Scammed

by Ron Chudley

  Greg managed a nod. The movement was miniscule, because his whole body seemed frozen, but the policeman’s sharp eye apparently caught it.

  “Mr. Lothian,” he concluded quietly, “to clear this matter up, so you can carry on with your business and we can all be on our way—why exactly do you need such a large sum in banknotes?”

  There was a long silence. Sergeant Doakes and Herb Wilshire watched him, waiting. Greg, who had known in his heart the minute the policeman had been introduced that it was over, now grew strangely calm. “I need it,” he said quietly, “for a most important reason.”

  “And what is that?”

  “To save the lives of my friends.”

  • • •

  By 1:00 PM, with the conference—minus Herb Wilshire—moved to Sergeant Doakes’ office at the Duncan detachment of the RCMP, Greg was still talking. At 1:30 PM, looking grim under his red brush cut, Sergeant Tremblay of the Victoria police arrived.

  Greg had no idea how much the Duncan RCMP knew about the operation their colleagues had been conducting with the cops in Victoria. He didn’t offer any more information than necessary about his previous dealings with Tremblay, and from what he could understand of the police exchanges, some of which were conducted out of his hearing, Tremblay didn’t go too deeply into that either. All that was settled was that he, Greg, was an innocent citizen who’d got caught up in a police sting operation, unwittingly putting himself—and, by catastrophic mischance, his neighbours—in jeopardy.

  Without giving details as to how Jay had become involved with Greg, Tremblay made no bones about the danger posed by the extortionist, painting a grim picture of a criminal perfectly capable of carrying out his threats against the Lynleys. His sidekick, Trev, was known to the local police: a troublemaker so violent that, after half killing the son of the local band chief, he’d been thrown off the reserve.

  When this was established, Greg, who’d been growing desperate as time passed, could hold back no longer. “So you see,” he interrupted finally, “there’s only one solution!”

  All eyes turned to him. “And what is that?” Sergeant Doakes asked.

  “What I was about to do—take him the money.”

  All heads, save that of Sergeant Tremblay, began to shake, so Greg continued quickly. “Listen—those women are hostages, right? You people must know about that kind of situation. And you’ve heard what Jay’s like. The only way Lucy and her mother will be safe is if he gets the money. And the only one who can take it to him is me. He hates cops. He said that if he even smells one, he’ll kill someone. And I’ve seen what he’s capable of. Right now, he thinks he’s scared me badly enough not to tell anyone. And he was right; I wasn’t going to. But now you know. So it’s vital that you keep out of sight, at least till he’s got what he wants and leaves. That’s it. The only way. Oh—and he expected me back hours ago, so please, I must get going.”

  They didn’t like the idea that he, a civilian, should be allowed to go in alone. But it was his money, his life to risk and his responsibility. In the end, no one could argue with that. Tremblay had made no mention of Greg’s history of taking the law into his own hands, but Greg knew, which was more than enough. If for no other reason, he had to try to make things right.

  • • •

  At 3:00 PM, two hours after he should have been back, the plan was finalized. Alone, Greg would return to the Lynley house, bearing the seven hundred thousand dollars. By then, well concealed, the police would have sealed off the area, ready to grab Jay and Trev the moment they abandoned their captives and attempted to depart.

  Assuming abandonment was all that Jay had in mind.

  As Greg was about to leave, Sergeant Tremblay drew him aside. “You’re some piece of work, fella,” he said with a quiet smile.

  “I think we already had that conversation.”

  “Yeah, well, just so’s you know—I reckon you’re pretty brave, too.”

  “Pretty stupid, more likely.”

  Tremblay grinned. “Maybe. Anyway, in case of emergency, don’t forget you can call me.”

  Greg was surprised. “You’re sticking around?”

  “You kidding? Wouldn’t miss it. This isn’t my patch, but the horsemen let me tag along. Professional courtesy and all that.”

  “What about that thing in Victoria?”

  Tremblay looked surprised. “Oh, that! Haven’t had a chance to tell you. It went down last night. We picked up the lot of them. If this hadn’t happened, we’d have come for your guy tomorrow anyway. Good luck, Mr. Lothian.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  He began his drive back to the house almost immediately. Not far behind, a whole contingent of hastily assembled police followed, ready to surround the two properties as soon as he went in. More officers would be approaching from the other direction, where the west end of Riverbottom joined the Old Lake Cowichan Road, effectively sealing off the whole area. When Jay got his money and tried to make his departure, he would walk into a trap.

  No one knew when that departure would be. Most likely, cash in hand, he’d want to get out right away. But that couldn’t be counted on. Smart and tricky, he might prefer to wait until dark. Either way, his welcoming committee would be waiting.

  Greg’s most important job was not just to deliver the cash, but to make sure that Jay remained calm and, above all, unsuspicious. On the floor beside him was the gym bag containing seven thousand hundred-dollar bills. It was surprising how little space that much money took up, the equivalent of a load of paperback novels, heavy but quite manageable. Despite his tension earlier, the sight of so much cash—a rarity in this electronic age—had made Greg strangely exhilarated. He hoped that the same thing would happen to Jay, so he’d just want to grab it and run. Greg thought about that wonderful moment all the way home.

  Reaching his gate, he drove in and closed it behind him, maintaining a careful façade of normalcy. He was sure he must be anxiously awaited. And though he saw no one, it was unlikely that his return would not be observed. Anticipating this, the police had arranged to keep well back out of sight.

  The driveway, winding through the trees to the house, was peaceful in the warm afternoon light. He passed the tree where, an age ago, he’d set the tripwire that had signalled the approach of Molinara. If he’d had one ounce of foresight as to how the world would unravel after that, he’d surely have run screaming into the night. But he hadn’t, so here he was, doing his best to put an end to the game he’d so rashly begun. “Oh, man,” he muttered, as he left the car, carrying his bag of riches. “For once, just let me get it right.”

  There was no time to waste. He’d hurry to the Lynleys and deliver the money right away. He headed around the house in the direction of the well-trodden path to the next property. Coming in sight of the studio, he stopped dead and nearly dropped his precious bag. In the breezeway, standing like a statue and staring directly at him, was Trev.

  He approached the huge native, raising the gym bag nervously. “Got it,” he said, trying hard not to sound completely unhinged. “Sorry it took so long.”

  Trev didn’t say a word. With a brief head gesture, somehow conveying Shut up, follow me and You’re lucky I don’t break your neck, he began walking. Greg hurried after him, like a kid following the school bully. Already it was clear how important it had been to keep the police presence hidden. By the way Trev had materialized, he’d probably been watching for quite some time.

  So far, so good. But as they travelled the path to the Lynley house, he began to get increasingly nervous. What if Jay sensed that something was wrong, that another double-cross, as he called it, was in the works? To calm himself, he decided to chat with his escort. Catching up with Trev, he tapped the money bag, sharply enough that the native looked around.

  “So what’s your cut of all this going to be, Trev?” Greg asked. Predictably, Trev didn’t answer, so Greg continued, “Because, whatever it is, I promise to double it later, if you do just one thing for me now.”
/>   Still, Trev said nothing. But after a few more paces his head turned, and his expression had just the smallest hint of questioning.

  “All I want,” Greg said, “is for you to make sure that Jay doesn’t hurt the women.”

  Nothing. Trev just lumbered on. Was he interested? Was he considering it? Who could tell? And soon it was too late for speculation. They’d come to the end of the path and were in the open, heading for the house.

  The only difference in the scene was that the van had reappeared. That was a good sign, indicating that the criminals were seriously ready to leave. Then, as the front porch came into view, one more change was revealed. Beside the door, a chair had been placed. On it sat Jay. As they got closer, it could be seen that in his hand, instead of the knife, was a gun. This one did not look like a toy.

  When they reached the bottom of the steps, Jay stood up. Without warning, he raised the gun, pointing it directly at Greg’s chest. He gasped, instinctively lifting the bag in a futile gesture of protection. Jay gave a low laugh, shifting his aim to between Greg’s eyes. Looking directly down the dark void of the barrel, Greg thought, This is it. He’s got what he wanted and I’m dead.

  Then Jay made a sound like an explosion, and blew invisible smoke from the gun barrel before putting it in his pocket. “What the fuck kept you, buddy?” he asked.

  Greg’s horror turned to anger, then to relief. At least this bit of sick comedy had provided cover for the first anxious moments. Appearing flustered now was only natural. “The Brinks delivery was late,” he said, quoting a preplanned script. “The money wasn’t ready. Sorry—but I came as quick as I could.”

  Jay gave his characteristic shrug, then extended his hand. Greg mounted the steps and handed over the bag. The other man took it without a word, turned on his heel and walked into the house.

  That was it. No fuss, no ceremony—certainly no thanks. But who cared? He was still alive. As soon as Jay went inside, Greg followed. When he arrived in the hall, Jay had already vanished, presumably to check out his loot. Well, it was all there. That wouldn’t take long to establish. Now Greg’s only concern was the women.

  He found them in Shirl’s room, in almost the same position as the day before. The older woman was propped on pillows, looking a little better. But Lucy’s anxious eyes consumed him as she slid off the bed and hurried to him.

  “It’s okay,” Greg said. “I got it. He’s counting it now.”

  “Oh, thank God!” She almost fell against him, alternately hugging and patting him in relief. “That’s wonderful. Thank you. We’re so . . .” She broke off and hurried to the bed. “Mum, did you hear? It’s over.”

  “Yes, dear,” Shirl replied. “Thank you, Greg. I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  He made appropriate rejoinders, saying that the whole thing was his fault anyway, knowing also that it was far from over. If Jay was satisfied with his prize, and had no cruel games planned, he’d still probably want to restrain his prisoners so they couldn’t raise the alarm after his departure. Assuming that was what he had in mind and not something more permanent.

  Greg was in a quandary as to whether to tell the others about the police. Though it was good news, it could also cause a lot of anxiety. Probably it would be best to wait till they were safely alone to reveal that help would soon be on the way. He had just reached that conclusion when Trev entered the bedroom.

  Ignoring the women, he gestured for Greg to come with him. Jay was waiting in the living room, in his usual armchair. The open gym bag was on the floor at his feet. “You did good, partner,” Jay said with a grin. “It’s all there.”

  “Of course,” Greg replied quickly. “I said I’d get it. I kept my part of the bargain. Now, please, will you just take it and leave us alone?”

  Jay pursed his lips and glanced into his lap. Greg noticed that a stack of bills lay there. Jay picked up the money and held it out to Trev. “There you go, big guy. Down payment. Count it and get outa here.”

  Trev took the money but didn’t count it. He just stuffed the thick wad in his pocket and left. A moment later the front door slammed, and soon there came the sound of an engine starting. Through the window, Greg caught a glimpse of the van, heading down the driveway.

  He felt relief, knowing it to be premature. Jay’s “muscle” had departed, but he was the dangerous one. The crisis wouldn’t be over until he was gone too. As if reading his thoughts, Jay rose, picked up the money bag and said, “Well, partner, I guess you’re wondering when I’m gonna fuck off too, eh?”

  Greg shrugged, wondering at the same time how long it would be before Trev was apprehended. The roadblock would no doubt be well out of sight of the Lynley gate. Even if Jay followed right along—presumably in Lucy’s car—he wouldn’t know what had happened till too late. God, the whole thing could be over in minutes.

  This fond hope, however, was dashed almost instantly. “You’re not getting rid of me yet,” Jay grinned, glancing at his watch. “I reckon I’m just gonna relax a while. Maybe have a bite, before I hit the road.”

  Damn! Greg was disappointed but not surprised. He’d thought earlier that Jay might wait until dark before leaving. Well, the cops were prepared for that too. It was arranged that they would do nothing till he appeared. Later, Greg might even be able to get through a call to Tremblay, explaining the situation. But for now, they’d just have to hang on. Their captor seemed content. As long as he could be kept that way until his departure, everything could yet turn out all right.

  “In that case,” Greg said quietly, “perhaps I can get Lucy to fix an early supper.”

  “Good thinking.” Jay checked his watch again. “Tell your lady to go to it.”

  • • •

  Lucy made the meal while Greg was allowed to keep Shirl company. He’d have liked to make a call to Tremblay, but since there was no immediate emergency, he didn’t want to risk being caught. Also, to phone in front of Shirl would have involved revealing the police presence, knowledge he still considered best kept to himself. So he tried to be cheerful, seeing to Shirl’s needs and reassuring her as best he could.

  It was 5:30 PM when Lucy had the food ready; she had fried sausages and cooked up vegetables and pasta in her usual skillful manner. She took a tray to her mother, then the others sat down to eat like a peculiar sort of family, Greg thought. Jay, with his bag of money nearby, ate calmly. The others picked away, trying to hide their impatience. But it was in fact Jay who, several times during the meal, looked at his watch. Then, when his plate was empty, the young man put down his utensils neatly and checked his watch one last time.

  “Six o clock,” Jay said cheerfully. “Well, guys, I guess that about clinches it.”

  “Clinches what?” Greg asked.

  “Oh, I think you know,” Jay replied. He got up from the table and produced a cellphone. “Trev had strict instructions to call me as soon as he got into Duncan. He thought that was to set up a meeting for later. What he didn’t know was that I’d still be here—waiting to see if he made it out okay.”

  Greg’s insides went cold. “What are you talking about?”

  Jay grinned, his expression edged in ice. “Bait! Big Trev was bait—which your cop buddies, who I suspected might be waiting out there, have swallowed whole. Letting me know—partner—that you’ve double-crossed me again.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  After the first dreadful moment, what really caught Greg’s attention was the expression on Lucy’s face. More than simple shock, it was as if, deep down, she’d always known Greg would fail them. Whether she actually believed this didn’t matter; the thought made him abandon all pretense. “Okay! But it wasn’t my fault,” he said desperately. “I didn’t go to the police. They came to me.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “No! It was the money. That large an amount of cash made the bank manager suspicious. He told the cops, and when I went to get it, they were waiting. I had to tell them what it was for. I had no option.”


  “And I’ve got no option but to waste you,” Jay snarled, raising his gun. “You’re fucking dead, buddy.”

  “No!” Greg cried, backing off, almost tripping over Lucy, who had jumped up and now moved between the two men.

  “Don’t do it, Jay,” Lucy said steadily.

  Appalled, Greg tried to pull Lucy from in front of him. But instead of shooting, Jay laughed. “Shit,” he said, “this bitch has got more guts than you.”

  “No, listen!” Lucy replied, with such intensity that Jay’s gun wavered. “If the police have caught your friend, they must be close by. If they hear shooting, they’ll know there’s no point in waiting anymore. They’ll probably storm the place. Have you thought of that?”

  Jay obviously hadn’t. Nor had Greg, for that matter. Before either could respond, Lucy walked toward the door. “While you do,” she said firmly, “I’m going to my mother. This has nothing to do with her or me. It never did. But if you kill us, Jay, the police will do the same to you. The only use we are is alive. Greg, I’m sorry. If Jay has any sense, he’ll give up. But, in any case . . . you’ll just have to work it out.”

  Lucy gave Greg a last long look, an expression that somehow managed to convey sorrow and resignation but also encouragement. Then she turned down the hall. A moment later, in the dull silence that followed, came the sound of a closing door.

  “Now that’s one ballsy bitch,” Jay said at last.

  Greg, who was thinking the same thing, nodded agreement. “And she was right. This has nothing to do with her or her mother.” He gulped mentally, but went on. “You’ve got to believe I didn’t mean for the police to get involved. It’s my fault for starting this thing in the first place, and I blame myself for that. But I’ve done the best I could since then. And you have got your money. Why don’t you just take it and go? I won’t try to stop you.”