CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I only took about an hour to drive to Jacksonville, and I found the coffee shop where Genie and I were to meet fairly easily. We had both been there several times to familiarize ourselves with the area.
It was one of many small shops in an open plaza next to a convention center. Plenty of open space and exits.
I drove around the outskirts of the plaza three times, scanning faces and vehicles, trying to see if I recognized anyone. I opened my senses, feeling for danger.
Nothing.
When I was satisfied that no one was there looking for me, I parked the car and walked into the plaza. I took a random route, not going to the coffee shop directly. I was also disguised in a ball cap, sunglasses, and a windbreaker. I slumped a little to change my height and walk.
As I scanned the crowd, I was becoming more anxious, but it only lasted a few minutes until I spotted Genie. She didn’t notice me. I stopped by a sunglass hut and turned my back to her and pretended to look at some of the glasses while I watched her through a mirror. She was dressed in drab clothes and had a wig and glasses on but I still recognized her.
Her face had a look of concern. I could tell she had some questions, probably many questions. I knew those questions would have to wait. This was only a meeting place to make sure that we were each alright. It was only a first step, but probably the most important one in my opinion.
I watched Genie for a minute or two before I finally approached her. She smiled when she recognized me, and stood up to give me a quick kiss as I got to her table. I could tell she wanted to embrace me, but we really didn’t have a lot of time. I asked if she had gotten another burner phone and she pulled one out of her purse briefly before wrapping her arm in mine and we walked a half-mile down the street to a church where Genie had parked our ‘emergency car’ one I had purchased for cash with an I.D. that no one knew about except the both of us.
When we got into the car, Genie gave me the phone, a 3rd generation touch screen smart phone that was pre-paid and untraceable. I turned it on and logged onto the secure site my security footage was on to check the videos.
The cameras, which were all state-of-the-art and hidden in six places in the trailer and one on the outside, caught everything perfectly. Genie and I watched as the whole incident occurred.
I was angered and relieved when I saw that Bob had died quickly and unexpectedly. I could only hope that when the police saw the videos, after I told them anonymously about the cameras, they would tell Mrs. Luftkin that he’d not suffered. I really hoped she got some solace from that.
There were five men involved. I saw them pull up in a plumbing van, enter the trailer with Bob, kill him, kill my dogs, search the place, I guess for clues to my whereabouts, set up the booby-trap, then leave.
Of the five of them, I didn’t recognize four. The fifth one though, the one who killed Bob Luftkin, was very easily identifiable to me.
It was Wyatt Broderick—Brody. Clear as day!
I took a few moments to process that, then, checked my emails. I had two. One was from Miguel DeFrieze, sent about thirty minutes before, and asking me to get in touch with Brody, it was very important.
The second was from my friend, Caesar Molina. Although we’d been doing business together for several years, I thought of him as more of a friend than a business associate. His message said, “Contact me: URGENT!”
Well, it was obvious that the poo-poo had hit the whirling wind machine. I was being hunted. Someone wanted me dead. Perhaps, Genie as well.
Maybe Caesar knew, and would tell me what was happening. I glanced over at Genie, who was concerned with driving. First, we had to get to safety.
Five minutes after I’ve checked the emails, we pulled into the airport. We went to the long-term parking area, pulled out our pre-packed bags from the trunk and got ready to catch a flight. I split the gold and cash, placing them in one of my bags and one of hers.’ We would check those at the baggage counter and bring a ‘clean’ carry on bag each onto the plane with us.
As far as the car was concerned, I wasn’t worried about it. We would be gone.
We took a flight to Augusta, Georgia and caught a bus to Cusseta, which was a small city on the outskirts of Ft. Benning, a very large Army base. Because of that, there were a lot of transients in the area, and a lot of businesses that sold goods cheaply enough for soldiers to afford.
Genie and I purchased a car for 3,500 dollars cash and drove it to a decent motel where we could sleep over night before moving to a better place. Genie went in and took a shower while I checked the internet for places to rent in the area. I had thrown away the smart phone at the Jacksonville airport and had purchased four more and a laptop when we’d pulled into the military town.
We were looking for a motel that was near the major intersection and had kitchenette rooms. Somewhere we could lay low for a few weeks or months and put our getaway plans into motion.
After searching for ten minutes, I found a pretty good place. I called them up and asked them some questions about their place.
The guy who ran (and owned) the place was from India. He said I wouldn’t need identification and he would take cash. We agreed to stay for two months and would pay him a hundred dollar cleaning deposit and one-twenty five a week, paid in advance of course, but that was no problem.
When we got there the next day, the guy showed me around and I picked a great unit. It was independent and it had four rooms—a bedroom, with two twin sized beds and a large dresser, a kitchenette, counter, with a stove/oven, microwave, a lounge area with a lazy-boy, small sofa, and a forty inch TV with satellite service. There was also free wifi. The bathroom had a large tub/shower that had nice hot water. There was also a backdoor to the unit.
It only took Genie and I a few minutes to settle in. We unpacked some of our stuff, but left the important stuff in two bags by the back door, ready for a quick getaway.
That day, we hung around by the pool, watching as the other occupants moved around, came and went. We learned that most of our neighbors were illegals, from the Islands mostly: Haiti, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, etc…, and because it was a military town, there was some prostitution but not a lot. The owner tried to keep things clean. The police drove through every now and then to check up on things, but they weren’t concerned too much it looked to me. They really didn’t hassle anyone.
I let things cool for a few days before I called Caesar. I used an internet service called Phone Gangster to disguise my number and location, just in case.
Caesar seemed surprised to hear from me. He was searching for words to say, was uncomfortable and seemed nervous. He asked me where I was and I replied simply, ‘around.’
He sighed, then there was silence on the other end for about five heartbeats, then Caesar started making small talk. He mentioned that he’d been to a few of my fights and had made some good money betting on me. I told him I was glad that he’d had that much confidence in me. He said he’d always had that kind of confidence in me, ever since he’d met me. That he could tell by that by the way I dealt with him and carried myself that I was a man of integrity. Then he paused for a moment and turned serious.
He asked me what I had been thinking. He told me that these guys didn’t play, that of anyone I could rob, not to rob them.
He sounded like he was concerned, like he really cared for my safety, but I sensed that he was stalling me. He was fishing, hoping to pick up a clue to my whereabouts.
Maybe he was scared for himself. I guess he figured that soon, T.Z. would be sending some guys to question him, and I’m sure that he wanted to have something to tell them, something to bargain with. Something that might save his life.
Caesar finally came out and said it: “Malefic, it’s not too late, you can still give them the diamonds back.”
I told Caesar that I didn’t have the diamonds and didn’t take them either. He then asked me why I had pulled the twenty-four million dollars out of my account so fast. I asked him how he would know that and, before he could answer, I told him I got paid after I handed over the diamonds. He understood my implication, but then told me something that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and gave me a cold shiver down my spine.
Caesar said that DeFrieze was double-crossed, but not by me! I told Caesar that it must have been Brody because he was the one I’d handed the diamonds to.
Caesar told me that was impossible. When I asked him why, he said that Brody was dead.
CRAP! My mind went blank and I felt a dread fall over me. Brody, dead? What was going on? More importantly—who had set me up and what was I going to do?