Page 69 of Dick

NINETEEN

Jess

DICK’S discussion on the definition of love filled me with hope. I was convinced if I could be instrumental in helping him get the diamond back that he would accept me as being completely trustworthy, and our odd little relationship would flourish soon following.

“You ready?” he asked.

Chills went down my spine. “When you ask me that, my legs go weak.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He was dressed in sweats, a wife beater, and flip-flops. I really liked seeing him in a suit, and he looked great in slacks and a button-down, but nothing was better than seeing him wear a wife beater.

The muscles in his six-pack abs rippled through the material of the skin-tight shirt. His broad chest flared out the sides of the arm openings, and the tattoos on his right arm were visible. To me, the tattoos were confirmation of his bad boy status in the world, and seeing them made me wobbly-legged.

He began to pace the floor of his living room, talking as he walked. “Here’s the plan. I’m assuming there’s a cop in the mix somewhere. Actually, I’m banking on it. So, you’ll meet the guy with the diamond at a public place. We’ll try to get it at a supper club I know that’s right off highway 35. It’ll give us an easy exit. And you’ll have your diamond expert with you. He’ll inspect the stone, he’ll test it to see if it’s real, and you’ll show them the money. They won’t take time to count all the money in the bar, they’ll either do it outside, or later. I guess all of that will depend on how much they trust you. My guess is $4,000,000 won’t leave much room for trust, but cops always assume the money is real. They’re less concerned with the money, because they want the arrest, not the cash. So, you check the diamond, give them the money, and at some point you’re outside with the stone. And that’s when the game changes.”

I waved my hand in the air. “I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“How am I going to test a diamond to see if it’s real?”

“Your accomplice will. He’ll have an electronic diamond tester. It’ll say if it’s real or fake. They’re 100% accurate.”

I never heard of such shit. I found it fascinating. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

He started pacing again. “You get outside, and I’m going to be in the Ferrari waiting. Now, if there are cops, and I’m sure there will be, they’ll let me sit there and wait without fucking with me, because they won’t want to chance blowing their cover. So, even if they know it’s me, they’ll wait until the deal is done in hopes that they can arrest you and me in the car.”

“Okay, so assume I’ve made it to the car with the diamond, then what?” I asked.

“This is the part you won’t like,” he said.

I laughed. I was ready to do whatever I had to do to get the diamond. “As you say, I’m all ears.”

“We’re going to drive about a hundred feet, and while I’m rolling up to the intersection beside the bar, you’ll open your door, and I’m going to toss your cute little ass out in the street. You’ll roll into the middle of the intersection and start flailing around like you’re hurt. Whoever is following me will stop, and that’ll buy me just enough time to make sure I get out of there.”

“Why the Ferrari? Won’t they be looking for it after the chase?”

“It’s the fastest car I’ve got, and they’ll never fucking catch it, that’s why.”

“I fall out of the car and…”

“Pushed out. You get pushed out. It’ll look like I used you to get the stone. They’ll take you in, question you, and you’ll tell them nothing of any substance. An attorney, who, ironically, will be your accomplice, will show up and get you out of the questioning. They’ll never catch me, and I’ll have the stone. I’ll sell it in Houston for about $3,500,000, which will leave me about $2,000,000 up after the $500,000 I lose in the deal.”

“Why will you lose $500,000?”

“It’ll be the real money. The bait money.”

“What will the rest be?”

“A damned good counterfeit.”

I gasped. “You counterfeit money?”