Read Online Coffee by gren blackall - Free Book Online Page A

is
dropping like a stone. I would have had my face ripped off if I
kept my investment in Brazilian currency.”
    Knut
hardly tuned into Warren’s news review, and hung up without
saying good-bye. He found the number for Global Growers in the
Dallas area code. He heard only a recording that the offices were
closed and that he should call back during normal business hours.

    

    Etty
rummaged through her drawers and closet for some decent clothes.
PhD students rarely needed to dress up, so her collection of
business attire was limited. What she did find needed ironing. She
packed them anyway in a carry on bag, along with other necessities.
She figured she would buy clothes in Dallas if she needed more.
    She
whipped off a description of the phone call on her computer
dissertation log. She scanned the long list of files. All that
work. She wondered how much she’d be able to resurrect, after
pulling out all mention of the market manipulation scheme. Such a
great idea, buried.
    She
locked up and carefully negotiated the snowy back steps. Her
landlords’ faces watched out a well lit livingroom window,
which Etty acknowledged with a nod and a wave as she started the old
car. She heard the phone ring in her apartment above, but let it
go to the answering machine.
    She
kept a cautious speed out the driveway and onto Trescott Ridge Road.
Her headlights reflected off a mantle of rapidly falling
snowflakes, reducing visibility to a few feet. Soon she pulled up
behind the tail lights of a vehicle, a jeep stalled in the middle of
the road. While considering whether to drive around, a figure
appeared through the white, a bulky man dressed in a thin gray
business raincoat. His sudden appearance so close startled her.
Something about him bothered her, his expression didn’t fit a
motorist in distress. Out of instinct, she shifted into reverse and
accelerated backwards.
    “Hey!
Wait! Please!” came a muffled voice. “You’re
Harriet Bishop?”
    She
stopped and tried to recognize the bulging ruddy face. He stepped
up to the window, and gestured for her to wind it down. She
refused. “Who are you?” she said.
    “Bart
Maslow! George Leeson sent me!” She stared hard at his poor
attempt at a sincere, friendly face. He yelled too loudly,
misjudging the muting of the closed door. “He thought you
might not make it to the airport through all this snow!”
    “Show
me some identification,” she yelled back, keeping her foot
poised over the accelerator. Bart pressed an open wallet against
the glass. ‘Bart Maslow, Head of Security, World Investment
Corp.’ She was about to ask why it had the name of the
company she’d been told was only a front, when she noticed the
company logo - bold lettering above a tiny green earth, Global Growers .
    A
deluge of adrenaline sent her heart racing. A sketchy scenario of
unscrupulous deception came to mind. Without further thought, she
slammed down the pedal, but the spinning tires in the snow prevented
a lurching escape. The man’s face turned sour. He jerked
open the corroded door in his muscular hand. Her old car’s
seatbelt no longer worked, so he was able to wrench her by the back
of her coat and onto the road like a bag of clothes. Within
seconds, he had flipped her on her front, bound her hands in plastic
wrist restraints. He duct taped her mouth. Snow pushed onto her
face and up her nostrils as he roughly contained her writhing.
    “There.
That’ll do it. Sorry ma’am, I was hoping you’d
come along more pleasantly. Now up you go.” A second car
pulled up behind hers. The two men inside stayed seated. Bart
retrieved Etty’s travel bag, and pushed her along toward his
jeep. He left Etty’s car where it was - door open and engine
running. After securing Etty in the passenger seat, he nodded to
the other men and jumped aboard. The four wheel drive easily sped
away from the hijack scene, while the snow filled in all traces.
    “There.
Now we’re set. You