Stephen Cannell - King Con

"Knock it off with the fucking letters."

"Plugged and Abandoned. Dry holes basically, but the core samples were promising. Dr. Sutton and I found out that W.C.P.D. wasn't getting paid by Fentress County Petroleum for their work. I complained to my boss about it and the Fentress County Petroleum and Gas Company fired me. At first I thought that was very strange, because I was running the operation out here. We didn't know it then, but Fentress is going broke. That's why they fired me. They were cutting new field development to nothing. We got together with Donovan Martin, who owns the service company, and all agreed to go ahead and try and prove out the field on our own. But because I'd been fired and Donovan's service company hadn't been paid, we agreed that if we found oil we would make it a tight hole, and not tell the F.E.R.C. We-"

Tommy reached out and backhanded Beano.

"I'm sorry." Beano winced. "Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. A tight hole is a secret oil well. You're supposed to tell the F.E.R.C. if you get positive results, but we agreed not to." He looked at Tommy. "We proved the field. Our delineation well came in. It was huge. This oil find is incredible! Fentress County Petroleum and Gas is in big financial trouble. They don't know we proved the field, they're going to go out of business, and their stock is falling. We're trying to get a controlling interest before the bank takes them over. Once the bank grabs the company we're out of luck, because there'll be an army of bank examiners and-"

Tommy held up his hand to silence Beano. "So you two assholes come to my casino in the Bahamas and steal money to buy this oil company, using crooked dice?" Tommy said, getting his next basic fact.

"It was his idea," Beano carped, looking at Duffy. "Harry used to do close-hand magic. He discovered the cellophane gas. He said we could do it, it's just we couldn't get enough money from the casino to buy the company before you shut us down."

"How can I believe all of this?" Tommy said, beginning to get interested.

"We've got the oil core drilling samples. They're at the service company warehouse," Beano said. "Donovan Martin, who owns the platform drilling company, has got 'em."

Tommy picked up the stock certificates from the floor and table, then gathered up the seismic graphs, the drawings, and the glossy printed brochure. "Let's go see," he finally said. "If this is all true… you guys just got yourselves a new partner."

VICTORIA HAD BEEN CROUCHING IN THE FRONT SEAT OF Beano's blue and white Winnebago, deep in the parking lot of the Fresno Mud Flat Marina. She had a brand-new Nikon long-lens camera on her lap and a copy of that day's Fresno Herald on the dash in front of her as Beano had instructed. She'd been sitting there for almost two hours, thinking about the last several days.

Her mind was a mixture of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She wasn't at all sure what she was doing there, but at the same time, she knew this was where she belonged. She was glad to be avenging Carol's death and to be a part of the plot to bring the Rina brothers down, but she resented her minor role in the adventure. So far, all she'd done was stand in the parking lot of the Sabre Bay Club waiting for the phone to ring so that she could give Duffy's phony credit rating, and now she was waiting in Beano's Winnebago with the new long-lens camera, waiting for Tommy to show up while Beano and Duffy told the tale in the houseboat. She could see how it worked now. The inside men were the important players in the con, there was no doubt about it. Everybody else was a shill or a lugger and performed a minor role. She was not used to the sidelines, and it bothered her. She understood that Tommy would recognize her if he saw her, but that fact didn't help. She had always been in control of everything in her life, from her pep squad in high school to moot court in law school. She had been the quarterback on the fifty or so felony cases she tried in the D.A.'s office. She was not good at holding other people's coats and was determined not to let that be her role in this situation.

Still, she had to admit that, so far, it had been the most invigorating experience of her life. She had enjoyed chasing the ambulance in the Bahamas more than she dared admit. She had relived it in her mind countless times, all the way up to the moment she pulled up alongside and yanked the wheel, spinning the van sideways and then slamming it into the speeding ambulance. There was something very freeing about the loss of control, like letting fresh air into a stuffy room. She knew the pictures she was supposed to take now would be critical later, and she was looking forward to her confrontation in two days with Joe Rina. It would be a chance to finally score a few points on that elegant piece of shit. As these thoughts were going through her mind, a black Lincoln limousine pulled into the parking lot. In a few minutes, Tommy and two men, roughly the same size as Texaco Phillips, got out. They dwarfed the five-foot eight-inch Tommy… The three of them moved over to the railing and looked down at the marina. She took a few pictures, being sure that the newspaper lay open on the dash in front of her and was included in the shot. Then she watched as they walked down the gangplank to the wooden dock below. She crouched low inside the motor home, the lens of the camera pointing out of the window just under the shade. Again, she could feel the excitement bubbling. Beano had been right so far. He had gotten Tommy to do exactly what he had planned. They had controlled his movements. She wondered if Dakota was in the black Lincoln thirty yards away, as Beano had predicted.

The back seat of the Lincoln was stuffy, and Dakota felt awful. She had begun to suspect she had some bad internal bleeding. One of Tommy's body blows must have ruptured something. The pain in her abdomen and stomach had become intense. It was hard for her to concentrate as the big enforcer in the front seat kept talking.

"I got lotsa stamina, I can stay hard for hours," Keith Summerland was bragging. He had turned around and was looking at Dakota in the back seat, a big wide leer on his flat, uninteresting features. "Soon as Tommy gets through with you, I'll take you someplace and give you a demonstration. Some guys don't like going down, but my tongue can do magic tricks. You're gonna beg me for more. Then you get to sit on Mr. Buffy. You're gonna get a ride you won't forget."

Dakota couldn't believe this piece of shit. The minute Tommy got out of the car, he'd started up with this. Dakota could barely talk because of the pain and he was up there bragging about his Johnson, which he'd named Mr. Buffy. She tried to get more comfortable.

"Right now, you're probably thinkin' you're gonna find a way to get out of it, but Tommy's nuts. He's not like other guys. I ask him if he's through with ya, he'll give ya to me." He grinned at her; he was twisted around in the front seat and eyed her hungrily like she had just been served to him, fully garnished, at a steak-house. "You're gonna see a lot of me for a while."

Changing conversational topics, but not anatomical subjects, "Look, I didn't get a chance t'take a leak back at the airport," he said. "'Gonna go over t'that stand a'trees over there, and tap a kidney. I should tell you when I played football I did a four-six in full pads, in the forty, so don't try an' take off on me. You ain't gonna make it," he bragged.

"I'll be right here," she said softly.

He got out of the car and moved away from the limousine. As soon as he was gone, Dakota struggled up, grimacing in pain. She reached over the front seat, grabbed the cellphone, and dialed a number.

In the motor home, Victoria was startled to hear a phone ringing somewhere. She had to go searching for it. It was on a table in the bedroom.