Stephen Cannell - King Con

Beano stepped into the circle. "I'm Beano Bates," he repeated, "and I've got money for you." That seemed to get their attention.

"Hey, Echo, turn that fuckin' radio down," Bronco yelled.

Echo Bates was an identical albino twin to Bronco. Born ten minutes behind his brother, he escaped being named after his mother's Studebaker, getting the marginally better name Echo. He got up, lumbered over, and turned the radio down.

"I'm looking for Cadillac Bates," Beano said again.

They all sat there and looked around at each other like contestants on Jeopardy! until finally, a tall, skinny man in his forties stood and walked over to him.

"You ain't paid us what you owed, cousin."

"That's why I'm here."

"Blazer and Wrangler, you come on with me. Rest a'you hold 'em birds. I want in on this next 'un."

He moved out of the room with Beano and John and across the parking lot. Finally he turned and stood by the row of shiny trucks, leaning his skinny ass on the bug protector grill of the closest one. He folded his arms and looked at Beano.

"Nice t'see you again," Beano smiled. The last time he'd been around the Hog Creek Bateses he'd been about ten and had gone with his mother and father up into the Ozark Plateau mountains to hide from the law. They spent two weeks with the family in Hog Creek. Back then there were only two brothers and their wives and families. About fifteen people. They lived in a remote valley, miles from the nearest neighbors. It seemed they'd done a lot of serious inbreeding since then. "Lotta new family," he grinned at Cadillac Bates, who seemed in no hurry to speak. Or maybe, Beano mused, he just hadn't been able to form a complete thought yet." 'Bout half this many boys in the family back then." Beano continued trying to fill the awkward silence. "Bronco and Echo and lots of these cousins probably weren't even born yet; 'course, it was over twenty years ago."

Then Cadillac furrowed his brow. A thought pushed its way out of his constipated brain. "Most Bateses ain't been born, they's squeezed outta bar rags," he said, without smiling.

"That's pretty good, very funny," Beano said.

"We come all the way out here 'cause you called, but we got no deal yet. You owe us travel money."

"I didn't know you were gonna bring twenty people," Beano hedged. "I only need five or six."

"Know the trouble doin' business with kin?"

"No."

"Y'all think we got a family discount."

"Don't we?" Beano grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"Come all the way from Hog Creek, Arkansas, 'cause you said you wanted a posse." He dug into his pocket and handed a sheet of paper over to Beano. Somebody had obviously taught Cadillac Bates how to read and write because he had all of their expenses itemized. "That there's what it cost us t'git ta this place an' back. I'm puttin' three cents a mile fer wear an' tear on them pickups. Rambler an' Dodge lost a tranny on their Ram truck in Oklahoma an' I stuck that on there."

Beano took the sheet of paper. It came to almost two thousand dollars. "Lotta money," he said, handing the sheet to John, who examined it.

"Is what it is." Cadillac jerked a thumb toward Paper Collar John. "The other job he told us about gonna cost ya fifteen thousand plus ten percent of the takedown. Dental and medical is extra if we need it. That's the deal, no bargaining. Pay it now, otherwise Church is out an' you can deal with this mess yourself." John handed the accounting back to Beano.

"Guess we need the back-up," Beano said and John nodded, so Beano walked to the trunk of the Caprice, opened it and took seventeen thousand dollars of Sabre Bay money out of the blue canvas bag, walked over, and handed it to Cadillac Bates. The skinny geezer hillbilly counted it and stuffed it into his overalls, way down into his crotch, where it would be safe, next to his shriveled nuts.

"Listen," Beano said, "you gotta knock off the cock fights and hold it down. You're gonna get turned in by another guest. Fighting birds are against the law. You get arrested, you're no good to me."

"Cousin Beano, you jist bought yerself a Hog Creek solution. We ain't too citified and that's a fact. Them boys in there, they ain't all quite right an' sometimes they tend t'eat supper 'fore they say grace. But that ain't gonna ever change, an' if anybody calls the po-lice, then we'll just hafta clean that plow when it gets here." He was still leaning against the truck, squinting at Beano through slate-gray eyes.

Beano finally nodded his head. He was already regretting this choice. This branch of the family had been inbreeding for fifty years. Most of them were dumb as dirt, and tough as nickel steak. It was a dangerous combination. He didn't remember them quite this way, but he'd only been ten and maybe hadn't been paying very close attention. He did remember that his mom and dad had packed up the Winnebago and left weeks before they'd planned. The men in the motel room just a few yards away were a couple of notches down on the evolutionary chart. Their eyes betrayed a huge intellectual emptiness; their speech was born from a culture of moonshine and Confederate flags. But Beano had no choice. Tommy was on his way to San Francisco, and the final stage of the con was ready to be played. Tomorrow morning they would walk Tommy into the Fentress County Petroleum and Gas Company and try to separate him from Joe's five million dollars. Beano hoped this collection of yahoos could step up and save him at the blow-off.

He left the Red Boar Inn and headed back to the Marina Motel, where Victoria was waiting. Periodically, he had an unsettling feeling, almost like he was being watched, but each time he checked his rear-view mirror he could see nobody following.

He got back to the motel at seven and Victoria wasn't there. Her overnight bag was half unpacked and he stood in the room while an unreasonable panic washed over him.

She was still not back at eight.

He called John, but he had not seen or heard from her.

At eight-thirty she opened the door and came into the room.

"Jesus," he said, both angry and relieved. "Don't do this to me. Where were you?"

"Law school girlfriend of mine lives here, we met for a drink, I lost track of time," she lied. Then she went to the curtains to close them. She looked out at the street. She couldn't see the FBI van, but she knew they were out there waiting to pounce. She felt so guilty, she could barely look at Beano.

"Tomorrow we do the sting," he said.

*

"Caveat emptor.' Let the buyer beware."

– ROMAN PROVERB

TOMMY WAS FLYING BACK TO SAN FRANCISCO IN THE Challenger, looking down at the two tan leather bags he'd brought from Nassau. They were on the floor before him and contained five million in banded cash. He had never before done something like this without his brother's permission, but despite that, he couldn't help himself, he was smiling. He could hardly wait to tell Joe what he'd done and how he'd done it. He had been fantasizing about that moment since they took off from Nassau. He kept visualizing the scene: He'd call Joe up, make him come to Tommy's apartment in Atlantic City. Joe wouldn't want to come, but Tommy wouldn't beg… He'd laugh and say something like "Come on over, I think it just might be worth your time." He'd have the graphs and the oil core sample, which his Texas geologist had told him was called O.C.M.-Oil Cut Mud. Tommy would show his geologist's report, which indicated the sample shale was over 90 percent pure. "Incredible," the Texas geek had told him over the phone in Nassau. Tommy would throw in some of the oil terms he'd been learning to show his brother he wasn't just some dumb street hitter with no brains and nine inches of lumber between his legs. He'd tell Joe about the high G.O.R.-Gas-to-Oil Ratio-and talk about how they would use water-induced B.H.P.-Bottom Hole Pressure. He'd scribbled all of this stuff down while the geek from Texas explained what he needed to know. Once he parked this huge deal in the family's driveway, Tommy was absolutely, for damn sure, through taking shit off of Joe. From now on, his little brother would have to admit that it was Tommy who had brought this good fortune home.