“What are you doing? I learned my lesson.”
“Remedial tutoring.” Serge wrapped the mouth again. “Be right back.” The door closed.
The man listened. Quiet. Then heavy footsteps and Serge talking to himself: “Damn, this thing weighs more than it looks.”
The door opened. “You’ve got great taste. I am definitely going to have to get me one of those Brahman grills first chance I get!” He reached down and hoisted a squat, roundish metal tank, placing it on the empty chair facing the man. “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow your propane. Hear they’re pretty cheap to refill.” Serge twisted the tank’s valve all the way open. A quiet hiss. He started closing the door, leaving a three-inch gap with the frame. He reached inside for the string hanging from the trigger of the cap gun and tied it around the inside doorknob.
“Toodles!”
The closet door closed.
EXTENDED COMFORT EXPRESS SUITES USA
Howard had called it another early day. He sat alone in the corner of the hotel bar, enjoying a dinner of free happy-hour finger food.
“Howard! Old pal!”
He turned around. “Steve?”
Steve slapped him hard on the back. “How you doin’?”
“Uh, fine?”
“Mind if I join you?”-dragging a chair.
“What do you want?”
Steve grabbed a cheese cube off Howard’s plate and popped it in his mouth. “Have I ever mentioned how much I admire you?”
“I thought you didn’t even like me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you said you didn’t like me. And you’re always making fun of me whenever we’re at the same hotel. And you tried to trip me in front of the guys. And-“
“You got the wrong idea.”
“I do?”
“That’s how I treat all my friends.”
“You don’t do it to anyone else.”
“I don’t like them,” said Steve. “Plus, I’m completely blown away by this whole thing you’re doing with souvenirs. Total genius.”
“I’m broke.”
“Because you’re way out in front of the trend. Just wait ‘til the country wakes up!”
“That’s what you came to tell me?”
Steve took a hot wing from Howard’s plate. “Except you’ll never get the chance to succeed if you go under first from lack of funds. And I’m not about to let that happen!”
“You’re giving me money?”
“Even better.” He grabbed one of Howard’s napkins and dabbed mouth corners. “Great business proposition for you.”
“I already have a business.”
“And a fine business it is. But every venture needs capitalization, and that’s where I come in.”
“What’s the proposition?”
“Straight to the point! That’s what I like about you, kid.” He slid his chair closer for added privacy. “The other guys are okay, but not the sharpest knives in the drawer. That’s why I’ve come to you. This has to be just between us. Do I have your word?”
“Okay.”
Steve sat back smugly. “Diamonds.” He winked.
“What about them?”
“Big money as a courier. You’ll start tonight.”
“Courier?”
“Teach you everything you need to know.”
“I don’t think so.” Howard’s fork speared a marinated meatball. “I’d have to give up the souvenir thing.”
“No, you see that’s the beauty of it. You keep doing souvenirs. It’s the perfect cover. All couriers need one.”
“Cover? Sounds dangerous.”
“Absolutely not. You take a bigger risk every time you step in the shower.”
“Your coins? Is that also a cover?”
“About a year ago I was at this big show in Pensacola where a gem expo was also being held. And that night over drinks in the hotel bar, the top diamond guy at the place said he needed more couriers for his distributorship.” Steve left out the part where the distributor was in on the whole robbery thing with the gang, for the insurance and fencing angles.
“Don’t they use armed guards and stuff?”
“That’s what everyone assumes. But there’s over a thousand jewelry stores across the state, and nowhere near the available security. They have to get product from somewhere. So there’s a giant invisible army out there making deliveries, hiding in plain sight, some even carrying stones around in crumpled bags that look like trash they want to throw away.”
“I don’t think I have the nerves.”
“And that’s why you’ll be perfect.” Steve gestured up and down at Howard. “Who’d ever suspect someone like you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
PORT ORANGE
Serge drove back down the dirt driveway and turned onto a country road. The Javelin made a skidding U-turn and pulled onto the shoulder next to flat pasture with a clear view of the house.
“What are you doing?” asked Coleman.
“Waiting for our surprise guest.”
It was peaceful. Two cattle egrets picked at cows by the drinking hole.
Coleman cracked a beer. “Sorry about ‘Undercover Angel.’”
“Dang it. And I’d just gotten that out of my mind.”
“See what else is in the Rock Vault.”
Serge concentrated, then began tapping the steering wheel.
“Can I listen?” asked Coleman.
“Outlaws. ‘Green Grass and High Tides.’”
Coleman swayed to the rhythm. “Another Florida band?”
Serge nodded and tapped faster with the growing tempo. “Formed 1972 in Tampa.”
