The Greatest of These by Greg Wendleton (have you read this book .txt) 📗

never looked back. They turned off the dirt trail and began motoring westward toward their escape from this rock. How could anyone live on such a small piece of land? They were both going crazy. They rode in silence for nearly two hours before Johnson spoke.

“I could eat the ass out of a horse, I’m so fucking hungry.”

“Well damn dude, keep that talk up and I’ll lose my appetite. That Rock and Brews place is coming up in a few miles. We can stop there and eat and have a beer before we hit the airport.”

“Sounds good. Step on it man.”

Ten minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot and saw the Wilhites rental car still parked where it had been left last night. Smith pulled into the space to the right of the car, where Jones had parked less than twenty-four hours ago. As he pulled into the parking space the front tire rolled over a discarded hypodermic needle that Johnson had dropped last night. The rear, drivers-side tire came to rest directly over the needle, hiding it from sight.

The two men hopped out and dashed across the highway and into the cool air of the restaurant. They pulled their gaiters up over their nose and mouth and settled into a community table on opposite sides from each other. A girl with braided, sun-bleached blonde hair came up to them and handed them each a menu.

“Welcome to Rock and Brews. My name is Jasmine and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you something to drink before you order?”

Smith spoke first, of course. “Sure Jasmine, I’ll have the Allagash White Ale and a Gastropub Burger cooked medium.”

“The Ultimate Burger also cooked medium and a pint of the Alpine Duet” said Johnson.

“Very good gentlemen. I’ll have your cold beers in a minute and your food in less than ten.”

Jasmine walked away with both men ogling her backside. True to her word, she was back in less than sixty seconds with two frosty pints of ice-cold beer. She even put the Allagash in front of Smith and the Alpine down in front of Johnson. This was looking promising.

The beer was refreshing and was gone before their food arrived. But Jasmine noticed the near empty mugs and brought them each another before she returned with their food. Two beers and fresh food in less than ten minutes. This was a ten on their rating scale.

They took their time eating their burgers and drinking their second beers, enjoying the relaxing experience compared to the past twenty-four hours. Jasmine came over once more to check to see how their food was and if they would be wanting a third beer. Despite their desire, they both said they would be good. She quietly slipped back by dropping off their checks and unknowingly giving the two men one last chance to leer at her rear-end. They each laid two twenties on the table beside their checks and silently departed Rock and Brews for the second time in less than a day.

Smith decided to run the SUV through the gas station car wash when they filled up the tank. Once again paying with cash. After the vehicle had run through the wash, they pulled over beside the building and grabbed a few old garments out of their duffle bags, got them wet and wiped down the inside of the SUV as best they could. No sense leaving any telltale clues of their whereabouts and identities if they could avoid it.

At four o’clock on the afternoon of February 23 they rolled into the lot of National Rental Car and returned the SUV that had been rented by Duane Scruggs of Dallas, Texas. This was the identity that Smith was using on this mission.

Smith and Johnson took the short ride to the terminal and checked in at the American Airlines ticket counter. Fearing that their phone batteries were getting low, they asked the ticket agent to print their boarding passes for flight #6 to DFW departing at 7:20pm. Their departure gate wasn’t posted yet, but the inbound flight from Dallas was scheduled to arrive at 5:46pm. The posted gate was #9. Just guessing, the men assumed that would also be their departure gate. They had about one hour before they needed to be camped at the gate to see if Garret Cooper exited the plane as anticipated.

Smelling a little ripe, the men found a restroom nearby and decided a little splash bath and some fresh deodorant would be a good idea. They each pulled on a clean, long-sleeved Under Armour tee shirt that would hide the highly noticeable and identifiable tattoos that covered their arms. They walked out of the restroom and over to Gate 9, taking up a location they felt provided a good view of the gate, without giving themselves away.

Twenty-three minutes later they spotted Cooper, based on the photo Conrad had texted Smith. Neither man notice that Cooper had spotted them as well. They reported to Conrad that Cooper had in fact deplaned, alone in Kahului, as promised. Conrad confirmed the information, wished them a good flight and reminded them they would meet on March 6 at 6:00pm at The Farm.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Arriving at the baggage claim area before my single piece of luggage arrived gave me time to stop in a Men’s room and freshen up just a bit. Looking in the mirror I saw the haggard reflection of a man who had been a fool. I was sure that Conrad had played me for the past fifteen years and had probably done the same to those two goons. Based on our action in Venezuela back in 2006 there were five of us then. Were there still five men, including Conrad? If so, where was the missing man?

Taking a deep breath, I splashed cold water on my face once more and then grabbed a few disposable towels from the dispenser and dried my face and hands. I tossed them into