Double Doublecross (25 page)

He had to face it. He had to find another way of approaching Rick in order to retrieve his prize. The other problem he had to face was how to lose his follower once he had the money
in his possession. This was another formidable problem he had to think through. He was watched constantly even as he walked past Rick's office on several occasions. These people were mean and ready to make an example of any member who got out of line.

Sitting on his sofa drinking a strong cup of coffee, Carl looked at his options once again and came to one conclusion—he could not accomplish this on his own. The only other person who could possibly provide some insight to effectively force this ex-Marine to part with the fortune was Phil Speed.

He had drawn a blank with Sara Martin; she just wanted out of the whole thing and had proven to be totally ineffective. Speed, on the other hand, would figure out a way to make Rick Jacobs give up the bag of currency.

Carl still wasn't comfortable letting Speed in on the act. If he decided to tell him the whole story, there was no way of telling how he'd react. He would certainly be surprised, but in addition, there was the possibility he would turn to violence. There must be a way to curb Speed from being violent when he disclosed the picture to him. He decided to call Phil on Saturday and tell him over dinner in the atmosphere of a crowded restaurant. He thought there would be safety in numbers.

Rick arrived home that same evening to a steak dinner ready for him on the table complete with a salad and a glass of wine.

“Hi! This looks good, Sara. What's the occasion?”

“Nothing special, Rick. I thought it would be pleasant to have an evening together and discuss the money situation now that we've cleared the air and you know the full story. Is that okay with you?”

“Yup, no problem,” he said with a smile. “Let's eat first. I'm hungry.”

“Okay, then. Let's eat,” she said indifferently.

As soon as they were finished, Rick glanced up at Sara, noticing a serious look on her face as she poured coffee.

“What do you want to know? I'm not destitute. There's money for food, ski trips, movies and anything else you can think of.”

“It's not that at all, Rick, and you know it. I'm talking about the money we found in the hotel bag. What are we going to do with it? It's not ours—so why don't you give it to Carl and get it off our hands?”

“You've got to be joking!” Rick exclaimed. “Why should I do that? It's not his. He can't do anything about it. I've asked him to physically confront me, but he wouldn't do it. He's just a cowardly little shit.”

“But it
is
his money, Rick.
He
took the gamble to get it, so rightfully it belongs to him. So just let him have it.”

“That's where you're wrong. The money belongs to the drug cartel, and if you think I'm going to contact them with the whole story, you're thoroughly mistaken. What do I say to them? ‘Oh, I'm so sorry your bag of loot accidentally fell into my possession. Here, take it back. No hard feelings.' Screw that, Sara! That's an invitation to a death warrant. They don't know I've got it and Carl Regis isn't going to tell them. It's a death warrant for him too. No, I'm going to use it at my discretion, pay off mortgages, get my Porsche back, help the business and have a good time.”

“Alright, but the whole thing gives me the creeps,” she said quietly. “He'll try again, you know.”

“Just let him! He's a fucking wimp. He won't try anything physical. He's too scared. Maybe I'll give him some money
to play with, but not before I'm ready. You can tell him that, and while you're at it, get his phone number for me,” he said with his eyes blazing with anger.

“Okay, I'll do that,” she said again in a quiet voice. “We always use cell phones just to fool his follower.”

“Wonderful! Keep him away from me. I don't want any of his
friends
around here, and just remember—it was you and Carl who got me into this—so he has to pay the price for failure. You can tell him that as well,” he said angrily.

Sara sat quietly in a recliner going over the verbal exchange she had just had with Rick. He was being stubborn. How would this situation work out? Now that he had this huge financial resource, Rick was adopting a greedy, selfish, egotistical personality and acting completely out of character. All she wanted for herself was a normal life without the complications that a person like Carl Regis brought with him. She had a woman's intuition of impending danger in this whole affair but Rick couldn't see it. He seemed to be money mad.

Rick also sat quietly in his own recliner thinking about the discussion with Sara. He was sure he was right. There wasn't anything Carl Regis could do beyond violence to retrieve the money, and he was quite incapable of that. As far as he was concerned, he was now on Easy Street for the first time in his life. He would never have financial concerns again. He would expand the business, of course, but he would play a less active role and act in a supervisory position, giving him more time for play.

Rick went to bed that night pipe dreaming about his future. ‘Nothing could go wrong,' he thought confidently. ‘Everything is bright and rosy.'—or so he thought.

Sara waited until early Saturday morning to call Carl and give him an outline of her discussion with Rick.

“He's not budging an inch, Carl. He said maybe he'll give you something later on. I can't do any more of this go-between stuff. He asked for your cell phone number. Do you want me to give it to him?”

“Okay. So he's going to hang onto it. Give him my number and tell him to call me if he changes his mind,” Carl said switching off his phone.

Carl Regis immediately picked up the phone to call Phil Speed. A feeling of misgiving ran through him, but he was out of answers to his problem, and Phil was his only hope. He punched in Phil Speed's number, secretly hoping there would be no answer.

“Speed here. What do you want?” a terse voice said.

“Hi, Phil! It's me, Carl.”

“What the hell do you want this time of the morning? It's only nine o'clock.”

“I just wanted to talk to you. Let's have dinner tonight. It's my treat. What do you say?”

“It's either important or you've won the lottery. Okay, you make the reservation. Of course, you realize our tails will be around watching every move and mouthful,” he said, knowing full well they were listening.

“It's only a friendly get together, Phil. I can phone a friend, can't I?”

“Sure. Go ahead and make the reservation. Where were you thinking of taking me?”

“The Purple Room. Let's say seven o'clock. Is that okay?” Carl said with a slight tremor in his voice.

“That sounds good to me. If you're paying, I'll hit you for
a bundle. Meet you there at seven,” with that he rang off.

Carl sat there quite still; he had made the first move to tell Phil Speed everything. Now he had to pluck up the courage to go through with it. He had misgivings about the whole thing, but there was no other option open to him. He picked up the phone and made the reservation.

He tried to imagine what reaction Phil Speed would have when he told him the whole story, and what type of solution he would come up with. He shuddered at the thought. Phil Speed could be a very violent proposition when aroused. There had been occasions when he had resorted to physical violence as an enforcer for the cartel using both explosives and arson as a factor in intimidation. He would try to reason with Speed not to use any level of brutality unless he was forced to. Lighting a cigarette, he paced the apartment waiting for the evening to arrive.

P
hil Speed made his way to the restaurant at ten minutes to seven, occasionally glancing in his rearview mirror to catch sight of his tail. At first he thought there wasn't going to be a follower until he realized it was a woman in a small sports car.

Reaching the restaurant, he slowly walked to the entrance, catching a glimpse of a tall, hard looking woman getting out of the car waiting for him to enter through the door. Once inside, he looked around for Carl Regis and spotted him sitting at the bar nervously drinking a vodka and tonic. He walked over to him.

“Hi Carl. How's tricks?”

“Okay. Table will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“Spotted your tail yet?”

“Yeah! The bastard's over there at the end of the bar. He seems to be waiting for someone—probably
your
tail.”

“Mine's a woman. Can you beat that—using a broad again? What's up with these people?” Speed said in disgust. “Here she comes, attractive in a hard-looking way. Probably gives her mother a beating just for a workout,” he quipped.

“Not bad, not bad. She's heading straight for my disciple. How about that?”

“Some date!” Phil Speed said.

“Regis! Regis!” a voice shouted.

“Table's ready, Phil.”

Carl Regis fiddled with his salad and looked around for the two shadows that happened to be sitting at a table across the room out of earshot.

“So, what do you want to talk about? It must be important if you're picking up the tab for this.” Speed said.

“I've got something to tell you,” Carl Regis said timorously.

“Well, cough it up. Come on, I'm getting excited. You're not getting married, are you?”

“No, it's nothing like that. It's about the bag money that was taken from the cartel.”

“Well, what about it? I'd like to get my hands on the bum who took it. I'd beat the shit to a pulp and flush him down the john. He's causing us all kinds of trouble. Look at the entourage we have everywhere we go.”

Carl Regis started to tremble. His stomach started to churn, and he began to have second thoughts about the whole idea of involving Speed. He plucked up courage and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His mouth was dry and he started to perspire.

“Come on, Carl. What do you want to tell me?”

“It was me,” he said in a timid voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I took the bag of money.”

“You're joking?”

“No. It's true. I took it.”

“Jesus Christ!” Speed blurted out.

“Keep your voice down. Don't get angry. I know how you
feel. Right now, you feel like busting me one, but that won't solve a thing.”

“You little creep. I took a beating because of you. I've a good mind to take you apart right now,” he said menacingly with a threatening tone in his voice.

“How did you pull it off?”

“With great difficulty. Plus help from Sara. She knew nothing about it, believe it or not.”

“Where's the money now? Why are you still hanging around here? Nothing makes sense to me.”

Carl took a deep breath.

“I don't have it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I don't have it.”

The main course arrived and Carl waited for the waiter to disappear.

“Let me tell you the whole story.”

Carl Regis began telling Phil Speed the whole saga. To Speed the story sounded incredible. He stopped eating his steak and just frowned as the scheme unfolded and then fell apart because of an unfortunate error.

Carl finished the story and sat back, relieved it was all over. The facts were on the table.

“I can't believe it.”

“It's the truth,” Carl said.

“How much are we talking about?”

“A million or two—maybe more. I didn't count it. It's in cash mainly twenties, fifties, hundreds and maybe five hundreds.”

“Carl, this is hard to believe. What do you want me to do?”

“Help me get it back, preferably without using any violence.”

“What's in it for me? Better be good.”

“Twenty percent. It should add up to about a half a million or so. It'll give you a start to a comfortable retirement.”

“Make it fifty and it's a deal.” Greed showed in Phil Speed's eyes. For the time being he was going to suppress his anger at Carl Regis. Here was a chance to get his hands on a fortune.

“What about thirty percent,” Carl said hopefully.

“Listen Carl, without me you're treading water. If you want to swim, it's fifty or
nothing
, understand?”

Carl Regis looked at Phil Speed and knew he was right. Without his help, there was no hope.

“Okay, but no violence. I'll give you his office address.”

“Let me tell you something, pal. With this kind of money at stake, anything goes, okay? Just stand back and let me think this through. He might be a tough cookie, but he's bound to have a weak link somewhere. Now eat up or our friends over there will become suspicious,” he said, giving a sideways glance across the dining room.

Reaching home after the dinner, Phil Speed walked over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, sat down and started to go over the conversation he had with Carl Regis in the restaurant. There were several problems to overcome in addition to getting the money from Rick Jacobs.

First, there was the question as to how they were going to persuade Rick to part with the package of money. Second, they had to find a way to lose their shadows. This would not be an easy proposition as there were two of them and they were always close at hand. Obviously they strongly suspected both himself and Carl. If only they knew how close they were to the truth.

The third item in question was Sara. He wanted Sara for himself and wondered if she would agree to go with him once he had his share of the money. The way Carl Regis had described the whole scenario to him, it appeared she was innocently involved. How would she take to being on the run with him until they found a perfect hideaway?

“Plenty to think about,” he said to himself. “Better get some shuteye and think about it in the morning.”