Double Doublecross (19 page)

“Good. I'll call you next week to confirm the arrangements. Bye for now,” Sara said.

B
y the following Friday, Sara had heard nothing from Carl, so she assumed he was ready to move on her signal.

She dialed his number in the coded fashion they had agreed upon. A few minutes later Carl called her back.

“Everything's set, Carl. We'll be leaving around four this afternoon. Good luck!”

“Thanks a million, sweetie,” he said. “I'll send for you when I get settled.”

Carl rang off and left Sara hanging on the line.

“Like hell you will,” said Sara to herself. “Good riddance to you and the money.”

When Rick arrived home late that day, Sara had composed herself, but she kept thinking about the next few hours ahead. How would she know if Carl had taken the money or not? She wrapped the latchkey in plastic and slipped it in her pocket.

“I'll start loading the Land Rover,” Rick said.

“Okay. I'll meet you out front by the garage,” she said,
placing her case outside the door, leaving the Tourister bag containing the small fortune on the bed and leaving the door slightly ajar for Carl. She took this opportunity to place the key in the soil beneath the bush in the large container and headed for the Land Rover.

Rick loaded the skis and the cases into the back of the Land Rover ready for the trip. Deciding to make a final check, Rick went around the house opening and closing every door. Glancing in Sara's room, he noticed the bag with the yellow ribbon on top of her bed.

“Forgot something, as usual,” he said picking up the bag. He closed the bedroom door and loaded it into the car.

Taking the same route to Lake Tahoe via Truckee, they pulled up at the same small restaurant in Auburn for a short break. The rain was now changing to sleet and the temperature was falling fast.

“What happens if it continues to snow?” Sara asked.

“Nothing really, unless the snowstorm starts to get too bad and the CHP closes Interstate 80. Then we would either have to turn back or find a place to bed down for the night.”

“When you say
turn back
, do you mean go back home?”

“That's about it. Sometimes it's better to do that than keep going. It really depends on how long and how bad the storm is.”

Sara frowned and started to think fast. She didn't want to turn back because she would somehow have to make an excuse to call Carl and postpone the plan. This was something she didn't want to do. She couldn't wait to get rid of the money.

“I hope it gets better soon. I like this place and I want to get some more skiing time in. Now that I've just started, I
want to get better at it,” she declared.

“Well, we do have chains and this is a four wheel drive wagon. If it's not too bad, the CHP will let us continue but it could be slow going.”

“When do you think we'll get there?” Sara asked.

“Can't say for sure—could take three hours or so, give or take an hour or two. We should make it before nine o'clock this evening.”

Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She said a silent prayer for the continuation of their trip.

They arrived at Truckee where they were pulled over by the CHP. The storm had become more intense. The snow was being blown around furiously by the biting, cold wind.

“Where are you headed?” the officer asked Rick as he rolled down his window.

“Stateline, Officer. How are the road conditions?”

“They're being plowed now.”

“That's great.”

“You'll have to put chains on before I can let you continue.”

“Fine,” Rick shouted above the howling wind.

“Need any help?” the officer shouted back.

“No, I can manage, thanks. I've done this a million times before. Thanks all the same.”

Rick got out of the car and retrieved the chains from their box.

“I'll be a couple of minutes. Won't be too long,” he said to Sara.

After a few minutes Rick returned to the car.

“All ready to roll,” he said. Just then a CHP officer came over to inspect the wheels, to confirm they were on properly.

“They look okay to me,” he shouted. “If you're headed for Stateline, take the Incline Village route. The road will be
clearer on that side.”

“Thanks officer, will do,” Rick shouted back and started to drive through Truckee on his way to Tahoe City and Incline Village.

The snow was now turning into a raging blizzard. Visibility was becoming hazardous. Rick had driven through many snowstorms but not as severe as this.

“It's getting pretty bad,” he said to Sara.

“Will we make it?”

“I think so, but it'll be tough going.”

They pressed on and after another hour they finally reached their hotel. Rick sat back with a sigh of relief.

“I think we'll have a stiff drink before we go up to the room,” he gasped.

“Good idea. I could use one myself.”

“I'll unload the bags and get the valet to park the car. You go ahead and check us in,” he instructed Sara.

“I'll see you in a minute,” she said.

Rick handed over the car keys to the valet and signaled for some help with the bags.

“What's the room number?” Rick asked when he reached Sara at the check-in desk.

“Room 322, sir,” said the desk clerk.

“Let's have the bags taken up, and we'll grab a couple of drinks. We deserve a couple of good ones after that drive.”

“I'll tell the busboy,” Sara said.

She walked over to where the bags were, glanced down and gave a gasp of horror. There was the Tourister bag as large as life on the floor in front of her.

Her stomach turned over and she could feel her face becoming flushed with fear. She couldn't move, for her legs were turning to spaghetti. Rick was approaching her from
the desk after picking up the security entry cards. She had to think fast. The bag must not reach the room, and she couldn't take it with her to the bar. She had to find a way to conceal it.

There was no time to hide it. With a casual movement she cunningly slipped her hand over the yellow ribbon and yanked at it. It came away in her hand. Slowly but furtively she slipped it into her pocket.

The busboy collected the bags and moved off to the elevator.

“What's up?” Rick said as he reached her.

“Nothing,” Sara sighed.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“It must have been the drive. It was exhausting, even though I wasn't driving,” she murmured.

“Yeah, it was tough going. Let's get that drink now. Then we'll change and catch a late dinner.”

“It's nearly nine thirty, Rick. Could we have dinner now? I don't like to go to bed on a full stomach. I only want a small salad.”

“Anything you say,” he said.

‘What am I going to do?' thought Sara. Sooner or later Rick was going to find the money. She would have to think of something before they went up to the room.

Sara came to the conclusion the best thing to do was to feign a feeling of surprise and play it from there. Whatever happened, she couldn't let it out of her sight.

Suddenly she realized she had to get in touch with Carl and tell him what had happened. Her world was turning to confusion and chaos. She felt in a state of panic.

When the drinks came and the dinner was served, she took a long sip and poked at her salad. She wanted to get it over
with and somehow make an excuse to call Carl.

“You're quiet,” said Rick.

“I think I'm tired after the trip.”

“Me, too. Let's hit the sack and have a great time tomorrow.”

They rode up in the elevator together, hardly speaking a word. They were both bathed in apprehension and anticipation for different reasons. At that moment Sara could see no way out of her predicament, unless she could somehow keep Rick from seeing the contents of the case. She felt tense and nauseous. Externally she looked calm and serene, but internally, she was absolutely panic-stricken. Rick, on the other hand, was feeling excited and content.

Sara glanced at her watch as they got out of the elevator and approached the door of their room. It was now ten thirty. She would have to call Carl as soon as possible and call off the plan.

Rick opened the door to their room and let her enter ahead of him. Closing the door, he looked around the room.

“This looks perfect,” he said. “In the morning you'll see a view of the mountains. We have a refrigerator and two king size beds.”

Sara could not take her eyes off the case full of money.

Rick lifted his suitcase onto one of the beds. He grabbed Sara's case and put it next to his. Moving around the bed, he bent to lift the Tourister bag onto the bed. Sara bit her lower lip in dread.

“What have you got in here? Feels like a small load of bricks,” Rick said.

“Oh, just woman's things,” said Sara in a calm voice.

Rick heaved the bag onto the bed, and in a swift movement,
unzipped it just a few inches.

Rick stood still, staring at the bag with a look of disbelief and shock on his face.

“Where in hell's name did you get all this money?”

Sara stared wide-eyed and opened-mouthed at the contents, feigning total surprise.

“Oh, my god!” she cried putting her hand to her mouth. “Where did that come from? Where are my things?”

“It came from your bag. Where did you get all this money?”

“Rick, that bag's not mine,” she said truthfully. “Then whose is it?”

“I don't know.”

“You must know. I brought it in from the car.”

“Rick, that's not my bag.”

“Of course it's your bag.”

“No, it's not. All of my luggage and bags have a yellow ribbon tied to the handle for easy recognition. This one doesn't.”

Rick gaped at her. She was right. She always had a yellow ribbon tied to her luggage.

“Then who owns this bag?” he said in a soft voice. “We must find the owner as soon as possible. He or she is going to miss a fortune like this.”

Again Sara's legs turned to jelly. She mustn't let the money get away from them. She sat on the bed thinking frantically. Somehow she had to stall for time until she had a solution. The answer at the moment was to create some sort of diversion.

“How much do you think is there?”

“God only knows,” said Rick in disbelief. “It's a lot, that's all I know.”

“Let's count it Rick.”

“What the hell for?”

“I'm just curious, that's all.”

Rick unzipped the bag until it was wide open. His eyes bulged when he saw the denomination of the notes that were wrapped in bundles and stuffed tightly into the case.

“These are hundred, fifty and twenty dollar bills.”

“How are we going to do it?” Sara asked.

“Count the value of one bundle and multiply it by the number of bundles. It should give us a ballpark figure.”

“You do it, Rick. I'm too distraught to do anything. My mind's gone numb.”

“Okay,” Rick said and started counting.

This gave Sara an opportunity to devise a scheme to get her out of this hole. No matter what, she had to contact Carl as soon as possible. If she could only find a way to be on her own for just a few minutes—that would be all the time she would need. But how could she manage it without arousing suspicion?

“Well, believe it or not, there's something close to two million dollars here. This is hard to believe!” Rick said.

“Oh! Who carries that amount of cash around?”

“Gamblers, criminals, or probably some corrupt, insidious character,” he said with a grimace.

“I think we should hang onto it for a while until we can figure out what to do with it.”

Rick thought for a moment then said, “You could be right. Let's sleep on it and make a decision in the morning.”

Sara went into the bathroom and locked the door. She had to do something quick to get out and call Carl.

She flung the bathroom door open and looked dolefully at Rick.

“My bag is lost and I need some toiletries that were in it,”
she lied.

“What do you need?”

“Things. You know, like I said before, woman's things.”

“Like what?”

“Make up, creams, eye shadow, toothbrush, toothpaste and some Tylenol—heaven knows I'll need Tylenol. There were also some clothes and other odds and ends.”

“Okay. Don't be long. The gift shop should still be open. We have a lot to talk about.”

Sara took the elevator down to the lobby and sat in a chair by the fireside. Except for one or two people she was quite alone. The hotel was on the California side of the state line so there wasn't any noise from casinos.

She looked again at her watch. It was approaching midnight. She hoped Carl hadn't decided to make an early start.

Dialing their code, she waited for Carl to call her back once he was in place outside of his apartment.

“Carl here. What's up?”

“Things have gone wrong!” Sara exclaimed.

“What do you mean
gone wrong
? Did you go to Tahoe?”

“Yes, we did—”

“Then what do you mean by
gone wrong
? What could go wrong?” he said interrupting her.

“It's about the money. It's here with me.”

“Holy shit! What happened?”

“Rick picked up the bag by mistake and dumped it in the car. I didn't see him do it. Now he's seen the money!”

“Oh fuck! What's he going to do with it? What did he say when he saw it? How the hell did this happen? This is terrible! My plans are shot to pieces! What can you do to get it to me?”

“For Christ's sake, Carl! Let's deal with one question at a time. I'm the poor bastard who has to get us out of this mess.”