Double Doublecross (38 page)

Sara lay awake wondering if Rick knew what he was doing. It seemed very complicated to her right now.

Rick lay in bed thinking how good Sara was at lying. She had lied many times to him in the past. Would she do it again? Did it really matter? Could she be trusted? Maybe she wasn't the woman he was looking for.

H
arry Fennel and Dan Grover checked into a large, expensive hotel in downtown Tampa. They had driven relentlessly for the last two days and were ready for a rest. Florida in mid April is beautifully warm, with clear skies and balmy nights. Relaxed, they sat on the hotel terrace drinking beers.

“I think we should be hearing from the mystery voice soon. What kind of a game is this man playing? We've come all this way just on his say so. What d' you think, Dan?”

“I can't make any sense of it. Why can't he tell us where Speed is so we can knock the bastard off and take the money so we can get the fuck out of here? I don't like this place. It's too hot for me,” Dan Grover said begrudgingly.

“Hey, Dan. This is great! I wouldn't mind retiring here myself one of these days. Enjoy it while you can. Don't forget, you're only a guest on this planet for a short time. Now let's relax and have another beer while we're waiting for Mr. Invisible.”

Rick awoke to the sight of a spectacular sunrise. There
were two breathtaking times during the day on the Gulf side of Florida, the sunrise and the sunset.

Looking at his watch, he went over to Sara and gave her a gentle shake.

“Time for breakfast. Here's a cup of coffee to start your heart. We've got a lot of calls to make this morning.”

“What time is it?” Sara asked.

“Just after seven. Let's eat and then I want to have a word with Fennel.”

Sara gave a visible shudder.

“I don't like this one bit, Rick. I hope you know what the hell you're doing. These guys are not pussy cats you're dealing with. They're professional killers who have been told to get the money back to the cartel. If they don't do it—they're history. You can bet your life they won't leave a stone unturned. These people have a network you wouldn't believe.”

“How can they possibly trace any of this to me? They don't know a thing about me or who I am.”

“I hope you're right.”

After a light breakfast they went for a stroll on the pure white sand of the Gulf beach. Casually, Rick looked around. Looking back towards the parking lot, he noticed a concession stand with tables and chairs scattered on the adjoining patio.

“Care for a coffee?” said Rick.

“We just had breakfast.”

“So what. Come on, we'll have coffee, take a look at the beach and relax a little.”

Approaching the concession stand, they crossed over a wooden pathway and bridge. Stopping on the bridge, Rick looked down and noticed it crossed over a small gully not more than four feet deep and six feet wide.

“Come on, I thought you said you wanted a coffee.”

“Okay,” replied Rick.

Finding a seat, Sara went off to buy the coffee and Rick took another look around. The concession stand was about fifty feet from the parking lot, and he estimated the ditch was thirty feet from the stand. Looking back across the parking lot, he could see their motel and the position of their room. Rick smiled to himself; the details of his plan were falling into place.

After finishing their drinks, they walked around the concession stand looking at the subtropical plants and bushes. Rick feigned interest and was busy checking out the topography of where they were.

Walking back to the motel, he spotted a payphone.

“It's time to make another call.”

“Who to?” Sara said cautiously.

“Who do you think? Fennel, of course. I don't want him to lose interest at this stage of the game.”

“That's what it is to you, isn't it? A game.”

“Kind of. We need to get rid of this stuff without leaving a trail that will implicate us.”

“Phil could get killed, couldn't he?” Sara said quietly.

“That's right. Don't forget he was going to kill you, and he would still knock you off if he got the chance. He's as bad as the others. Look what he did to Carl—or have you forgotten?”

“I haven't forgotten, but it's just that I don't like all of this.”

“I didn't ask to be in this position either, Sara. You're the one who hid the money in my house. You're the one who kept it from me, pretending we found it by accident.”

“I'm sorry, Rick.”

“It's too late for that. I have to call Fennel. You can listen if you want.”

Rick dialed Fennel's cell phone number.

“Hello?” a voice answered.

“Is that Fennel?”

“No. He's eating breakfast. Who's calling?”

“Never mind. Who are you? Get Fennel for me.”

“The name's Grover and I'll take the call.”

“Do you want Speed or not? Get me Fennel or I'll hang up—and be quick about it.”

For a few moments there was silence then Rick heard the phone being picked up.

“Is this Mr. X? This is Fennel. What gives?” he said in a mocking tone.

“Just want to know where you are.”

“Why?”

“Are you in the Tampa area?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I'll ask the questions.”

“Where's Speed and where's the money?” Fennel said, ignoring Rick's remark.

“I'll find him and I'll tell you where in good time. He doesn't have all of the money yet.”

“What do you mean
all of the money
? Who has it?”

“I do,” said Rick quietly.

“Just who the hell are you? How did you get hold of it?”

“I told you I'd ask the questions—but I'll answer the last one. It fell into my lap by accident. Now be
good boys
and stay tuned. I'll be calling you in a day or two. Take it easy and have some fun. Enjoy the weather. ‘Bye for now.”

Rick put the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking apprehensively at Rick, Sara shook her head.

“What did they say?” said Sara.

“You heard what I told them. They don't have a clue who I am, and they're interested in Speed and the money.”

“I think you're making too much contact with them. They might come after you if they can figure it out.”

“They won't. Stop worrying. Everything will work out fine.”

Sara hoped Rick was right. How could anybody trace all this back to them?

Phil Speed stretched out on his bed wondering when Sara would call next. Not only was he getting impatient, he was beginning to feel uneasy about Fennel and Grover. He felt confident about taking them on individually, but as a team, they were an efficient killing machine.

Although he needed to get hold of the money and get the hell out of there, he still had to make connections to get himself and the money out of the country. Time was running out and he was feeling the first signs of trepidation. He needed to speak with Sara now. Maybe he should call her on the cell phone.

Fennel looked over his lunch plate at Grover. To him it was clear, either Carl Regis or Phil Speed had slipped up somewhere and things had gone wrong.

“Who in the hell can this mysterious asshole be?” he asked Grover.

“Does it matter?” said Grover through a mouthful of food. “As long as we get the money and return it, that's all we need.”

“Not quite, Dan. It means another person or persons know who we are and what our position is. And another possibility
is—there could be more than one person involved. But who are they? That's what I don't understand.”

“Stop worrying. We can't do anything about it right now so let's play this step by step,” said Dan Grover.

But Fennel couldn't stop thinking about it. Regis and Speed were no fools. They must have used someone they could trust to help them in the first place. Speed had killed two of the cartel operatives and Carl Regis to get his hands on the money. Now it was in the hands of an unknown person. It seemed conceivable to him Speed was being set up. But why?

“Don't you ever wonder who this person is?” Fennel asked Grover.

“Nope! Not right now. Let's concentrate on getting the stuff first and try to put two and two together later on. We need to get it soon or we'll be history. That's what concerns
me
more than anything else. I've gotten used to living and breathing—and I'm not ready to join Elvis just yet.”

Fennel knew Grover was right. No point thinking about it now. Maybe later they could figure the whole thing out.

Sara and Rick packed a picnic lunch and decided to spend the day on the beach. The spring weather in Florida was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, low humidity and warm sunshine. Spring break was over and the beach was now filling up with the snowbirds who were getting their last shot at a healthy tan before returning north for the summer and fall.

They both stretched out on the powdery sand and relaxed. After an hour of soaking up the sun, Sara decided to have a swim in the clear waters of the Gulf.

“Come on, Rick. Don't be chicken. Let's go for a swim.”

“The water's not that warm. Take a look around. Do you see many people swimming?”

“I don't care. We can at least test the water and splash around for a while. Come on, just for a few minutes.”

Rick reluctantly stood up and they both walked down to the water's edge.

Phil Speed was bored with sitting in his motel room. What was there to do? He hated shopping malls, he had already eaten lunch and sightseeing was not one of his favorite occupations.

He looked at the clothes he had brought with him. None of it was appropriate for the Florida climate. He decided to purchase a few pieces of clothing suitable for hot weather: a pair of shorts, short sleeve shirts, sneakers and a wide-brimmed hat to protect his head from the sun.

He changed and looked at himself in the mirror. His legs looked like white, debarked tree stumps; his pale, hairy arms identified him as a non-Florida resident. What the hell? No one was going to see him dressed like
this
. The only place he'd feel comfortable would be at the beach with the rest of the white-bodied tourists.

Sara and Rick walked up and down the beach. Rick had been right, the water was too cold for swimming, so a walk along the beach seemed the best thing to do.

They had walked between two and three hundred yards along the sandy strip when they decided to return to their spot and start their picnic lunch. When they got there, they spread towels out and placed the cooler in front of them.

“I wish we had chairs,” Sara said wistfully.

“This will do fine. Get the gourmet lunches ready. I'm starving.”

Sara opened the cooler and started to prepare the food. Rick stood up, looking casually around him. Gazing at the sand dunes behind them—he saw in a flash a familiar figure.

“Christ! Look over there. Do you see what I see? Is that Speed?”

Sara abruptly glanced up in the direction Rick was looking. Instantly, she recognized him.

“We've got to get out of here
now
!” she said. “He mustn't see me here. He thinks I'm in California. Oh
shit
! What should we do, Rick?”

“Keep cool and sit down. He's walking slowly in this direction, but he's not expecting to see either of us.”

“He's getting closer,” Sara said in an alarmed voice.

“Turn over, lay flat on your stomach and put something over your head like you're protecting it from the sun.”

Rick started to walk away from her.

“Where are you going? Don't leave me here like this, for God's sake!”

“I'm just going to get behind him at a distance. He doesn't know me very well, and I can keep a wary eye on him. Don't move until I say so.”

“But I'll suffocate under here. It's stifling.”

“Better to be stifled than dead. Now keep still and get ready to move when I say so.”

Rick pulled his cap low over his eyes and moved in a circular direction to a position where he was behind Speed, who was now making his way toward the water. Now he was within fifty yards of Sara, who was keeping perfectly still. Looking around him, Speed leered at the bathing beauties
and seemed to be enjoying himself.

Rick was now within earshot of Sara.

“It's okay now. He's gone past you and down to the water's edge, looking at the dollies. I'll keep an eye on him while you put the food back into the cooler. Take my cap and put your hair under it and pull it down over your eyes.”

“What if he sees me?”

“He won't. He's too interested in the girls where he is. When I say move, pick up the towels and place one of them over your head. I'll grab the cooler and walk immediately behind you.”

Sara began to put the food back into the cooler while Rick kept a wary eye on Speed. He looked down at her as she closed the cooler.

“Now put a towel over your head, stand up slowly and begin walking in the direction of the parking lot. Better give me back my cap. I might as well look like a local. Now move. I'll be right behind you.”

Rick looked back over his shoulder to see Speed walking further down the beach away from them.

“Head for the concession stand and find a table where we can keep him in sight.”

“Why?” asked Sara.

“I want to keep an eye on him. We're going to follow him and find out where he's staying,” said Rick.

“Why do we need to know where he's shacked up?”

“Because the timing of my strategy is important.”

“I wish I knew what you were doing. I'd feel more comfortable about this whole mess.”

“Like I said, don't worry about a thing. Just do as I say, make the phone calls to him and keep him on a string. Tomorrow I'll take over the calls to both parties.”