Dr. Ross took a deep breath. “Let the past go. I know Jack and Raphael had their issues, but Jack is out of the picture now. Let’s do some real business.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“Fifteen healthy organs,” Dr. Ross said with little enthusiasm in his voice. “Can you handle it?”
“Of course,” Amir quickly said, “but how much?”
Dr. Ross sat in his chair; his eyes wandered as he thought of the number he wanted knowing Amir would never take his first price. “One million.”
“You have been eating too much spicy food in New Orleans. It’s making your brain do crazy things,” Amir said. The phone was silent.
Dr. Ross knew he had to wait for Amir to come back with an offer. If he dropped his price, it would mean weakness, and there is no telling where the bottom number would land.
Then Amir broke the silence. “Six hundred thousand is a good deal.”
“That is not going to work. Nine hundred thousand,” Dr. Ross said.
This time, Amir shot back quickly, “Eight hundred thousand, that is it; I will not pay a penny more.”
Dr. Ross sat back in his chair wondering if he should push back one more time with a higher number. He felt he had calculated his percentage with Amir based on what he could get for the organs on the black market. Piece by piece they could be worth two, maybe three million dollars. “I turned that down from my friends in Colombia.” He stayed silent for a few seconds.
“Make it eight hundred and fifty thousand, and we have a deal. But my doctors have to inspect the organs and see they are the quality you say.”
Dr. Ross eagerly said, “Deal!”
“Okay, I will contact you in a few hours with our flight times,” Amir said.
“Very well,” Dr. Ross said, hanging the phone up. He was excited; it was his biggest deal ever.
His nurse buzzed his phone. “Yes,” he answered.
“I have a Larry Dunbar and Michael Vail here to see you,” she said.
He was surprised they were at his office in the hospital. Payment wasn’t due for a few days.
“Send them in.”
Walter met them at the door. “Gentlemen, how are you?” he asked, extending his hand and welcoming them both. “Have a seat,” he said pointing to the leather chairs. “You’re three days early.”
Larry got comfortable in the overstuffed chair across from the doctor’s desk and made small talk. “I sure like these chairs. It’s comfortable for a big guy. What do you think, Michael?” Michael filled out the chair and just nodded his head confirming he liked the chair.
Walter understood Larry’s slight hint to remind him just how big these two guys were. Something they had established from the first day he met them.
“Like I said, you’re three days early.”
“Just checking to see you’re still around. You have a big payment due in three days,” Larry said, adjusting a family picture frame on his desk; another slight hint toward making payments on time.
The doctor sat back in his chair as his private phone line rang. “I have to take this.” Turning his back to them, he picked up the phone. “Hello.” He listened and felt this feeling of relief come over him. “Very well, Amir. I will see you in the morning.”
“Gentlemen, I will have your full payment of three hundred thousand dollars tomorrow night.”
“I don’t plan to accept anything but the full payment,” Larry said standing up. His pleasant attitude for the moment changed to his usual demanding arrogance. “Have a good day, and we will see you tomorrow night.”
Larry and Michael left his office, and Dr. Ross prepared his schedule for the next morning. With Jack gone, he knew he would have to make the drop himself. There was simply too much money at risk, and he couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong.
Dr. Ross made his rounds at the hospital, talking to his patients and their families. He went through the motions with the people, mostly looking at their charts and answering a few questions. His mind was hundreds of miles away, thinking of all the money Jack and his friends bestowed on him with their organs; so much money he could pay Michael in full and have plenty left over for many trips to Las Vegas. No matter what people thought the good doctor’s passion was, it wasn’t practicing medicine. It wasn’t working the family’s charity, the Ross Foundation. And it was not following his father’s footsteps in improving modern medicine.
The only thing he loved more than gambling in Las Vegas was horse racing. To Larry Dunbar and Michael Vail, he was the richest, financially broke doctor they had ever met. But they loved him because he kept borrowing money from them and paying unheard-of interest rates. For Larry and Michael, the good doctor was a cash cow. Everything was fine until the day he couldn’t make his payment.
Dr. Ross finished with his patients and headed over to Riverside Inn. Most of the place was empty except for a few nurses at the station.
He walked up to the nurses station. “Where is everyone?”
“With Mr. Jack gone, a few of the residents have taken control of the place. They stay out of our hair, so I’m fine with it,” a nurse said.
He followed the loud chatter to the exercise room and peeked in. People were sitting on the side of the hot tub, dangling their feet while steam skimmed the top. There were individuals in the water, sitting on lounge chairs, sipping drinks, and some getting massages.
Pearl Ann shouted, “Come in, doctor. Want a drink? Today is champagne mojito Tuesday.” She lifted her glass. Dave was sitting on a one-man swing and held his glass up too. The doctor smiled and closed the door.
Armando’s police car pulled up to the front entrance of Riverside Inn with the blue and red lights flashing on the roof. Quickly following him was a black limousine and another police car. Armando got out of the car and met Ronnie Moore, the driver of the other police car. The limo driver opened his door, got out, and Armando greeted him with a handshake.
“Howard! How are you? Thanks for picking him up,” Armando said.
They all exchanged handshakes and stood by the back door of the limousine as the window came down.
“When you three finish romancing, can one of you help me out of the car?” Zack asked.
Howard opened the door and helped Zack onto his feet. He was still a little weak from being on death’s door just the day before. They helped him up the steps and held the door open for him. He made a few waves to the nurses as he walked down the hall. They escorted him to the spa room and opened the door.
Zack stepped in and shouted, “I’m back!” The room exploded into cheers.
Emma Lou, Pearl Ann, and Dave rushed over to greet him.
Zack put his hands up in the air. “Quiet down. I can’t go forward without thanking each one of you who helped me through this ordeal. Your prayers, get-well cards, your all-night vigils, and flowers.”
From the chair across the room came an outburst. “We love you, Zack,” Ms. Lucy shouted.
Zack smiled. “Thank you. I want to thank my friends at the New Orleans Police Department, Armando, and Ronnie. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” A tear rolled down his face as he looked at Howard. “What can I say about the best limousine driver in the world? He saved my life and several others.” Zack gave him a hug, “Thank you, my friend.”
Howard wrapped his arms around him as tears ran down Zack’s face. They hugged it out for a few seconds as they were interrupted by a person passing out champagne glasses.
Zack lifted his glass. “To champagne mojito Tuesday!”
The End
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I love to write, and I love to hear from my readers. If you enjoyed this book or any of my others, send me an email, and I will respond.
[email protected]
Thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vito Zuppardo retired in 2003 after twenty-five years in the casino business, operating high-limit gaming customers in various casinos around the world.
> Vito began writing in 1986, collecting pieces of information from each trip to Las Vegas, Bahamas, Monte Carlo, and the other many casinos he represented. His primary job was keeping his clients happy, which was a full-time job, while they were vacationing at luxury casino resorts.
www.vitozuppardobooks.com
Want more True Blue Detective? Here’s the first chapter of Crescent City Detective.
Crescent City Detective
Chapter 1
It was just before daybreak and the dark skyline over Lake Pontchartrain in New Orleans had just eased to a blue, pinkish color indicating today would be a beautiful day. Dr. Walter Ross stood in front of his car with a black box sitting at his feet, waiting to catch the first sight of his friend Amir’s jet coming from a distance over the lake. The plane would head directly for the north-south runway of the now secondary airport for New Orleans. Other than television and radio news helicopters, some small military aircraft, and an occasional cargo plane flying in and out of the longstanding airport, it got little usage. The location made it perfect to hand off harvested organs for transplant to his highest bidder, which had always been Amir.
“They are three minutes out. You should be able to see the aircraft over the lake now,” the attendant shouted from his small, makeshift, metal building that served as the ground operations office.
“Thank you,” Dr. Ross yelled back as his eyes focused on the aircraft in the sky slowly descending over the lake.
It didn’t take long for the super sleek Gulfstream VI to land on the short runway and taxi up to the fuel truck waiting to service the plane. He knew the drill. He waited by his car until someone from the aircraft came down the stairway with a suitcase in hand. A bag filled with two hundred thousand dollars—the going price for two freshly harvested organs. A man unknown to Dr. Ross followed Amir down the steps carrying a brown leather bag over his shoulder. Amir handed the ground handler a wad of cash for the fuel and a bonus for his silence that a plane had landed for refueling only that morning.
The airport was open twenty-four hours a day, so the control tower maintained a full staff. The staff kept a log of all airplane activity in and out of the airport, and the ground handler recorded all activity on the field until the aircraft was once again airborne. Here, the operations manager login report showed refueled and pilots walked off the plane to stretch their legs. It was the usual process; Dr. Ross financially took care of the guy at the field operations office, and Amir took care of the ground handler, the only other witness who could confirm the transaction occurred that morning.
Dr. Ross still didn’t recognize the man carrying the leather bag as they approached him. “Good morning,” the doctor said extending his hand to Amir.
“Good morning, my friend,” Amir said shaking his hand. “This is my associate, Saad; he will be your new contact.”
“Saad, I look forward to working with you,” Dr. Ross said shaking his hand and returning a slight bow of his head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you finally,” Saad said.
“I’m sorry to hear about your associate Jack. Was his death sudden?” Amir asked.
Dr. Ross looked at Amir and remembered he never actually explained Jack’s death. “Yes, it was sudden.” If you call one bullet to the head fired from a rooftop by an unknown assassin. The doctor thought for a second, then was snapped out of his trance by Amir’s voice.
“We must go,” Amir said, as handed the doctor the leather bag.
Dr. Ross gave the black box to Saad, dusting off the dirt on the bottom from the dusty airfield. “The clock is ticking; you have about five hours of life for these organs.”
Amir smiled. “No worry, my friend. We will be in the Bahamas in one-and-a-half hours. My recipient will be waiting, ready and prepped for surgery.” Amir turned and walked toward the airplane.
“Have a safe trip,” Dr. Ross said.
Amir stopped and turned back to the doctor. “Thank you. By the way, your friend Jack—his body parts got a good home.”
“Jack was a good friend and a big part of my business,” the doctor said.
Amir, thought for a second, rubbing his face with his hand, “Then it’s only right that his organs ended up on the black market.”
“I always thought I should have put his organs on the national transplant list, not have his organs end up that way,” Dr. Ross said.
Amir smiled, showing his snow-white teeth. “My friend, it is the business we have chosen, and you opted to sell it to the highest bidder, me.”
“We must go,” Saad said, and he and Amir climbed the stairs and boarded the plane. The stairway folded into the body of the aircraft, the engines sounded, and the plane moved to the runway, and within seconds, they were airborne. Their journey was a success once again.
The doctor locked the leather bag in the trunk of his car and headed to the hospital for a normal day’s work. Normal for a physician out of jail on bond and the principal suspect in selling human organs on the black market.
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