Double Doublecross (35 page)

“Where are you, you bitch!?” she heard him scream.

Slowly, she stood erect. Her hands were covered in mud, and her clothes were a mess. Kneeling down she grabbed a handful of the soggy earth and smeared it over her face. She had seen them do it in the movies. Picking up another handful of earth, she patted it onto the front of her hair. She wondered what she must look like.

“I'm going to find you, bitch!” he screamed once again.

She looked through the branches and could see him making his way back into the house. ‘Where is he going?” she thought. Suddenly she knew. He had found the light switch for the patio. The whole patio lit up. Sara stood stock still in the darkness behind the hedge. She pressed her body against the wall behind her trying to look as small as possible. In the distance she could hear the phone ringing. It was probably Rick.

“I know you're here somewhere. I'll give you one more chance. Come out and we'll call it quits. If you don't, I'll find you and kill you!”

She kept very still wondering what his next move would be. He was standing in the middle of the patio with a semi-automatic in his hand. Slowly he crouched down and moved to her left out of her sight. What was he doing? Then she realized he was beginning to search behind the laurel hedge.

Sara panicked. She had to do something. Slowly she edged her way to her right, but she could hear him moving far off to her left behind the hedge. Without warning she bumped into a wall. She had reached a corner where the wall butted onto the neighboring house. It was about a foot lower than the top of the hedge.

Reaching up, she grasped the top of the wall and slowly
hauled herself up. The noise of the wind and rain covered her movements. Resting precariously on top of the wall, she looked down to see what was on the other side. She could see nothing. Slowly she eased herself down into the neighboring garden and landed on a shrub of some kind. Moving forward, she encountered more shrubs standing about three feet tall.

Phil Speed was moving at a high pace behind the hedge. Where the hell was she? He ran into the wall dividing the gardens and moved in a direction following the shape of the hedge. Reaching the end of the hedge, he realized she wasn't there. He stopped and looked back at the house. No sign of her there. He hoisted himself up until he was in a position to look over the wall, but he could see nothing. Slowly he retraced his steps, stopping occasionally to listen for any telltale sound.

Sara was crouched down behind a collection of shrubs. She could hear nothing. Was he still there? Only the wind and rain could be heard. Moving carefully back to the wall, she was tempted to take a chance and see if he was still around. She waited for a few minutes … it seemed like years.

She was unaware of her saturated condition as she eased her face upward to the top of the wall. Horror stricken, she found herself staring at the back of his head. Instantly, she recoiled and ducked down to the base of the wall. Had he seen her?

She waited a few minutes keeping perfectly motionless. Her body was now beginning to feel cold. Her hands and feet were numb. She felt like a wreck. Through the wind and rain, she heard his voice once again. This time it seemed to come from further away.

“One last chance, Sara! It's now or never. We can go off and live a great life with this money. What d' you say?”

She waited, holding her breath, praying he would go away. After a few minutes she heard a car start up. Looking over the top of the wall, she could see he was nowhere in sight. He'd gone. She began to sob with relief. Clambering over the wall, she made her way carefully to the house, looking and listening for any sign of movement.

Arriving at the house, she turned the lights off in the garden and kitchen as a precaution. Sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, she continued to sob and wait. She rested her head on her folded arms, closed her eyes and slept.

She was awakened by the sound of a door being opened. Rick turned on the lights, went to the kitchen and stopped abruptly when he saw Sara.

“Jesus Christ! What happened to you?”

He rushed over to her as she arose from her seat and put his arms around her.

“What in heaven's name happened here?” he asked, taking another look at the muddy figure standing before him.

“Oh, Rick! It was awful!” she cried.

“Get cleaned up. You can tell me about it when you're ready.”

Sara sat staring at Rick from across the breakfast room table.

“That's the whole story, Rick. The man's a ruthless killer and extremely dangerous.”

“I was afraid of that,” Rick said. “Now we have a problem. He doesn't know it yet, but he hasn't got all the money. I still have most of it. I kept it as insurance. Somehow, I don't think that works with this maniac. He's killed and he'll kill again just to get his hands on it. I think there is a way out of this. Give me a minute.”

Rick went to his study and sat in his recliner. A plan was forming in his head to set up Phil Speed. After a few minutes Rick returned to Sara.

“I've got an idea, but I don't know if it'll work. Speed doesn't know he only has a small amount of the money. I've got the rest here, and I don't want him coming around looking for it. He's too much of a threat to all of us. I've got a plan—and I think you can help me by using some of your acting skills.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Rick gave her a steady look. “I want you to tell Speed you've changed your mind. I—”

“I can't do that!” interrupted Sara. “He scares me to death! All he thinks about is the money. He's a complete psychopath!”

“You don't have to see him, Sara. Now here's what I want you to do.”

Rick took a deep breath and looked into Sara's eyes. “I want you to call him on your cell phone and tell him you've changed your mind because I've left you high and dry. Tell him he only has a small portion of the money and the rest is junk. Get him to check the contents of the bag. Then tell him I have the rest. Let him know I'm on my way to Florida right now, and you want to get even with me.”

Sara gave Rick a grave look. “I don't know if he'll fall for it. I think he'll come here looking for you.”

“No, he won't. If he thinks I've got the rest of the money, he'll come after me. Just tell him you're keeping in touch with me because there are things to be taken care of around the house, and you'll keep him informed as to my whereabouts. Think you can do it?”

“I'll try—but I don't like it. I hate the rotten bastard!”
Sara said vehemently.

“We've got nothing to lose. I double-crossed Carl and he double-crossed Carl again. Now we're going to do the same to him.”

S
ara took a deep breath and for a moment composed herself for the call to Phil Speed. She felt uncomfortable about this whole deal. She wished she had never gotten mixed up with Carl and his crazy idea. The life she was leading now seemed like heaven compared to her past.

Sara picked up the phone and dialed Speed's cell phone number, hoping he was in range.

“Yes,” said a gruff voice. “Who's this?”

“It's Sara. You've been double-crossed and so have I,” she said angrily getting straight to the point. “What you have is mostly paper garbage. Check it out for yourself.”

For a moment there was silence. She could hear movement on the other end of the line. Then she heard Speed explode.

“The bastard! The cheap hairy-assed bastard has screwed me! Where is he now? I'll kill him!”

“He's on his way to Florida with millions of dollars stuffed in his bag. He said he'd contact me from time to time. What a shithead! He screwed us both!” Sara said, laying it on thick. “I'm sorry about the way I treated you tonight. Can't we forget it and team up and try to get the money?”

“Sure, sure,” Speed said slowly. “What's the next move?”

Sara looked at Rick who was listening on the other headset. ‘Go to Florida,' Rick mimed to Sara.

“Drive to Florida. I'll keep in touch with him and let you know where he is so you can track him. I'll call you later, ‘bye for now.” Sara put the phone down with a sigh of relief.

“Good girl,” Rick said softly with a smile. “Now go and pack. We're leaving for Florida early in the morning. We'll take the Lincoln. It's more comfortable.”

Phil Speed unfolded his map. If Rick Jacobs had the money in Lake Tahoe, he would keep on U.S. 80 and head for Salt Lake City. Phil Speed was close to Bakersfield. He decided to head for Las Vegas, stay somewhere on the outskirts for the night, and in the morning, head for Salt Lake City on U.S. 15.

The only thing concerning him was the car. It was certain the law would be looking for it. He'd have to get rid of it or change it in the near future. When would Sara contact him? Would he ever catch up with Rick Jacobs? Where was he now? These questions raced through his mind as he drove through the night.

After a restless night in a small motel east of Las Vegas, Phil Speed showered and checked out early at five in the morning. He drove steadily, heading for Salt Lake City. After a few miles he pulled off the road and purchased jumper cables at a truck stop. Driving on, he pulled in at the first rest area and parked in a remote spot and waited.

He waited for thirty minutes, checking all the travelers as they pulled in. Then he saw what he had been waiting for. He popped the hood of his car and loosened one of the
battery connections. Moving swiftly, he followed a portly, middle-aged man into the restroom.

“Oh boy! What a start to the day!” he muttered to the man. “Battery's flat. Would you believe it? I wonder if you could give me a jumpstart. I've got jumper cables.”

“No problem,” smiled the stranger. “Where are you parked?”

“Thanks a million. I'm just over there,” he said, pointing to the lone parking spot.

“Be right over.”

Speed hurried over to his car, popped open the trunk, lifted his case and placed it on the rear seat. He then placed the jumper cables as far back as he could in the trunk and slammed it shut.

He opened the car door and waited for his prey. A new Buick LaCrosse pulled up beside him, and the portly man got out.

“The name's Phil,” said Speed holding out his hand.

“I'm Joe,” said the portly man.

“Let me try once more,” Speed murmured. He turned the key and nothing happened.

“Still dead,” he said. “I'll pop the trunk; the cables are in there somewhere.”

Joe leaned forward into the trunk, reaching for the cables. It was the last thing he did. Speed placed the muzzle of the silencer at the base of his neck and fired a single muffled shot. Blood, skull and brain splattered everywhere.

Speed lifted the body into the trunk, took the wallet from the corpse and checked to make sure there were keys in the Buick. He retrieved the jumper cables, threw his keys into the trunk and slammed it shut. Next, he transferred his bags into the Buick and carefully drove out of the rest area with a
cruel smile on his face.

“Mission accomplished,” he whispered to himself.

“When should I call him?” Sara said to Rick.

“Not yet. Let him stew for a while. Maybe we'll call him tomorrow just to keep him interested.”

Driving steadily through the day, they reached the outskirts of Salt Lake City late in the afternoon and rented a room in a small mom and pop motel next to a family restaurant. In the evening they drove around the city taking in the sights and finished the day with a well-deserved dinner.

The next morning they packed their bags, checked out and went to the restaurant for breakfast. They sat in a booth, and Rick took out the card Carl had given to him just before he died.

“Order me a country special. I have to make a quick phone call,” Rick said.

Reaching a public telephone, Rick put some change into it and dialed the number on the card.

“Hello,” said a cautious voice.

“I want to speak to Fennel,” said Rick.

“I'm Fennel. Who's this? What do you want?”

“I don't want anything, but you want Phil Speed and the money.”

“Who is this?” Fennel asked in a low menacing voice.

“Stay tuned. I'll call you tomorrow,” Rick said, hanging up the phone.

Rick returned to his seat and looked at Sara. “Ever hear of a guy named Fennel?”

“Yes. Carl told me about him. He's a hit man. A real mean one. Why do you ask?” said Sara.

“I just called him. Carl gave me his card just before he
died. I'm going to deliver Speed and the money to him when we reach Florida.”

Sara shuddered visibly. The situation seemed to be getting out of hand.

“I hope you know what you're doing, Rick. These are dangerous people. I don't want either of us getting hurt.”

“Don't worry about it. We'll remain anonymous throughout the whole thing. I'll always use pay phones and have them use their cell phones. Sooner or later I'll have to give them the go-ahead to fly out to the Tampa area. Now eat up and let's get going. We've got a long drive ahead of us and you need to contact Speed sometime this evening to find out where the hell he is.”

Phil Speed felt uncomfortable in the stolen car. If the body was discovered in the car he left behind, the law might trace the car he was in. He decided he had to change cars soon. Evening was approaching and it would soon be dark. Pulling into another rest area he parked the car and pulled out his map. He was approximately thirty miles west of Laramie; it was time to change cars.

Looking around, he located a remote part of the parking lot, parked the car and popped open the hood. With a screwdriver he again disconnected one of the battery terminals, got into the car and waited.

After fifteen minutes he saw what he was looking for. Walking up to a stranger he lightly touched him on the arm.