Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (best non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

“What’s that?” he draped his arm around the chair next to him and played with stray salt crumbs on the table.

“Sales are low, Brent,” I said. “You’re an old school player. You’re a slick salesman that can close a deal, get it signed. But after that, you play by the old rules. That might have worked when you were growing up in this game, but now it’s not working. You’re just not hacking it out in the digital market. Napster ate your lunch in 1999, iTunes at your dinner in 2009, and Spotify is eating your dessert now.”

I hadn’t heard any of that, but I knew him well enough to know that it was true. Or it least that he feared it was true. He raised his eyebrows, and I visibly saw him gulp. I snuck a glance at Jagger who couldn’t contain his shock. His mouth was wide open, and he stared at Brent, who was disintegrating in front of us.

“Fine,” he said and he pushed the napkin back at me. “But I’m not paying that. I’ll pay half.”

And then he stared me dead in the eye. Jagger nodded slowly, and Brent pounced on the gesture. I could have gotten more, but Jagger was caving too fast.

“Not a penny more, or I will go to court,” Brent’s eyes flashed anger as he pulled out a pen.

He pulled a checkbook out of his pocket, and scrawled out a check. Jagger glanced back and forth from Brent to me in the tense silence. Brent ripped the check out and tossed it to me.

“You want to take that money,” he told Jagger. “You damn well better sign this.”

I showed Jagger the check. It was for three hundred thousand.

“We’re getting screwed here,” I told him. “But it’s probably all you’re gonna get from this scumbag.”

Jagger raised an eyebrow, and caught my bluff. He played along.

“How long would it take to go to court?” he asked me as he fingered the check.

“We could file today, and have a hearing in six to eight weeks,” I shrugged. “For getting screwed for half, I’d say it wasn’t a bad idea.”

“Fuck,” Brent rolled his eyes and tossed Jagger the original check for seventy-five thousand.

“That’s it,” he said and he stood. “I’m done.”

He pointed a meaty finger at the signature line. “Sign it now, or I take the whole booty and walk.”

Jagger stole a quick glance at me, and I winked. He wordlessly signed the document. Brent grabbed the waiver off the table and stuck it in his notebook.

“Fuck you, Irving,” he said. “You’ve lost everything I ever respected about you. I hope you enjoy the commission on that. Because that’s the last L.A. dollar you’ll see if I have anything to do about it.”

“Don’t count on it, Brent,” I said. “And it’s far from over.”

I stood and walked away, and Jagger followed me. As soon as we were out of the club, he burst into laughter.

“Fuck, man,” he said. “Three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars! I can’t believe you did that! You just walked in there, you just walked in, and then he writes a check. Holy fuck, man! I’ve been trying to get this money for a year, and you just walked in there, and he writes a bloody fucking check.”

I smiled and slightly wished I hadn’t made the exchange I had earlier.

“We had a deal, right?” I said and I clicked the remote on my car keys.

“Yeah, yeah,” he gushed.

His accent made the simple syllable sound much more cosmopolitan.

“Come with me,” I cocked my head toward my car.

He looked nervous. “If it’s alright, I’d like to take my bike. I don’t want Brent to cut my brakes, you know.”

I laughed and ducked into the driver’s seat. “Follow me to the office. You’d better get that in the bank though, before it bounces.”

“Dude, yeah,” he scoffed as he looked over the checks

I drove out to our office, Jagger on his bike in my rearview. He did look like a rockstar, I would give him that. I called Agent Winslow.

“Ashley Winslow,” was her flat answer.

“Agent Winslow,” I put her on my console’s speaker. “It’s Henry Irving.”

“Hello, Mr. Irving,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a witness on the Kelsi Matthews smuggling case,” I said. “There’s been a smuggling ring in Sedona for a while.”

“We do have some proof of that,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “But the witness says he has first hand evidence regarding the kingpin. The suspect is currently in Sedona, last known to be in a strip club called The Kitty Kat Lounge.”

“The Kitty Kat Lounge,” she said. “Copy that. Who is this witness?”

“His name is Jagger Campbell,” I said.

I didn’t know his last name until Brent put it on the check.

“I’m bringing him to my office now. Will you be there?”

“Copy that,” she said. “We’ll send a team out there directly.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Other suspects you might look up are Roy Oberland and Irwin Montague.”

I arrived at the office, with Jagger in tow. Leila was there, sitting on AJ’s desk, sipping from my Batman coffee mug. Both AJ and Vicki looked shocked as we walked in. I assumed Leila had caught them up, as much as she knew anyway.

“Did you get the money?” Leila bounced off the desk.

“Nah,” he shook his head and frowned.

“No?” her face fell and Vicki and AJ sighed with disappointment.

I raised an eyebrow and decided not to ruin whatever bluff Jagger was playing. I went to my desk and gathered my things for the FBI.

“No,” he said sadly. “Henry couldn’t get me a check for that amount.”

Everyone was quiet. It occured to me that I had never once let this team down. They didn’t quite