Double Doublecross (28 page)

“The one in the middle,” Rick answered. “Do you have
any
idea what caused this?”

“Not yet. We have to take a good look at the place first and conduct a few tests. We should have an answer for you pretty soon. Something seems odd, though. It would appear that the devices were placed either side of your property. Kind of sandwiched, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don't know what you mean,” Rick said, staring at the man intently.

“I mean, your office appeared to be the target. Do you know of anyone who would want to hit you like this?”

“What?” Stan exclaimed.

“Do either of you have any known enemies,” the forensic expert said.

“None!” they said in harmony.

“Okay. I'll take your numbers and call you as soon as I have some more information. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to talk to the people from the other two properties.”

With that, he turned abruptly and walked over to two people standing outside of what had once been the dry cleaners. Also waiting in line were the restaurant owner and some of his staff, including the chef and evening waiters.

“I wonder what he meant by the last remark about
having enemies
,” Stan said with a quizzical look on his face.

“He probably will have to ask the others the same question. It's probably just routine work.”

“What did you make of the remark about the devices being placed either side of our office?” Stan said excitedly.

“God knows!” Rick exclaimed. “I'm going home now, Stan. I'll call the insurance company and make arrangements to get the claim in as soon as possible. See you later,” he said, patting Stan gently on the back.

Returning home, he asked Sara to make some coffee while he jotted down an outline of their conversation with the forensic expert.

“You know, Sara, the man asked if we had any known enemies, and I immediately thought of that creepy asshole Carl. He also said something about it being odd that our office was between the two places that were hit. What do you make of it?”

“I thought of the same thing, but I didn't want to say anything in case I was wrong. Do you want me to call Carl and ask him point blank if he did it?”

“It wouldn't be a bad idea. Call him now and I'll listen in.”

“It might take him sometime to answer. We have a code for calls so he can get into a position where he can call me without being heard. His place is being bugged by the cartel.”

“Oh fucking wonderful!” Rick shouted at her. “Monitored and under twenty-four hour observation by the mob! What the hell have we gotten into? No! Let me rephrase that. What have
you
got me into? One way or another, those bastards will find out we are involved and give us a one way ticket to the graveyard.”

“I'm sorry, Rick. I wish I could turn back the clock.”

“Forget it. It's too late for words like that. Okay, call him but I'll be listening to every word.”

“Please don't say anything, Rick,” Sara cried. “Give me a chance to get the truth out of him. If he panics, he might hang up. Then we'll never know. Personally, I really don't think he has the guts for anything as violent as bombing.”

“Okay, go ahead. Call him.”

Sara waited until Rick was beside her with his phone and then dialed the coded sequence and waited for Carl to call her back. Within five minutes the phone rang. Sara and Rick
picked up their phones simultaneously.

“Carl here. What do you want?”

“Carl, did you bomb Rick's office last night? It went up in flames with the two places on either side of it.”

“Are you crazy? How would I make a bomb? I haven't done a thing since I talked to Rick.”

Rick made fists at the phone. He mimed
he's lying
to Sara.

“I don't think Rick will believe you.”

“It's true, I tell you. The only person I told was Phil Speed because I needed someone to help me with the problem.”

“Oh shit! You damn fool! Do you know what you've done? You'll get us all killed including yourself!” she screamed into the phone.

Rick put his hand over the mouthpiece. “What's up?”

“I'll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

“He got Phil Speed—a real psycho!”

“Tell him to call this guy and find out if he had anything to do with it,” Rick whispered to her.

“Why don't you give Phil a call and see if he's involved?”

“Okay, but I don't like talking to him about this sort of thing. I'll call you later.”

Carl Regis switched off his phone and stood still for a moment. In his heart he knew Phil Speed would do something like this, and furthermore, he had a gut feeling this had been Speed's first attempt to terrorize Rick Jacobs into turning over the money. He decided to put off contacting him until the evening of the following day when Speed might be in a mellow mood.

Later that same evening, Rick received a call from the forensic expert with some questions and information.

“It would appear, Mr. Jacobs, that the components used for the device were a timing mechanism, phosphorous and a small quantity of C-4 explosive compound. The two homemade bombs were definitely set off on either side of your office walls within a brief moment of each other,” the expert said cautiously.

“So it was C-4,” said Rick. “That's an explosive compound used by the military and mining companies,” he said in a surprised voice.

“That's it, sir. Do you have any idea who might have access to that kind of explosive?”

“Of course not,” Rick said with indignation. “What kind of people do you think I associate with?”

“Just inquiring, that's all. By the way, a tall blonde man visited the cleaners just before closing time according to the owner, and he was particularly interested in their rubber plant next to the adjoining wall to your office, exactly where the explosion took place.”

“Really?” said Rick.

“Yes,” said the expert. “The owner of the restaurant and one of the waiters reported seeing the same man enter their dining room, and he requested a booth in the same place the other explosive device was set off.”

“Any idea who that man is?” Rick asked.

“Not at the moment. We are putting together a composite picture of the suspect right now. If you have a fax machine, we can send it to you right away. Then you can call us back if you recognize him.”

“That won't be necessary. I have a separate line for the fax right here. If you send it now, we can take a look at it.”

Rick gave him the number and within minutes the picture was on his desk. He stared at it for a moment. The face looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't make a positive ID.

“No, I'm sorry. I don't recognize him,” Rick said.

“Well, thanks for your help, sir. If we come up with anything else, we'll let you know.”

Rick took the picture into the family room, staring hard at the face on the fax before him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a bell was ringing but he was unable to place where he had seen that face before. He thought about asking Sara to take a look at the face but decided it could wait until morning.

P
at James was in her kitchen quietly drinking a cup of freshly brewed tea. She had recovered from the shock of the explosion, but both Rick and Stan had insisted she take the day off from work and see how she felt the next day before returning to the new office that Stan was setting up.

The telephone rang on the kitchen wall.

“Mrs. James?” a polite voice said on the other end of the line.

“Yes, that's me. What can I do for you?”

“This is police officer Downs. Could I come over and show you a police sketch of a person we suspect had something to do with the bombing? It won't take a minute.”

“Sure,” she said.

Within fifteen minutes, the officer arrived and showed the sketched face to Pat James.

“Does this face look familiar to you?” he said.

Pat James took a long hard look at the face, and finally, she looked up at the officer.

“I believe this man was in the office maybe on Friday or
Saturday. Said he might want to look at some property but didn't have time at that moment and would look back in a day or so.”

He then showed her a description the other two people had given to the police.

“That's him—the blonde guy with sharp blue eyes. He looked a bit rough to me.”

“Thanks,” he said and left the house with a bounce in his step. ‘Maybe we're getting somewhere,' he thought.

Sara wandered into the kitchen just as Rick was leaving to meet the insurance agent.

“Take a look at the sketch the police think might be the perpetrator,” Rick said. “I think I've seen him before but can't place him for the moment. The face and physical description ring a bell.”

Sara looked at the picture and a ripple of fear ran through her body. It was definitely Phil Speed. The description and the face confirmed it. She managed to keep a calm look on her face and didn't say anything at first, in case her voice trembled, giving Rick an idea something was wrong.

“Don't know him,” she said.

She hated lying to Rick now, but thought it better to call Carl Regis first to find out what was going on. It seemed obvious to her this whole business was going to take on a new face. With the idea of collecting a large prize such as a one or two million dollars, Phil Speed would stop at nothing, which she interpreted as meaning more violence and probably certain permanent expiration for somebody. She knew she had to communicate this latest development to Carl Regis and force him to impress upon Speed that he was under suspicion, and needed to disappear for a while.

Silence reigned for a few seconds.

“Better get off to see Stan,” Sara said, anxious to get rid of Rick so she could call Carl.

“Right,” he said giving her a light kiss as he left.

He was barely out the door before she picked up the phone to get hold of Carl.

“What do you want?” Carl said abruptly, answering the phone.

“Now listen carefully to what I have to say, Carl, and don't interrupt. It's very important. I've just seen a police artist's sketch of Phil. It has to do with the bombing the other night. He's a prime suspect, and they'll pick him up as soon as they have a make on him. That means your whole shooting match will go down the tubes,” Sara said in the only phraseology Carl would understand. “Let me have one more shot at Rick before someone gets killed.”

For a moment there was silence. She could hear Carl breathing heavily on the other end of the line.

“Okay, I'll tell him, but it's up to him to do whatever he thinks is best. I'm not going to argue with him because that will be useless. Now get off the line and I'll call him, but there's no guarantee what he'll do. There's too much at stake at this point in the game,” Carl said.

He didn't like this situation. As far as he was concerned, Phil Speed was a dangerous psychopath. He dialed Speed's cellular number, waited and rang off. His phone rang.

“Did you just call me?” Phil Speed said in a tired voice.

“Yeah! It's about that bombing the other night,” Carl mumbled.

“What about it?”

“You did it, didn't you?” Carl stated.

“So what?”

“They're on to you. Just got a call from Sara. Witnesses have identified
your face
in a police sketch. Better move out fast before they match your face with their computer identification system.”

“Thanks. Good for Sara. I'm glad she's with us.”

“I'm not sure about that. All I know is, you'd better get out fast, and don't forget your tail. Somehow you'll have to give him the slip.”

“Okay, thanks for reminding me. Talk to you later. I'll give you a ring later.”

Phil Speed switched off his phone and started to plan his flight. ‘Damn the cops,' he thought. He moved around the rooms with lightening speed, packing clothes, a few personal belongings and his semi-automatic pistol complete with ammunition clip. Looking through his garage, he picked up a tool kit and the C-4 explosive compound and threw everything into the trunk of his car.

He decided he had everything he needed with the exception of money. He had to go to the ATM on his way out. It would be necessary to dump his car somewhere and hire another, but his first assignment after a visit to the ATM was to get rid of his tail.

This, he knew, would be his biggest challenge. As he drove to the bank, he noticed his tail was about fifty yards behind him and was waiting for him as he left the bank. He reasoned there would be safety in numbers and made his way to the local multiple cinema complex, parking his car between a van and a sports utility vehicle. Looking to his left, he saw his tail park seven places away.

Looking up at the movie showings, he selected one that was popular, purchased a ticket, and entered the building
closely accompanied by his follower, intending to stay there until nightfall.

Sara knew Carl had made a big mistake to involve Phil Speed, and she decided to find out if there was any fresh news regarding the identity of the felon. She anxiously called Rick on his cell phone. At first, after several tries, there was no answer, but finally she made contact with him.

“Where have you been? I've spent ages trying to get hold of you.”

“I've been with the insurance people. Stan has done some outstanding work putting a new office together. I don't know what I'd do without him. He's the best friend anybody could possibly have. Now what do you want? I'm pretty busy right now. Tell you what, come on down and we'll have lunch together, okay?”

“Be there in a few minutes,” she said.

Sitting in a booth at the local restaurant, they ordered lunch.