Read Online Legal Thriller: Michael Gresham: Secrets Girls Keep: A Courtroom Drama (Michael Gresham Legal Thriller Series Book 2) by John Ellsworth - Free Book Online
Authors: John Ellsworth
Ads: Link
could look out over the frenzied, dancing sea of faces years younger than him. As he watched, he thought he saw the drug buys going down, as dancers swirled into and out of the penumbra of a tall, Latin looking man with a pencil mustache and yellow-lensed glasses. The man seemed to be under the care of three other men, who casually examined all comers, searching with their eyes, Guy thought, for weapons that might be used to hurt the dealer he had spotted. Two more scotches and Guy himself sauntered up to the dealer. They talked.
Four hours later, the three torpedoes and the dealer were guests of Guy aboard his sailboat at the Yacht club. It was freezing that night, so the deal was rushed as there was no heat on the boat.
Guy and Monte--the central figure's name--bartered for a good ten minutes before finally agreeing on twelve thousand per kilo. It was far less than Guy knew he could get if he had more time to look around ashore, but even that night the lake effect snow was blowing across the deck of GUY'S FOLLY as the men below deck haggled.
Once the price was agreed, only the terms of payment and delivery remained.
"Do you take checks?" Monte casually asked Guy.
Like I've said, Guy knew next to nothing about drug deals.
"Is the check any good?" he asked.
"The money's all right there. Fifth Third Bank on Wacker. There will be no problem for you."
"What if the check's no good?" Guy thought to ask.
"Sue me," said Monte. "Take me to court and sue me. You're a lawyer."
Guy's eyes narrowed and he thought about that. He thought about suing Monte in court over a bad check offered for the purchase of cocaine. It seemed wrong in so many ways, but Guy didn't want to come across as naive, so he agreed. The check appeared and Monte wrote it out. He blew on it and handed it across the small galley table to Guy. Guy took the check, studied it, and carefully folded it before placing it in his shirt pocket. Two-hundred-and-forty thousand dollars. He could retire on the money but, it also was occurring to him, he could also repeat this exercise in drug sales.
So he asked Monte, "If I come back with more, will you buy it?"
Monte looked at his bodyguards and smiles appeared.
"Of course. I will buy as much as you can bring."
"Then I'll be back in the Spring. I'll bring fifty kilos next time."
Monte snapped his fingers. "Done!" he said, "I don't have a card, but you know where to find me."
Guy held out his hand and Monte took it and shook. To show his complete dedication to future transactions, Guy then went from bodyguard to bodyguard and shook their hands, too. The bodyguards wouldn't meet his eyes, but Guy accepted that as part of how it worked with drug dealers.
The men went up on deck then climbed back onto the boat ramp. As they made their way off in the night--with Guy's twenty kilos of pure Cuban coke--Guy heard laughter that at first he wasn't sure was human. It sounded very much like the hyenas he had heard in the jungle. Then there it was again, and this time a sudden bolt of fear in his abdomen caused him to lay down on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He patted his pocket. The check was still there, so it was all good.
The next day he took a cab to Fifth Third Bank on Wacker Drive on the Chicago Lower Loop.
The teller explained once, twice, then three times that the check wasn't good. So Guy had her produce her manager. The manager bent to the terminal, brought up Monte's account, and for the fourth time delivered the bad news: the check was NSF. Guy went back that afternoon and tried again. He went back the next day and the next and presented the check four more times and was rejected four more times for non-sufficient funds.
Thinking he would broach the problem head-on, Guy returned to the Cheshire Club three nights running. But Monte was nowhere to be seen. True, drug deals were still going down on the dance floor even while Guy watched, but none of the dealers looked anything like Monte or any of his
Four hours later, the three torpedoes and the dealer were guests of Guy aboard his sailboat at the Yacht club. It was freezing that night, so the deal was rushed as there was no heat on the boat.
Guy and Monte--the central figure's name--bartered for a good ten minutes before finally agreeing on twelve thousand per kilo. It was far less than Guy knew he could get if he had more time to look around ashore, but even that night the lake effect snow was blowing across the deck of GUY'S FOLLY as the men below deck haggled.
Once the price was agreed, only the terms of payment and delivery remained.
"Do you take checks?" Monte casually asked Guy.
Like I've said, Guy knew next to nothing about drug deals.
"Is the check any good?" he asked.
"The money's all right there. Fifth Third Bank on Wacker. There will be no problem for you."
"What if the check's no good?" Guy thought to ask.
"Sue me," said Monte. "Take me to court and sue me. You're a lawyer."
Guy's eyes narrowed and he thought about that. He thought about suing Monte in court over a bad check offered for the purchase of cocaine. It seemed wrong in so many ways, but Guy didn't want to come across as naive, so he agreed. The check appeared and Monte wrote it out. He blew on it and handed it across the small galley table to Guy. Guy took the check, studied it, and carefully folded it before placing it in his shirt pocket. Two-hundred-and-forty thousand dollars. He could retire on the money but, it also was occurring to him, he could also repeat this exercise in drug sales.
So he asked Monte, "If I come back with more, will you buy it?"
Monte looked at his bodyguards and smiles appeared.
"Of course. I will buy as much as you can bring."
"Then I'll be back in the Spring. I'll bring fifty kilos next time."
Monte snapped his fingers. "Done!" he said, "I don't have a card, but you know where to find me."
Guy held out his hand and Monte took it and shook. To show his complete dedication to future transactions, Guy then went from bodyguard to bodyguard and shook their hands, too. The bodyguards wouldn't meet his eyes, but Guy accepted that as part of how it worked with drug dealers.
The men went up on deck then climbed back onto the boat ramp. As they made their way off in the night--with Guy's twenty kilos of pure Cuban coke--Guy heard laughter that at first he wasn't sure was human. It sounded very much like the hyenas he had heard in the jungle. Then there it was again, and this time a sudden bolt of fear in his abdomen caused him to lay down on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He patted his pocket. The check was still there, so it was all good.
The next day he took a cab to Fifth Third Bank on Wacker Drive on the Chicago Lower Loop.
The teller explained once, twice, then three times that the check wasn't good. So Guy had her produce her manager. The manager bent to the terminal, brought up Monte's account, and for the fourth time delivered the bad news: the check was NSF. Guy went back that afternoon and tried again. He went back the next day and the next and presented the check four more times and was rejected four more times for non-sufficient funds.
Thinking he would broach the problem head-on, Guy returned to the Cheshire Club three nights running. But Monte was nowhere to be seen. True, drug deals were still going down on the dance floor even while Guy watched, but none of the dealers looked anything like Monte or any of his
Similar Books
