by R. B. Conroy
Several tall, athletic looking young men wearing gray slacks and white golf shirts surrounded the first tee. They were close enough to protect their leader, but far enough away so the Alex and the President could talk privately.
“Looks like we’ve got a hot one on our hands, Crane.” The two men once again exchanged a quick handshake.
“Typical August weather in Indiana,” Alex mused.
The President wasted no time in taking his driver from the bag and strolling over to the first tee for a few practice swings. It was as if he couldn’t wait to get this round of golf over.
“I hear you’re a good stick,” he quipped without ever looking directly at Alex.
“Looks like somebody’s been spreading lies again.” Alex couldn’t help but be impressed by the athletic looking, handsome man on the tee. His practice swings were smooth and powerful. He was obviously an accomplished golfer.
“You’re no poor boy, Crane. How about $50.00 a hole and double for birds?” For the first time, the President gave Alex a quick stare—like a hustler on the move.
“Sounds good.” Alex was surprised that the President, who was obviously aware of the circumstances of this situation, would throw a wager in the middle of things. It seemed out of place to Alex.
The President strolled to the front of the tee, bent over and teed up his ball. He took his stance and after a couple of quick wiggles, his body went still. He lifted the club slowly and took a hard swing at the ball. The metal-headed driver blasted into the little white ball. The ball carried high and long down the fairway and landed in the left rough just thirty yards away from the green on the three hundred yard hole.
“Nice drive, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Crane,” The President laughed nervously, “Thought I might reach it in one. It’s a little longer than it looks.”
“Yes, I think it is.” Alex approached the first tee, bent down and teed his ball up. He took his stance and knocked the ball right down the middle, just twenty yards from the green.”
“Impressive drive, Crane, I better keep my checkbook handy.” The President dropped his driver in his bag and climbed on the cart, crossing his legs and leaning away from Alex. The body language was telling.
Alex stuffed his driver in the bag, hopped aboard and accelerated away from the tee. He wasted no time getting down to business.
“I hope you don’t mind the cart. Caddies have to stand very close to the golfer. I thought we needed some privacy.”
Moretti replied coolly, “No problem, a cart is fine.”
Alex stopped the cart midway between the two balls. The President’s demeanor seemed to be getting more and more agitated. He got out of the cart, snatched his pitching wedge from his bag and walked over to his ball. He took his stance and knocked the ball on the green some twenty feet from the hole.
As he walked back toward the cart, he spoke to Alex. “You’ve made some serious allegations, Crane. This is the big leagues; I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed, “Two men are dead, Moretti, I think I understand the gravity of the situation here in the big leagues.” Alex knocked his ball a foot from the hole for a tap-in birdie. The President two putted for a par.
Both men climbed aboard the cart and headed for the second tee. The tension in the cart was growing. Upon arriving at the tee, President Moretti called one of the muscular Secret Service men over to talk to him. It was the one Alex had seen him huddle with several times before. He was probably telling him to keep the men at a distance, fearing that the men might hear something they shouldn’t about their wonderful boss. Then the President grabbed his driver from the bag and approached the tee. Not having honors, he stopped and waited on Alex with his hands draped over the top of this driver. Alex lifted his driver from the bag and approached the tee. He paused just a few feet from the President. “After we hit, I have some pictures I want to show you.”
Alex drove his ball straight down the fairway and very long. The President wiped his brow quickly with his handkerchief. Alex knew that Ramsey had undoubtedly told him about the pictures, but the mention of the photos seemed to unnerve him. The President took his stance and hit a bouncing shot about a hundred yards off the tee. “Damn!” he muttered.
Both men returned to the cart. Alex reached in his front pocket and pulled out an envelope. He slowly opened it and took out several pictures and handed them to the Chief Executive.
A scowling Moretti reluctantly took the pictures from Alex. His expression soon changed; his eyes twitched as he examined the damning pictures of his most trusted aide, Ben Ramsey, surrounded by beautiful women, snorting cocaine in a lavishly decorated room. Now fully appreciating the gravity of the situation, his face broke into a big smile. He patted Alex on the back and pointed at the pictures as if they were snapshots of Alex’s grandson at a little league game. Then he quickly stacked the pictures back together to protect them from being seen by one of the Secret Service agents nearby and handed them back to Alex, who quickly stuffed them back in his pant pocket.
Still smiling broadly, the shaken President spoke quietly, “What’s your game, Crane?”
Emboldened by the pictures, a confident Alex pushed down on the pedal and pulled steadily away from the tee. The Secret Service agents hustled to keep up while staying a safe distance. Alex felt anxious, but it was also intoxicating to have the most powerful man in the universe in the palm of his hand.
He spoke calmly to the Chief Executive, “Listen closely, Mr. President. I want to assure you that I have copies of these photos secured in several locations. If anything happens to me, any member of my family or any of my close associates, or if I ever see any of your goons anywhere near my family or friends again, I have instructed the holders of the photos to deliver them immediately to the national media. I have given them the phone numbers and contacts in the media they will need. Also….”
The President quietly interrupted, “Do any of them know the contents of the pictures?”
“No, absolutely not. They are in sealed containers and I have asked them not to open them and I’m sure they will not. These are people I would trust with my life.”
The President seemed satisfied, so Alex went on. “I want you to make Barnes O’Brien the new Ambassador to Ireland immediately. I want him out of my organization as soon as possible and that’s the best way to do it.”
Moretti nodded in the affirmative. “I’ll appoint him later this week.”
Alex pulled the cart to a stop next to the President’s ball. The shaken leader grabbed his fairway wood and quickly topped the ball down the fairway. He climbed back in the cart.
“And, I want absolutely no more communications from your administration in regard to my policy on repayment of the TARP monies.”
Once again the President nodded.
Alex took a deep breath and continued. “The rest of the money that your operatives have embezzled from my branch office in Elmwood Park must be paid back in full—every single dime. Right now there is still approximately thirty million dollars owing.”
There was a slight hesitation and then a quick nod from the President. This didn’t surprise Alex—he wasn’t sure if the President even knew of the embezzlement, but the President could inquire about it and find out soon enough. The money may be paid back anyway, but Alex wanted to make sure every dime of it was repaid. By challenging the President, he was sure that it would be.
Alex drove on. The cart bounced along the bumpy ground in the rough and back onto the much smoother fairway. He stopped next to his ball, jumped out and selected a club. He took his stance and knocked the ball on the green. He climbed back in the cart and peered sideways at the President. The usually jovial Chief Executive appeared solemn and stoic.
Alex went on, “In return for the above, I will promise to never release the contents of the photos or the findings of the audit conducted by Josh Dulin at our Chicago office just before his untimely murder late last week. Josh and I a
re the only two people on earth who knew of that audit.”
The cart jerked to a stop next to the President’s ball. He got out of the cart and stood still for a moment; his long face staring at Alex. “You’re one tough SOB, Crane. I underestimated you.”
Alex spoke softly, “I don’t feel so tough right now, Mr. President. I feel I’m giving up more than I’m getting. But I’m smart enough to know that I could never win in a fight with the most powerful man in the world. You’re lucky, Mr. President, very lucky. If I were single and alone in this world, I would have destroyed you.”
Moretti smiled. “Of that I’m certain, Mr. Crane.” The President paused. “There’s one more thing. I truly hope you don’t think that I had anything to do with the death of your friend, Josh Dulin. I knew nothing of that embezzlement scheme until just now.”
“I guess that’s something I’ll never know for sure, Mr. President.”
The President paused, staring directly at Alex. After what seemed an eternity, he finally spoke, “How about some golf?” he smiled wryly.
“I believe you’re a hundred down.”
The corner of Ed Moretti’s eyes turned up at the friendly comment. “I know,” he replied. “Let’s double the bet.”
“Double it is, Mr. President.”
Chapter 47
Two Months Later
The waitress laid down a coaster and then set a glass of Riesling on the table next to Nicky.
“I love this place Alex; we should come here more often.”
“I know,” a smiling Alex replied.
Nicky poked him playfully on his arm. “What’s with you? You’ve had that smile plastered on your face all day.”
“I guess I’m just happy, that’s all. We’ve been through so much over the past few months. This little getaway is just what the doctor ordered.”
“It’s good practice for you with your retirement starting first of the year. You have to start learning how to have some fun.”
“I know.”
“Do you think Louie will make a good president?” Nicky asked.
“Yes, I think the board made a wonderful choice.”
She grinned slyly. “The board?”
“Well, I did have some input, I guess.”
Nicky beamed. She loved Louie. “It wouldn’t have happened if Barnes was still on the board.”
Alex shook his head. “That’s for sure. We have a good board now.”
Not wanting to dwell on the negative, Alex quickly changed the subject away from his nemesis Barnes. “You know, I reviewed Louie’s college transcripts during the interviewing process and his I.Q. is 132.”
“You’re kidding! Not good ole Louie?”
“Yeah, I knew he was a really a smart guy. But he’s still just Louie, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do.” She scooted up in her chair and laid her hand on her purse. “Want to circulate for awhile?”
“Sounds good.”
“Can I take my wine with me?”
“Why not?”
………
“Pardon me dealer, but I’ve been meaning to ask about your white carnation. What’s the special occasion?”
“My girl and I just got married; her name’s Trudy.”
“And you’re working on your wedding day?”
“Yeah, I took a shift for a sick friend. We’ll be leaving on our honeymoon as soon as I get off work. We’re going to Niagara Falls.” The friendly dealer stared at Alex for a second. “You come here often?”
“I’ve been here once or twice with my golfing buddies.”
“I thought so,” Gus grinned. “Your face looked a little familiar.”
He flipped over a card. “Pay eighteen.”
Alex lifted his whole card and then tossed it on the table. “Seventeen!” he said shaking his head.
“Twenty!” a nearby player announced.
The dealer immediately shoved a stack of chips in front of the happy winner. After paying the winner, he dragged the dead cards from around the table and prepared for the next deal. A pretty young lady in a white taffeta dress with dark curly hair and rosy cheeks casually pushed in next to him. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. He looked at her with pride, “This is my daughter, Darcy everybody. I just got married today and my daughter has come home to stay. I’m a lucky guy.”
Alex joined a chorus of congratulations from the other players. A few seconds later he felt Nicky squeeze in next to him. “I’m hungry and I hear they’ve got a pretty good restaurant here on the boat. Ready for dinner?”
“Sure.” A card bounced in front of the player next to Alex. “Deal me out,” he said quickly to the dealer.
“Will do, mister. Pleasure talking to you.”
“Likewise.”
Alex collected his remaining chips, turned and extended his arm to Nicky. The two walked arm in arm toward the restaurant by the front entrance.
“The blackjack dealer just got married.”
“He looked like such a sweet man.”
“The young lady next to him was his daughter. She just moved back to town.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you, my dear.”
Nicky laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Alex glanced at his wife’s slightly squinted, empathetic eyes—there was a tired, pained look in them. He knew the past several months had been overwhelming for his sensitive mate. Not a complainer, he knew it must have been terribly difficult for her with mysterious men following them around, late night phone calls, and the tragic deaths of two men she knew well. He wanted to make this a fun and special night for her.
“You deserve all the flattery I can give you, my lovely. And if you don’t object, I would like to invite you to my room after dinner; I’m in 236 at the Holiday Plaza.”
Nicky faked a blush and replied coyly. “Why, how could I? We’ve just met.”
Alex paused and turned toward his wife, his hands gently caressing her shoulders. “That’s true, but in the short time we’ve been together, I’ve grown to love you more than anything in the world. It’s as though we’ve been together all of our lives.”
“Well, if we had been together all of our lives, Mr. Crane,” her voice began to break up and she spoke softly, “I would consider myself the luckiest girl in the world.” Her eyes clouded over, her hands slid gently around his waist. She pulled him close and whispered, “I’ve been so worried about you, Alex. Why if some-thing would have happened to you, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Alex smiled at his tearful wife. “Is that a yes, my dear?”
Nicky collected herself and poked around in her purse. She lifted out a small computer card. “Why isn’t this something, I’m in Room 236 at the Holiday Plaza also.”
“Let’s get room ser….” They replied in unison. Neither of them finished the quick retort. They laughed as they stood facing one another—two sets of loving eyes scanning the other’s face and saying I love you over and over again without ever speaking a word. For the first time, in as long as he could remember, Alex felt a tear roll down his cheek. He smiled as he wiped the tear away and kissed his wife tenderly on the forehead. After a warm hug, the two lovers hurried, hand in hand, from the noisy boat to the parking lot and then to their car for their short drive to the Holiday Plaza Motel.
About the Author
R B Conroy resides in Leesburg, Indiana with his wife Cheryl. A native Hoosier, R B takes a page from his third book and once again writes about his home state in his most recent effort Deadly Game. This fast-paced thriller begins in Indianapolis and ends with an unforgettable scene near the shores of beautiful Lake Wawasee in northern Indiana. As we speak, Conroy is hard at work on his next project.
R B Conroy’s other novels are:
Devil Rising
Return of the Gun
In My Father’s Image
They are available from:
Amazon.com a
nd Barnes & Noble
