Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Ted wrinkled his brow. "You really shot the guy?"

  "He hit me, Faircloud, and his face told me he wasn't finished. Yeah, I shot him."

  "Where'd you learn to shoot people?"

  "I was raised on a farm, and I hunted with my brothers. I know how to shoot . . . but I'd never shot a man before. It was awful."

  Ted leaned over to pick up the ball. He gave it a toss and looked at the attractive woman again. She's gotta be in her upper thirties, maybe early forties . . . shows in those big eyes of hers, eyes that say she's been around the block a couple of times. Gotta been a showgirl or big-time working girl.

  Ted said, "So, a friend of mine says you're goin' to help me. You've been briefed on everything and you're up to speed. He wasn't blowin' smoke, was he?"

  "So you believe me now?" Bonita asked as if surprised.

  "I never did not believe you--my friend would have checked you out. I asked 'cause I was curious is all."

  Bonita's eyes narrowed. "You're a bastard, you know that? You scared me with that look of yours."

  "I practice that look in the mirror, Miss Rogers. I guess it works. So are you up to speed on the op or not?"

  Bonita began putting on a series of gold bracelets. "Yes, I'm 'up to speed' ... but I want you to understand up front that I get a portion of the money you're going to steal from Carlos. Your friends said I'd have to negotiate the amount with you. I want a million."

  "A million? Lady, you got a quarter of a million in rocks and gold there. You get 250 G's if we pull it off, and that's being real generous on my part."

  Bonita snapped the clasp of the gold Rolex she'd just put on. "Do you know anything about computers, Mr. Faircloud? How about the Internet? Do you know how to go online? Do you know how to use e-mail? I didn't think so.

  How about this: Do you know how your friends were planning to make Carlos move his money so you can get to it?

  No? Well, I know all those things, Mr. Faircloud. One million dollars. That's the deal for my help."

  Ted tossed the ball again. "You still have that pistol you shot the guy with?"

  Bonita lowered the thick gold chain with the diamond pendant she was about to put on. "Uh . . . yes, it's in my purse. Why?"

  " 'Cause you're goin' to need it. When I walk out of here, there ain't goin' to be no op. My friend will have to find somebody else to do it. And guess what? He won't need you anymore--you'll be on your own. Ya see, the way I look at it, I'm the guy who's goin' to take all the chances. You? You'll be online, whatever that is. The deal is you get a quarter million or I forget the whole thing and walk out of here."

  "You're bluffing me."

  Ted began walking toward the steps. "Let me give you some advice. Get yourself a lot more bullets, and when you shoot the next guy, shoot him in the face, not the stomach.

  It's kinda messy but they don't stand there lookin' at you."

  "Okay, half a million and I'll help you."

  "A quarter," Ted said, coming to a halt. "That's it."

  "You're a bastard, Faircloud."

  "And your butt is hangin' out, Miss Rogers. Deal?"

  "Oh, all right. Deal. Help me with this clasp, will you?"

  Ted rolled his eyes but stepped toward her as she turned her back to him, holding both ends of the necklace. He took the ends and attached the small clasp. Oh man, nothing like the smell of a sweaty woman. What the hell you doin', Ted?

  Get the hell away from her, man; she's workin' on you. She's a pro, remember?

  Ted backed up quickly. "You'd better fill me in on the details of the score."

  "What's the matter, Faircloud, haven't you been around a woman lately? You're acting as if I were going to bite you."

  "I've been around plenty of women, lady, just not many half-dressed queens."

  "Get used to it, Faircloud. I like it that it bothers you.

  Come on, follow me; the computer is in the office just off the great room."

  Ted followed her with the dog at his side.

  Bonita sat behind a desk and motioned to the computer and monitor to her front. "This is called a com-pu-ter. It lets you into the information superhighway and what is known as cyberspace."

  "I know what it is, Miss Rogers. Lighten up on me, will ya? Just tell me how you're goin' to help me."

  "Okay, as long as you don't ask me any more questions about Carlos and me. You wouldn't understand anyway.

  And no more of those tough-guy looks."

  "Fine, but I have to know one thing before we start. You said I wasn't what you expected--what did you mean by that?"

  Bonita shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I had it in my mind you'd be like Al Pacino or Alec Baldwin--you know, dark hair, smooth, dressed well."

  "Hey, these are new Dockers."

  "Yeah, but did you get that flowered shirt at a garage sale? It's about ten years out of style."

  "I just got off the plane from Miami, Miss Queen. It's wrinkled is all."

  "You asked me what I expected, I told you. You look like an over-the-hill jock, not a hit man. Alec Baldwin you're not."

  Alec Baldwin? I could take that lightweight pretty boy down with one hand. Taking in a breath, Ted spoke evenly.

  "Okay, Miss Rogers, I'm no Alec Baldwin. Please tell me about the score. I know it has something to do with a company and the bank in Dahlonega, but that's all I know. My friend was goin' to give me the details later."

  Bonita motioned behind her. "Pull up a chair. Have you ever heard of a company here in Georgia known as the Yona Group?"

  "Yona is the name of a mountain near Dahlonega--is it a group of tree huggers who want people to stay off the mountain?"

  "Not even close. This group launders money for Carlos through their business."

  "Here in Georgia?"

  "In Dahlonega, Georgia, to be exact, and in the Dahlonega bank is just over six million dollars of Carlos's money. Your friend was very smart in figuring out how to make Carlos want to move it. It's simple really. The Yona Group is engaging in illegal business practices. They're monopolizing and price fixing, which are violations of antitrust laws. Your friends anonymously sent the information about the group's illegal practices to your Georgia senator, Stephen Goodnight, who happens to be on the Senate committee for fair trade.

  Your friends sent the information over the computer using e-mail--sent properly, it can't be traced. Anyway, it worked.

  The senator appointed a lawyer in his office, a Matthew Wentzel, who started a preliminary investigation. Wentzel confirmed that the information was accurate and just last week asked the FBI and the Federal Trade Commission to take over the investigation. We know all this because your friend kept in contact with the senator's investigator by e-mail, anonymously, of course. The investigator wanted your friend to come forward and reveal himself, but of course, that didn't happen. I'm now the one who keeps in contact with Matthew, the senator's investigator--look here at the screen. That's the message he left for me. I'm known only as C. Citizen; C for Concerned. See, Matthew says I should now contact Special Agent Paul Eddings with any additional information that might help the case. Eddings is in the Atlanta FBI field office, and these letters are the agent's e-mail address."

  Ted paled. "Wait a minute. If the FBI moves on the Yona Group, they'll freeze all their assets. How is Mendez goin' to move his money?"

  "Not a problem," Bonita said. "Your friends didn't give the investigator any information about Carlos's being in business with the Yona Group. You see how it works now?

  Matthew Wentzel, the investigator, only knows about the Yona Group's other illegal business practices; he doesn't know anything about their laundering Carlos's money. When the FBI starts questioning the group's leaders about their activities, Carlos will panic. He'll have to get his money out before the feds find out about the dirty money. That's when you take it--when it's on the move."

  "How long before the feds make their move?" Ted asked.

  He was impressed by the plan and the woman's knowledg
e.

  "According to the senator's investigator, the FBI just appointed Eddings as the case officer. It will be a week or so before Eddings actually takes over and gets the ball rolling."

  "A week? I need more time than that to get my crew trained. And I still need the weapons and equipment."

  Bonita swiveled her head around, looking at him in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're not ready. Your friends told me you were all set to do it."

  "I was ready, but I lost two of my men last week in a car accident. I need more time."

  "Well, the plan's not slowed down any; it's moving faster.

  Two days ago a truck arrived here with boxes marked `Fishing Equipment.' I think it's the things you're looking for.

  I had the boxes put in storage in Cumming. You'd better give your boys the crash course and get them ready fast. Once Carlos learns about the investigation, that money is gone."

  Ted looked up at the ceiling as if searching for divine guidance. A long moment passed before he lowered his gaze to Bonita. "We'll be ready."

  Bonita studied his rugged face before speaking. "You really are going to do this, aren't you?"

  Ted thought he saw pity in her eyes. "Yeah, I plan on doing it. Six million isn't chicken feed."

  "I'm not talking about the money; I mean your taking on Carlos. It's suicide, you know. I told your friends it was impossible--he's too well protected."

  Still feeling uncomfortable with her look, Ted averted his eyes to the monitor. "I thought you wanted him out of the picture so you could get on with your life?"

  "With a quarter million I can go someplace he won't find me. I suggest you take the money and run, too, Faircloud.

  He'll kill you."

  Ted shook his head. "There's no place we could go and truly be safe unless you don't mind living with Eskimos.

  Mendez won't rest until he finds out who took his money. It has to be that way for players like him. He has to make an example so others won't try it."

  "You're a bigger fool than I thought, then," Bonita said.

  Ted patted the dog's head. "Yeah, I've been told that before. I gotta go and get my buddy and check those boxes of fishing equipment. I'll drop by tomorrow and we'll go over what you know about Mendez. You want me to pick up some things for you, like maybe a robe or something?"

  Bonita began to shake her head but instead said, "Movies.

  I really like movies. Would you rent some recent videos for me? The TV doesn't have HBO."

  "Yeah, sure, no problem. get the lion hunter here a couple of bones, too. See ya." Ted rose and began walking toward the door leading to the great room.

  Bonita stood. "Hey, hold it a sec." She picked up a key from the desk and tossed it to him. "That's the key to the storage shed in the U-Store-It in Cumming. And I'm sorry about calling you a fool. Who am I to call anybody that, right? It's . . . it's just that I know Carlos. He's smart, Faircloud, very smart, and he's surrounded himself with men who know what they're doing."

  Ted dipped his chin and was about to go when Bonita stepped closer. "I'm trying to apologize, Faircloud."

  "Yeah, well, don't. You were right, I am a fool. And don't tell me how smart Mendez is-he can't be that smart if he thought he needed somebody other than you to make him happy."

  "Are you saying that to make me feel better?" Bonita's face wore the beginning of a smile.

  Ted shrugged and started walking toward the door again.

  "I was sayin' what I think Alec Baldwin woulda said. Pretty smooth, huh?"

  Bonita watched him until he disappeared. She leaned over and patted Baby's head. "What d'ya think? Yeah, me, too. I think he's okay . . . for a damn fool."

  Chapter 3.

  Duluth, Georgia.

  Virgil Washington took a dirt road that led to the river. A few minutes later he pulled into a sandy, tree-lined driveway and saw a trailer house just up ahead. Parking alongside a white Lincoln, he climbed out of his truck and walked to the wooden porch attached to the trailer.

  Seated in a lawn chair on the porch, Ted smiled at Washington, who was dressed in overalls. He had guessed Washington would be the first to arrive. Virgil had a workingman's ethic; he knew what being responsible was.

  Ted waited until Virgil reached the steps before getting up. "How come you didn't get a newer pickup? That Ford is ten years old."

  Virgil glanced over his shoulder at the truck. "It'll do. I used the rest of the money you gave me for the down payment on the house for my mama."

  "How much was the house?"

  "Thirty-one five. It's air-conditioned, even got some trees and room for a garden. My mama likes to garden. I bought the little ones a swing set and built 'em a sandbox."

  Ted shook Virgil's hand. "There's coffee inside in the kitchen, and some doughnuts. Help yourself. We're waitin' on another recruit like yourself."

  Virgil paused and looked around. Nice, he thought. Huge pine trees, no underbrush, and the river only fifty yards away. The big trailer sat in the shade of a towering pine, and behind it was the poured-concrete foundation of what looked like a medium-size house. The wood-frame skeleton had already been partially assembled, and stacked wood sat nearby in neat piles.

  "Nice big lot," Virgil said. "Nice and quiet, no neighbors.

  Whose house it gonna be?"

  "It was going to be a lawyer's here in town but his ol' lady wanted one style and he wanted another. They argued for a year and finally divorced over it. He sold the place to me real cheap."

  Nodding, Virgil disappeared inside the trailer. Minutes later he dipped a doughnut into his coffee cup as he sat in a lawn chair on the porch. He gave Ted a side glance. "What were you in the machine?" he asked.

  Gazing out toward the river, Ted said, "The SEALs. It was good duty, but like you, I ran into a little trouble." Ted stood as a new Ford Ranger pickup pulled into the drive.

  "Looks like you're goin' to meet another member of the detachment."

  "Is it the other new guy?" Virgil asked.

  "Naw, it's Glenn. He's an old SEAL bud of mine. He quit his job a couple of months ago to help me run the op."

  Glenn Henderson got out of his truck, shut the door, and walked toward the porch with a smile. "I hope you have coffee, Teddy. I need some java bad. This must be the SF guy you talked about?"

  Ted motioned to Virgil. "Yeah, Glenn. Meet Virgil."

  Virgil stood and shook the bearded man's hand. Like Ted, the guy was in good shape and in his forties, but those were the only things they had in common. Glenn had smart written all over him. His dark brown hair was styled, his beard was neatly trimmed, and he knew how to dress. Everything was understated, from the baggy off-brown slacks, belt with silver buckle, starched faded jean-style shirt, to loafers with no socks. Yeah, he had Mr. Casual GQ down perfect, Virgil thought.

  "A distinct pleasure to meet you, Virgil," Glenn said.

  "Same here," Virgil responded with a soft smile, because Mr. Casual's greeting came out genuine.

  Ted threw his arm over the former SEAL's shoulder.

  "Which one you take home last night?"

  Glenn frowned. "Come on, Ted. A gentleman doesn't talk about his lady friends."

  Ted released his grip from his friend's shoulder. "Ah, hell, I bet it was that redhead. . . . Get yourself some coffee and join us. We're waiting on the last recruit to show up."

  Glenn shook his head. "I'll take the coffee but then I better get up to Dahlonega and make a recon. After what you told me last night, I want to be ready."

  Ted nodded, smiled. "You're going to check out the local action up there, too, aren't ya?"

  "Come on, Teddy, you know I'm celibate."

  "Yeah, you're celibate. That's like Madonna saying she's shy. Give me a break, this is Teddy, your pard."