Chapter 12 — Steve’s Plan
Steve Stevens rummaged through his desk drawer and pulled out the new cellphone with Max’s name on it. He put a tic-mark on the label, indicating the phone had been used, then pushed speed-dial #1.
After four rings a voice came on the line. “Hello, state your business," said Max.
“Yes," said Steve. “I’m calling about the ad you had on Craigslist. You’re looking for a cleaner?”
“Not me. But I can ask the policeman standing behind me if he needs one," asked Max.
“That’s fine. I love the police," Steve responded.
“Hi, Steve. How are you doing on my problem?” Max asked.
“I have the beginnings of a plan, but I’m afraid it involves sacrificing that sand-monkey you have working for you down there. Do you have any problem with that?”
“Hell no," replied Max. “I’d be happy to see him go. I don’t really like having his kind on the payroll.”
“Good," Steve grunted. “Is there a legally defensible way for you to store a dozen barrels of that crap you spilled in Milford? I can’t pull the trigger on the plan until you have them in the warehouse.
Max thought a minute. “Yeah, I can do that. My friend always has some barrels waiting for disposal. We can set things up so that we are trans-shipping them to a registered disposal facility.”
Steve continued, “Don’t keep the barrels a secret. We need the employees to find out today that they are coming in—especially the raghead. Don’t go overboard and make it suspicious, but it can’t be a secret.”
“No problem," said Max. “We’ll brag about how we are expanding our income stream through trans-shipping.”
“Good. There will be an investigation, so you’ve got to have your warehouse clean, your dry well sealed, and everything about the barrels on the up and up. You have no more than a couple of days to get all of this taken care of.”
“Fuck, man. You’re asking for a lot. You couldn’t find an easier way?” interrupted Max.
Steve didn’t like Monday morning quarterbacks. His temper began to flare up. “Look, Max. I told you I’m getting ready to go on fucking vacation. I’m doing this as a favor to you. I’m sorry, but after dumping a hundred gallons of poison into the groundwater you’re going to have to clean up your fucking act, at least for a while. I can’t wave a magic wand and just make it all disappear. The best I can do is make it look like someone else’s fault. Now, if that’s not God damn good enough for you, then just let me know and I’ll send you a bill for what I’ve done so far!”
“It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay. It’s all good. You’re the best in the business, that’s why I use you. If you say this is the right way to go, then it’s the way we go, okay? So, what else do I need to do?”
Steve took a deep breath and continued. “Security cameras would be good too. Do you have cameras in place to record shipments and deliveries?”
“I’ll have to check with Chet down in Milford. We’ve usually got one, but sometimes they break when we get a mystery delivery we don’t want recorded. But it’s simple enough to take care of. What in the world do you have planned?”
“I’ll fill you in on the particulars as I get everything firmed up. Goodbye, Max.”
Steve ended the call without waiting for Max to respond. He pulled a different phone out of his drawer, added a tic-mark, and followed the check-in procedure. “Hello, Charles. I need someone to make a one-way delivery for me in southern Ohio early next week. I’ll provide the truck and the cargo. You’ll get some press and end up with a chunk of change in your bank account.”
A voice with a distinct upper-class British accent responded. “Well, that’s a bit of a rush, isn’t it? Look, Steve, we’ve never done a one-way delivery for you before. You do realize there is a 200% surcharge for that service.”
“I’m always willing to pay for quality work," Steve responded. “In fact, you can bump it to a 250% surcharge if you can provide a Coptic Syrian for the job.”
Charles sighed heavily. “You need to brush up on your geo-politics, old boy. We don’t have a lot to do with them.”
“I don’t care about fucking geopolitics," Steve said angrily. “You guys have so many fucking sects that hate each other I don’t see how you can keep them all straight without a program. Listen, I deal in money, not geopolitics. You can have a 300% surcharge for the right actor.”
“Well,” said Charles thoughtfully, “given this timeframe, I can provide the right actor or a one-way delivery, but not both. You’ll just have to decide which is more important to you.”
Steve didn’t know why things had to get so complicated.
“Okay. Give me the fucking Syrian. I’ll make sure he has a one-way ticket myself.”
“Very well," replied Charles. “One Coptic Syrian to make a one-way delivery early next week driving a truck you supply. Since you have to punch their ticket, I’ll give you a discount. Let’s say I knock it down to a 250% surcharge.”
“No," said Steve firmly. “A 150% surcharge, tops. If I have to punch their ticket, I’m not paying more than that.”
“You must understand it’s a question of trust. Punching their ticket will burn one of the few bridges I have to the Coptic community.”
“Listen, you fucking pirate,” roared Steve. “I’m making your job easy by doing the clean-up myself. This doesn’t have to be a trained fanatic. All you have to do is find a fuck-head who will drive a truck from point A to point B. And, if that’s all you are going to do then I think a 100% surcharge is plenty under the circumstances.”
“Now, now, Steve. Let’s leave emotion out of this. It is strictly business, am I right? And since I have a great deal of respect for you and for our longstanding business relationship, I’m willing to agree to the 150% surcharge that you already asked for.”
“Done," said Steve. “I’ll send you the particulars in the next two or three days.”
After putting the phone away, Steve closed his eyes and leaned back in his office chair. Now that he had the basic building blocks in place, he calmed his breathing and began to visualize the execution of his plan. He believed this ability to review an operation, as if he were watching a movie, was what gave him his edge. He could speed the movie up, slow it down, and even replay it from the start with a few alterations to see if he got a better result.
He needed to add details, but everything looked good except for the final scene. There had to be the flashy climax to the movie, and right now he had nothing. A bomb in the truck wouldn’t fit the scenario. A car chase was always exciting, but certainly a bad idea for this particular job.
A shoot out, on the other hand, would be exciting, believable, and not that difficult to arrange. Maybe what he needed was a hero to come in at the last second to try to save the day. Yes! Bullets flying around all over the place would create chaos, and in chaos there was opportunity.