The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 30, A Short Visit With Franks

This is episode thirty 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. 

A Short Visit With Franks

The next morning, Trace had breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. He checked out at the front desk and paid his bill. He caught a cab to the prison and paid the driver to wait.

Soon, he sat alone in the prison’s visiting room. The door opened, and Franks’s came in and sat across from him.

“It’s good to see you,” Franks said.

“And you as well,” Trace replied.

“Everything is in motion,” Franks said.

“You work fast,” Trace said.

“Things need a couple of days to brew and simmer,” Franks said. “Deals and relationships have to move quickly. One never knows when they’ll end up in the hoosegow.” Franks grinned and surveyed his surroundings. “We can’t take time to judge a man’s character or his credit report. The way we do our business, if ya don’t pay, you’re in the hospital or worse.” He chuckled. 

“And that’s why you don’t want your son wrapped up in all this?” Trace asked.

“Exactly,” Franks said. “I started out in collections. You’re waiting for calls. I’m not a muscle guy, as you can tell. But I had my ways, and I hired a couple of brutes. Next thing ya know, the guys who I worked for owed me. And I built on that.”

Trace leaned back in his chair. He wondered why Franks was telling him these things. He thought that even though he seemed to have had a change of heart, at the same time, he felt Franks was sending a warning.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Franks said.  

“I never understood why one man would want to hurt another,” Trace said. “I know there are circumstances, but to make a living at it, it baffles me.”

“It’s all around us,” Franks said. “And I thought, why not cash in on it. My casino, people come in there and lose everything. A farmer has a bad year or two, and the bank takes all his land. The banker borrows from the bank, depositors. Because he’s the banker, he gets a good rate of interest. He rents the land back to the farmer. That’s just one way. And that’s in the legitimate world. I don’t know, which is best, my way or your way?”

“It’s a compelling argument,” Trace said, “but not a moral one.”

“Let’s back away from ethics and deal with reality, if you don’t mind,” Franks said.

Trace sensed Franks becoming uncomfortable. An unusual position for Franks.

“What am I to expect when I get back to Port Vila?” Trace asked. 

“I don’t know for sure,” Franks said.

“How do these types of things usually run?” Trace asked.

“There’s no playbook, if that’s what you're asking,” Franks said. “You learn what’s expected. It’s like being in a family.”

“A very bad family,” Trace added.

“Indeed,” Franks agreed, “but that’s how things work.”

“What about me?” Trace said. “I’m unfamiliar with the ways of your world.”

“It’s not my world anymore,” Franks said sharply. 

Trace noted every muscle in Franks’ face; every eye blink, curve of the mouth, a movement of the eyebrow, the slightest twitch of any muscle. He hated to feel suspicious, but he knew it was instinctive. Franks would be watching the same thing. Trace felt he had one thing on his side; Texans play poker and they make deals on horses, hides, water, wells, land, loot, cattle, crops, canine’s and cash.

Franks puckered his lips. “You’ll do fine. Just deal like you already know what you want. Nobody will know how to read you.”

“What about you?” Trace asked. “Do you know how to read me?“

“I know a good man when I see one,” Franks said.

“I’ll take care of your son,” Trace said.

“I put him in your hands,” Franks said.

“He’s more than what you think he is,” Trace said.

“Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Trace stood. 

Franks looked up at him, surprised that he wasn’t going to stay longer.

“That’s it?” Franks said.

“You got anything more?” Trace asked.

“I guess not,” Franks replied.

“I have a plane to catch,” Trace said. 

Franks stood and shook Trace’s hand. “Have a safe flight.”

Trace nodded.

A guard opened the door, and Franks walked out. The door on the other side of the visiting room opened, and Trace walked out. 

Trace walked out of the prison. The cab pulled up, and he climbed in.

“Where to?” The driver said.

“The airport in Nadi,” Trace said.

The driver hesitated. 

Trace handed him three hundred dollars.

“It will take over three hours,” the driver said. 

“Trace looked at his watch. “My plane doesn’t leave for another five.”

The cab pulled away. Trace glanced out the rear window. He was being followed.

“Do you want me to lose them?” The driver said.

“They already know where I’m going,” Trace said. 

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.