Double Doublecross (24 page)

Sara was looking around nervously. Suddenly, she made a positive move to her left and appeared to collide with a man coming in the opposite direction toward her. Rick saw her feign surprise, step back and shake hands with the person. It was Carl Regis, the man he had seen her with when they first met. They seemed to exchange pleasantries and Carl pointed to the Bagel House. Rick casually stood up and moved to one side, waiting for them to get seated so he could get as close to them as possible.

It was then that Rick noticed a heavy set, smartly dressed
man looking straight at Sara and Carl. The realization hit Rick immediately. Could it be the cartel person who was keeping Carl under close surveillance? The thought made Rick feel uncomfortable and vulnerable to possible violence down the road.

The pair found a table in a corner, and Rick, opening his magazine, moved to a table just within earshot. He made note of the whereabouts of Carl's shadow, who had made himself comfortable a few tables away.

Carl and Sara started to make small talk in slightly loud voices.

“It's nice to see you again, Carl. What are you doing here?” Sara said.

“I needed a change of air. How have you been, Sara? Long time no see,” Carl replied.

The polite exchanges continued for a few more minutes. Then they lowered their voices to an almost inaudible level.

“Keep a smile on your face,” Carl insisted. “Just for the benefit of my follower.”

“Okay, Carl. What did you come up with?”

“Nothing much. I could confront Rick and ask for the bag.”

“I wouldn't do that, Carl. He'd eat you for breakfast. Why don't you write to him saying you have his bag and would appreciate it if you could exchange them?”

Rick smiled at the thought of eating the slimy little bastard for breakfast.

“But he'll know it was full of money.”

“I know, but you have an identical bag you could give him. I think it's worth a try, don't you?”

“I guess so, but I'm getting tired of this situation, and they still have me and Phil under close surveillance. My follower is
sitting just a couple of tables away, keeping a close eye on us.”

“What do you mean by
that
? This has nothing to do with me,” Sara said nervously.

“Metaphorically speaking, I mean.”

“What's Speed got to do with it? Don't involve him, Carl. We don't want any bloodshed.”

“I thought you liked him. I know you were having it off with him. Do you think I was stupid or something?” Carl said vehemently.

“Just forget Phil Speed. I haven't seen him for months. Besides, he's a hot-headed fool and liable to do anything.”

“Okay, I'll give it some thought. I'll try anything to get that loot and get out of here. Now stand up and shake hands. I'll leave first,” Carl said.

Carl got up from the table and left after shaking hands with Sara. Rick watched him leave but noticed his shadow looking carefully at Sara with a long hard stare, giving her a feeling of panic before he stood up and set off after Carl. She sat there alone, feeling frightened. Rick glanced across and smiled at her. She gave him a nonplussed look, then got up and walked away from the table.

Slowly Rick drank the remainder of his chocolate and smiled at the stranger who looked back at him from the store window reflection. ‘Maybe I should have been an actor,' he thought.

During his ride home on the BART, he pondered over his next move. Should he confront Sara with the whole situation or wait for Carl to make contact with him? He decided to play it cool for the time being. He already knew what his reaction would be to any approach from Carl Regis. Now it was a pure waiting game as far as he was concerned.

A
fter the conversation with Sara, Carl Regis pondered over his next move. When should he call Rick Jacobs? Was this the best approach? What would Rick Jacob's reaction be? Carl sat in his armchair and thought about finding an alternative strategy, but he couldn't think of one. Somehow, he had to come up with a plausible story that would satisfy Rick. Finally, he decided to bite the bullet and call him that evening.

Sara had her own decision to make. Should she wait around to see what Rick would say to Carl Regis? She had no idea when Carl would make the call. Obviously it would be in the evening, but when? She estimated that Carl would not lose any time making the call; he was desperate to get his hands on the money and make a run for it.

She mentally appraised the situation and decided Carl would make the call within the next two days. Listening in on the conversation would give her a better understanding of the next level of tactics she would need to apply to the situation. She desperately wanted the whole problem of the money to be solved in Carl's favor in order to get on with her life.

The first evening after the clandestine meeting passed without a call from Carl Regis. At first Sara thought he had cold feet, and then she realized she was probably wrong. There was no other way for Carl Regis to get a hold of the money. It was just a waiting game from now on.

Sara stayed close to Rick when he was around the house, hoping to eavesdrop when the call came.

It came the following evening. The phone rang.

“Hello! This is Rick Jacobs. What can I do for you?”

Sara stiffened and felt flushed with anticipation.

Rick sat in his recliner, waiting for the voice on the other end of the line. He had a feeling this would be that little creep, Carl Regis. He glanced momentarily at Sara. She was standing by the family room window, looking out into the darkness, trying to look oblivious about the call.

“Hi! My name is Carl Regis. I believe somehow our bags got mixed up a week or two ago.”

“I see,” said Rick. “What was in the bag?”

“A large sum of money.”

“How did you get hold of my number?” Rick said casually.

There was a pregnant pause. Carl searched for words to answer the question and sound convincing at the same time.

“It was on a card in the case with your name and address on it,” he lied.

Again there was a pause, this time from Rick.

Rick leaned back in his chair, thinking about his next move.

“What about the contents in my bag? Where are they?”

“Right here,” Regis explained.

“I can't remember what was in the bag. Can you itemize the contents for me? I don't seem to be missing anything as far as I can see. I think you must have made a mistake,” Rick declared, leading Carl Regis down the garden path to dig a
hole for him.

“There are just a few things. I can't remember offhand what they were,” Carl said uncomfortably.

“You must have some idea. Why did you wait so long to get in touch with me?” Rick said cunningly. “Surely if you had missed something valuable, you would have noticed it immediately?”

Carl was being verbally trapped.

“I was away on a trip,” he blurted out.

“There's always the telephone. Or were you on a deserted island?” Rick said facetiously in a mocking tone.

“I want my money,” Carl uttered thoughtlessly. He'd lost it.

Sara was listening to Rick's end of the conversation, realizing Carl was no match for Rick's fast mind. She could see a dark cloud looming on the horizon and shuddered at the thought of the outcome.

“Okay, you little shit! I know most of the game. There are just a few holes that need filling in, but I'll get there. As for the money—come and get it! But I warn you—you'll pay a price for what you'll get back, and there won't be much of that!”

“You're an asshole, Rick Jacobs. Give me the fucking money or else!” Carl shouted down the line.

“I've got one thing to say to you,” Rick said in a soft, menacing voice.

“What's that?”

“Don't ever threaten me, you slimy sack of shit—or it will be the last thing you do!” With that, Rick slammed the phone down. He was seething with anger and sat quietly for a minute or two.

Sara was biting her lip. Things had not gone well, and
she waited in anticipation for Rick's next comments. She expected him to explode, but the eruption didn't come. The silence was deafening as she waited for him to say something.

“You know who that was?” Rick said quietly.

“Yes, I think so,” she said feebly.

“I think we need to talk, don't you?”

“Yes,” she said sheepishly.

“As they say in the movies, start talking.”

Sara sat there with tears in her eyes as she told Rick the whole truth from start to finish.

“I guess that's the end of us. I really didn't want it to end this way. Just give me time to get my things together and I'll leave. Thanks for everything.”

“Wrong!” Rick said. “You've come clean so let's start afresh and decide what to do … if that's alright with you.”

“Okay, Rick. That's fine,” Sara cried and they held each other in a long hug, but a rocky road lay ahead of them full of violence, bloodshed and murder.

Carl stared at the phone as Rick broke off the conversation. He knew he had blown the whole thing. Now he had to find another solution to the problem of getting the money from Rick. Carl reckoned he had risked his life by stealing it. He had paid the price with a brutal beating and being tailed everywhere by the cartel thugs.

Also he had inadvertently involved Phil Speed in the whole business. Maybe Phil would know how to get the loot from Rick Jacobs—that was the last thing he wanted to do. Speed was a vicious gorilla as far as he was concerned. Even working with him, gave Carl the shivers, but there didn't seem to be any other way out.

He sat down and contemplated his predicament. He knew what he had to do.

Phil Speed sat on his sofa drinking a beer with his feet up on the coffee table. Life was peaceful. His shadow was still with him but that was okay. It didn't bother him. Occasionally, when he was in a restaurant, he would go over to him or her and invite them to join him, but they always gave him a cold, negative reply. Now and again he would think about the reason for his tail and wished to God the offender would get caught and get them off his back. The drug cartel still used Carl Regis and himself for the random job of distributing drug money around, and he was pleased there was some level of trust there.

Sara lay awake that night wondering if Carl would call back or make some other move to get the money. Deep in her heart she knew Carl would not give up. She understood how he felt about taking the initial risk of stealing the bag of money. He had taken a severe beating for his plan, and she was certain he would not give up the chance of getting away with it.

She wished she had confessed to Rick as soon as she discovered she had the money, but that was water under the bridge. Somehow she had to find a way of getting Rick to part with it. Slowly, she fell into an unsettled sleep without an answer to the problem.

Rick awoke feeling pleased. He made coffee and deliberated over the way he had dealt with Carl Regis. Having the large sum of money made him feel secure. If Carl wanted the money, he would have to make personal contact with him—
but on no account was he going to give in to the little creep.

Rick realized Carl was in a hole. He couldn't go to the police, and he definitely wouldn't tell the cartel. He was between a rock and a hard place. By now Rick believed the money was his and he was going to hang on to it.

He arrived at the office and was greeted by Stan Turner and Pat James.

“We thought we'd lost you,” said Pat James.

“Not a chance,” said Rick with a smile.

“You're in and out of the office so fast these days like Superman.”

“I know and I'm sorry. How's the Hughes deal getting on, Stan? I've lost track for the time being.”

“Still in limbo I'm afraid. We should be hearing from him in a day or so,” Stan said.

“How's business?”

Stan looked up. “Not too bad. We've got a couple of closings coming up. Pat's taking care of the paperwork. Things look a lot better now that spring's on the way. Weather is still a problem. The rain and cold keep people indoors.”

“Had a guy look in the window a few times already this morning. Don't know if he's looking for property or not,” Pat murmured.

“What's he look like,” Rick asked.

“Don't know really. Well dressed, smooth looking. Always glancing over his shoulder,” Pat muttered in disapproval.

‘It must be Carl Regis,' Rick thought. ‘Perhaps he's plucked up courage to confront him after all.'

Whatever the case may be, Rick was ready for him. Whether it would be a verbal or physical exchange, he knew he could handle Mr. Carl Regis.

The paperwork was piling up on Rick's desk, and he
planned to spend the morning going over the office finances and planning his schedule for the rest of the week. It was close to eleven-thirty when Rick looked up from his desk and glanced towards the office window. There was Carl, peeping through the rubber plant leaves, looking at nothing in particular.

Rick immediately pushed back his chair and quickly made his way to the office door. Too late. Carl Regis had seen him coming, and had disappeared into thin air.

“Cowardly rat,” Rick hissed to himself.

“What's that?” Pat James exclaimed. “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Of course it was something! I saw you looking at that man in the window. He's the one who's been hovering around that I told you about.”

“If you see him again, let me know,” Rick said vehemently.

“Okay! Okay! Keep your shirt on, chief,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “No problem.”

The rest of the day was uneventful. Carl Regis did not show up again. Rick left for home at six o'clock leaving Pat James to close up after him.

Carl had passed the day occasionally looking through the office window of Rick's office trying, to pluck up courage to confront him. Once Rick had glanced up and caught sight of him, but Carl beat a hasty retreat to get out of sight as soon as he could. Somehow, facing Rick didn't seem to be a good idea. Stealing money from the cartel was one thing, but facing an ex-Marine was a different kettle of fish.