Double Doublecross (36 page)

“Excuse me. I wonder if you could do me a favor. My battery's flat—could you give me a jumpstart? I've got jumper cables and I'm parked over there ….”

After completing his
business
, Speed took Carl's wallet and planted it on the body.

‘That should confuse them,' he thought to himself with a smile. He jumped into the car and drove off with the intention of reaching Denver before nightfall.

It was dark and a drizzle filled the air as Rick and Sara closed in on Laramie. Rick peered through the windshield.

“There's flashing lights up ahead. I think the highway patrol is directing traffic into the rest area,” grimaced Rick. “It must be an accident. That's all we need.”

“I needed a stop anyway. Need to stretch my legs,” said Sara. “Let's see what the problem is.”

They wandered over to a patrol officer who was controlling the small crowd now gathering around the scene.

“What happened officer?” inquired Rick.

The officer gave him a cold stare. “One of the attendants noticed a car parked in one spot for three hours. We found a body in the trunk.”

“How awful!” exclaimed Sara. “Was it a man or woman?”

“A man,” said the officer. “Someone called Carl Regis. A Californian. Funny thing is—he was driving a car with Utah plates.”

Sara felt a chill run through her body. Rick put his arm around her shoulders.

“Nasty,” said Rick to the officer. “Come on, Sara. Let's get some coffee.”

Out of earshot of the crowd, Rick said in a low voice to Sara, “That wasn't Carl. He's back at Squaw Valley. Speed has killed again and this will hold us up for a while. My guess is he'll make for Denver and switch from U.S. 80 to U.S. 70. He's going to be a long ways ahead of us. We may have to skip a night of sleep and drive through tomorrow. How do you feel about that?”

“That's fine, Rick. We can stop for breakfast, and I'll give him a call and see how far ahead he is at the same time. I'll share the driving time with you, and we can make up the lost time and stop earlier tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” said Rick.

The traffic from the highway was allowed through, but the people who were at the rest area when the body was discovered were being detained and questioned. Rick explained he had arrived on the scene after the body was found and was allowed to continue.

He wasn't happy with their situation. It was important to keep fairly close to Speed in order to control the scenario when they reached Florida. Some very tight coordination and alignment of events would have to be implemented involving Fennel and Speed if he wanted to rid himself of Speed and the money.

Great care had to be taken handling Speed. He had killed
at least
twice as far as Rick knew. Speed had nothing to lose and everything to gain, meaning he would kill as many times as was necessary to get hold of the money.

Rick headed for Denver hoping the traffic would be light at this late hour. It was his intention to reach the outskirts of Kansas before nightfall the following evening.

It was morning and Sara and Rick had reached the town of Colby on the route to Kansas. Pulling into a family restaurant, they ordered breakfast.

“I'll call Speed from the car when we've finished here,” Sara said.

“Do you know what to say?”

“Leave it to me,” she said, smiling at Rick. “I'm an actress, remember?”

It was time to call Speed.

“Speed here. Who's there?”

“It's me, Phil. Sara. Just calling to give you an idea where that jerk is. All I'm getting is grief from his gardener, bank manager and others he owes money to. I'll be glad to get out of here. When can I fly out to meet you? I'm sick of this place, and I don't think he's coming back here.”

“Quit the sob story. Where is he now?”

“Somewhere near Kansas, I think. Where are you?”

“Near Kansas. I should be at the Kansas Turnpike in a couple of hours or so.”

“When can I fly out to meet you?”

“Not yet. Call me in a couple of days or so.” The line went dead.

Sara turned to Rick. “He's near the Kansas Turnpike. He should be there in a couple of hours or so.”

“We could make it in about three hours. We don't know what car he's driving, so give him a call in about two hours. Tell him you have some more information on my plans. Just tell him anything but try to get a closer fix on him. There's a gas station and restaurant just as you get on the turnpike. Give him the idea I'm heading for it.”

They were now less than an hour from the Kansas Turnpike. Rick was driving well over the speed limit but kept a vigilant eye open for any signs of law enforcement.

“I'm going to pull off the road. Call him now.”

The car came to a stop. Sara dialed the number of Speed's cell phone. She started speaking as soon as she heard the click on the other end of the line.

“Phil! Phil! It's me, Sara. He just called me on the phone. He's heading for the first gas station on the turnpike. I just
remembered—he will be driving his Land Rover,” she lied.

“Thanks,” the gruff voice said.

“Are you close to the turnpike?” Sara asked.

“Just about an hour or so away. I'm having an early dinner. Call me if you get any more dope.”

“Okay, Phil—” The line was dead, she was talking to herself.

“Nice going,” said Rick. “He'll be looking for the Land Rover. It's getting dark now and that's in our favor. I don't know how we're going to spot him, but we know what he looks like and there won't be many people around.”

Leaning over to the back seat, Rick grabbed a small bag, opened it, and took out the false beard, hairpiece and moustache.

“I'm going to put my fancy dress face on. Don't laugh too hard,” he said. “When we approach the rest area, keep your head down. I'll pump gas at the station and take a look around and see if I can spot him.”

As they approached the turnpike gas station, Sara crouched down below the window level in front of her passenger seat.

“Here we go. No sign of him yet. I'm just pulling in to get gas. Keep your head down,” Rick said.

Rick stepped out of the car and deliberately walked slowly to the gas pump, keeping an eye open for any sign of Phil Speed. As he pumped gas, he nonchalantly looked around him. There was no sign of Speed.

“I can't see him. He might be in the restaurant. I'll drive over there and take a quick look inside,” he said to Sara as he climbed in the car.

“I need to go to the restroom, Rick.”

“Me too. Just wait until I've had a good look around. I won't be long.”

Rick took a final look in the rearview mirror, pulled the cap further down over his eyes, and went towards the restaurant door. He entered the restaurant and took a careful look around. There were a few people at the tables but there was no sign of Speed.

He walked over to the restroom and pushed open the door. Immediately in front of him was Phil Speed, zipping himself up in front of a urinal. Rick stood still in shock. He made a quick lurch to a washbasin and started washing his hands, keeping his head as low as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Speed wash his hands and take a paper towel. Rick put his back to Speed and used the hot air hand drier. He waited for Speed to leave.

Rick followed him out of the restroom and watched him leave the restaurant. He stood outside the restaurant and watched Speed make his way to a car in a remote corner of the parking lot. Reaching the car, Speed opened the hood, took a look around him and then fiddled around for a while. Suddenly he stood up and made his way back to the restaurant in Rick's direction, heading for a middle-aged man who was walking away from the door.

“Excuse me. I wonder if you could help me. My battery's….”

Rick didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He hurried back to his the car and told Sara what had happened.

“He's got a problem with his car. Battery's flat, I think. He's driving a light blue Olds. You can't see it from here because it's behind the restaurant. If you want to visit the restroom, do it now and be quick about it. I'll keep my eyes open. He's got to pass us to get onto the turnpike.”

After leaving the restroom, Sara bought two coffees and a stack of donuts to go.

“There's no sign of him yet. Better keep your head down.
He might see you as he drives by,” Rick said as she got into the car. “I'm going to drive over there to see what he's doing.”

Rick drove slowly past the blue Oldsmobile, but there was no sign of Speed, and the hood of the car was down. He parked a few car spaces away and waited. They waited for an hour.

“I can't understand it. Where the hell is he?” Rick said to Sara. “I'm going to walk back to the restaurant and take a look in there. I'll be right back.”

Rick returned, shaking his head. “He's not in there. We can't wait around for him. He might have called for a taxi and we missed him. Let's go and find a place for the night. Tomorrow we'll look for him again.”

They finally stopped at a small motel on the east of Kansas, had dinner in a nearby family restaurant and went to their room to watch television for an hour or two.

“We'll get a good night's sleep and get back on the road early in the morning,” Rick said, watching the regional late night news. He was about to switch off the set when a local news alert flashed on the screen.

It has just been reported that a body was found in the trunk of a parked car at the turnpike rest area. The body has yet to be identified. An attendant at the gas station said he saw a large light brown vehicle parked in the vicinity where the body was found. It was believed to be a Cadillac or a Lincoln. Any person having information about the incident, please contact…

Rick stared in disbelief at the screen. He abruptly turned to Sara with a shocked look on his face.

“Christ! I think Speed has killed again! He must have driven off in a car we didn't recognize—that's why we missed him,” said Rick.

“They said the police were interested in a light brown car. I think they mean us, Rick. You were parked near there. Oh God! What do we do now?” Sara said anxiously.

Rick appeared to go into a thoughtful dreamlike state.

“Rick! What do we do now?” Sara repeated in a panicky voice.

“I'm thinking. Give me a minute, will you?”

He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes deep in thought. After a short silence, he turned to Sara with a stern look on his face.

“One thing for sure, we can't leave now. It would look too suspicious. In the morning we'll make an early start, say about seven o'clock. We can mix with the morning rush hour traffic—that'll give us some cover. We take the first exit and make our way down to Memphis using secondary and back roads. Let's get some sleep and move fast in the morning.”

Rick lay in bed most of the night, thinking about the unbelievable position he was in. Four months ago he only had money problems. Now he was involved with a woman, a bundle of money stolen from a drug lord—and worst of all, entangled with an evil, compulsive killer who wanted the money Rick was carrying. He only hoped he could get out of this mess without any serious repercussions.

I
t was early the next morning when Fennel heard his cell phone ring. Clambering out of bed, he reached for the instrument on his nightstand. “Who the hell's calling me at this hour?” he said to himself.

“Fennel here. Who's that?” he said in a sleepy but irritable voice.

“If you want Phil Speed and the money, fly to Tampa and wait for instructions. Always use your cell phone.”

“Who is that? Who's there?”

The line went dead. Harry Fennel paced the floor for a minute or two then picked up the phone and dialed a number. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end of the line, then a voice said, “Please leave a message and your number and I'll return your call as soon as possible.”

“Dan, call me now. Don't fuck around! It's urgent! W—”

Before he had finished the word, a muffled voice answered. “What's up?”

“It's the mystery voice again. I wish I knew who the bastard was. We have to get to Tampa and wait for further instructions if we want that asshole Speed.”

“Okay, I'll start packing. Want me to book the flight?” said Dan Grover not fully awake.

“No! We can't fly. If we get the stuff, we can't bring it back that way. Too many questions from security. Besides, we'll be packing hardware. We'll start driving as soon as you're ready.”

“That's a long way, Harry.”

“So what! Got any better ideas?”

There was a long pause.

“I thought not. Pack your things and get over here within an hour. We can't waste any time.”

Harry Fennel showered and dressed all the while wondering who was the guy at the end of this venture.

Rick hung up the pay phone and walked to the waiting car where Sara was ready to take the first shift driving. Was he doing the right thing to involve this hit man? The last words Carl said to him suggested Fennel needed to be contacted.

“Let's get moving. We've got to get as far away from here as possible. My guess is that Speed will be doing the same thing. He's got a head start and could be on I-40 by now or he's stayed on the same road. You'll call him later. Right now, we have to move fast,” said Rick.

“What about Fennel?” Sara asked.

“I just called him. Told him to get to Tampa and wait for further instructions.”

“He's a killer too, Rick. We're getting mixed up with some dangerous company,” Sara said, giving him a sideways glance.

“Keep your eyes on the road. Take the next exit and head for Memphis. I know what I'm doing. The only person who can tie us into the money is Speed. Fennel doesn't know who
we are and Carl is dead.”