Double Doublecross (3 page)

He had never picked her up. They had always met at a selected restaurant of his choice, having long lunches and topical discussions ending with arrangements for their next rendezvous. The one thing that bothered him was that she would never allow him to pick her up for lunch, leaving him wondering where she lived.

Sara lived in an apartment that belonged to Carl Regis who seldom used it, due to his activity in Seattle. Carl paid the bills and allowed Sara to live there while the relationship lasted. This was a convenient arrangement for Sara as her income fluctuated depending on the modeling appointments and small time commercial acting parts she managed to find. At the moment the economic downturn offered little opportunity to obtain any work in those fields, and her affair with Carl was convenient but a little strained.

Carl continuously spoke about the
big opportunity
being just around the corner and this was what she was waiting for. Rick was just an item that kept her amused, and she didn't want him to know she had a relationship with Carl.

Although she lived with Carl, she rarely saw him. He was predominantly staying in his other apartment in Seattle, close to his area of operation. His Canadian drug cartel contacts were receiving large amounts of drug money which were given to him for laundering in the United States at his own discretion. The drug lords had a great deal of faith in Carl's character. He had proven to be an honest, energetic and loyal pawn for this kind of activity.

Sara was not fully aware of Carl's underworld connections with the drug cartel, but realized that he was just a middleman in an organization dealing in clandestine activity involving the transit of excessive amounts of cash. This didn't bother her as long as he provided a decent standard of living, and she wasn't out on the street with nowhere to live. Right now, Sara was about to receive a hasty call from Carl at the apartment.

“Hello, Sara. I need you to be out of the apartment by the end of the week. Don't argue. Just do it,” was the curt command. “Find yourself another small temporary place but not a motel or hotel. Is that clear? Don't worry, I'll pay the rent—just get out of that place and take your clothes, belongings and my laptop PC with you. Make it look as if you never lived there.”

“What's the hurry and why are you doing this, Carl? Have I done something wrong?” she uttered.

This demand didn't make any sense. She was quite comfortable with her current way of living. Looking for a place to live at this time of year was not something she wanted to do with Christmas and the New Year just four weeks away.

“No, you've done nothing wrong. It's just that I need the apartment to look like I was the only person living there. So,
do as I say and don't ask questions! The less you know at this stage, the safer you'll be,” he said impatiently.

Sara thought for a moment, then she said nervously, “How will we keep in touch? Do you even want to stay in touch with me?”

“Of course I do, sweetie, it's just that something has come up, and I don't want you involved just yet.”

The phrase
just yet
caught her attention. Something was about to go down and Carl would need some help in the future.

“Keep in touch using the cell phone. I'll ring twice and hang up, then I'll ring again. If you can talk, pick up on the third ring. If you can't talk, say you've got the wrong number. Use the same approach on your end but don't call me unless it's an emergency. Have you got that?”

“Yes, I've got it but I don't like it,” Sara muttered.

“Don't worry. Everything's going to be just
peachy
as long as you follow my instructions.”

“When do you want me out of the apartment? I've got some packing to do, and I need some time to look for a place to live. It's not easy this time of year.”

Carl took a deep breath. “Didn't you hear me the first time? I need you out of there within seven days. Call me when you have something, okay? Don't forget. You must be out seven days from now.”

Sara looked at her watch. It was ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.

“Okay, Carl. Thy will be done,” she said sarcastically and hung up quickly, avoiding any comments from him.

She looked around the room trying to think about where to even start. The bottom line was she didn't know what to do next and Carl had given her very little notice.

‘Better start looking at the ads in the local paper,' she thought. Maybe she should start by putting her belongings together. Yes, that's what she would do. Get most of her things together then start hunting for a new apartment.

Sara had very few items, and it didn't take long to pack. Most of the apartment's furnishings belonged to Carl, and so did all of the furniture, what little there was of it.

Sara decided to go out and get the local newspaper and start hunting for a place to live. Ideally she wanted something close by because she was familiar with the area and she liked to shop in the upscale Broadway Plaza. She felt panic stricken. She had been with Carl for about four years and this was strange territory for her.

She put on her coat, got into her red Chevy Monte Carlo and drove to the local supermarket to get her paper and start looking. Whatever happened, she still intended to meet Rick for lunch at midday.

At the same time Sara was buying her newspaper, Rick was looking at the bank warning regarding the foreclosure on his house. This was the last thing he wanted at this time of his life. He had come to the conclusion that the Porsche had to go. He estimated he would probably get somewhere between twenty and thirty grand after he had settled loan payments on it. That and the loan would keep the wolf from the door for a while, maybe until after Christmas. Then he would start struggling again to meet further mortgage payments.

He looked out of the window. The sun was making a brave effort to break through the heavy cloud barrier. His garden looked leafless and ragged except for the laurel evergreen bushes that surrounded the entire perimeter of his property. The long driveway leading up to his three car garage glistened
with its coating of rain. He didn't want to lose this house. It was a good investment and he was comfortable with it.

Sooner or later he would have to tell Sara about his position with the bank concerning the foreclosure—or would he? There might be time to save the house when he sold the Porsche and used the loan. This would give him a month or two to find a permanent solution. Perhaps the real estate market would pick up after the holidays, or maybe the stock market would get a Santa Claus bounce—but he wouldn't bank on that as part of his strategy.

Rick poured himself a mug of coffee, scrambled an egg, made some toast and settled down to scan the newspaper before he made his way to the office where he would discuss the big NFL football games coming up with Stan.

With a bit of luck, they might even get a few new clients. However, judging by the markets, the time of year and the state of the weather, this seemed highly unlikely.

He was due to meet Sara at midday and that encouraged him to get on with the day. To get to his Lincoln Town Car in the garage he went through the laundry room door that accessed it. ‘The car needed a clean,' he thought, but it would have to wait. He would have preferred to meet Sara driving his Porsche, but you can't drive clients around in a sports car. It just wasn't done.

When he arrived at the office, everything went true to form as Rick had thought it would.

“Good morning, Rick,” said Stan. “What's on today's agenda?”

“Same old same old,” Rick replied. “Any coffee brewing? Any new clients?”

“The answers are
yes
to the first question and
no
to the second.”

“What are we going to do about Pat?” Rick said casually.

Pat James was their secretary, administrator, organizer, chief cook and bottle washer. She ran the place with Stan. Without her they would be lost. Pat was middle aged and on the plump side, with a happy, humorous disposition. Her husband, Jake, worked as a tax consultant in a local office and helped them with their year-end accounting.

Their financial position was not looking good, but the one thing they didn't want to do was to lay off Pat. She had been with them from the start and sometimes worked ten to twelve hours a day, calling and attending to client needs, answering their questions, setting up appointments and generally scheduling their entire daily activity.

“That depends on many things but mainly on how long the kitty lasts, and there's not much left at the moment thanks to your loan. I think we can last about another month, then we'll have to think about some drastic action. Maybe we can shorten her working week. Personally I think we need a miracle or two, and I don't think the man upstairs dishes them out too frequently,” Stan said.

Rick looked around the office. It was clean, smart and in a good location within a small strip mall that housed a sandwich shop, a dry cleaning establishment, a small but thriving Italian restaurant and various other small businesses.

At this time of year there just weren't any clients looking for houses plus the economy was in a slump. People weren't buying property and therefore sellers couldn't find buyers. Rick had asked his few clients who wanted to sell their property if they were willing to lower their prices but this seemed to have little effect on their business.

“Well, let's hang on for a while. This can't go on forever. Don't forget what they said in the early nineties …
shit
happens
. By the way, I'm taking your advice and selling the Porsche so I can help out a little with a donation or two. It'll hurt but I guess there's no other way.”

Stan knew how Rick felt. Rick loved that car and to make this kind of sacrifice things must be getting difficult for him.

“I'll finish with the Land Rover lease when the time comes, but I'll keep the Lincoln. I don't think I'd do too well on inline skates. I'll leave that kind of transportation to the younger generation,” he said with a smile.

Stan laughed at Rick's sense of humor. “That's it, Rick. Don't let the bastards get you down.”

Rick glanced out of the office window. The sun was winning its battle with the clouds and was making a brave effort to break through on a more permanent basis. However, there was a chill in the air and the leafless trees that lined the street created a bleak scene.

But for Rick the sun was shining. He would be meeting Sara in a couple of hours for a Sunday brunch.

It seemed odd to Rick that he didn't know where she lived. Maybe he should follow her from the parking lot after lunch—but that might not be possible as she always waited for him to leave first. Perhaps she lived in a dump and was embarrassed to let him know about it. If she was, he would like to help her, but under his present financial position, he couldn't see how it could be done.

S
ara was living in an apartment located in an expensive part of the city. The furnishings were expensive and in good taste. Carl had provided her with a large television, a cell phone and a laptop computer with Internet access.

Now he was telling her to get out fast and find another temporary smaller place with a short lease. This was an almost impossible thing to find at short notice. As she sat scanning the real estate section of the local newspaper, she had a feeling of despair. She could find nothing suitable on a short term basis, and she only had six more days to find something. Maybe Rick could find something for her. After all, he was in the real estate business. She decided she'd spring this request on him during lunch later that day.

It was midday when Rick drove into the parking lot. He noticed Sara's car was already parked in a good spot, so he knew she must have arrived early. He parked his car in a remote part of the lot and hurried toward the restaurant. She was waiting for him just inside the door. Rick thought she look tired and worried.

Usually she was made up and smartly dressed, but today she looked anything but smart and her eyes drooped with signs of fatigue. Despite all that, she still looked good to him. He decided to play it cool and try to find out if she had a problem later.

As usual, the restaurant was crowded. Waiters and waitresses hurried around taking orders and serving meals. The sound of people talking echoed throughout the room making it difficult to have a normal conversation. They were served the standard complimentary glass of champagne before the waiter took their order.

“What are you thinking about ordering?” Rick said, glancing through the menu.

Sara looked straight at Rick. “I don't know. You order for me. Actually, I'm not that hungry so I'll just leave it to your better judgment,” Sara said in a quiet voice.

Rick looked at her quizzically. This was not the usual bubbly Sara that he knew. Although he had only known her for a short time, she was generally upbeat and talkative. Something was obviously bothering her, but he didn't feel like this was the right time to ask questions since he'd have to raise his voice to be heard.

He looked into her eyes and saw a worried look. There was a slight frown that wrinkled across her forehead and a downturned mouth that was generally smiling, creating a small dimple on the left cheek and showing her perfect, white, even teeth. She looked downtrodden and sad.

“How about the eggs benedict? They're always a good bet with hash browns and a couple of strips of bacon? Let's have something stronger to bring the smile back on your face,” Rick said with a smile, hoping to bring her out of her obviously depressed state, and perhaps open her up a little.

“That's fine, Rick, and I think I'd like a vodka and tonic with just a small amount of ice,” she said with a faint smile.

Rick waved the waiter over and ordered.

“What's eating you, Sara? You're usually livelier than this. Something's bothering you. Is it your boyfriend? You know, the guy I saw you with at
The Mikado
cocktail party?”