Follow the Money

It was a pleasant evening in Richmond. A slight breeze from the west had cooled down the air from the day’s sun. Nicole apologized to Bo for having to go home, but she knew she needed to prepare for tomorrow’s class. Through the window of her car she kissed him in a way that sent a message that she’d make up for it later. He was standing there watching her back out when he heard his phone ring. Thinking it may be Katie he hurried to answer while waving goodbye to Nicole.

"I’ve got your girlfriend." Jan couldn’t believe the words coming out of this guy’s mouth. But, she thought, it that’s what he thinks, that’s the way it will be.

Bo laughed. "Sure you do." He walked to the window with his portable phone and peered out as Nicole’s car disappeared around the corner.

"If you want to see her again--alive, bring me the money."

"Buddy, you have the wrong number." Bo slammed the phone down.

Instantly, the phone rang again. Instead of answering on the portable phone, Bo went to the kitchen and checked his caller I.D. The call was coming from his beach house.

Knowing that Jan was there for the week, he quickly picked up and nonchalantly said, "Did you catch any rays today?"

"Don’t hang up on me again, moneybags." A knot had never formed so quickly in Bo’s gut. "You bring me the money and you can have your girlfriend back. Of course, she might be a little used." He chuckled as he ran his hand down her ass. She didn’t move.

Up to this moment, Bo had always been quick on his feet. He hesitated. His mind was searching for a response but coming up empty. He needed time to think. "I don’t know anything about any money. What the hell are you talking about?" He nervously rubbed his hand on his face as though he hadn’t shaved. Telling himself to think was useless at this point. Not possessing the mind of a criminal was his only excuse, but a poor one. The one thing that came to mind was that the best defense is a good offense. "Listen here you prick. Yeah, you’re right. I do have the money and if you want to see any of it you’d better keep your slimy hands off my girlfriend. She may be your hostage, but the money’s my hostage. I’ll see your ass inside of four hours. It will be just you and me, my girlfriend and the money. And, if you harm her in any way, consider yourself dead."

"Bullshit. Bring the money, all of it. If you don’t, we’ll see who ends up dead." He paused for emphasis. "You got that chump?"

"How do I know you haven’t already killed her?"

Jake held the phone up to Jan’s mouth. "Say hello to your boyfriend."

Agony spread over Bo’s face when he heard Jan speaking rapidly. "Bo, this scar-faced bastard is going to kill me if you don’t bring him his money." Jake didn’t take well to that comment. He rammed her head into the wall causing a cut above Jan’s right eyebrow. Excruciating pain followed. The more she hurt the madder she got.

Bo could hear the struggle going on. He started to say Jan’s name but thought better of it and instead screamed. "Are you OK, honey? Are you OK?"

Jake yelled into the phone. "You did hear the bitch, right Bo?"

"Yeah, I heard her. I’m on the way."

"Good boy. Four hours. If you’re a minute late, you’ll have a corpse on your hands."

Bo hung up the phone. He needed help and he knew one individual who could and would provide it with no strings attached. Frank Martelli had been his next-door neighbor growing up. The two of them shared some boyhood secrets as a result of a blood oath they had taken together by pricking their fingers with a needle when they were twelve. He thought Frank would understand what he had done, and why. He knew Frank would come heavily armed. His twenty years as a CIA operative would be an asset despite his volunteer retirement a year ago. Frank could be one mean ass son-of-a-bitch if necessary. At age fifty, he was fit and still looked the part of the outstanding six foot two, two hundred and twenty-five pound tight end he had been in college. He was divorced. No kids. And, as Bo knew from their last discussion, he was some kind of bored.

Bo called Frank.

Frank was steering his riding mower with the inside of his thighs and sipping a beer at the same time. It was not an easy task considering he was cutting the hilly part of his yard. Every time he’d hit a bump and spill a little suds, he’d hold his beer off to the side and say cheers to the Kentucky bluegrass he was trying so desperately to grow. It was dark but the lights on his fully equipped mower allowed him to see well enough to cut his lawn after the sun had set, avoiding the heat of the day. The mower was Frank’s toy. He figured if he had to cut grass he might as well do it in style.

He didn’t hear his phone ring, his next-door neighbor did. She snuck up behind him and yelled in his ear to let him know. He put the mower into neutral and hustled inside to answer. He said hello while trying to catch his breath.

"How you doing old buddy old boy?"

"I was having a leisurely drive on my riding mower while enjoying a Bud, until sixty seconds ago. What’s up with you?"

Bo told him. Everything.

Frank never said a word until Bo asked him what he thought. "Damn, at least somebody has some action going. Pick me up in thirty minutes."

"I’ll be there in ten."

When Bo arrived Frank was standing in his driveway frantically motioning him into the garage. Bo stuck his head out the window and informed him time was of the essence. Frank kept insisting, so Bo backed in and Frank pulled down the door.

"Pop your trunk," said Frank. Bo didn’t get out of the car. Frank tossed two handguns, two automatic rifles, ammunition, two pair of night glasses and a bazooka into the trunk then quickly jumped into the passenger seat. "The fucker doesn’t stand a chance. Let’s go."