Double Doublecross (37 page)

“I spoke to Fennel once about a year ago. He works with someone named Grover. They're both nasty pieces of work.”

“You never told me that,” exclaimed Rick. “Did you speak to him on the phone or did you meet him face to face?”

“I met him at a party in Seattle. I was with Carl at the time.”

“Would he recognize you again if he saw you?”

“He said I was a
looker
. At least that's what he said to Carl.”

“Oh boy! Now we really have to be careful. He might tie you in with the money. If he said you were a
looker
, he'll recognize you in an instant. I'm going to think this thing through more thoroughly.”

“Do you think it makes a difference?”

“You bet it does. Somehow the money slipped past them when Carl stole it. That means there was a third person involved. It couldn't have been Speed. He would have taken off immediately. I hope I'm wrong, but they could put two and two together—and come up with
you
.”

Rick looked at the map.

“We'll head for Nashville, and from there, we go on to Atlanta. Before we get there, it might make more sense if we stopped early and take stock of our situation. There's a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“How are we going to convince Speed you have persuaded me to give up the money?”

“I'll just tell him.”

“That won't work. Why would I give it up now? No, we have to be sharp to come up with a good reason. We'll talk about it later. Keep driving, I'll take over in an hour.”

Phil Speed looked at his watch. It was six-thirty in the evening and getting dark. The car would have to be ditched soon and he didn't want to go through the same hassle as before to change it. He had driven hard all day and knew he was on the outskirts of Atlanta. He was now driving on the I-75 South, and the area was becoming more populous. A mile or two more, and he would be close to the airport.

Pulling off the highway, he drove into a bustling strip mall. Pulling into the parking lot, he parked the car in a space between two vans, picked up his bags and headed to a payphone close by and called for a cab.

The cab arrived.

“Where to, mister?” the driver said.

“The airport. Make it the departure terminal. I've got to catch a plane. Just had dinner with a friend and I'm running late.”

“Be there in twenty minutes. I've never missed a flight yet.”

Arriving at the terminal, he paid the cab driver and waited for him to pull away. Making his way into the terminal, he headed to the escalator taking him down to street level, where he rented a car.

By now it was almost eight o'clock. He decided to find a motel or hotel and wait for Sara to call. ‘Thank God for cell phones,' he thought to himself. He needed to know where Rick Jacobs was. Maybe he could intercept him before he reached Florida and snatch the money from him.

As for Sara, he had no intention of sharing anything with her. She was a witness to his killings and had to be put away. His biggest problem was how, when and where could he do it. “Maybe I'll give the ‘gators a feast,” he thought out loud. “Perhaps a burial at sea would be better,” he mused.

Phil Speed booked a room in a small motel on the south side of Atlanta. He had a quick dinner, went to his room and waited for Sara to call.

“Where is that stupid bitch?” he said out loud to himself. “Why doesn't she call?”

Phil Speed was getting impatient and uneasy. He was getting closer to Florida and wanted to know the whereabouts of Rick Jacobs.

Rick had given a lot of thought to the problem of convincing Speed he was willing to part with the money. It would require some impressive acting and dialogue from Sara. He knew she could do it. They worked out a plan and the timing for its implementation.

They were sitting in a quiet family restaurant having dinner when Rick looked up and spoke.

“Did Fennel ever call you on the phone? Let me put it another way—did you ever speak to him over the phone at any time in the past year?”

“Yes, when he called Carl, sometimes I would answer it for him.”

“He's got a very distinctive voice.”

“Oh, yes. It's a gruff, harsh-sounding voice. He was always to the point and very abrupt.”

“Good. I think I've got the germ of a plan forming. It's taking a trip around my gray matter. Give me a little more time, and I'll have it all put together.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

Rick looked at her and gave her a reassuring grin.

“Don't worry about it. I'll give you a script to read. Now let's eat and get some shuteye. We'll keep Speed in suspense for a while. Let me figure this out and you can call him in
the morning.”

The next morning Rick was showered and dressed before Sara was awake. He scribbled furiously on a pad as he drank a cup of complimentary coffee.

Finally he put the pencil down, leaned back and went through the longhand script he had prepared for Sara. He went over to Sara and gently gave her a shake on the shoulder.

“Good morning, sleepy head. Time to get up.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty. Get dressed and we'll get some breakfast. I've got your script ready for you to read. Read it and make any changes you think are necessary. There's not much to it.”

Sara read the script over breakfast. Finally she eased back in her seat.

“I think he'll go for it. At least I hope he will. This will shake him to the core. I guess I better read it through a few times to get use to it. I'll probably have to be spontaneous when it's needed. Give me thirty minutes and I'll let you know when I'm ready,” said Sara thoughtfully

“Take your time. You can do it whenever you like, provided it's after eleven o'clock. He has to think you're still in California. Don't forget, you're supposed to be three hours behind him. Better still call him at midday—it'll spoil his lunch!”

Sara smiled. “Fine, it'll give me more time to think about it. I want to sound
really desperate
.”

“Try to sound upset and scared shitless. How about a few sobs. Think you could do that?”

“I'll do it with a smile on my face,” Sara said with a twinkle in her eye.

Phil Speed had showered, shaved, and eaten breakfast before eight o'clock that morning. He was now getting close to the Florida State border. Seeing a rest area up ahead, he decided to pull in for a brief stop, get something to drink and rest for a while.

Getting out of the car, he stretched and walked over to the vending machine, put in his coins and grabbed a cup of coffee. He took one sip, made a face and threw it into a nearby garbage can. He turned to a woman who was standing nearby.

“I don't know how they can even call this stuff
coffee
. It's cold and tasteless.”

The woman shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

Phil Speed looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to twelve, time for lunch. Within five minutes he pulled off the highway, entered a family restaurant and made his selection from the menu. His cell phone made a tuneful jangle from its holster.

“Speed,” he said in a resigned voice. He was hungry and was not in the mood for talking.

“It's me, Sara.”

“I thought so. Where've you been?”

“I'm frightened, Phil,” she said in a timorous voice. “About ten minutes ago I got a call from Fennel. He—”

“Christ! What did he want? How did he get hold of your number? Where is he now?”

“For God's sake, give me a chance, will you? I'm scared. He's a killer—a hit man. He works for the cartel. What should I do?” Sara said in a simulated panic.

“Now calm down. Let's start again. What did he want?”

“He said he wanted to know if I knew where you were.”

“And?”

“I told him I didn't know. Oh, Phil!” she said with a sob. “He threatened to kill me if I wasn't telling the truth. What should I do?”

“Good girl. You did the right thing. What else did he say? How did he get hold of your number?”

“Carl gave him my number some time ago.”

“Okay! Okay! What else did he say?”

“He said he wanted to know where Rick Jacobs was. I told him he was somewhere in Florida. Did I do right?”

“Oh,
hell
! That means he'll be coming here with his partner, Dan Grover.”

“Who's he?” Sara said with a sobbing jerk in her voice.

“Another fucking hitman! He sticks to Fennel like shit to a new blanket. Now I'm really in trouble. What does he want Jacobs for?”

“I don't really know. He might think he has some of the money.”

“Possibly. Have you found out where he is yet?”

“No. He hasn't called for a while. Shall I tell him Fennel called? I don't think he knows who he is.”

“Yeah, do that. It might take the pressure off me. Call me if you hear anything. Keep me up to date. Okay?” He rang off before she could answer.

His lunch order came but Phil Speed pushed it away. Suddenly he had lost his appetite. Fennel had connections and he could find anyone, anywhere—at any time.

“You deserve an Oscar for that performance,” Rick said. “It was
perfect
. You should take up acting again. Maybe you'll hit the big time,” he said with a chuckle.

“What do we do next?”

“We let Speed stew for a while, maybe until tomorrow
morning. Then you let him know you've heard from me and tell him I'm so scared of Fennel I'm thinking of handing the money over to him, if he'll let me off the hook.”

“That's sneaky, but he deserves it.”

“I'll call Ed and Millie McDonald and reserve a room overlooking the main beach. They should have vacancies; the snowbirds have started their journeys back to the North. You'll like the motel. The view's great and there's plenty of restaurants close by.”

“I'm sure I will. I only hope Phil Speed falls for my line,” said Sara with a doubtful tone.

“Don't worry about it. All he wants is the money. Later on I'll give you another script to follow. Now let's move it and head for Florida. We should make it easily by nightfall.”

Harry Fennel and Dan Grover were making good time. They had taken turns at the wheel and stopped overnight just once. Kansas was in sight and it was quite possible they would reach Atlanta before midnight according to Harry Fennel's calculations.

“You know, Dan, there's a third party in this game and we don't have a clue who it is. Any ideas?”

“Not really. All we know is—he knows the whereabouts of Speed and the money. He's keeping us on a string.”

“But how did he figure out where Speed is? That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Not from Carl, that's for sure.”

Dan fidgeted in his car seat. He was tired of driving. This was some trip. All he wanted was to get hold of the money and take care of Speed.

Rick called ahead and reserved a room overlooking the beach and the parking lot. It was just what he wanted. He told Ed McDonald they would be arriving late that night. No problem, they would have someone there all night to let them in. Rick drove hard all day, stopping for a brief lunch and dinner. Arriving late in the evening, they unpacked and sat on the terrace overlooking the beach with the parking lot immediately to their left.

“Would you like to make a phone call now?” Rick said casually.

“Sure. To Phil?”

“Yup.”

“It's a bit late, Rick. Eleven-thirty by my watch.”

“That's okay. Wake him up, give him a shock and find out where he is. Then tell him you contacted me and I thought it would be a good idea if I handed the money over to Fennel. Tell him I'm afraid of getting mixed up with cartel hit men.”

“Then what?”

“Give him the idea that you could convince me to hand it over to him without repercussions. Then play it from there. I'll be close by to give you support.”

“You've got this thing pretty well worked out, haven't you?”

“Yup. I've given it a lot of thought. He's got to have a way of getting his hands on the rest of the money without making it look too suspicious. Now let's get to work,” said Rick.

Sara took the cell phone from her purse and dialed the number for Speed. After a few rings she switched off.

“No answer,” she said turning to Rick.

“I'm not surprised. It's late. Try calling the jerk again. This time wait a bit longer. See what happens. He could have
been checking in to a motel or having a shower. Be more patient.”

Sara dialed again and waited. A few minutes later Speed answered.

“Hello!”

“Phil, it's me, Sara. I heard from Jacobs.”

“Did you call earlier? it woke me up and I couldn't get to it in time.”

“Yes, look—where are you now?”

“In a small motel just south of Tampa.”

“Jacobs called me. I told him about Fennel. He's scared stiff. Getting mixed up with hit men has made him anxious. I got the idea he wants to hand the money over to Fennel on condition of no repercussions.”

“He can't do that. They'll kill him anyway. I want it all. That's what I'm here for.”

“I know that, Phil. This is for both of us, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

‘You lying bastard,' Sara thought.

“What shall I say to him if he calls me back?”

“You'll think of something.”

“Tell you what, I'll tell him it would be a good idea if he got the money to you somehow instead of Fennel.”

“You're really smart, Sara. I like that idea—let me know when he calls. Talk to you then.”

Phil Speed hung up the phone. He would wait for Sara's call with baited breath. Getting his hands on the money before Fennel was critical to his future plans.

“Good job. You handled that perfectly. Now let's get some sleep and put the next phase into action in the morning,” Rick said with a yawn. “It's starting to get interesting.”