Double Doublecross (22 page)

“Hold it! Hold it! Don't get uptight. I had a busy day and I haven't checked my messages yet. Let's sit down and have a nice evening together and tell me why you called me several times.”

“Okay, I'm sorry Rick. I just wanted to know what you did with the money, that's all.”

“Don't worry about it. It's in a safe place. The less you know at this time, the safer it is for you. I've given it some thought and I believe the cash is hot.”

“Why do you say that?” Sara asked with caution.

“Because nobody came looking for the bag. That's kind of funny considering what was in it. Nobody in their right mind would walk away from that sort of money unless it was connected in some way to unlawful activity.”

Sara stared at him in dismay.

“Do you really think so?” she said.

“Almost positive. Think about it for a minute. The bag was in the same hotel as us. We or the bellhop picked it up by mistake and placed it in our room. Yet nobody as much as inquired or showed any interest in it at all. Funny, don't you think?”

“Crazy, if you ask me,” Sara said slowly.

“The bills looked genuine enough.”

“Have you any idea where the money came from?” Sara asked casually.

“Who knows, but I'll bet you a dollar to a pinch of shit it was either stolen from a bank or some kind of money depository. Might even belong to a drug lord or what do they call it … cartel. But I seriously doubt it. They would have come after it by now.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Sara asked once again in a casual, matter-of-fact tone.

“God knows! I haven't thought about that yet.”

“Are you going to hand it over to the authorities?” Sara said in a bored voice.

“I thought we'd discussed that already. No, not until I've thought things through.”

“When will you tell me where it is?” Sara said calmly.

“All in good time. Now, let's eat and get off the subject.”

“It's
here
, isn't it?” she said, guessing wildly.

“Okay. I confess. That's true. But it's not in the house, if that's what you're thinking,” he lied, thinking of the bundle of cash he'd stashed away in his bedroom ready to deposit in his floor safe.

It was approaching the time to turn in for bed. Rick looked over to where Sara was sitting.

“Are we sleeping together or not?” Rick asked impatiently.

“Of course we're sleeping together. I've already moved some of my things into your room.”

She wasn't sure if she loved him or not. In any case, Carl Regis was definitely out of the picture and Phil Speed's chances were fading fast. Somehow, she had to get permanently detached from Carl and it meant getting to know where the
money was and finding a way of getting it to him.

‘As for Phil, he's a different kettle of fish,' she thought. Rick, on the other hand treated her like a queen. He was always gentle, kind and courteous. In a smooth way he was good looking, silently strong and very protective. Her choice in men had changed considerably since she had met him.

“Okay then, let's hit the hay. I've got a busy day tomorrow,” he said eagerly.

While Sara was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Rick put the bundle of bills into his floor safe.

T
he following morning Rick received a call from Tom Hughes. It was bad news. His buyer was unable to close for another three months due to family problems. “Could you possibly give us an extension of three months? There's a problem with my buyer. We really like your house, Rick, and my wife is anxious to make sure we'll get it. Is that a problem for you?” Tom Hughes asked.

A pang of disappointment and nausea swept through Rick's head. He didn't want to lose this buyer as the market was a bit slow this time of year.

“No problem,” he lied, thinking of the mortgage payments he would have to come up with for the house and apartment block.

“Thanks a bunch, Rick. My wife will be pleased. She was worried you wouldn't hold it for us,” Tom said. “I'll talk to you later then.”

As far as Rick was concerned, the brown and smelly stuff had just hit the fan. What the hell was he going to do? He needed about ten thousand dollars within the next ten days, or he would be delinquent on both of his mortgage payments—
which was not good for him
or
his business image.

He sat in his office trying to come up with a solution. What options did he have? He finally decided he could use the bundle of cash he had hidden in his floor safe. Only the owner of the cash would know, and they had no idea where the money was now. Plus—they hadn't come looking for it.

How to handle this was a different matter. He decided to deposit three thousand into the company account and transfer it into his private account in small quantities at a time. This would not arouse suspicion because he frequently moved money between accounts.

He returned home during the lunch break and looked around for Sara. She was nowhere to be seen. Moving swiftly to the floor safe, he dialed the combination and opened it. There it was, just a small bundle. Counting out three thousand dollars, he stuffed it into his inside pocket, closing the safe door and replacing the carpet carefully.

He drove to the bank and deposited the money into the company account, wrote a check for the same amount and transferred it to his personal account.

“You could have deposited this straight into your own account instead of doing another transfer, Mr. Jacobs,” the bank teller said, looking him straight in the eye.

“I know, but I needed the exercise,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “Don't worry. I've done this many times before.”

The drizzle was turning into a steady downpour as he made his way to the car. It was now obvious he had to find an alternative method of depositing the money into his account, but overall he felt pleased with his current achievement and would give some thought to a further option at a later date.

Meanwhile Sara slipped into her car and drove slowly to the large local shopping mall and parked in a remote space. She wanted time to consider her next move. It was perfectly obvious to her that Rick was keeping the location of the money to himself.

There seemed no alternative but to call Carl and discuss the situation with him. Understanding Carl, she knew he would be as much help to her as a straw hat in a blizzard. He was not a violent man by nature, which was a great relief to Sara, but somehow she and Carl had to come up with a plan to get the money to him in the shortest possible timeframe. Sara deliberated as to where she should start. At the very minimum, she had to talk things over with him, in spite of the way she felt about his inability to come up with a reasonable solution.

She made herself comfortable in her car seat, switched on her cell phone and dialed the calling sequence they had previously agreed on. She waited for Carl to return her call. After a long wait he finally called her back.

“Sorry about the delay. I was busy talking to my superiors in Seattle. It appears they want Phil and me to do a run for them. That's good news. It means they're getting more confident I didn't take the money, and Phil will be pleased. He's been down lately and cursing the hell out of the person who took the cash. Glad he doesn't suspect me. He can be a real cruel bastard at times. Okay, that's enough from me. Why did you call?”

“Christ! Don't you go on? I called
you
, remember? I still don't know where the money is. He's keeping things to himself. Don't you have any ideas how to handle this?”

“What do you mean do
I
have any ideas? You were the one who screwed up. You're closer to him so
you
figure it out.
And make it fast—I'm running out of patience.”

“Well, big deal!” Sara exploded. “You're the one who got me into this mess. It's your money! Why don't you find an answer?”

“You know I can't expose myself at this time. It would mean a definite wooden overcoat for me if they found out I did it. Like I said, you're closest to him. Talk to him, for God's sake.”

“What am I to say to him? ‘Dear Rick, I knew about the money all the time. Please forgive me and hand it over to poor old Carl ‘cause he's desperate to run and hide with it,'” she mimicked. “Wake up Carl! As far as I'm concerned you can keep the money all to yourself. I don't want any part of it or you. I'll see what I can do, but I'm not going to break my neck for you!” she said, and switched off her phone.

Carl stared at the wall in the lobby, completely thunderstruck. Sara was becoming a different person. Realizing she was his only hope of getting at the money, he decided to let her come down off the wall before he contacted her again.

He went back to his apartment, picked up the phone and dialed Phil's number.

“Phil here,” the usual gruff voice said.

“It's me, Phil,” Carl said. “What are the arrangements for our trip to Seattle?”

“Same as always. You drive over here and we'll pick up a flight at Oakland, okay?”

“Suits me. I think they're starting to trust us again. What do you think?”

“Yeah, maybe. I still have a tail now and again but they're not consistent. Anyway, I'll see you later tonight. Talk to you soon.”

Carl sat back in his chair. As far as his work was concerned,
things were looking up, but he still had to find a way for Sara to get the money. He knew this would be a difficult task and he had to devote more time to finding a solution to the crisis. One option was to bring Phil into the picture, but only as a last resort. He knew that action could be a costly mistake because Phil could be extremely violent and his mode of operation would be to take no prisoners.

Carl packed his bag in a pensive mood knowing he couldn't wait much longer for his flight to wealth and freedom from the cartel. They were still looking for the perpetrator, and he was aware they would never give up in their search. That was dangerous for Carl. Even if he made a getaway with the money, he would always be a hunted man. With money he would at least stand a chance—a chance he was willing to take.

Sara sat in the kitchen waiting for Rick to come home. 'This was like being married,' she thought. Although Rick was strapped for money, she was confident he would eventually find his way out of trouble, and she was willing to help.

Rick came in through the connecting garage door, shaking off his wet coat and flopping into a kitchen chair.

“When will this wet weather end?” he said. “It's okay for ducks and skiing, but I'm getting tired of it. Roll on summer.”

“Don't be such a grouch. We have a good time skiing so let's make the most of it while we can. By the way, when can we go again? It's great fun.”

“Maybe we can go once more before the end of April. The snowfall can be very heavy this time of year. Let's wait for a fresh fall then we'll take off.”

Sara continued to think hard concerning the whereabouts of the money and how to get it into Carl's greedy possession.
Somehow she had to bring the subject up casually without appearing too concerned about it.

“Are you really going to sell this beautiful house, Rick? Can't you find a way of keeping it?”

“Don't think so. Mortgage payments are hard to meet,” he said through a mouthful of salad and deciding not to mention the fact he had used some of the money from the safe to meet a payment.

“There was a lot of money in that case. Can't you use some of it?” she said in a low, mellow voice.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Don't forget it's not ours. Still … you might have a good point there. I'll think about it.”

“Do you have the money in a safe place nearby?” Sara said cautiously.

“Yep, but don't worry about it. It's safe and nobody can get at it easily.”

“What do you mean by
can't get at it easily
? Sounds a bit secretive to me, like a CIA clandestine operation,” she said lightly.

“I won't tell you where it is, but I will tell you it's split up into several packages for safety reasons, and the keys are in several locations but not in the house.”

“So, you're not going to hand it over to law enforcement authorities? What if it came from the Mafia or someone like the Mafia. Doesn't that scare you?” she said with a feigned look of alarm.

“As I said before, who the hell knows we have it?”

Sara liked the sound of the word
we
. She sat silent for a few seconds, thinking of what to say next to keep the subject in play.

“You're right, of course,” she said, knowing what he had just said was true. “But don't you think it would be better if
I was in on its whereabouts? Two heads are better that one, you know.”

“Not yet, but I'll think about it. Let's wait a while and see what develops. So far there hasn't been any news in the papers or on television regarding missing money. The hotel told me nobody had inquired about a missing bag like yours. Therefore I think the money either belonged to a high roller who had come by the money illegally or it was drug money—or at least something like that. Other than that, I have no idea. As I said, nobody has come after it. What do
you
think? Let's have your thoughts on the subject.”

“I don't have any,” Sara lied, knowing full well that he had practically hit the nail on the head. “You're probably right one way or another. So, why don't you use some of it to get yourself out of trouble then hand the rest over to the police?”

“I might use it to pay my mortgages for a month or two and get rid of my credit card debt. Then I'll think about what to do with the rest. The portion I'll use is a drop in the ocean compared to the total value of the entire content of the bag,” he reasoned.

Again she told Rick he was probably right. What else could she say when he was so close to the truth?