White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller Page 4

  “They’re racing,” the commentator shouted, “and Viking Flyer went straight to the lead.” Todd felt himself relaxing, the chestnut colt in the distinct black and yellow colors was two lengths in front, and there was no chance he’d be buffeted. A minute later the commentator screamed, “Viking Flyer’s clear at the top of the stretch but here comes The Phoenician.” Todd’s eyes were glued to the monitor as he watched the big black horse in the red and blue colors edge closer and closer to Viking Flyer.

  “Use the whip, use the whip,” he screamed at the monitor.

  “It’s a photo,” the commentator yelled, and then, “it’s The Phoenician who gets the money by the shortest of margins. What a race. What a great pair of horses.”

  Todd couldn’t move. He was in a state of shock. The blonde asked if she could have her form guide back, but he didn’t hear her. He had lost a hundred and ten thousand in less than two hours. What had happened to his system? The Phoenician’s ranking was only 74, and he had been expected to finish eighth. How could he have won?

  Todd looked up to see Ronny Conroy, the owner of the betting parlor standing in front of him. Todd didn’t know Ronny, but they had had a few meetings when he set up his account and Ronny had allowed him to bet on credit. “You’re having a rough time,” he said.

  The last thing Todd wanted was false sympathy from this scrawny little man. “I don’t want to be rude,” he said, “but I’ve got one more bet, and I need to focus.”

  Ronny laughed. “I won’t hold you up. You’re a top client, your credit’s good with me. If you need more to keep your head above water, that’s fine with me.”

  “I thought you’d be pleased I’m losing,” Todd said.

  “You know that I make a book. When I get big bets like yours today, I don’t take the other side, I lay them off. If I get my book right, I win, irrespective of which horse wins.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Todd replied, “that was a stupid thing to say. Thanks for offering to help. Hopefully, I won’t have to take you up on your offer.”

  “Todd, one last word. Everyone in this game goes through losing streaks and suffers setbacks. Your system’s been working fine so whatever you do, don’t dump it. Tweak it, refine it, and perhaps make a few adjustments, but you know the guts of it are robust. And remember, don’t judge it by what’s happened today, judge it on your success over a year. I want you to keep betting and to keep winning.”

  “Thanks, Ronny. I feel a little better.”

  Todd’s last bet was meant to be twenty thousand the win on Brown Sugar in the last at Lone Star Park. At three to one, it wouldn’t recover what he’d already lost unless he increased his bet to forty thousand and if he wanted to walk out winning he’d have to outlay sixty thousand. Brown Sugar’s ranking was 96 and the projected second place getter in the race was Texas Beau with a ranking of only 82. On the face of it and based on his system, Brown Sugar was a certainty. The race was over one mile, a distance at which she had never experienced defeat. A little of his confidence returned, and he wondered what the odds were on three horses, one ranked 99, and the other two ranked 96, all being beaten in one afternoon.

  Highly improbable!

  He waited until five minutes before the race and then placed sixty thousand on Brown Sugar to win. After she won he would be up seventy thousand for the afternoon, but he never wanted to go through another day like this. He knew what he had to do to tweak his system. He had to make sure that the first bet he placed was a winner because the pressure of a first bet loser destroyed his plan. Coping with a loser after having already backed a winner carried far less stress than starting with a loser.

  The commentator said, “They’re being led into the gates for the last at Lone Star, folks. Hi-Jinx moves in next to The Matador, and Texas Beau is the last to go in. They’re set. Racing! They jumped as one and Debt Collector went straight to the front and took up the running. Eddie Bates has got the favorite, Brown Sugar, four back on the fence in perfect position to make her run for home.”

  Todd took a sip of mineral water and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a race was going to plan.

  “They’re at the top of the stretch, and Brown Sugar’s cruising and just needs a way out,” the commentator shouted. “Bates sees a gap on the inside and drives her toward it…but wait, Hi-Jinx has leaned in, and the gap has closed. Bates is trying to pull Brown Sugar to the outside, but I think it’s too late. The Matador’s set sail for the wire, and they won’t catch him. If you backed the favorite, you were desperately unlucky. She had a dream run until she was severely checked by Hi-Jinx a furlong and a half from home. Stewards will look at the riding of Bill Hunter on Hi-Jinx and determine whether he intentionally blocked Brown Sugar.”

  Todd couldn’t believe it. He had lost one hundred and seventy thousand. He was shattered, confused and knew that his dream of following the horses full-time was just that, a dream. When he’d left his apartment for the betting parlor this morning, he was unconcerned about what might happen with his job. Now, he couldn’t afford to lose it.

  Chapter 6

  Englewood’s Astor Motel located in southwest Chicago had seen far better days. The brass handles on the large double front doors were tarnished; the glass was grimy, and the carpet in the foyer leading to the reception desk was threadbare. Its owners were just waiting for the economy and locality to improve before tearing it down and replacing it with a skyscraper.

  The reception clerk was in his late thirties, dirty, unshaven with thin brown strands of hair combed over in a fruitless attempt to hide his bald patch. Despite the no-smoking signs, he held a cigarette between his nicotine-stained fingers. His teeth were green, his eyes were red, and his skin was blotchy. He was absorbed in the current edition of Playboy that was spread out in front of him. Andy Prowse was a sleaze and a loser and the world held little in the way of hope for him.

  The rap on the reception counter startled him, but he made no attempt to close or conceal the magazine that was opened at a pic of a voluptuous bunny revealing all of her assets and then some. The young man in front of him was wearing opaque oversized sunglasses and a beanie that concealed his hair. He was well over six foot. Despite his feeble attempt at disguise, Andy recognized him instantly. Devlin Cooper, the Cougars gun quarterback and superstar. “I’m looking for a room. Can you help me?” he asked nervously.

  “Here, fill this in,” Andy said, pushing a registration card toward him. “How long will you be with us Mr…”

  “Brown, Corey Brown and just one-night thanks. How much will it be?” Cooper replied, pulling out his wallet. “I just want to catch up on some sleep. I’ll be pushing off early in the morning so I’ll pay now.”

  I bet you want to catch up on some sleep Andy thought. “It’s a one hundred and ten bucks. How will you be paying?”

  “Cash.”

  As Andy picked up the notes, he said, “You’re in 712,” and passed Cooper the key.

  “Please make sure I’m not disturbed.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Brown.”

  For the first time in weeks, Andy was sharp and alert. Less than twenty minutes later the foyer door opened. A woman wearing a large silk scarf, sunglasses, and a fleecy collared jacket pulled up around her chin made her way to the elevators. Andy watched the elevator stop on level seven and smiled. It was his lucky day. He knew who she was the minute he set eyes on her. Coach Tom Deacon’s wife.

  Andy waited five minutes, grabbed one of the hair conditioning sachets that were for guest’s rooms and took the elevator to level seven. He let himself into 714, opened a cupboard and activated a sophisticated set of cameras before putting his eye up to a small peephole. Karen Deacon was naked, spread-eagled on the bed and Devlin was kneeling on the floor licking her shaven pussy. She was writhing in pleasure and gasping “Oh, that’s good. It’s so good.”

  Devlin Cooper sat up abruptly. “Enjoy.” He grinned.

  Karen rested on one elbow, took his hand and put his forefinger on her clit then
moved it in a slow circular motion. She dropped her elbow and laid back down. “Slowly, slowly,” she groaned.

  Devlin leaned forward, keeping his finger circling while driving his tongue deep inside her.

  “You’re such a fast learner,” Karen gasped.

  Andy yanked his zipper down and covered his hand in hair conditioner. It was the best sex he’d seen, and he’d recorded hundreds of couples and groups doing things to each other that he hadn’t believed possible. Every CD was labeled and when Andy got sick of Playboy and wanted to relive an experience he just played the CD. He hadn’t watched them all live, but this was Devlin Cooper and Karen Deacon. Perhaps they were turning him on because they were so famous. Yes, that was it. Andy guessed that Karen was anywhere between twelve and twenty years older than Devlin. She was only a little over five foot with a tiny waist and fabulous, (no doubt surgically-enhanced) tits. Her long black hair cascaded down over them, and she said, “That’s enough foreplay, put it in.”

  Devlin got up off his knees, and Andy’s left hand shot up to his mouth to muzzle the “Oh fuck!” Devlin was gigantic, and his angry knob was nearly purple. Andy stopped masturbating, fascinated by how Karen was going to accommodate such a monstrous weapon.

  “Slowly, big boy, slowly,” she said. “I like to feel every bit of you sliding into me. Oh, that’s good. That’s so good. Do me, do me hard.”

  Andy was wiping himself clean as he watched Devlin thrust himself in and out of Karen with long strokes while she moaned in ecstasy. In no time at all, Devlin let out a deafening yell and rolled off her. They lay motionless for a few minutes and then they both burst out laughing.

  “That was so good,” Karen said.

  “Fucking fantastic, more like it.” Devlin grinned, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “I love seeing you naked, Karen.”

  Andy had watched countless couples fuck, but Karen and Devlin were the sexiest he’d ever seen. He was tempted to stay perving and masturbating for the rest of the day but knew what he’d just seen was worth a fortune. He’d make a phone call and then come back up to the room. As Andy was contemplating this, he watched Karen shimmy down Devlin’s cock and wrap her legs around him. Devlin stood up and laughed. “No hands,” he said, and then his face turned serious as he put his hands under her ass and pushed her up against the wall. Andy found it nearly impossible to tear himself away; his eyes glued to Karen’s passion-filled face as Devlin pounded her into the wall. Two things eased Andy’s concern about what he was going to miss. The first was that he was recording the action and the second was that he knew they’d still be hard at it when he got back. They couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Andy was flushed when he got back down to reception and anxious to get upstairs again. He hurriedly thumbed through his Teledex under B and grabbed the motel’s old handset and dialed.

  “Dirk Vaughan, speaking.”

  “Dirk, it’s Andy from the Astor Motel. I need to talk to Brock. It’s urgent.”

  One of Vaughan’s main jobs was to keep time-wasters and shit-kickers away from Brock Borchard. “Why don’t you let me know what it’s about, Andy? Then I’ll let you know whether he wants to talk to you.”

  “It’s private,” Andy said. “I can’t. I can tell you that what I have is gold, and if Brock doesn’t want to talk to me, I’ll phone Nick Gianelli. I know he’ll be interested.”

  “Listen you slimy turd, don’t threaten me. Brock’s a busy man. He’s got more important things to do than talk to assholes like you. Now tell me what it is you think you have.”

  Andy didn’t reply but heard raised voices.

  “Andy, it’s Brock. Anything you have to tell me, you can tell Dirk. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t think you’ll say that after you hear what I’ve got.” Andy said. He related what he’d seen.

  “Who’d believe it?” Borchard said. “The golden boy and little Miss Prim and Proper.”

  “The Tribune will pay me two hundred thousand for the CD,” Andy said.

  “You’ve talked to them?”

  “Not yet, but that’s what it’s worth. Brock, I’m giving you first option. Are you interested?”

  “I’ll give you for four hundred thousand in cash for the original, but there are to be no copies. Do you understand? If a copy ever surfaces after I’ve paid you, you’re dead.”

  “Can I keep one for personal use?” Andy whined.

  “Personal use? What the fuck is personal use, you sicko? Anyhow, the answer’s no. There’ll be the original, and that’s all. If I need copies, I’ll have them made. Oh, and Andy, how’d you know to record that room?”

  There was a long pause. “I’ve got a room permanently set up. When a hot looking couple checks in, I always put ‘em in that room. The equipment’s in the adjoining room, and there’s a little peephole so I know when to activate the cameras. No one’s gonna check into this dive to sleep or stay. They come here for one thing, and that’s to fuck discreetly and on the cheap. I just record a little memento of their visit.” Andy laughed.

  “Jesus. What do you do with the CDs?”

  “Nothing. They’re for personal use.”

  Borchard scratched his head. He’d have never thought of what Andy was doing. He smiled when he thought about the peephole and wondered how much time Andy wasted with his eye up against it. “I’ll send Dirk over with the cash and you can give him the CD.”

  “No, no,” Andy said. “They’re still at it, and I’m recording. Besides, I want to make sure the CD is perfect before I hand it over.”

  “I bet you do.” Borchard laughed. “Phone me tomorrow after you’ve checked it. And remember, Andy, don’t keep a copy.”

  “I won’t Thanks, Brock. I’ll be seeing you,” Andy hung up and raced toward the elevators.

  Borchard looked at Dirk and said, “Fuck, there are some sick bastards in the world. Have a listen to what that sleazy prick’s been doing. I wonder how many others there are like him and what they get up to.”

  Chapter 7

  The door to Doug Lechte’s office was always open, so when he summoned Todd to his office and told him to close the door, the young man knew he was in trouble. “Todd, twelve months ago I thought you were partner material. Now I’m fighting off demands for your head. You disappear during the day, and you phone in ill at least once a month. More importantly, the supervisors who report to you are taking more responsibility for corporate audits than you are. What’s wrong? Are you sick of working here?” Lechte asked, a scowl crossing his usually friendly face.

  Todd was glad he hadn’t been hauled before Lechte two days earlier because he would’ve told him to stick his job where the sun didn’t shine. That was before he lost the one hundred and seventy big ones. “I’m sorry, Doug. I’ve had some family problems. I never knew they’d drag on for so long.”

  The scowl on Lechte’s face evaporated and was replaced by a look of concern. “What’s wrong? Your mother and father are pillars of the community. Is there anything I can do to help? They’re not ill are they?”

  “No, nothing like that, they’re fine. It’s a private family matter. I’m pleased to say it was resolved yesterday.”

  “So you won’t be disappearing anymore or taking sick days?”

  “Doug, I can get back to putting in a minimum of sixty hours a week. I feel bad about letting my supervisors down. I intend to mend those relationships and get back on top of my assignments.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that. I wasn’t sure you’d still be with us by the end of the day. Don’t waste too much time on your old assignments. Vanessa will take care of them. You concentrate on the portfolio of clients you’re inheriting from her.”

  “I feel stupid. I thought you were giving her my assignments so you could check up on me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I’d rather not say. It’s nothing,” Todd replied.

  “No, tell me.”

  “Well, you and Vanessa wer
e laughing that day we discussed re-assigning clients. When I came into your office, you stopped. I thought you were laughing at my expense.”

  Lechte shook his head. “I never put you down as being paranoid, Todd. The problems with your family have obviously impacted your psyche. If it eases your mind, I told Vanessa a Warren Buffet joke. Why did the twenty-two-year-old beauty queen marry the seventy-year-old billionaire? Because he told her he was ninety.” Lechte laughed.

  Todd grinned. “That’s a good one.”

  “Todd, I’m going to level with you. I wanted Vanessa to become familiar with your clients because I wasn’t sure how long you’d still be with us. I’m glad I didn’t have to fire you. Now get out of here and get your head back on the job,” Lechte said, putting his hand on Todd’s shoulder.

  Todd walked out of Lechte’s office knowing he had dodged a bullet. He didn’t intend to give up the horses, but his visits to the betting parlor would have to be on Saturdays. When he got back to his cubicle, there was a note from Vanessa on his desk asking if she could see him. It was initialed VH with a smiley face. Her cubicle was just a little further along the wall, and Todd kept on walking. She was on the phone but pointed to the chair opposite her desk.

  “Mom, I know,” she said, “but I can’t get home for dinner tonight. I have a job to complete and won’t get away from the office before ten.”

  “Yes, yes, I know it Mikey’s birthday. I’ll make it up to him.”

  There was a pause before Vanessa said, “Yes, I know he’ll only be fourteen once. Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

  Vanessa smiled at Todd and shook her head. “You love boasting to your friends about how successful I am. Don’t you understand? I’ll never make partner unless I put in the hours.”

  Vanessa sighed. “That’s not true. I come home every Thursday night for the family dinner. I never miss. Why can’t we have Mikey’s party then?”