Read Online Blackjack Dead or Alive (The Blackjack Series Book 3) by Ben Bequer, Joshua Hoade - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Bequer, Joshua Hoade
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The smart play would be to keep an eye on these guys but I was asleep by the last turn, the small fishing village an afterthought in the distance.
* * * *
I woke to a brusque shove by Alain and the slamming of a car door.
“We are here,” Giuseppe said, leaning into the window from the passenger side.
Alain opened the door for me and I stepped out.
They had lent me an ill-fitting jacket, but I still looked like I had fallen out of a plane. My only hope was Porto Classico wasn’t at the height of fashion. It was a larger town which lay at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Porto Classico was dotted with small shops and cafes for tourists driving across the coast. We found a small café next to a bank and Alain invited us to drink some coffee as we waited for the bank to open after the lunch break.
A young, heavy-set waitress came to our table and I let Alain order coffee for us. I just nodded when he pointed towards me.
“So your boat sank,” Alain said, firing up a cigarette, he gave one to Giuseppe and offered me one, which I declined.
I nodded; drinking the iced water the girl had dropped off on the first visit. Motioning to Giuseppe’s water, he slid it in my direction, and I downed that as well.
“How long were you in the water?”
Alain knew I was lying. For all I knew, Giuseppe did as well, but the Italian didn’t seem to care one way or another.
“Just a few hours,” I said, describing the group of rocks as the spot my boat had foundered.
Giuseppe laughed, “Alain was a policeman back in the old days. He doesn’t trust anyone.”
I laughed, “Pays not to trust anyone.”
“So you are rich?” the Frenchman asked, nodding to himself when I raised an eyebrow. “What from? What business?”
“I’m an inventor,” I said. “My name is Jason Hughes,” I said, using the first thing that came to me. It was an amalgamation of my brother’s first name and Apogee’s real last name.
Alain took a long drag off the cigarette. “It had to be something like that,” he said. “The way you fixed my car…”
“It’s a jury rig,” I said. “A temporary fix,” I added when I saw he didn’t understand the term. “She won’t last long with that bypass on the oil pan manifold.”
“You know cars well,” Giuseppe said.
“Everything,” I said. “I can build you…hell, I could build anything.”
“Engineer?”
I smiled at Alain, “Something like that.”
“Where did you learn all this, school?”
“Here and there,” I said. “I tinkered with stuff since I was a kid. Then, yeah, I went to university. Look guys, I’m sorry, but I’d rather not get into my life.”
He was prodding, curious. Maybe it was my face. Even small towns got news about the world shattering villains, and my trial was global news. All it really took was an internet connection. Maybe it was just a suspicious nature, and knowing he had caught me in a lie. One lie had to lead to another, and a former cop probably couldn’t help himself.
“How are you going to get money if you have no identification?” Alain asked.
“A friend will wire it.”
“Two thousand five-hundred dollars?” he said, factoring what I had promised him, Giuseppe and the café owner for all their help.
I shrugged, “We’ll see.”
The girl came over with our coffees and Alain asked her when the bank was open in Italian. She told him, and he checked his watch.
“Fifteen minutes until bank opens,” he said. “Let’s finish our coffees and we see if you are telling the truth.”
* * * *
I had no identification, but the account only required the twenty-two digit number and their person-to-person desk to clear the money transfer. It was anonymous and accessible from anywhere in the world. Thirty minutes later, I had the branch maximum,
* * * *
I woke to a brusque shove by Alain and the slamming of a car door.
“We are here,” Giuseppe said, leaning into the window from the passenger side.
Alain opened the door for me and I stepped out.
They had lent me an ill-fitting jacket, but I still looked like I had fallen out of a plane. My only hope was Porto Classico wasn’t at the height of fashion. It was a larger town which lay at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Porto Classico was dotted with small shops and cafes for tourists driving across the coast. We found a small café next to a bank and Alain invited us to drink some coffee as we waited for the bank to open after the lunch break.
A young, heavy-set waitress came to our table and I let Alain order coffee for us. I just nodded when he pointed towards me.
“So your boat sank,” Alain said, firing up a cigarette, he gave one to Giuseppe and offered me one, which I declined.
I nodded; drinking the iced water the girl had dropped off on the first visit. Motioning to Giuseppe’s water, he slid it in my direction, and I downed that as well.
“How long were you in the water?”
Alain knew I was lying. For all I knew, Giuseppe did as well, but the Italian didn’t seem to care one way or another.
“Just a few hours,” I said, describing the group of rocks as the spot my boat had foundered.
Giuseppe laughed, “Alain was a policeman back in the old days. He doesn’t trust anyone.”
I laughed, “Pays not to trust anyone.”
“So you are rich?” the Frenchman asked, nodding to himself when I raised an eyebrow. “What from? What business?”
“I’m an inventor,” I said. “My name is Jason Hughes,” I said, using the first thing that came to me. It was an amalgamation of my brother’s first name and Apogee’s real last name.
Alain took a long drag off the cigarette. “It had to be something like that,” he said. “The way you fixed my car…”
“It’s a jury rig,” I said. “A temporary fix,” I added when I saw he didn’t understand the term. “She won’t last long with that bypass on the oil pan manifold.”
“You know cars well,” Giuseppe said.
“Everything,” I said. “I can build you…hell, I could build anything.”
“Engineer?”
I smiled at Alain, “Something like that.”
“Where did you learn all this, school?”
“Here and there,” I said. “I tinkered with stuff since I was a kid. Then, yeah, I went to university. Look guys, I’m sorry, but I’d rather not get into my life.”
He was prodding, curious. Maybe it was my face. Even small towns got news about the world shattering villains, and my trial was global news. All it really took was an internet connection. Maybe it was just a suspicious nature, and knowing he had caught me in a lie. One lie had to lead to another, and a former cop probably couldn’t help himself.
“How are you going to get money if you have no identification?” Alain asked.
“A friend will wire it.”
“Two thousand five-hundred dollars?” he said, factoring what I had promised him, Giuseppe and the café owner for all their help.
I shrugged, “We’ll see.”
The girl came over with our coffees and Alain asked her when the bank was open in Italian. She told him, and he checked his watch.
“Fifteen minutes until bank opens,” he said. “Let’s finish our coffees and we see if you are telling the truth.”
* * * *
I had no identification, but the account only required the twenty-two digit number and their person-to-person desk to clear the money transfer. It was anonymous and accessible from anywhere in the world. Thirty minutes later, I had the branch maximum,
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