Shell Game

by Chris Keniston

  “Wish you could be here, Benny. This is a fun one. Did you notice the way I got the card? Dumb woman was so busy playing happy tourist at every shop window to keep me from skipping out on them, she never noticed when I lifted the pouch with the keycard. Really dumb.”

  Not really expecting to find anything in the drawers, handbags or stowed luggage, Sophia went after the cabinet safe. Digital was a bit more challenging but not impossible. She tried the first code she’d settled on. Nothing. Then the next and another. So maybe George was a little smarter than Sophia had given him credit for. Shuffling through the data in her mind that Luke had shown them on the two hustlers, Sophia tried all the possible codes for George and moved on to Gloria. Three tries later Sophia hit pay dirt with the date when the flashy redhead had graduated high school. Interesting.

  Inside, right on top, a couple thousand in cash. Not what she would have expected from a guy playing high roller. But it was something the Feds could confiscate now. Under the money she found bank deposit slips. “Well, this is more like it.” No wonder he didn’t have a lot of cash on him. One slip came from the First National Bank of the Netherland Antilles, St. Maarten. The ship’s most recent stop. A deposit of twenty-five thousand. Chump change. Available balance. Bingo. Over three-quarters of a million dollars. Resisting the urge to do a happy dance, she put the receipt on the table and snapped a couple of photos. If the Feds didn’t follow through on this, she knew some people who could. She took two more snapshots, careful to zoom in on the account numbers and the names on each. “I’ll be damned.”

  Returning her attention to the safe, she lifted a stack of passports. Oh, what fun. Passports for Antonio and Gloria Montanaccio. Interesting. Passports for George and Gloria Bailey. British passports for Archibald and Thelma Brisbane. Very interesting. Underneath everything, a faded manila envelope the size of a half sheet of paper was the last thing in the small safe. Carefully she opened the lip and let the contents slide onto the counter. Staring at the folded pieces of colorful paper, it took her a few minutes to piece together that she’d just discovered the mother lode. Five-thousand-dollar bearer bonds issued in 1978. What kind of nut carries these things around on vacation? Counting quickly she came up with fifteen bonds totaling seventy-five thousand dollars. Her cheeks tugged upward in a tight grin. “Imagine that.”

  * * *

  Still worried about her grandmother, Sharla set her phone on the table and hoped someone would call or text her soon that Nana was all right. She’d signed the first two pages when the phone rang.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Mr. Panama Hat who looked none too happy at the interruption. As a matter of fact the deep-set creases between his bushy brows made his gaze look downright menacing. “Hello?… Oh, Nana… Mmm-hmm… Mmm-hmm… Yes… Okay. I love you too.”

  “How is she?” Gloria asked.

  “In our room, lying down and feeling much better.”

  “Good. So glad to hear it.”

  The associate tapped his finger on the next page, and Sharla resumed her signing.

  Nana had apologized for leaving her alone and gave her a quick reminder of Nana’s part in the plan. Nana was supposed to let the authorities know the transaction was complete by tugging on her ear. When Sharla signed the last page, she dropped the pen on the page and tugged. Waited. And nothing.

  Something wasn’t right. Weren’t the good guys supposed to swoop in now and save the day? As casually as she could she glanced around the café, searching the faces of the patrons, the waiter, the cashier, wondering if any had the face of the local police or FBI.

  “Miss.” The man tapped the table again. “If you will discreetly hand me the bag, we’ll verify the funds.”

  Oh, brother. In her anxiousness to be done, she hadn’t realized she was still clutching the beach bag stuffed with more money than she’d probably ever see in one place in her lifetime.

  “Yes.” George grinned at her. “Then you’ll be on the ground floor of one of the biggest new development projects San Juan has seen in decades.”

  Sliding the bag across the table, Sharla looked around again and tugged at her ear.

  “Are your ears bothering you, honey? I have some drops I use when I travel. You never know what’s going to hit you in a strange place.” Gloria dug through her purse, paused, frowned and began removing things one by one, placing them on the table.

  “What are you doing?” George asked.

  “My ship’s pouch is gone.”

  George leaned over her shoulder and looked at the empty bag.

  “My key pass is in there. I can’t get back on the ship without it.”

  “Or into the room,” George added, turning to Herbie and Sharla.

  Once again Sharla reached for her ear. Before she could tug, the sound of a chair scraping against the tile floor struck her at the same time the pressure of a strong weight crushed her throat.

  “It’s a setup.” In a single move, Mr. Panama Hat had slung the bag of money over his shoulder and pulled Sharla hard against him. One arm strangling her against him, the other held a gun to her temple.

  Oh, God.

  “She doesn’t have an earache,” the gunman growled, “she’s signaling someone.”

  The sound of a woman’s scream blended with more chairs scraping and shoes tapping hurriedly on the floor. The cashier stood but didn’t move. The waiter shoved the screaming lady and her husband behind an overturned table.

  “Al,” George said in a huff, “are you crazy?”

  “Tell me where’s Gloria’s keycard?”

  “Some kid picked her pocket.” For the first time, George looked truly panicked. Color drained from his cheeks and beads of sweat appeared along his hairline. “Jesus, man.”

  “George. No one’s been near me except…” Gloria looked around before her gaze settled coldly on Sharla.

  “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.” Herbie raised his hands, palms open, to the man squeezing Sharla’s throat more tightly.

  Stars began to play in front of her eyes. She clutched at his arm trying to pull it free. Somewhere in the back of her mind, all the self-protection rules Danny had taught her slowly unfolded. At the awkward angle Mr. Panama Hat held her, she didn’t dare try any of them. Not without fear he’d shoot someone else. If only she could get her foot closer to his.

  “Take it easy. The young lady can’t breathe.” Clearly enunciated in a low, calming tone, Herbie sounded like one of those negotiators on TV.

  She only hoped he was as good.

  “Why don’t you let her go, and we’ll talk.”

  Gloria eased backward, closer to the door. George seemed to be contemplating the same, when Mr. Panama Hat shifted his weight and turned slightly. “No one goes anywhere.”

  Herbie tried again to reason with the guy, but his grip on Sharla’s throat didn’t ease up.

  When Gloria took another step backward, Mr. Panama yelled, “One more move and I’ll shoot.”

  The cool feel of the metal against her temple gave way to a faint blow of warm air as his arm flung straight out, pointing the gun at Gloria. This was Sharla’s chance. Hoping the trick worked as well in sandals as in high heels, she slammed her heel down hard onto Mr. Panama’s instep.

  A loud crack ripped through the small café. That same woman let out another scream. The weight on Sharla’s neck fell away. The waiter bolted to the door, grabbing Gloria. The cashier hurtled over the counter, tackling George. And Mr. Panama Hat lay dead on the floor. A bullet hole between his eyes.

  * * *

  From his rooftop perch Luke had had a clear shot aimed at George’s alleged partner. The last barrier between nabbing the cons and enjoying the rest of his vacation with Sharla. He’d noticed the way the character had started eyeing her. Fidgeting more as she played with her phone. Each time she tugged on her ear, the guy grew increasingly agitated. Luke had come within seconds of breaking his position to call and tell her to stop that.

  The agent posted on th
e corner overrode her signal when he got closer to the door and saw the money still hadn’t changed hands. Luke’s contacts inside the café couldn’t budge until the local authorities moved. And then the son of a bitch did the last stupid thing in his life: he used Sharla for a human shield.

  Luke would gladly shoot him down again if he could.

  The rifle still in his hand, he bolted down the stairs and across the empty street, every second thanking God that Sharla wasn’t the one with a bullet in her head. Rushing through the open doorway, he stopped at the first face he recognized and handed off the weapon. “Thanks, man.”

  “Glad I came. Didn’t expect this.”

  “We never do.” Not really listening to what his friend was saying, Luke scanned the room quickly.

  The locals had George and Gloria in handcuffs. Gloria was spitting and snarling as she and George were escorted off the premises. Frenchy and another man Luke didn’t recognize were already rendering aid, assisting frightened patrons out from their hiding spots behind tables and counters, and gathering the ship’s passengers to one side.

  In the opposite corner from where they’d sat signing papers, Sharla stood curled in Herbie’s arms.

  Whatever his FBI friend was still saying to him didn’t register. “Excuse me.” Luke needed to get across the room. Now.

  “I called her grandmother.” Herbie let his arm fall away from around Sharla. “Sophia should be here any second.”

  Luke reached around and tugged Sharla against him. No triumph in the field had ever left him as elated as the moment when Sharla was free from the asshole with a gun. And even that paled in comparison to having her in his arms now. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She leaned into him.

  Neither could he. The idea of what would have happened to her, of what else could have gone wrong—if his FBI contact hadn’t come himself with two of his best guys or hadn’t arranged a rifle for Luke—made his blood pressure soar. Even now, holding her safely in his arms, his heart still pounded furiously against his ribs. He could have lost her.

  The ship’s officer Luke didn’t recognize sat at a table with the handful of passengers from the ship and a local policeman. Crime scene guys and more officers from the ship filed in. Frenchy came and stood beside Herbie.

  “I regret this unfortunate incident.” Frenchy turned to face Sharla. “But I see you are in good hands. If there is anything we can do to be of assistance…” He let his words hang.

  Sharla gave a halfhearted nod.

  “Thank God.” Arms open wide, Sophia came hurrying in, wrapping herself around her granddaughter and Luke. “I knew George and Gloria weren’t a problem. I should have stuck around to check out the other guy. I’m so sorry, honey.”

  For a long while no one moved. Finally Sophia stepped back to face Luke. “Tell your friends, when they interrogate those two, that Gloria’s either the brains or sticking it to Good Old George.”

  And how the hell did she know that?

  “Don’t look at me that way.”

  “Nana. You didn’t.”

  “Had I known you were going to be in danger, baby, I wouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, Nana.”

  Luke stepped aside and let the two women love on each other.

  Lagging behind as the passengers and his fellow officers made their way to the front door, Frenchy turned and moved next to Luke. “I see you’re still playing hero.”

  Though spoken with the same even tone as after the fire incident earlier on the cruise, this time, to Luke, the words rang cold and sharp. He barely shook his head.

  “Once again”—Frenchy gave a single dip of his chin. The slightest of nods—“thank you, Lieutenant.” Then walked away.

  The deference to Luke’s rank gave him no pleasure. This was no game. Not the kind he wanted to play. Not anymore. Silently watching Sophia and Sharla apologize to each other for everything from not understanding to not thinking, Luke made some fast choices.

  “You done good.” Herbie moved beside him, legs apart at parade rest, arms crossed.

  Luke didn’t say anything.

  “You know, there are more people like us. Everywhere.”

  This time Luke dragged his gaze away from the woman he knew beyond a doubt he didn’t want to live without to look at Herbie. “Us?”

  “Well, not exactly us. But people getting taken in one way or another. Some by professionals, some by spouses, businessmen, even their children.”

  He’d been thinking almost the exact same thing. Bad guys were bad guys. And with the right people, he could help a lot of the good guys without putting his life on the line every day. “Yeah,” he agreed. “There are. You want in?”

  The ends of Herbie’s mouth curled up in a Cheshire grin.

  Apparently Luke wasn’t the only one ready for a change. All he had to do now was sell the idea to Sharla.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Federal agents and local port authorities were all over the Baileys’ cabin like ants on sugar. Earlier Luke had stood by Sharla while his FBI buddy had questioned her and her grandmother. Very thankful to the guy for keeping it short and sweet, and for agreeing to wait until after they returned to port stateside to obtain any additional information from the family. After all they both knew nothing from here on would be done quickly.

  Once on board, Herbie hadn’t wanted to leave Sophia’s side, and neither Sophia nor Luke had wanted to relinquish custody of Sharla. In the end, the four wound up on the promenade deck, leaning against the railing, an adult beverage in hand, watching the agents leave the ship with the Baileys’ belongings.

  Making a tsk-tsk sound, Sophia slowly shook her head. “What are the odds in the few hours they had to process their room that the chain of evidence didn’t get totally screwed up?”

  “You don’t know that,” Herbie said.

  “We’ll see. In the meantime, good thing I got these.” Sophia pulled out her phone and looked to Luke. “I should have thought to send you this earlier, but, when I heard about Sharla, everything else slipped away. Give me your cell number.”

  In only a few seconds, photos of passports, along with bank deposit slips in the name of Gloria Montanaccio and Thelma Brisbane popped up in his in-box. No wonder Antonio had failed at everything until he became George Bailey. If Gloria had control of all the money, she probably had control of everything else too. Or, as Sophia had said earlier, was setting up Good Old George for the fleecing of his life.

  Sophia pointed at her phone. “Maybe you can use some of your connections to make sure the money in those bank accounts doesn’t disappear.”

  Without a word Luke immediately forwarded the data to Kate. If there was any way to jump the gun on freezing funds, she’d know how to do it. Sophia had done good. He had to admire the old broad, even if she had put her granddaughter at risk. Sharla simply didn’t have the instincts to make a good con artist.

  Luke put away his phone and took a sip of his bourbon. Over the rim of the glass, his gaze remained level with Sophia. “Do I even want to know how you got into her room?”

  Sophia shrugged. “I’d noticed where Gloria put the card after we left the ship. Had several chances. But the perfume parlor was irresistible. She’d leaned forward on the counter shoving her bag out of the way. Even an apprentice could have lifted the thing undetected.”

  “I can see we’re going to have to have a long talk about your skill sets.” Herbie’s words held the tone of a parent reproving a daredevil toddler, but the warmth in his eyes dispelled any concern. Those two were going to make one heck of a pair.

  The ship’s horn tooted and slowly the island-sized craft began to move.

  “Shall we watch from upstairs?” Luke extended his hand to Sharla.

  “Good idea.”

  “We’ll stay here.” Sophia raised her glass. “I wouldn’t mind another drink. You two run along and have fun.”

  He escorted Sharla away from the throngs of passengers leaning over the to
p deck rail to view the dockside activity and stopped at an isolated spot aft on the big ship. Neither spoke as their floating hotel slowly pulled away, the island of St. Thomas growing smaller with every passing minute. He couldn’t decide what to do or say.

  Biding his time was something he was very good at. Timing was everything in the military. A sailor didn’t have to have the training of a SEAL to understand that basic concept. But the detailed planning of a mission in enemy territory suddenly seemed to be a cakewalk compared to when and how to address what was on his mind. And heart.

  Taking the first step, he moved his hand to cover hers and was delighted to have her immediately thread her fingers with his.

  “I’ve been thinking,” tumbled from each of them.

  Raw fear caught in his throat. He had to go first. Had to tell her about his plans before she could tell him good-bye. He had to. When she politely smiled and said, “You go first,” relief washed over him as quickly as panic had only moments before.

  “It doesn’t look like George and Gloria are going to be scamming anyone else for a good long while,” he said. Not heart-winning prose, but a start.

  “Thank heavens for that.”

  “For years I’ve focused on the global picture of protecting my country. Never thought a man of my training could do much good here at home.”

  Sharla’s lips tightened, and her grip on his hand lightened, ready to slip away. “I understand.”

  “No.” He squeezed tighter. Unwilling to lose the small connection. “I don’t think you do. I had fun. Except for the part where I thought I could lose you forever. Herbie and I enjoyed every step of taking down those snakes. It’s a real adrenaline kick knowing some other group of senior citizens won’t lose their life savings to George and Gloria down the road.”

  Head slightly tipped to one side, deep creases formed between her brows, Sharla studied him like a scientist analyzing long-awaited test results.

  Results that made no sense to her. Or perhaps results she didn’t like. The latter heightened the nerves already tangling in his gut. “I think I can make a difference. A real difference in people’s lives. So does Herbie.”