Stephen Cannell - King Con

"You're trying to fix me up?" Beano smiled.

"Don't laugh it off, buddy. Sweetheart scams are my bubble. Opposites attract. That's why you and I could never be happy. We'd keep looking into each other's bag and hating what we see. We both have the same sickness." Dakota closed her eyes. "Gotta sleep. Feel like shit. Be good, baby," she whispered.

Beano squeezed her hand, and after Dakota squeezed back, he left.

They dropped Duffy at the houseboat and then, since Beano was hungry, he took Victoria out for a late brunch. They found a small but romantic restaurant on a man-made lake off the inland waterway. They got a table out on the wood deck and ordered eggs Benedict and champagne cocktails, and when the drinks were delivered, they clinked glasses. Beano felt strange sitting opposite her on that deck, boyish and almost awkward, as if he were on a first date. Dakota had opened his eyes to something he'd been feeling. A few days ago, he'd viewed Victoria Hart as a necessary evil, somebody he needed to accommodate to get information so he could run the con. But she had transformed herself into something more important. He marveled at her energy and her organization. If he'd thought about it, he could have predicted these skills. What he hadn't been prepared for was her courage.

They sipped champagne cocktails, looking at one another, as the sun began its trip down the afternoon sky, turning the small, man-made blue lake to glittering gold.

"Thank you for helping us," he finally said.

"You don't have to thank me," she said. "I'm here because of Carol… same as you."

"Dakota thinks a lot of you…"

"And what do you think?" she said softly.

"I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up."

"Not a con man?"

"This is my last hustle… if I survive it. I think I want more for myself."

She looked at him and then added, "So do I."

He wasn't sure whether she was talking about herself or about him, but either way, he thought it was a promising remark.

They ate their brunch, and she told him about her parents and her life growing up in Connecticut. She told him that she had never before known the thrill of these last few days, that he had taught her things about herself she never would have learned any other way.

He told her about his life on the road, traveling around with his parents, doing roofing scams, tent hustles, and Gypsy blessings. He told her about his gnawing loneliness.

She listened to this and tried to envision his childhood… She couldn't, it was so different from hers. But it was the loneliness that struck a chord in her… This was what had been depressing her and pulling her down.

They left the restaurant at four, and as they were driving back toward the marina, Beano saw a small rental-boat dock and stopped unexpectedly.

They picked out one of the electric launches with cushioned benches and a blue fringed top. Painted on the stern, in blue letters, was its name: TREASURE HUNTER.

He bought a cheap bottle of wine in the little market and they boarded their tippy vessel for an afternoon excursion, neither of them knowing where they would go or what exactly was happening.

Beano piloted the boat up the river tributary as Victoria opened the bottle and poured the wine into paper cups. The boat's electric motor whirred softly as they adventured along at a stately five knots, the water lapping against the sides.

Sometime later that afternoon, with most of the wine gone, they found themselves with their arms around one another in the bottom of the small boat while it drifted with the motor off.

"Is this what we really want to do?" Victoria asked, her one last caution light flashing.

"It's what I want to do," he said. "But it's up to you…"

And then she kissed him. In a strange way, that kiss released her. He wasn't everything she wanted. But he was more important to her right now than any other man in her life had ever been. She wasn't sure she could even describe why, but she knew her feelings had finally overtaken her structured and cautious mind.

They lay in the bottom of the small boat, holding one another. He started to slowly undress her, and then, after only a moment of hesitation, she reached for the buckle of his belt and undid it. In moments they were naked. The late-afternoon sun peeked under the fringed awning and played on their bodies, heating their skin and emotions.

When he entered her, she felt another moment of pure release, and then, slowly and gently, together, they brought themselves to climax. When it was over, they lay in the boat, breathing heavily.

"This could be a mistake," he said softly.

"Probably," she answered him.

They lay there in each other's arms till sunset. The little boat's name, Treasure Hunter, was appropriate because that afternoon, under its blue-fringed awning, they had discovered treasure.

THE THREE JET ENGINES WHIRRED SOFTLY AS TOMMY "Two Times" Rina sat in the richly appointed cabin of his brother's Challenger and thought. Tommy had never spent much time thinking. That had always been Joe's end of things. Tommy was the hammer, the enforcer. Even when they were just ten and twelve, his little brother, Joe, got the best ideas, and Tommy let him do the planning. But there were times, especially lately, when Tommy hated the way Joe treated him. He was, after all, the big brother. He had let Joe take over the role of leader and for years hadn't even thought twice about it. They had both risen in the criminal world of La Cosa Nostra-Joe to the level of Boss; Tommy, his trusted Consigliere. They had money and power. But lately, Joe had lashed out at Tommy as if he didn't think Tommy even belonged. It was as if Tommy were just excess baggage that Joe had been saddled with, forgetting all the street work Tommy had done, all the guys Tommy had clipped to help get them there.

Tommy looked at the seat across from him, at the decanter of oil wrapped in a towel and seatbelted in, along with the drilling core sample cylinder with its glass window that showed the dark oil shale. Tommy had called Beau Taylor in Texas from the airphone. Taylor had been a frequent high-stakes player at Sabre Bay and he and Tommy had become friends. They had even shared a few showgirls. More important to Tommy right now was the fact that Beau Taylor was a wildcat oilman in Dallas who had made millions finding Texas crude. Tommy had described to Beau the little he could remember about the stratigraphic trap and the delineation well. He told about the exploratory field without telling Beau where it was or the name of Fentress County P and G. He didn't want to trust anybody with that secret. The thing that immediately impressed him was that Beau seemed very excited about the information Tommy gave him. He confirmed to Tommy that all of this information was accurate, that the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission required a gathering station be built over large stratigraphic traps before punching down a delineation well. And Beau was alive with questions about the field and the drill site, the side core samples and the fifteen thousand gallons of crude that had been already pumped. Tommy would not tell him much more than the general facts. He lied and said the well was off the Northern California coast. Tommy asked if Beau knew a geologist, and his friend gave him the name of one in Midland, Texas.

Tommy next called the geologist on the airphone and made arrangements to get the oil sample analyzed. Tommy would divert to Midland and drop the sample off. He was sure it would turn out to be exactly what the geek geologist, Dr. Clark, had told him it was. He was sure he was about to show his brother he could do more than clip guys and be a wandering hard-on. From now on he was being the big brother; he was going to check things out, do the planning, make sure things were what they were supposed to be. He was going to drop the oil sample off in Midland, Texas, and then fly on to Nassau and, when the oil sample checked out, Tommy Rina was going to take five million dollars out of the SARTOF Bank and buy control of the Fentress County Petroleum and Gas Company. He had decided not to tell Joe. Even that geek Dr. Clark had heard Joe made all the decisions. Well, that was going to stop. If this oil deal was what it promised to be, if this field was the largest oil strike in North America, then it was going to be Big Brother Tommy, not Joe, who was going to bring it home for the family. He would tell Joe after the deal was complete, after they were all drowning in Black Gold. Then his little brother would finally give him the respect he deserved.