Double Doublecross (30 page)

“Keep your voice down. It's not that simple.”

Slowly and carefully she summed up the conversation Carl had with Speed. Rick gazed at her intently, taking in the
whole scenario. Speed was right. Carl had stolen the money, Sara had kept it hidden (under duress) and he had kept the money and even used some of it. If the people in Seattle knew who was involved, there would be no mercy.

“Christ,” he said in a whisper. “How did I get into such a mess? I don't want anyone to get hurt. Let me think about it.”

He looked out of the restaurant window at the misty rain falling gently from the sky.

“Nice day—if you're a duck!” he said paying the check as they left the restaurant.

“Go home,” he said to Sara. “I'll catch you later.”

Phil Speed had worked through the previous night in the motel putting together his latest C-4 explosive devices, ready for use the next day.

Now he sat in his car watching the restaurant through a rain-speckled windshield, waiting for Rick and Sara to appear. As they went their separate ways, Speed followed Rick to the location of his new office and waited for him to disappear inside.

Carefully and deliberately, he put the devices in a small brown bag and wandered behind the block of small shops and offices housed in the smart strip mall. He looked carefully around, making sure he was not seen. Then he tossed the first device into the closest garbage bin, walked a few yards further and tossed the second bomb into another bin. Then, he walked back to his car. They were set to go off in fifteen minutes.

Slowly, he drove his car to a bowling alley parking lot a few yards further down on the opposite side of the road, and waited for the forthcoming explosions. The first device
exploded with a roar. Buildings shook, windows rattled and people scattered and screamed as the deafening sound erupted from behind the building. Dust and debris was flying everywhere. Although there was little damage, the sound and vibration from the explosion seemed life threatening.

Rick was in the office when it all happened. He rushed the women outside and exited the office with the rest of the staff. Outside, spectators were gathering to see what had happened. Fortunately, nobody decided to look at the origin of the explosion.

The second device detonated. The idea of being a spectator disappeared from the minds of those looking at the building. They scattered in all directions away from the chaotic scene.

“It's a terrorist attack!” someone screamed as the group of spectators dispersed at great speed, running for their cars, causing further turmoil and confusion at the strip mall exit.

Phil Speed smiled to himself, watching for a minute as the bedlam spilled into the road. He pulled out and moved off slowly in the opposite direction. As far as he was concerned, the blasts should have their desired impact and that was to intimidate Rick Jacobs. Later in the day, he would call Carl Regis and have him deliver a final ultimatum. His one concern was—he had used up the last of the C-4 and that might be a problem.

Rick and Stan stood outside the building amidst a few other occupants. The area around the building was cordoned off, and a steady stream of police, highway patrol, fire trucks and ambulance vehicles entered the immediate area adding to the confusion.

“This is getting serious, Rick,” said Stan. “I hope they find this lunatic soon. Sooner or later, someone's going to get hurt.”

“I know,” muttered Rick.

He looked around and saw the spectators were once again rubbernecking the incident.

“I'm going over to the car and call Sara to let her know what happened and that I'm okay. You should do the same, Stan, and while you're at it, send Pat home. There won't be anything we can do here today.”

Rick pulled out his phone and dialed Sara's number as he walked to his car. When he made contact, he told her exactly what had happened.

“That's about it, Sara. Call that worm Carl and tell him to call Speed off. They'll get their money, but there's just one stipulation. I'll only deal with one person and it must be Carl. Also, tell him it will take a few days to put it all together, and I don't want any interference or anybody following me. Make that quite clear to him. I'll give him a progress report tomorrow. While you're at it, get Speed's cell phone number. I might need it,” said Rick.

“I'll call him right away. See you later.”

Sara put the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief. The whole thing would soon be over, and she could lead a normal life at last. She dialed the phone sequence to get hold of Carl and waited a few minutes for him to ring back.

“What is it? What do you want?” Carl said in a tired and frustrated voice.

“Rick's going to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Hand the money over to you and Phil.”

“Thank God for that. What made him change his mind?” Carl said with a sigh of relief.

“Phil set off two more explosions near Rick's new office. He doesn't want anybody hurt. He also said it would take a
few days to put things together, and he doesn't want anyone following him or interfering with him. By the way, he only wants to deal with one person and that's you.”

“Okay! I'll call Phil right away,” Carl said with a cheerful voice.

“Better let me have Phil's cell phone number just in case Rick wants to talk to him.”

Carl read the number to her and switched off. He decided to call Phil immediately before he did any more damage.

Rick Jacobs realized he had to plan the retrieval of the money from the various places where it was stowed safely in various self-storage locations and lock boxes. He made up his mind to start early the next morning about five-thirty with the self–storage stops, and work his way to the lock boxes when they were available at nine o'clock.

This was not going to be easy. He had to tell Stan he was going to take some time off without giving a reasonable explanation. But this had a higher priority, and lives were at stake including Stan's. He knew what he had to do and when to do it.

Carl Regis made the call to Phil Speed telling him of Rick's decision and stipulations.

“Okay by me, as long as we get the green stuff. I'll stay out of his way, but I want it as soon as possible. Remember, I'm a wanted man, not only by the law but also by
you know who
. Either way it's curtains for me if I'm caught. Just tell him to get a move on. Say we want it by next Sunday. That gives him a few days to get his act together,” Phil Speed said sternly.

“Alright, I'll do that.”

“Good. Now get a damn move on. I have other things to think about.”

The phone went dead. Carl hated dealing with Phil Speed when he spoke in this manner. It gave him the shivers. In fact, the whole deal did. He reasoned that talking to Rick Jacobs through Sara would be so much easier.

About ten minutes had passed since his conversation with Phil Speed, when his doorbell started to ring. He casually walked to the door and opened it. He came face to face with the last person he wanted to see—Fennel. Harry Fennel from Seattle. He pushed Carl back into the room and brushed past him, closely followed by Dan Grover, who always had a sinister, cruel grin on his face.

“Thanks for inviting us in,” Fennel said sarcastically. “Make yourself at home, Carl.”

“What do you want? I haven't done anything wrong.”

“Relax—we're not going to hurt you—at least not
yet
. Where's Speed? When did you last see him? When did you last speak to him? What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Tongue-tied, are we?”

Carl Regis didn't know which question to answer first. He
was
tongue-tied. He had to be careful how he answered Fennel.

“Okay, mini brain, let's start from the beginning. When did you last see Speed?” Fennel said in a quiet menacing voice. “Surely, you remember. It's a simple question.”

Carl realized he had to answer the question truthfully. They were aware of all their movements.

“Just a few days ago. We had dinner at the Purple Room.”

“Correct. Put that man on a quiz show,” he said with contempt.

“It's the truth. I bought him dinner.”

“Oh, big time! What was the occasion, birthday? Don't answer that. When did you last talk to him?”

Carl thought for a moment. He had to be careful.

“I think that was the last time. Come to think of it, he usually calls me now and again, but I haven't heard from him lately.”

“Do you know where he is? Take a guess if necessary.”

“I haven't got a clue. Has he done anything wrong?” Carl said in a shaky voice.

“We'll ask the questions. Where do you think he might be?”

“Don't know.”

“We think he stole the money. Now take a guess as to where he might be.”

“Probably out of the country—or trying to get out. Could be in Las Vegas. He liked to gamble and have a good time.”

“Okay, stay cool, sunshine. Here's my card with my phone number and cellular number. I'll put Dan's numbers on there too. If you hear anything, let us know.”

Carl said thanks and took the card.

  “Just for the record, Mr. Regis, anyone mixed up in this is as good as a pile of ashes.”

Harry Fennel turned on his heels and walked out, closely followed by Dan Grover, who slammed the door as he left.

Carl Regis sat down with a sigh of relief but was visibly shaken by the visit. These two had given Phil Speed and himself a severe beating not so long ago and it had lodged permanently in his memory. Should he give Phil a call? He decided not to for the moment. It was quite apparent they did not know where Phil was staying, neither did he, and that was a blessing. Sooner or later he would have to call him but not just yet. Maybe in the morning—yes, that was it, in the morning.

Rick looked at his bedside alarm clock. It was nearly five o'clock. He hadn't slept well, and he was anxious to get on with his assignment. He rolled out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Sara said.

“I'm going to start getting the stuff together. I thought I'd make an early start.”

“I'll make you some coffee and toast while you're showering,” Sara whispered.

“Thanks,” he said.

Minutes later Rick appeared in the kitchen fully dressed with his parka on. He took a sip of his coffee and a bite of toast.

“I might be a while. There's a lot to do. I'll probably be home some time later this evening.”

“Be careful. Watch the road for followers when you leave here.”

“Don't worry about it. That's why I'm leaving early. I can spot a tail when there's not much traffic on the road. I've already told them not to interfere.”

Rick finished off his toast and coffee then left. As he went through the garage, he picked up a kitchen size garbage bag and a small sports bag he usually kept in the trunk of the Lincoln. He climbed into the Land Rover and set off for a whole day of gathering the money.

C
arl hadn't slept at all that night. He lay awake thinking about the latest visit from Fennel and the possible consequences. The final words from Fennel were on his mind all night long.

“Anyone mixed up in this is as good as a pile of ashes,” were the words Fennel left him with—and
he
was mixed up in it. He had stolen the money in the first place.

What if they caught up with Phil Speed? Could they make him talk? It wasn't worth thinking about. The only thing he could do now was to help Phil get the money so they could both get out of this predicament.

He looked at his watch, seven o'clock. Phil might be up by now. He went down to the lobby and looked furtively around making sure there was nobody within earshot. Perhaps the lobby was bugged. Too late, he had already made calls from there and he knew it was safe. He was getting panicky, almost paranoid.

He dialed Phil's number. At first there was no reply. He tried again. This time he was lucky.

“Whataya want, Carl?”

“How did you know it was me?” Carl asked.

“You're the only person I know who wants to talk to me.”

“That's what you think,” Carl blurted out.

“What do you mean?”

“I had some visitors last night. It was Fennel and his sidekick.”

“What did they want?” Speed murmured, as if he didn't already know.

“They want
you
.”

“I can guess that, dummy. What did they say?”

“They asked me when I had seen you last—and did I know where you were?”

Phil Speed was quiet for a moment. “What did you tell them?”

Carl Regis felt as if he was in control. By the sound of Speed's voice, he was clearly worried.

Carl felt relaxed. “I told them we had dinner last week and that was the last time I saw you, and I hadn't seen or heard from you since then.”

“What else did they want to know?” Speed growled into the phone.

“They wanted to know if I knew where you were. They asked me to make a guess. I told them you liked Las Vegas. You're a target, Phil. They think you've got the goods.”

“I guessed as much. What else did they say?”

“Anybody who had anything to do with the heist was more or less in a coffin right now. You'd better be careful when you answer your phone. Use the same ringing code Sara and me put together, then you'll know it's me. It's odds on Fennel will get your wireless phone number and give you a call. Be careful, I think we're nearly home.”

“You're right, Carl,” Speed said with respect. “Call me
if anything develops. I'm not going anywhere. Talk to you later.”

To be on the safe side, Phil Speed decided to get up early, check out and move into another motel.

Carl felt better now; he felt important. Phil Speed was in a bigger hole than he was and needed help.