Double Doublecross (40 page)

“Grover here,” a voice said.

“Let me speak to Fennel,” Rick said.

“Is this Mister X?”

“Call me what you like. Just get me Fennel.”

There was a pause and Rick could hear Grover calling Fennel telling him
Mister X
was on the line.

“Fennel here,” a smooth voice said.

“How far are you from the Sarasota area?”

“About an hour away. Why?”

“Be there before midnight. Speed and the money will be delivered to you.”

“Who are you, friend?”

“I told you before, it doesn't matter. I'll give you instructions later when you're in the area.” Rick put the phone down. He had set the ball rolling.

Fennel switched off his phone and looked across to where Grover was standing.

“Fit the silencers to the artillery. I have a feeling we're going to need it. Something keeps bugging me about this whole affair.”

“What's that?” said Grover with a disinterested tone in his voice.

“How did this asshole get hold of the money? He must be connected in some way to Regis or Speed. What do you think?”

“Let's get the dough first. Then I'll think about it,” said Grover. “We'd better put on some dark clothes for this caper, Harry.”

“You're right. I think we'll leave before eleven o'clock
tonight. We should be there some time around midnight. Let's get some rest. We could be in for a long night.”

Rick looked at his watch. It was now fifteen minutes to midnight. It was time to make his move. He picked up the bag containing the money and took a deep breath.

“I'm taking the money down to the beach now. Want to come? You could be my look-out.”

“Okay,” said Sara. “I'll just slip some shoes on and I'll be right with you.”

The parking lot was dimly lit and practically empty except for two cars as they made their way to the small bridge connecting the refreshment area to the beach. Reaching the bridge, they crossed onto the beach and looked around. There was nobody in sight.

“I wonder who owns those two cars we saw in the parking lot,” Sara said.

“Probably a couple of kids making out. I can't see them. Come on, let's get on with it. I want to get this part over with and make the final calls.”

“I still don't like it, Rick. I hope you know what you're doing.”

“So do I,” said Rick with a chuckle. “Don't worry—everything's going to be alright. Believe me. Now keep an eye open for me while I place it under the bridge.”

Rick clambered down the side of the shallow ravine and crawled toward the small bridge. Crouching low, he made his way under the bridge and tucked the bag hard under the side nearest the beach. He crawled up the side of the small gully and looked around him. There was one dim lamp lighting the food court, casting moving, sinister shadows from the palm trees across the seating area. Sara was seated
at one of the tables as Rick came over to her.

“See anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. The place is dead. How was it?”

“No problem. It was a bit damp and muddy down there, otherwise it went okay.”

“Rick, you look filthy. Better get back to the room and change. Take your sneakers off before you go in. You're leaving damp footprints everywhere.”

“I have to make a couple of calls first.”

“Let's get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

Slowly they walked over to where the food court led to the parking lot. Without warning, they heard the sound of laughter and loud voices from behind them. Moving into the shadows behind a clump of palm trees, they crouched and waited as four noisy students on spring break passed close by and headed for the two cars in the parking lot. They waited, and a moment later they heard the sound of engines revving and the squeal of rubber on pavement as the cars sped off in the direction of the exit.

“Noisy bastards,” said Rick as he started to walk across the parking lot to the room.

On reaching the room, Rick washed, changed his clothes and headed for the door.

“I'm going down to the village to make the final calls. Stay here and keep an eye open on the beach area. I won't be long,” he said leaning over and giving Sara a soft kiss on the lips.

When he reached the small village, he found the place deserted. There was some noise coming from a bar nearby but not a soul was in sight. The payphone was wedged between a gift shop and a ladies hair salon in a remote spot on a wooden, elevated walkway. Rick felt conspicuous as he
dialed the number for Fennel.

“Fennel here,” the voice said.

“How close are you to the main beach,” Rick asked.

“We're about ten minutes away, coming down the I-75. We'll be at the beach in fifteen minutes or less.”

“Go to the parking lot and wait with your lights off. Speed will get there after you. Just follow him and he'll lead you to the money. Park in a remote corner of the parking area and keep out of sight until he gets there. You can get two birds with one stone. Any questions?”

“None. Look here, who are you? We want to give you a reward.”

“Yeah, I know—a couple of bullets,” Rick said, breaking contact.

Rick waited twenty minutes and made the final call to Speed. This was the last call he had to make.

“Is that you, Jacobs?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Just calm down Speed and listen carefully. I'm going to give you instructions to follow immediately or the money will disappear forever—and don't ever connect
me
to you or the money again. Understand?”

“For Christ sake, get on with it,” Speed growled with impatience. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the money and get away from there.

Rick gave him the instructions, repeating them twice over.

“Have you got that? Any questions?” Rick asked.

“No! I'm gone.” The phone went dead.

Rick went to his car and headed back to their room where he would watch the action through his binoculars from the small balcony.

Sara left the motel as soon as Rick went to make his calls. Swiftly she made her way to the spot where she had seen Rick place the money. Feeling her way in the dark, she found and opened the bag and grabbed two bundles of cash. Quickly she retraced her steps back to the motel. Opening her overnight bag, she placed the money in a side pocket and waited for Rick to return.

Fennel maneuvered the car to the inside lane. He would be taking the next exit. He looked at the clock on the dashboard. They were on time. There seemed to be a high volume of traffic for that time of night. He took out a cigarette from the packet and reached for the lighter when he felt a sudden bump from the rear. Pulling over onto the shoulder, he stopped and got out of the car. Walking to the rear of the car, he realized he had a flat.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

Walking back to the passenger side, he opened the door and looked at Grover.

“We've got a flat! Give me a hand—we don't want to be late.”

Reaching into the trunk, he lifted out the full-size wheel while Grover placed the jack under the car.

“You've got a security nut here, Harry. Where's the gizmo for getting the nut off?”

“Oh, fuck! It's in the glove compartment somewhere. I'll get it.”

After five minutes of searching, he finally found it in the CD holder. Eventually the tire was changed, and they started off realizing they were going to be late. Speed would be ahead of them with the possibility he would be gone before they got there.

“Put your foot down,” Grover said to Harry Fennel.

“Don't be stupid. We don't want to get pulled over for speeding at this point in the game. Take it easy. We may have to change our plans a bit when we get there.”

“Okay. I'll check the artillery. Do you think we'll need a flashlight?”

“Better take one just in case it's needed. We'll be there in a few minutes and I know we'll be late. I'll decide where to park when we get there.”

Phil Speed drove slowly into the parking lot, noticing it was completely empty as expected at that time of night. Cautiously he parked as close to the refreshment area as possible and remained in his seat for a few minutes making sure nobody was around.

From his vantage point, Rick saw a car pull into the lot and drive up to the building containing the refreshment stand.

“The jerks!” Rick muttered to himself out loud.

“What's wrong?” asked Sara.

“They've driven up to the concession area. I told them to park out of sight and wait for Speed.”

Rick focused his binoculars on the car. It was difficult to see what they were doing in the comparative darkness.

“They're going to blow it. Speed will see them and … wait a minute … that's Speed getting out of the car. Oh shit! They must be late! Things could get messy.”

Phil Speed slowly opened the car door, stood still for a moment, closed the door and made his way to the bridge, disappearing out of Rick's view. Furtively he walked over to the bridge and looked down into the small gully. Carefully he started to slide down the side until he reached the bottom. He could hardly see the bridge in front of him. He wished
he'd brought a flashlight; there could be all kinds of creatures down there. He moved forward until he reached the bridge and ducked his head as he went under the wooden structure.

“Which side of the bridge did that bastard put it?” Speed muttered to himself.

He groped to his left and startled a tree rat. Phil Speed jumped back in shock.

“What the hell was that?” he said out loud.

Carefully he tried again, groping to the left and right. He found nothing.

“Maybe that idiot Jacobs forgot to put it there or maybe this is some kind of trap,” he muttered to himself. He drew back, went to the other side of the bridge and gingerly felt underneath. He didn't want to run into any more nocturnal creatures. Groping back and forth, his heart gave a leap—he finally felt the plastic bag. Slowly and gently, he pulled it out and moved out from under the bridge. He clambered up the side of the gully, found a bench, and opening the bag, thrust his hand deep inside pulling out a wad of bills.

“Huh! This is it!” he said to himself in a whisper. “Life is going to be wonderful from now on,” he said, closing the bag.

He stood, picked up the bag and walked to his car. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. He saw a car come into the parking lot with its headlights blazing.

“Must be the sheriff—what'll I say to him? Had to take a leak—that's it,” he said to himself under his breath.

Crouching low behind a large hibiscus bush, Phil Speed watched the car stop close to where his own car was parked. It wasn't a police or sheriff's car—that was for sure. From where he was hidden, the car was no more than fifty yards away. He waited, then his mouth went dry and his heart
skipped a beat. It was Fennel and Grover!

A feeling of panic, fear and then anger swept through him. ‘This is some kind of setup by that bastard Jacobs!' he thought. ‘Well, I'm not going to give it up now! I've come this far!'

Realizing he had to take some evasive action, he moved back to the gully, slid down the side and started to creep slowly forward until he was under the bridge. Now, all he had to do was wait and consider his next move.

Harry Fennel and Dan Grover glided through the entrance of the parking lot.

“Better switch off the lamps,” advised Grover. “Park over there near his car—if that is his car.”

“We've got to assume it is. Now what do we do? We can't just sit here and wait for him. He's probably seen us and he's making his way to another place to escape.”

Grover nodded. “You stay here and I'll go take a quick look around. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, come looking for me. Use your phone to stay in touch.”

Waiting for the sound of the surf to hide his movements, he opened the car door and cautiously moved into the cover of a clump of palm trees. There, he stood listening and squinting into the gloomy light cast by the food court floodlights. Nothing was moving and he could hear nothing over the sound of the surf and the breeze rustling through the fronds of the palm trees. Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. Where should he start looking?

To his left, he saw restrooms about sixty feet from where he was hiding and decided to start there. Moving swiftly to the entrance to the restrooms, he inched his way forward, checking all the stalls as he went. Empty!

Emerging from the restrooms, he looked around the food court and saw it was obvious there was no place to hide there. To his right, he noticed a wall about three feet high running to a small wooden bridge leading to the beach and spanning a narrow gully. Running in a crouched position, he reached the wall and sat facing the way he had come. There was nothing behind him.

He hesitated for a moment and then decided to take a closer look at the bridge and the gully it was spanning. Crawling to the end of the wall, he clambered over it and slid down into the gully. Listening intensely, he heard nothing except the sound of the surf.

At the same time Phil Speed crawled away from the bridge in the opposite direction of the place where Grover was now hunkered down. He swept his vision from the food court to the small wooden bridge for any signs of movement. Deciding he had to move out of the gully, he climbed cautiously up the side and over into the shelter of a small sand dune. He waited for a few seconds and took another look around. There was still no sign of Grover or Fennel.

Reaching into his waistband, he removed the semi-automatic and screwed on the silencer. Again he lifted his head over the sand dune looking for any sign of life. Then he saw it. There was a brief flash of light from the gully on the other side of the bridge. Slowly he eased himself back into the gully and moved stealthily forward in the direction of the bridge. The element of surprise would be his.