my toilet bag and need a few things.”

“That always happens. I'll start closing up. Don't be too long.”

Sara picked up a toothbrush, toothpaste, skin cream, sun block lotion and a box of Tylenol.

Without hurrying, she went to the elevator and pushed the button for her floor. She wasn't feeling too comfortable about this whole set of new circumstances. Rick was bound to want to discuss the problem of the money as soon as she entered the room. Tentatively, she opened the door.

Rick was sitting on the bed looking at the heap of bills next to him.

“These are not new bills and they're not sequenced. I think they've been stolen, but not from a bank. Could be a gamblers stash. It could be money from some illegal activity. Whoever lost it will be looking for it—and they'll be asking the people at the desk if a bag like this one has been handed in.”

“What do you think happened?” Sara said.

“It must have happened in the hotel because I remember the luggage being altogether near the elevator for the busboy
to take to our room. So somewhere between the elevator and our room the identical bags must have been switched. It's a common bag and the switch—must have been a complete accident.”

“So, what do you think we should do?” Sara said nervously.

“I don't know yet.”

“What shall we do now?”

“I'm not sure. We really have to think of something pretty fast,” he said thoughtfully.

“It can wait until morning. Let's get to bed,” she said in an enticing whisper. “We can't do anything tonight. Tomorrow we'll be able to think more clearly. Let's discuss it over breakfast.”

“You're right of course,” he said, leaning across the bed to kiss her.

Sara surprised herself by responding to his kiss with fiery passion. For an hour they made love before falling asleep in each other's arms.

S
ara awoke finding Rick showered, shaved and fully dressed, but not for skiing. She looked at the bedside clock. It was eight-fifteen.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Rick asked.

“I'm not ready for the restaurant. I have to shower and get ready.”

“We'll use room service. What would you like?”

“Some fruit, toast and coffee would be fine.”

Rick picked up the phone and asked for room service.

“How long will they be with the breakfast?” Sara asked.

“About fifteen minutes. Better get dressed. We have a lot to talk about.”

Sara recalled the previous evening's events. The money had to be discussed at great length, and she had to call Carl to let him know the result of their decision. She knew she had to manipulate Rick into keeping the money and not hand it over to the authorities, whoever they might be—maybe the police or even the FBI.

She finished getting dressed just as the breakfast arrived. Rick prepared the table and they both sat down silently
opposite each other. Rick was first to break the ice.

“I've been thinking about the money while you were asleep this morning.”

“So, what have you come up with?” Sara asked cautiously. “Well, we have several options. First, we can hand it over to the cops and tell them we found it. Second, we can hang on to it and ask the desk if they've had any inquiries about a bag like yours. Or third, we can hang onto it and try to find the owner ourselves. It's obvious the money is hot and untraceable. We could be in for a shit-load of trouble anyway you look at it.”

“So, it's only those three choices?”

“Can you think of any other choice? I can't.”

“I wish we'd never found it,” Sara said in a meek voice.

“Well we have—so what should we do?”

Sara looked at him. She rattled her brain but could think of no other alternative.

“I like the third option best. Let's see if anybody asks about it in the hotel. If they really want the money, they'll try there first. After all, that's where the mistake was made.”

“Okay. What do we do next?”

“I have to buy some more underwear and replace a few odds and ends that were lost in my case,” she lied. “I won't be more than an hour or two. Is that alright with you?”

“I understand,” he said. “Take as long as you like. I'll stay with the money. We can't leave it alone in the room with the maid service coming.”

Sara nodded. Now she had an excuse to call Carl and explain what they had decided to do. At least Rick had chosen not to hand the money over to law enforcement. Carl should be pleased about that. She moved to a secluded spot in the hotel lobby and dialed the coded sequence. Carl called back
within a few minutes.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“In the hotel lobby.”

“Can you talk?”

“Of course I can. The point is—can you?” she retorted.

“Yeah! Yeah! But make it quick.”

“He's not going to hand the cash over to anyone just yet. He's going to keep it in a safe place until we decide what to do.”

“That's a relief. Do you know where he's going to keep it?”

“We haven't discussed that yet. Christ, I don't want to get shot because of this!” she spat out angrily.

“You and me both.”

“Will you
ever
be able to drop your tail?” Sara said.

“I don't know. I might ask Phil Speed for some help.”

Sara was silent for a moment. She had forgotten about Phil and realized at some time or other she would have to call him. She knew his room would be bugged too.

“Isn't his room bugged? Isn't he being tailed too?”

“Yes, but we must find a way to drop them. I'll call him later today.”

“Will you tell him about the money?” she said tentatively.

“I don't think so. He might do something rash and blow the whole thing. But we can discuss how to get rid of the tails.”

“Okay! I'll keep you posted on the situation. Bye for now.”

Carl sat in his room after talking to Sara and picked up the phone to call Phil Speed.

“Speed here,” an irate voice said.

“Hi, Phil. It's me, Carl. I'm as bored as hell. How about lunch?”

“Suits me. I'm bored as hell too. I think we're being punished for something some asshole has done. What do you think?”

“No doubt about it,” he said for the benefit of the hidden bugs. “I could do with some work—maybe just a couple of carries, but they don't seem to trust us.”

“That's obvious, pal. I'd like to get my hands on the creepy little shithead who's causing all this trouble.”

“Yeah, so would I,” lied Carl.

The tone of Phil's voice made him feel threatened. He couldn't mention the fact that it was himself who was the perpetrator, at least not yet, especially under the current watchfulness of the cartel.

“Is eleven-thirty okay with you?” Carl asked.

“That'll be fine. I'll put on a clean shirt for you,” Phil joked. “See you later at the Buttercup.”

Carl put the phone down. It was time to plant a few hints to the organization that they wanted work and could be trusted. They had only done one carry since the robbery, and Carl believed that was a test.

He would talk to Phil about it at lunch while the tails looked on. ‘I hope they like Chinese food,' thought Carl with a grin on his face, ‘tough luck if they don't.'

Carl slipped on a coat, went down to his car and drove out of the complex followed by his shadow.

Rick Jacobs looked once more at the bag of money and knew he had to find a safer place for it. One thing was for certain, he didn't want to be close to it right now. He had to
find a safer place other than the hotel room or the car.

Sara had gone shopping and he guessed she would not be back for an hour or two. Picking up the bag, he went to the Land Rover and sat for a few moments in deep thought. He had a glimmer of an idea of how to hide the money but it would take some time, maybe an hour or two.

Rick pulled up at a storage rental place just about a mile outside of Lake Tahoe on the south side. He looked up at the sign—
Storage units for rent by the month
.
Personal security access
.

Rick went inside the small office.

“How much is it for a single unit?” Rick asked.

“Hundred dollars a month,” the old man behind the counter said. “It's cheaper for six months or more.”

“One month will be fine at the moment. What about security, how does it work?”

“Use a personal pin number. Just enter it at the gate and it will open automatically. I'll show you how to select your I.D. and I'll give you a key for your unit.”

“Looks good, real secure. Are there lights in the units?”

“Yep!” the old man said. “Your unit number is twenty-two. Here's the key. I'll need a hundred dollars deposit and a hundred in advance.”

Rick pulled out his checkbook and driver's license and wrote a check for the old man.

“Thanks,” he said. “Here's the instructions for selecting your PIN. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Rick drove to a mailbox store and purchased ten shoebox-type containers. He went on to the storage unit complex, created a PIN number and entered through the large gate. Looking for unit number twenty-two, he came upon it as he
rounded the first corner.

Using his key, he unlocked the up and over door and swung it upward. The unit was clean, dry and spacious. Switching on the light, he backed the Land Rover into the unit and hit the tailgate button. He got out of the car and looked around, making sure he couldn't be seen.

Then he started emptying the money onto the floor of the trunk space, taking a small bundle of bills and stuffing them into his parka pocket. Placing the empty case on the rear passenger seat, he took the shoeboxes and started to divide the money equally into each one.

When he was finished, he taped each box and stacked them against the rear wall of the unit. He pulled out of the unit, then closed and locked the door. He glanced at his watch. The whole operation had taken an hour and a half. Returning to the hotel with the bag, he found Sara waiting for him in the lobby drinking a cup of coffee.

“Want a cup?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” he said.

Sara went to the self-service center and poured Rick a cup of Irish Cream flavored coffee.

“Try this. It's really good,” she said.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” he said.

“Where have you been?”

“Just out and about. Did you get your shopping done?”

“Yes.”

“That's good.”

“Rick, what are we going to do with the … you know what?” she said, looking furtively about her.

“Not your problem,” he said casually.

“Of course, it's my problem. It was found in
my bag
,” she declared—realizing with horror what she had just said.

“What do you mean by
your bag
?”

“I mean—a bag like mine.”

“So what! Don't worry about it.”

“Is it still in the room? We shouldn't leave it there.”

“No, it's not in the room. It's somewhere quite safe,” Rick reassured her.

“Where is it?” she said vehemently.

“I've mailed it to the office addressed to me,” he lied. He had to get her off his back until he'd thought the whole thing through.

“When will it get there?”

“Sometime early next week. There's no hurry,” he said.

Sara went silent. She didn't know what to think. What was she going to say to Carl? The money was out of her sight and control. She knew he wouldn't be happy with the situation.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“It's safer this way. Who wants to have a big bundle of dollars floating around? This way, it's out of our hands, and we don't have to worry about it for a while.”