Double Doublecross (15 page)

Arriving home that evening, he said a meek hello to Sara, picked up his mail and went to the den to sort through his private affairs. Most of the letters were solicitations from credit card companies offering tempting overtures to sign up and get further into debt. He dumped them into the waste bin and picked up a notice from his bank.

Opening it, he was met with a foreclosure threat on his apartment complex. Then, to make matters worse, there were notices from two of his tenants, saying they were leaving the area to seek employment elsewhere and were submitting one month's notices. Feeling thoroughly dejected, he went to the kitchen and moved over to where Sara was preparing something for dinner.

“I may have to sell this house to make ends meet,” he said, wondering how she would take the news.

“That's a shame, Rick. It's such a beautiful place. Can't you do anything to save it?”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment. Just tough luck and bad planning on my part. I'll give it some more thought, but I can't see much hope at the moment.”

“How much do you need to survive for a few months until you can find another way out? Perhaps business will pick up in the spring. Can't you hang on till then?”

“Not much hope there. I'll see what I can do. The bank won't give me any more time. I already owe quite a bit on my cards so it's no good using them. I probably need a few thousand in the next two or three months to get me out of this mess,” he said dismally. “If the Hughes's like the house
and I sell it, I could just about make it.”

“Something will turn up, I'm sure. Just hang in there for a week or two. You never know your luck.”

They went off to their respective rooms, both of them deep in thought.

On Thursday Sara received Carl's note. Opening it, she read it with a confused look on her face. It read:

Sara, I'm being watched closely. I don't have my computer so E-mail is out of the question. Look after the money and guard it with your life. I'll contact you in a week or so. As soon as the heat's off we'll make a run for it. Keep an eye open for the mail. Carl
.

The sooner he took the money off her hands the better. Having it in her closet made her nervous. Going into her bedroom, she lifted out the case and unzipping it, stared once again at the vast sum of cash in front of her. Lifting out a package of hundred dollar bills, she wondered how much Rick would need to pull him out of his financial dilemma. She thought about taking a few thousand and giving it to Rick, but then she would have to explain where it came from. Was Phil Speed mixed up with Carl in this robbery? She had called him twice but he didn't answer. There must be something wrong, she concluded, and she wanted no part of it.

Sara looked at her bank balance; she had a little over two thousand dollars, probably no help to Rick. Why was she constantly thinking of Rick's welfare? He was a big boy and could look after himself, but he did know how to have a good time and was fun to be with. Although she wasn't attracted to him in the same way she felt about Phil Speed,
there was something about the way he lived that was clean, fun and open.

He was not like Phil Speed or Carl Regis, both of whom had that shifty, furtive attitude as if they were constantly looking over their shoulders. After the trip to Lake Tahoe and the skiing experience she was beginning to have a different idea of what she really wanted—living among normal, nice people, instead of the type she normally attached herself to, like Carl and Phil. She was having a change of heart of how to live.

I
t had been one month since the robbery and Carl was getting impatient. He had twice contacted Sara using his cell phone and short notes. Each time, he said the same thing. She was not to contact him, but to she was to be calm and wait for his instructions. He had also called Phil Speed during his hospitalization and warned him that his apartment might be bugged.

During the next few days he scanned the rearview mirror for his shadow but was unable to spot him. It seemed as if he was off the hook at last, but he was still wary of his position. One false move and he knew he would be finished. At least he knew the money was safe.

Perhaps in a couple of weeks he could make his move but he would have to be careful and quick. In a way he wanted to bring Phil into the picture but it was too early for that. The less he knew about it the safer he would be at the moment. Sooner or later, though, he knew he would have to use Phil, even if it was as a decoy.

Every day for the past week he had left the building and made his way to the supermarket and could not identify
anyone who looked as if they were following him. He was beginning to feel more confident at last.

It was seven o'clock in the morning when the phone rang in Carl's bedroom. He sat up in a daze and put the receiver to his ear.

“Carl speaking.”

“Get up here on the evening shuttle. You and Speed have work to do. Pick up your Southwest tickets for the six o'clock flight out of Oakland this evening,” he was instructed by an unfamiliar voice. “Make sure you don't miss it.”

Carl Regis sat up in bed and dialed Phil Speed's number.

“Did you get a message, Phil.”

“Yeah. What's it about?”

“Sounded like we're back on the payroll. Said we had work to do.”

“Okay. Will you pick me up on the way? I only live a few blocks from the airport.”

“No problem. Be there at three thirty. You never know how long we'll be at security. See you then.”

Carl went down to his car to phone Sara. He wasn't sure if his place was still bugged. He assumed it was but he was never able to find anything.

He dialed the code and on the third ring a voice answered.

“Rick here,” the voice said.

Carl jammed the phone down.

“Shit,” he said out loud. “That was Jacobs' voice.”

Sara should have answered the call. She must have left her cell phone somewhere in the house. He looked at his watch. It was eight thirty. He decided to wait an hour and then call her again. He passed the time by packing an overnight bag ready for his trip.

An hour later he dialed the coded sequence again.

“Hello, this is Sara,” she said softly.

“I know it's you,” Carl replied gruffly. “How come Jacobs answered the phone? Talk about being shocked.”

“I left my phone in the kitchen overnight and he must have answered it.”

“Don't let it happen again. Keep your phone handy at all times.”

“What do you want?” she said curtly.

“I think I'm off the hook. There doesn't appear to be anybody following me. Be prepared to get into action. I have to fly to Seattle tonight with Phil. Should be home in a few days.”

“I haven't seen Phil for such a long time,” she lied. “How is he?”

“Badly bruised. He was worked over worse than me. Landed in hospital with a badly bruised pelvis, smashed face—but he's in pretty good shape now. I guess he'll live.”

Sara had not been aware that they had both taken a beating. No wonder she had not heard from him.

“Does he know about the money?” she said.

“No, and don't tell him—at least not yet. I'll tell him when the time comes. Just keep quiet about it, okay?”

“Sure, I will. No problem. See you later,” she said switching off the handset.

The trip to Seattle was just routine work—carrying large sums of money around to be delivered to the contacts who would
lose it
in the market place. Carl and Phil drove back to the Tacoma Airport in silence.

“What did you make of that, Phil?”

“Don't know. Seemed like the old routine to me. I wonder
if they caught the bastard who caused our whipping. How much do you think he or they got away with? In fact, were they ever caught? Didn't hear a word about it. Nobody is talking, and I'm not asking.”

“I know what you mean, Phil. Didn't hear a thing. Do you think our places were bugged for sound?”

“I know they were. Found mine after a couple of days by accident. They stuck one on the underside of my kitchen table.”

“What did you do with it?”

“Are you kidding? I left it there and didn't say a word out of place,” he laughed. “I don't want any trouble that I don't deserve. These boys play rough when they lose big dough.”

Carl shuddered. He knew he had to be careful not to drop his guard.

“What do you think they'd do to the guys who took the stash?”

“Lights out! Good night! Goodbye! I'll see you on the other side, sunshine! Have a nice funeral! Are you joking Carl? They'll turn them into mincemeat.”

The idea of being butchered made Carl feel nauseous. He mustn't get caught at any cost. His planning had to be perfect.

‘So how do you make a perfect escape?' he thought. ‘Keep it as simple as possible,' he decided.

Carl was beginning to feel paranoid.

“Do you think we're still being tailed, Phil?”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“Just that! It looks as if I'm not being followed, but I can't be too sure. They might have changed their tactics. I'm not up to anything anyway, so who cares? I've got nothing to hide.”

‘But I have,' thought Carl, ‘I must try and detect if it's all clear.'

On the flight back to Oakland, Carl pretended to be asleep, but he was thinking of a way to find out if he had a shadow or was he just being overly suspicious about the whole thing. It was going to be difficult to prove one way or the other.

When he eventually returned to his apartment, Carl had a gem of an idea to determine if he was still being followed. He knew he had full use of his cell phone, but only in the confinement of his car. His first task was to start his search for the bug he knew must be in his apartment somewhere.

For three hours he turned his place upside down, looking in every nook and cranny he could find, but he had no luck. Perhaps there wasn't a bug there after all, but he didn't really believe that. If they planted one in Phil Speed's place, his place would certainly be fixed the same way. Carl sat down and tried to think of any place where he had not looked.

Finally he gave up and decided to send out for a pizza. He picked up the wall phone and dialed the local pizza place for a double cheese and meatball special. As he replaced the phone into its cradle, he removed the receiver to straighten it up and return it to the connection on the wall. He felt a lump stuck to the bottom left rear side of the receptacle. He'd found the bug!!

He felt a sigh of relief and a sense of achievement. ‘Gotcha,' he thought, but his bubble of ecstasy was soon burst. Surely there must be another one or two concealed around the place.

‘The bedroom,' he thought, ‘it must be in the bedroom.' He went straight to his bedside telephone set, lifted it, and turned it over. There it was! Another bug!

Now at least he knew he was still being monitored. They
must have planted them during the trip down to California just after his beating. He had been wise to use the cell phone in his car. He was sure they hadn't bugged that—but he still would be very cautious in future.

He went to the lobby of the apartments and dialed the coded sequence that he and Sara had agreed to. On the third ring Sara picked up the phone.

“Sara here.”

“It's me, Carl. Can you talk?”

“Yes, I'm alone at the moment. Jacobs won't be here for another hour or two.”

“Good. I want you to help me. Just a small thing.”

“I don't want anything risky. It's bad enough having this load of cash sitting in my closet,” she said testily.

“Nothing to it, honestly. Just follow me around and check if you see a body following me. I'll be going to the usual supermarket at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Follow me from the strip mall opposite the apartments to the supermarket and then walk around the place keeping an eye open for a tail. Okay?”

“Okay, Carl, but let's get this over with as soon as possible. I've had enough and I'm scared stiff.”

“Just be patient, that's all I ask. See you tomorrow,” he said.

Sara put on the coffee and started to prepare a salad for dinner. She had the feeling she would be satisfied with a quiet domesticated life where there weren't any hazardous paths to tread.

Rick came in the garage entry, said a quiet hello to Sara, grabbed a cup of coffee and stood in the kitchen looking at Sara.

“Salad for dinner?” he asked.

“Looks like it.”

“Good, I like a salad now and again. Very refreshing,” he said.

He fidgeted around the kitchen for a few moments before bracing himself for the reply to his next remark.

“Sara, I'm showing the house to the Hughes family tomorrow so I have to tidy up around here. Could you do your room? I'll do the rest of the house. It's pretty clean so there won't be that much to do.”

“Oh, Rick, you can't be serious. This is a great home. Can't you possibly see a way to keep it?” she exclaimed.

“I can only hold out for about another month or so. Then I'll have to find some more cash from somewhere. This mortgage is killing me, and I don't need a house of this size.”

“Okay, I'll help you clean the place up,” she said with a sigh. This meant she would have to find another place to live just when she was getting used to the house.

“Of course you will have to leave the place for an hour or so,” he said cautiously.

“That's okay with me Rick. What time are they going to be here?”

“About ten thirty tomorrow morning,” he said smoothly, feeling much better now that he had told her.

“Suits me fine,” she muttered, thinking that would be ideal for her
assignment
Carl had requested of her.

The next morning at five minutes to ten, Sara drove to the strip mall opposite Carl's apartment and parked her car. She waited five minutes and watched Carl drive through the security gate right on time. Waiting a few seconds, she noticed two cars pulling out after Carl, heading in the same direction toward the supermarket.