Chapter 10

By the time the meeting date came around, Michael and his team had everything in place. Even if Clay and Angela didn't show, they knew where their office was. Samuel took off work to run surveillance, and that morning he sat in Sam's car keeping an eye on the building. If anyone tried to leave out the back way, the web cam Michael attached to a tree would monitor their every move. He glanced down at the computer in his lap and noted that Clay arrived using the back entrance. He licked his lips in anticipation, smiling like a Cheshire cat, because he knew something that he didn't tell Sam about that night of recon. He planted a bug from Sam's copious collection, affixing it beneath Clay's desk drawer. He'd been monitoring it all week in hopes of nipping any underhanded twist to the arrangement they made with Michael and Fiona. Fifty grand must have been too good for them to pass up, because so far everything was going as planned.

"Ange, I think we need to get out of this business."

"No way. Think about it! We're going to be fifty thousand dollars richer tonight. If we start picking out rich people, the kind of people like the Parkers, but ones who will plunk down six figures for a kid, hey, we could actually go back to giving them what they want and still make a bundle!"

"Yeah, you're right. I don't know why, but something just doesn't feel right about this one."

"You're just nervous because there's so much money at stake."

Clay cleared his throat. "I, uh, I hope you're right, Ange."

"I've been planning a victory dinner at someplace really expensive tonight. Wanna join me?"

"I'll think about it. Hey, it's time for us to meet the Parkers."

"Good. Let's get this over with. Remember, we'll get the money and tell them that their new son is on his way. While we wait, I pass you the money, you swap it for the counterfeit stuff, so when they decide they're not going to wait any longer, we refund them their money. And we're rich."

"Oh crap," Samuel whispered and picked up his phone. "Sammy, we've got a problem."

"What is it?"

Samuel told him what he heard. "Contact Michael and tell him to be careful."

"How'd you get this information, Dad?"

"Well, I, uh, bugged the office when I was in there the other night."

Sam chuckled. "Good work, Dad. Don't know why I didn't think of that! I guess we were so busy thinking about wiring up Mike, it slipped my mind."

"You're welcome, Son. Does this mean I have a permanent place on the team?"

"We'll have to talk to Mike about that later. Hello, I see Clay and Angela coming right now."

"They must have gone out the back. I didn't see them leave out the front."

"No problem. They're here now."

"So what should I do?"

"I don't know. Go see if Maddie's home and take her to a movie or something."

Samuel laughed heartily. "Thanks for the suggestion. Michael will want to kill you if he finds out you encouraged us."

"Mike's just gonna have to get over it, Dad. You two are a matched set. Everybody knows it, even him, but he's too stubborn...uhoh, gotta go, Dad." Sam cut the connection and looked through his binoculars at the scene unfolding below. He saw the exchange beneath the table. It was going down exactly as Samuel described. He tapped his earpiece and spoke into it. "Call Mike."

Down in the cafe, Michael's phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at Fiona, then at the couple before him. "Excuse me a second." He picked up his phone and glanced at the Sam's name on the screen. "I need to take this." He got up and walked a few feet away, just out of earshot. In a soft voice he muttered, "Sam, this better be good."

"Oh, it is, brother. Your friends took the money you gave them, swapped it out for counterfeit, and when they get a whiff of any hesitation on your part, they're going to give you the money back, only it won't be what you gave them."

"Sam, thank you."

"Don't thank me, it was my dad who planted the bug that got us the intel."

"I owe him a beer then." Michael laughed out loud and said, "That's good news, Marty! Sell it all and we'll be partying in the Caymans with Fifi and our new son! Talk to you later, buddy!"

"Good luck, Mikey." He broke the connection, and his phone beeped. He read the text message.

"Change of plans, Sam. Tel Aviv, 1983."

Still more to come!