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Authors: J. Frank James

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Retail, #Suspense

Dead Money Run (18 page)

BOOK: Dead Money Run
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Chapter 50

Befor
e
leaving the Hotel, I had Hilary get a safe deposit box from the hotel and put Roseman’s file in it. I didn’t want it laying a round and I didn’t want to get caught with it. Right now Hilary was the only person that knew I had it. A lot of what was in the file was probably speculation on Roseman’s part, but it had information that he had to get from someone inside the Outfit.

After
taking care of the file, Hilary got a list of places from the front desk on where buy a prepaid cellphone.


They said Best Buy was the place to go. It’s down Peachtree about two miles on our left.”

At nine o’clock at night, there wasn’t much traffic
on Peachtree Street. But, because we were on so many hit lists, I was especially vigilant when moving around in public, especially in a car. Looking in the rear view mirror, I noticed a set of lights moving up behind me.

“I think we have a tail,” I said.

Without looking around, Hilary said, “Best Buy is just ahead. Pull in and see if they follow us.”

Driving into the parking area, I watched the lights go by. It was a
Ford four door Crown Victoria dark in color. It had Federal Government stamped all over it. At the next light it took a left. Maybe I was wrong. Could have been someone heading home and they just liked dark colored Fords.

Switching gears, I
parked in a handicap space right in front of the store while Hilary went in to buy the phone. I told her to put a hundred dollars on the phone and buy a card for an extra hundred dollars’ worth of time.

It wasn’t long before the Crown Vic
toria drifted into the parking area. As it passed behind our car, I gave some thought to putting the car in reverse and stepping on the gas. Any other day and I might have done it.

Turning to wait for Hilary, I heard a knocking on the rear door
window of the car. It was the driver of the Crown Vic. Lowering my window and I said, “What’d you need?”

“Need to talk with you.”

“Not tonight. Hit the road,” I said reaching into my jacket pocket and worked the Python out holding it next to my right leg.

“My name is
Max Reynolds. You can either talk to me here or downtown at my office.”

Sometimes I can be real stubborn and this just happened to be one of those times.

“Give me a card,” I said. “I’ll call you.”

About that time Hilary walked out of the store and got in the car
, locking her door as she did.

“Who is the
newbie hanging on the outside?”


Says he’s Max Reynolds. Give me a minute.”

Turning to talk out my window
again, Reynolds was gone.

“I must have scared him off,” Hilary said.

“Must have,” I said. “What kind of phone did you get?”

“It’s a Samsung
thingy,” said Hilary. “I like the color.

T
hat’s why I bought it.”


Great. How much time did you buy with it?”

“What you asked for.

“When I push this button before I go to bed, it will glow in the dark.”

“When you call that number if it’s Hightower, maybe he’ll glow in the dark.”

“You ready?”

“Ready,” I said.

I drove out of the shopping area as Hilary dialed the number. After a few rings an automated attendant answered.

“This is the Hightower residence. If your call is for
Jonathon, please select the number one on your telephone key pad and wait for the beep. If your call is for Sabrina, please select the number two on your telephone key pad and wait for the beep. In either case, please speak clearly and distinctly and leave a number where someone can call you back.”

Hilary hit the number
one and left a message.


Jonathon, this is Simply Wonderful. I’m a friend of Kandi Kain’s. I’m going to be in the area and Kandi said I should look you up when while I was in town. I’ll be riding down on the bus to meet you Jonathon. Kandi said you knew how to show a girl a really goodtime.”

Leaving
the telephone number of the new prepaid cellphone, we never expected to get a call back, but five minutes after Hilary had placed the call to the number in Jupiter, she got a call back. Hilary let it go to voice mail.

“This is Missus
Jonathon Hightower returning the call of Simply Wonderful. At first I thought this might be a joke caller, but then the use of the name Kandi Kain put the call into a class of its own. Miss Wonderful, my husband is getting all the blow jobs he can handle right now. However, if you are so inclined, we have a new male Rottweiler who has yet to be fixed and I am sure he would be willing to accommodate your level of interest. Furthermore, you can kiss my ass on any given Sunday since Jonathon is no longer in need of any outsourced services. Good day to you, Miss Simply.”

A
fter that, we got a call from Jonathon Hightower apologizing for his wife’s behavior and that if Simply happened to be in town he would be happy to meet her at his office at number Ten Worth Avenue, Palm Beach, Florida.

“What do you make of that,” I said.

“Sounds like Jonathon is a pervert and may not get as much action as Sabrina is letting on,” said Hilary. “On the other vein, it may mean that you are right about the counterfeiting slant.”

“What is even more interesting is that she sounded like she knew my sister by her professional name. Maybe Loc
kman was telling the truth about that.”

“A little late
for him, don’t you think?”

“For him, yes. For the information, it is never too late for that,” I said.

Driving out of the parking area, the same dark car that had tried to block me in while Hilary was buying the phone was right behind us. I crossed a lane and pulled in front of a panel truck and took the next right turn onto a side street and pulled over to the curb. The car behind us had pulled into the other lane when I did, but missed the turn.

“What’s wrong,” she said.

“I don’t know yet, but we are about to have a visitor.”

The car turned into a gas station and made a quick turn onto the side street
and parked behind our car. I got out of the car holding the Python down along the side of my leg and waited for the driver to get out of his. It was the same bozo from before. I wasn’t able to tell if he was alone or not since no light came on inside the car when he got out.

D
ressed in a dark blazer with light colored slacks, he had Fed written all over him. When he got close enough where I could see his face, he said, “Evening,” like he had met me out on a stroll.

I didn’t say anything. I could feel the
Python parked beside my leg. It was a good place for it if I had to get to it quickly, but there was nothing to do and wait for him to make the next move.

Sticking out his
right hand, he said, “My name is Max Reynolds and I’m betting you are Lou Malloy and in the car with you is Hilary Kelly.”

I didn’t shake his hand
and said nothing. I was watching his eyes. After a few minutes he dropped the Good Humor act.


You are staying at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Atlanta and in your room is a cohort by the name of Harold Barnes aka Crusher. Have I got that right?”

I tried not to look surprised, but I was. I prided myself on staying hidden, but this guy had all the facts.

“Mind if we talk?” he said.

I kn
ew one thing. John Goodman had described a Max Reynolds on our call and this wasn’t him.

“You’re talking. I’m listening.”

“Can we go somewhere private?”

I saw a
diner across from where we were standing and nodded toward it. “Place over there looks open,” I said.

“Fine with me,” he said. “Let’s go. I’ll buy.”

I waited for him to get back in his car and drive over to the diner before getting in my car. Hilary was a thousand questions. I just sat for a few minutes thinking what I should do.

“Hilary, you’re going t
o have to trust me on this one. Says his name is Max Reynolds, but that is not the Max Reynolds described by Goodman. Whoever this guy is he’s stopped us for a reason. Might as well find out what he wants. However, he has our vitals.”

“What’s that?” Hilary asked.

“He knows a lot about us, like where we are staying, who else is there and so forth. We need to go slow on this one.”

Hilary
seemed resigned to the fact that we were goners.

“Lou, this can
’t be good.”

“Maybe, but not a whole lot we can do about it. I say we go and hear what
he has to say and then react.”

“You mean, try to jump up before you hit the ground hoping to break your fall?”

“Something like that,” I said.

The restaurant was one of those all night diners that served breakfast
24/7.

“Something doesn’t feel right about him
. He’s either government or was government and now out on his own,” I said.


That’s not a comforting thought, since the government kills people all the time.”


If he wanted to kill us we probably would already be dead. He wants something from us. Might as well find out what it is.”

“That’s
now,” said Hilary.

Entering
the restaurant, I looked for Reynolds. He was sitting in one of the booths with a partner along the far wall of the restaurant. The diner had a fountain bar where you could sit and order thirty-eight kinds of ice cream and if you were real motivated, you could order a fried clam boat with a pound of French fries smothered in cheddar cheese.

A
pproaching their booth, Reynolds and his buddy didn’t move to shake our hands or introduce themselves. Maybe that wasn’t in the spook handbook? Reynolds was the first to break the ice.

“Just so you know
. We are not here for you. Sitting to my left is Brandon Miles. Miles is the head of the Strategic Home Initiative Taskforce of Homeland Security.”

I smiled and said, “Sounds like a bunch of shit if you ask me.”

Without breaking stride, Miles smiled and said, “We didn’t pick out the name, we just work there.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Mister Malloy, the government has been following your efforts the past few days and we think you could use some help.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, so far we have counted over ten dead bodies that appear to be due to your handiwork. If you keep on going, you’re going to be arrested by the local folks who may frown on the amount of attrition you are responsible for.”

I felt Hilary’s nails dig into the palm of my hand. I got her message.
What she and I had here was the source of the cleaners that have been following us around with shovels.

“So arrest us,” I said.

Just then a waitress dropped some menus on the table and walked away. Whatever happened to service with a smile?

“Come on Mister Malloy. If we wanted to do that we would have
. No, what we want to do is give you some help.”


To do what? Killing people is about all I’m good at.”

Miles didn’t
appear to appreciate my humor. I could sense that Reynolds was sitting on him.

“Yes,” said Reynolds. “There is that. But, no one is pe
rfect in our business, Mister Malloy. Sometimes we have to ride with the Devil to get out of Hell.”

Well, so much for law and order.


What is it you want from us?”

“Well here is what we need and why.”

Breaking things down in their order of importance, Reynolds began his story

Susan was in fact an
agent of the taskforce Reynolds headed up. Miles was his major domo and had a license to kill, as did all members of the task force. He said Susan had been working to infiltrate a vicious gang that had gained control of the insurance company Hilary worked for. When he mentioned the name of Silvio Chancez, I thought Hilary was going to jump through her skin, but she kept her counsel. Chancez was a field guy who worked for the Outfit lining up casinos that bought into the idea of insuring their losses. As far as the Taskforce was able to learn, their game was for the company to issue a policy of insurance. Then they would set up a plan to rob the casino in order to trigger the loss payout from the company. The insurance money that was paid to the casino was paid in cash and as far as the Indians were concerned that worked for them. They only insured Indian-backed casinos. When they robbed the casino of the cash, they paid out the claim with something referred to as dead money. This was money that needed to be laundered. The stolen money taken from the casino was now clean money and put back into the insurance company as working capital. The premiums were based on the total annual earnings of each casino subject to an audit that the insurance company performed. The average take annually of an Indian casino was around two hundred million dollars, making the premium substantial. The Indians never reported the losses because they had the insurance and they could care less.”

BOOK: Dead Money Run
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