The Double-Cross In Paradis; Episode 29, Sneaky Pete's Actors' Guild

This is episode twenty-nine in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Sneaky Pete's Actors' Guild

Trace walked inside Sneaky Pete’s. It wasn’t crowded. It looked like all regulars. 

Pete spotted Trace and nodded to an empty seat next to two men. The bar was set up perfectly. There was room for Trace only. 

Trace walked toward the seat, thinking that Pete missed his calling; he could have been a casting director. Both men looked like they would sell their grandmothers to a dog food factory for gambling money. They were both in their thirties and dressed in leisure suits they still thought were in style. One had a heavy black mustache, and the other was bald with bushy sideburns. 

Trace sat in the empty stool next to them. He ordered a beer. In the mirror behind the bar, he watched the two men following him come in and look for a seat. The bar was full, so they sat at a table. 

Pete brought the beer to Trace.

“Are these the guys?” Trace said quietly.

“The best of the best,” Pete said. Then he looked at his waitress. “Get the table where those two gentlemen just came in.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Trace said.

“Anytime,” Pete said and walked away.

“So what do you want us to do?” The mustache said.

“We’re going to take our drinks and sit at the table next to those two guys that just came in.”

“There’s not going to be any rough stuff, is there?” The bald man said.

“No,” Trace said, “but if something should happen,” Trace said, “take off. Don’t worry about me.”

“That don’t seem right,” the bald man said.

Trace grinned. “I got Pete. But nothing’s going to happen. Those guys are following me and collecting information. I’m not supposed to know they exist.”

“Got it,” the mustache said.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Trace said. “You are drug traffickers. We don’t mention drugs. We just say cargo or stuff. We negotiate a little. We talk quietly, but loud enough that they can make out what we are talking about. They don’t have to understand every word.”

“How long does this go on?” The mustache said.

“Five or ten minutes,” Trace said. “I’ll give you a nod when to wrap it up.”

“A hundred dollars, right?” The bald man asked.

“Yeah,” Trace said. He grabbed his billfold from his pocket. He pulled out two one-hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the bar to the two men.  

Trace turned around and looked at the barroom. There was only one empty table, the one next to the men who followed Trace. He turned back around and smiled at Pete. Trace thought, ‘Not only could he be a good casting director but a set director as well.’

“There’s an empty table,” Trace pointed with the beer in his hand.

They strolled over the the empty table and sat.

Trace leaned in toward the table, and the bald man and the mustache did the same.

“Okay,” Trace said, “let’s hash all of this out.”

They nodded.

“You guys got the goods,” Trace said, “and I got the places to deliver the goods.”

“How do we know that?” The Mustache said.

Trace thought, ‘Perfect.’ And then said, “I’ve spent two months in Vanuatu. I just haven’t been watching the sunsets.”

“So?” The bald man said. 

“So?” Trace retorted. “I’ve been setting up an operation. I have contacts.”

“How big is the competition?” The mustache asked.

“Well established,” Trace said, “but with you guys bring to the table, a partnership can be worked out. Something that will be attractive to them or us.”

“How are you going to do that?” The bald man asked.

“I have a friend who has been looking to expand,” Trace says. “He has incredible resources.”

“Do you have a number?” The mustache said. “Our boss will want numbers.”

“If it’s numbers he wants,” Trace said. “I only talk  numbers to the boss.”

“He told us if there ain’t no numbers, there ain’t no deal,” the bald man said.

“Well, there’s enough for you two to get a new wardrobe,” Trace said.

“I like what I wear,” the bald man replied indignantly.

“Well,” Trace said, “not to be offensive, but you can’t buy those types of clothes anymore, but you can have them tailor-made.”

“We have to take back a number,” the mustache said.

“That depends on how much stuff you can provide,” Trace said. “I need a number.”

“If I can arrange a partnership with people in Vanuatu,” Trace said, “I can move at least 20 kilos a month.”

“Where?!” The bald man said. “He has to go beyond Vanuatu. There’s not enough noses there for that kind of volume.”

Trace grinned and thought, ‘These guys are good. They have careers in Hollywood. Then again, this may be their real job.’

Then Trace said, “I’ve developed a place in Australia. I can’t tell you anymore.”

“Our boss will want some specifics,” the mustache said.

Trace paused and thought, ‘These guys are too good. They’ve done this before. I’m dealing with experience. This is harder than I thought, but the harder it is for me, the easier the sell is to my friends at the next table.’

“What do you need?” Trace said. 

“I can understand why you might not want to tell us where you plan on dropping the goods in Australia,” the bald man said, “but you could be hanging us out to dry. You just might take off with twenty kilos, and the next thing you know, you’re gone with our stuff. That creates a problem, a big problem all the way down the line.”

“You have to understand, I have interests to protect too,” Trace said. 

“And we need assurances,” the mustache said.

“What will provide assurances?” Trace said, “And by the way, I can walk away from this. I don’t need the business or the money. I can wait. You guys have to have a pipeline all the time. If it’s squeezed down or shut down, you’re in a hurt. You have a payroll to meet.”

The mustache glanced at the bald man, and a slight grin curled the sides of his mouth.

“Which one of you is the main guy?” Trace said. “I’m not dealing with regular guys. You two are the guys.”

The mustache reached across the table. Trace shook his hand.

“I think we just made a deal,” the mustache said. 

“I have a couple of things to take care of in Vanuatu,” Trace said. “Can we meet here two weeks from today, same time?”

“Two weeks,” the mustache said.

Trace stood and nodded to each man. He walked out the door. The cab was waiting for him. He climbed in, and it drove away. 

Trace glanced out the back window. A car followed them.

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 28, A Call From Sneaky Pete's

This is episode twenty-eight in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Trace returned to the hotel. In the lobby, two men in casual clothing nudged each other as Trace entered. He noticed they appeared relieved. He assumed they were supposed to keep an eye on him, but they lost him. Their jobs were likely on the line.

Trace returned to his room. He wasted two hours watching TV before leaving his room and the hotel. He meandered around Suva, in and out of shops, only looking and not buying. He thought of it as an exercise for the men following him. He was about to lull them into a false sense of security.

He dined out. It was a very expensive restaurant. He amused himself, knowing he ran up the expense account of the two following him. 

Not far from the restaurant was a theater. He purchased a ticket and watched a movie, Unforgiven. His followers sat close by. 

He walked along the docks after the movie. His followers separated, but both kept an eye on him. 

He returned to the hotel.

He lay on the top of his bed with his clothes on. He thought that it was most likely the men following him were not police, but in all likelihood, members of the drug trafficking organization that Patterson belonged to. 

“What made them suspicious enough to follow me?” Trace murmured. Then he thought, ‘If they think I have him, why not just go on The Tramp Islander and get him? They could tip off the police, who are corrupt anyway. But if that would happen, Patterson might spill the beans on the whole operation. Maybe he knows too much. And not all of the police are corrupt. It would be too risky to turn him over. They want him their self, but why not just go and get him?’

‘I’ll call Pete at his place,’ Trace thought, ‘I have an idea.’

Trace picked up the phone. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘Someone could be listening. The phone or the room could be bugged.’ He set the phone back down. 

He left his room and rode the elevator to the lobby. He looked for a phone booth and stepped inside it. He called Sneaky Pete’s.’ 

“Hello, Sneaky’s Pete’s.”

“Pete, this is Trace Troy.”

“What’s up, Trace?”

“I need a favor.”

“Sure, let me call in somebody to cover for me.”

“I don’t need you to go anyplace, just stay there.”

“Sure, I can do that, but how can I help?”

“I need two guys, slimy-looking guys.”

“That’s my clientele,” Pete said seriously. 

“I’m going to walk in your place and go to the bar. I need two of your finest to be waiting for me. Two guys will follow me in. You have to make sure there’s no place at the bar for them to sit. They’ll have to sit at a table. Can you do that?” Trace asked. 

“I’ve got it,” Pete replied. “No problem.”

“The guys you pick should be smart enough to pull something off, but slimy looking.”

“There’s two guys here right now who fill the bill.”

“I’ll pay them one hundred dollars each to engage me in a secret conversation that can be heard by the next table.”

“What do you want them to say?”

“I just want them to play along with me. Remember, they have to be smart enough to do that.”

“What?” Pete asked.

“I’m going to pretend to be a drug trafficker. All they have to do is pretend to be guys who can provide drugs for me to transport. Do you think your guys can pull it off?”

“I know them well. They can do it with flair.”

“Look, I don’t want this oversold.”

“These guys have been around. They know what to do and how to make it sound all legit.”

“Pete, a man’s life depends on this.”

“I didn’t think you would call for something that wasn’t serious. When will this happen?”

Trace looked at this watch. “Thirty minutes.”

“I’ll get them ready.”

“See ya soon, Pete. Thanks.”

Pete hung up.

Trace called a cab. He waited for the cab in front of the hotel. Two men followed him from the hotel. One lit a cigarette and looked at his watch as if waiting for someone. The other crossed the street and got into a car and waited.

The cab arrived, and Trace climbed in.

“Sneaky Pete’s,” Trace said. 

“You betcha,” the driver said.

The cab turned around in the street and headed toward Sneaky Pete’s. Trace glanced out the rear window. A car with the two men followed. 

The cab arrived at Sneaky Pete’s.

“That will be nine-fifty,” the driver said.

“You got a family?” Trace said.

“Wife, three kids,” the driver said.

Trace handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “Treat the wife and kids to something special. And wait for me. If I’m not out in an hour, I’ll be finding another way back to the hotel.”

“That kind of money, I can wait until morning.”

Trace climbed from the cab and walked into Sneaky Pete’s.

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 27, Prison Visit

   This is episode twenty-seven in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in
Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Prison Visit

  Later in the day, Trace informed Cooper of another passenger on The Tineytanic. Cooper assured him that even with the extra passenger, there were plenty of provisions for the voyage from Nida to Port Vila.

  Trace set out early the next day and walked to the prison. 

Trace and Franks sat at the visitors' table alone in the prison’s visiting room.

“I have a plan,” Trace said.

“I’d like to hear it,” Franks eased back in his chair and waited.

Trace leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

“I need for you to put out the word that I have been running drugs ever since I’ve been in the South Seas. And that has been my only reason for coming here. Float the idea that the whole thing on Flint Island had to do with drugs. Anyone looking in from the outside might think it was a massive operation.”

“Agreed, that was impressive,” Frank said.

“And I’ve taken on a couple of partners,” Trace continued.

Franks raised his eyebrows. “And you want me to legitimize them also.”

“Exactly,” Trace said. “An older man named Cooper and a real sleaze bag named Kelsey. He’s from Western Australia and wants to get in on the action in the South Pacific.”

“And you are sure this will do?” Franks questioned.

“Everything is believable if it comes from the right source,” Trace said. 

“You’re hoping I’m the right source?” Franks questioned.

“You’ve got the most to lose by lying,” Trace said.

“With my credibility in question to the lowlifes of the South Pacific,” Franks said, “what sort of gainful employment do I have to return to when I get out?”

“You can always set up shop elsewhere,” Trace said.

“I like it here,” Franks said.

Trace laughed under his breath. He stared at Franks. He looked out the high windows of the visiting room. And then back to Franks. “I see your kid in you. That’s sort of funny. It should be the other way around. I’m thinking at one time you were your son, idealistic, a bit naive, maybe even a romantic. The person Paul’s mother fell in love with. And something happened. I’m thinking somebody close to you betrayed you. And I think you’ve been getting back at that person through the misery of others all your life.”

“Humph, seems like you've been trying to scrape deep into my psyche,” Franks said.

“It’s like a flashing sign,” Trace said.

“I wish I could have had your life,” Franks said. “You were born into it.”

“You wouldn’t last thirty seconds on a dude ranch horse,” Trace said. “You don’t know my dad or grandpa. I had to work twice what a ranch hand did. I came home with bleeding blisters and a sore ass. ”

“But you always knew what was waiting for you in the end,” Franks said. 

“Every man who works hard knows what’s at the end,” Trace said. “You couldn’t wait. You wanted it now. After the first time you made an illegal dollar, how long did it take before you were a millionaire?” 

Franks grinned. “Three years.”

“Franks, my friend,” Trace said, “how do you think this will end for you. Will you be staring out of a prison cell at the sky, the last breath you take, will it be a bullet, a shank, or surrounded by a family who loves you?”

“The moment you die, it stops making a difference,” Franks said.

“But what is the rest of your journey like?” Trace said. He looked around the room. “Can you say, so far so good. You can’t even take a leak without the cells on both sides of you knowing it.”

“You’ve seen how good I have it here,” Franks said. “I can come and go as I please. I run things in here.”

“A prince among thieves, murderers, and perverts,” Trace said. “I think you’re better than that.”

'Sell all I got and give to the poor,” Franks said sarcastically. 

“Your words, not mine,” Trace said.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about my soul,” Franks said.

“I’ve grown to like your son,” Trace said. “I consider him a friend. And I’d like for him to look upon his dad the same as I do my own dad. It’s a gift. It’s a treasure.”

“I feel as if I’m beyond that,” Franks said. “It’s too late.”

“Too late is always the next day,” Trace said and stood. “Can you do this for me?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks,” Trace said.

“Will my son be in harm’s way?”

“I didn’t save him from coyotes only to be bitten by snakes,” Trace said. “I’m not putting anybody in danger but myself and the guy named Kelsey.”

Trace walked to the door of the visiting room. He rapped on the door, it opened, and he walked through.