Double Doublecross (39 page)

They selected a table overlooking the whole length of the beach. Speed had stopped and was turning back to the parking lot, walking slowly and staring about him. Occasionally he stopped and looked at a well-tanned body.

“Look at the lecherous bastard. If they only knew what a dangerous man he is,” Sara hissed.

Speed walked languidly to the parking lot about fifty yards from where they were sitting.

“Let's go. Get up slowly and follow me. Let's see where he's parked his car.”

From the shade of a tree they watched Speed head for a green vehicle on the fringe of the parking lot.

“He's getting into that car over there,” Sara said with excitement.

“Let's make for the car before he gets out of sight. Don't look his way whatever you do.”

Keeping a distance behind Speed, they followed him out of the parking lot into the stream of traffic heading for downtown. Eventually he stopped at a motel, got out of the car and went into one of the rooms.

Rick drove past the motel and looked at his watch.

“It took him twenty-five minutes in traffic. At night it should take him half the time.”

“Everything is precision with you, isn't it? Were you an engineer or something like that?” questioned Sara.

“Stan and me both were. We worked in the aerospace industry before times got hard. We took severance pay and started up in real estate. That reminds me, I'll have to give Stan a call when we get back.”

They returned to the beach, had their picnic, and after an hour, returned to the motel. Rick sat at the small table in the motel room and began writing furiously on a writing pad.

“Tonight we make more calls. I need to talk to Stan about a couple of things, then I need you to contact Speed for the last time,” Rick said, giving Sara a broad smile.

“What'll I say to him?”

“I'll write a script for you. It won't be a long one and he'll be impatient for you to hang up after you give him the next message. We'll start the calls about seven o'clock.”

Phil Speed did not enjoy his walk on the beach. Sure the scenery was great, but his sneakers were filling with sand and becoming uncomfortable. He didn't understand what people saw in beaches and swimming. His idea of enjoying himself was gambling and having a good time spending money on girls.

His biggest quandary kept looming into focus. Where in heavens name was Jacobs and the money? Would he give it back to the cartel via Fennel? What about Sara? How come Jacobs was keeping in touch with her? These questions passed through his mind as he lay outstretched on the bed. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a light afternoon nap.

After two hours, he got up, showered and slipped on a pair of light brown slacks and a white shirt. He looked at his watch, six o'clock, time for an early cocktail and then a sumptuous seafood dinner. If there was one thing Phil Speed enjoyed, it was a gourmet meal, and tonight he intended to indulge himself in a four star restaurant.

Sara and Rick finished their light dinner and headed for the motel room. Rick took the writing pad from the drawer and handed it to Sara.

“Look this over, then call Speed. Just read the instructions on the pad. It's not difficult. Don't say too much and wait
for his reaction. Have you got that? Say exactly what I've written.”

Sara looked at the pad. There was a short script written on it. She read it over twice and then turned to Rick.

“Is that all I have to say?”

“That's it. Don't elaborate. Be careful.”

Sara took the script and had a final read. She paused for a moment, picked up her cell phone and dialed Speed's number.

“Speed here. Is that you, Sara?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Who else would be calling me? What do you want?”

“I've just finished speaking to Jacobs. He's tired of this whole situation and willing to hand the money over to you when he's ready.”

“Good news! When do I get it?”

“I gave him your cell phone number; he's going to call you.”

“Why does he keep contacting you?”

“I think he still has the hots for me. He wants to get out of this whole situation and get back to normal.”

“Tell him to get his rear in gear. I'm tired of waiting,” Speed grumbled and hung up.

Sara switched off her phone and looked at Rick.

“He's taken the bait but he sounded impatient. What next?”

“I'd be impatient too if I knew Fennel was around. Now let's see. You're out of the picture from now on. I'll be making all the calls and I've got to get it right. I'm going to take a few minutes to work things out. Why don't you take a stroll into the village for about thirty minutes or so? When you come back, we'll go out for a nightcap. How about it?”

Sara looked at Rick and smiled. “Okay, see you later,” she said and left the room.

She walked down to the village looking at the small, commercialized gift shops and restaurants. Stopping at a curbside café, she sat at a table and ordered a glass of white wine. Looking back, she realized her whole way of life had gone through a considerable transition over the last few months. She had changed from a racketeer's girl to a girlfriend of a realtor who was a financial disaster. Rick was a nice enough guy but was he the type of man she wanted to settle down with? They were living together and making love, but did she like him enough to stay with him?

There were times when she thought of taking some more of the money and to melt away into anonymity. To a certain extent, it appealed to her. Would leaving Rick give her a problem? She wasn't sure but she knew she could do it.

Life had never been easy for her until Carl came along but she hadn't loved him either. He had helped her live an easy life, but had treated her like an object. Sara had become hardened to disappointment and could tolerate setbacks, but now she knew she was coming to a point where a decision could change her life once again.

Rick was sitting at the small table going over the plan he had laid out. Timing was everything. The events would have to work like clockwork without interference, and would have to occur at night at a time and place where there was nobody around. The beach was the perfect place, and his room was in the ideal position to monitor the line of future action.

He leaned back in his chair as Sara came into the room.

“Ready for that nightcap?” he asked.

“I've just had one,” she said, beaming at him.

“Well, let's have another one before we turn in,” he said.

Rick opened his eyes and looked at the clock. Six-fifteen a.m. He looked across at Sara who was fast asleep. Slowly he eased himself out of bed, showered, shaved and dressed.

“Where are you going at this time of the morning?” Sara said with a sleepy voice.

“For a walk on the beach. Want to come?”

“No, it's a bit early for me. I'll wait for you, then we can get some breakfast.”

Rick made his way across the road to the parking lot and walked quickly to the food court. The beach was practically deserted except for a few joggers and early birds taking a morning walk along the water's edge. The sun was breaking through a small bunch of clouds casting a yellow hue onto the Gulf waters.

‘Perfect,' thought Rick. This was the day to set his plan in motion. Casually, he walked through the deserted food court to the bridge leading to the beach. The bridge spanned a small, gentle sloping gully about four feet deep and six feet wide. Sliding down the gully, he lowered his head and placed himself under the bridge, realizing he was perfectly hidden from above. This was where he would place the sack full of money later that evening.

Rick climbed out of the gully and looked around. There were small sand dunes leading to the beach after the walkway and bridge, with the water's edge some fifty yards away. Soon the beach would be filling up with snowbirds, making the most of their last days in the sun before starting their journey back to the northern regions of the country, where they would be greeted with the final fling of winter.

As he walked back to the room, Rick thought over his plan. He had never done anything like this before. Being involved in a setup with characters like Speed and Fennel disturbed him. He couldn't care less what happened to them. Speed was a sadistic killer and Fennel was an enforcer for the cartel. Maybe they would kill each other. Whatever happened, Fennel could not connect the money to him or Sara, and Speed would keep his mouth shut blaming the robbery onto Carl.

Returning to the room, he found Sara dressed and ready for breakfast.

“Good walk?” she asked.

“Yes, it's going to be a great day in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?”

Rick looked at her and smiled. “I'm going to put the plan into motion tonight. There's practically no moon, the weather is balmy and the forecast is good. I'll start making the calls later this evening. Let's eat.”

Walking to the restaurant next door, Rick was silently going over the plan. The timing had to be perfect. From his small balcony, he would be able to see everything. Fennel and Grover would wait in the parking lot for Speed to arrive. Speed would lead them to the money and Fennel would then have what he wanted. No fuss, no bother. Fennel would take the money and Speed back to Seattle, then the saga would be over as far as Rick and Sara were concerned.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing, Rick?” Sara said, taking a seat at a table.

“Yes, I think so. There's no other way of doing it without exposing ourselves to Fennel and company. We must remain anonymous as far as they are concerned. Like you said, they're dangerous people, and we don't want any trouble.”

“Okay.”

“Now I've got to call Stan when we get back to the room. He must be going crazy waiting to hear from me.”

Back at the room, Sara sat in a chair reading a magazine while Rick called Stan Turner.

“Turner here,” a sleepy voice said on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Stan. It's me, Rick. How are things in California?”

“Do you know what time it is, Rick?”

“Oh shit! I forgot. It's about six a.m. where you are. Sorry about that, Stan. I'll call you back later.”

“That's okay, Rick. When are you coming back? The new office is coming along just fine. We're connected to the Internet, and we have a local area network up and running.”

“Sounds great, Stan. I should be there in about a week. How's business?”

“It's picking up at last. I'm having a bit of a problem with Tom Hughes and the sale of your house, but I'll have that sorted out by the time you get back.”

“No rush, Stan. Talk to you later.”

Rick rang off and paced the room for a few seconds. He knew he should be getting back to work soon. After tonight, there would be no reason to stay here.

Sara and Rick spent the rest of the day shopping and walking on the beach. Rick gave the appearance of being casual and blasé, but inside him, his stomach was churning with apprehension and excitement. Tonight he would put his plan into action.

R
ick glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty p.m. and dusk was beginning to fall. From the room he could clearly see the magnificent sunset that was commonplace on the Gulf side of Florida. Sara poured them a glass of wine and looked out of the window.

“It's beautiful, Rick. I could stay here forever. Do you come here every year?”

“Sure do. At this time of the year, it's paradise.”

“Can't we stay for a little longer, Rick?”

“No, I have plenty of other business to take care of when we get back.”

Sara and Rick sat on their small balcony and watched the sun go down like a giant fireball gently evaporating into the sea. Rick looked at his watch, anxiously waiting for the sun to completely disappear, allowing nightfall to take over.

“I'm just going to take a walk down to the beach. Want to come?” Rick asked Sara.

“No, I'll just sit here and enjoy another glass of wine.”

Rick strolled slowly across the parking lot onto the beach. There were quite a few people still ambling along the water's
edge, and some young couples, probably students Rick thought, splashing about in the surf. Walking over towards the refreshment stand, he noticed the parking lot was dimly lit but good enough for him to see the future consequences of his plan from the room.

Rick wondered how long it would be before the beach became deserted. Would it really make a difference? “Only the food court and bridge needed to be deserted,” he mused. Fishing in his pocket for small change, he moved to the payphone next to the hot dog stand. It was time for him to make the necessary calls to Fennel and Speed.

He dialed Speed's cell phone number.

“Sara?” Speed answered in an irritated voice.

“No, it's me, Rick Jacobs.”

“Oh! It's you. Are you going to hand over the money?”

“Not yet. I have to make some arrangements for the drop.”

“What the hell do you mean by
the drop
? Why can't you just hand it over?”

“I don't trust you.”

“Why not?”

“Carl Regis trusted you, and he turned up very stiff and very dead. We're going to do it my way or not at all. Understand?” Rick held all the cards and Speed knew it.

“Say what you want to say and get on with it,” Speed mumbled.

“I'm going to plant it tonight around one o'clock. I'll call you and give you instructions,” Rick said and broke off the exchange.

Rick took a deep breath. That was the first leg completed, now for Fennel. ‘This should be a little easier,' he thought. He emptied the change from his pocket and placed it on the shelf in front of him. Speaking to Fennel made him nervous,
whereas talking to Speed made him feel in control. Gritting his teeth, he dialed Fennel's number.