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

back immediately. You have put my life at risk. You owe me! We must meet ASAP. I am close by.

Jackie paced around the room waiting for a response. When it hadn’t come by ten o’clock that Monday morning, he began to get angry. What was that fool doing? What was more important than this deal? “Answer me you mother…”, he cut himself off as a response popped up on his screen.

The response from Conrad read:

That can’t be. My man burned down the shack with all three loose ends inside.

Jackie replied:

You have been misled. How fast can we meet?

The response came swiftly from Conrad:

Son of a bitch. I’m in SA Texas right now. I don’t know when we can meet.

Jackie wrote back to Conrad:

It’s your lucky day, so am I. Silver Spur Motel. Room 12. Be here at noon.

Jackie closed his email account, disconnected his hot spot and shut down all his electronic equipment. He did this to avoid further risk of tracking his whereabouts by the authorities. Then he sat in the chair outside his door and waited for Conrad to arrive.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Sunday passed quietly as we all remained indoors for the most part. February went out on a stormy note on Maui. Late in the afternoon, the rain stopped, and we caught a glimpse of a vibrantly colored rainbow, giving us all hope for what March might bring.

On Monday, Special Agent Presley returned from a brief break from his otherwise constant watch over us. Safeguarding us from any potential dangers. He relieved Special Agent Mears who excused himself and returned to his home before noon.

We were provided with an update on the departure from Maui by, Jackie Ming, the man Scott and Leilani had confronted on the street outside of the safe house. He had made his escape Saturday afternoon and had flown to Dallas, arriving early Sunday morning. Ironically, or more likely, coincidentally, the man who was seated by Mr. Ming was found dead at a rest stop on I35, south of Fort Worth. His red, Ford F-150 pickup truck was located, abandoned, behind a convenience store in San Antonio.

As a preemptive measure, Special Agent in Charge, Gene Shaw, of the San Antonio FBI Field Office had personally gone to see Fonda. He had reassured her that she was under constant protective surveillance, and would remain so until the situation was resolved. Further, he had delivered the message that I had asked Special Agent Presley to get to Fonda. She was told that I was safe, that I loved her more than life itself, and that I would be home as soon as I was permitted to leave Maui.

The message had been received with tears of relief, and a simple message was sent back from San Antonio, ‘You better. I love you, too’. I allowed my eyes to moisten and a few tears to freely trickle down my cheek, dropping onto my hand, which was resting in my lap. I hadn’t shed this many tears since my father died, nearly thirty years ago. Get a grip on yourself man!

Jackie Ming was now the subject of a full-blown manhunt involving the FBI, Texas Rangers and the Texas State Police. San Antonio police officials were being relied upon for local support and all cruisers were searching for the man.

The local police were stopping at every dive motel they saw and presenting the photograph that Leilani Crowley had taken with her phone. The officers had canvased well over one hundred motels, hostels and flop houses within their precincts, with zero results, so far.

At precisely twelve noon, Conrad pulled into the broken asphalt drive leading to the Silver Spur Motel. He saw a fortyish, lean, Asian man sitting in a yellow, metal, lawn chair at the end of the long row of motel room doors. Having never met The Red Assassin in person, Conrad assumed this was his co-conspirator. He drove to the end and parked his 1973 Chevrolet Blazer in the space to the left of the man’s motel room door.

Once he was parked, Conrad sat inside his vehicle for a moment, gathering his thoughts and formulating some sort of plan for handling The Red Assassin. Conrad opened his door and stepped out without taking his eyes off the other man. He stopped at the front wheel well and placed his empty hands on the hood of his Blazer. The Asian man rose from his old-fashioned, bright yellow lawn chair and showed Conrad his empty hands as well. Neither man was trusting enough to think they both weren’t armed. Unfortunately for The Red Assassin, he did not have a gun, but he was not without weapons.

“So, I presume you are The Red Assassin.”

“I am,” he replied, “but please, call me Jackie.”

“Well, Jackie, I’m Conrad.”

With those pleasantries out of the way, Jackie said, “You have a big problem with the men you sent to do your bidding on Maui.”

“That’s what you said. What do you have that proves anything?”

“Shall we go inside my room and we can discuss this matter in private?”

“No, I’m pretty comfortable discussing things right here.”

“If that is your preference, please permit me to share what I have learned from my agent on Maui.” Jackie laid out the evidence he had obtained from Bobby Wang. He ended his monologue by telling Conrad that, Jones, the man he had left behind to finish the task had died from alcohol and food poising that he had inflicted upon himself.

“Well, that’s quite a story. How do I know that I can believe you? Do you have any physical evidence?”

Jackie reached into his front pocket for his phone to show Conrad the evidence. Conrad, not knowing for sure what Jackie was reaching for lowered his right hand and quickly pulled the Glock from the holster attached to his belt.

“Whoa! I’m just getting my phone.”

“Slowly, pal.”

Jackie slowly removed the phone from his pocket holding it at the top only with his thumb and index finger. “Okay? Are you satisfied?”

“Yeah, I