Page 71 - Just Deserts

TotalCare

After a few tense moments in the truck, Dex announced: “Okay,
they’re back on the cart, heading for the green. Neither one said
anything incriminating. Both sound like college professors to me.
You sure we got the right guys?”
O’Leary shrugged.
“All I know is what they told me at the office: two kingpins were
probably going to discuss their next shipment while they played
eighteen holes on this course. We’ve had false leads before. What are
you worried about? You’re paid by the hour, now: no more traffic
ticket quotas. If they’re just a couple of harmless old duffers we’ll
erase the tape and have an early lunch. All in a day’s work.”
“Well, I think we’ve been had: these guys sound like doctors to
me. Isn’t this Wednesday? They’re talking investments and travel
agencies. Now they’re at the second hole. Didn’t anyone check out
the registration on those Mercedes they drove up in?”
Dex started doodling on his pad.
“Wasn’t time. The tipster warned us yesterday, but didn’t give us
the details until just this morning. We think he’s playing it straight—it
was his information that led us to the electronic bulletin board dope
ring two months ago. Not his fault we probably won’t get a
conviction.” Brock suddenly froze. “Wait a minute. They’re looking
around in all directions, like they want to be sure nobody’s listening.
This may be the payoff!”
Agent Schinkenmesser hunched over his notepad, scribbling
furiously; agent O’Leary continued to watch the two tiny figures
huddled together in earnest conversation. Five minutes later, when a
foursome approached from the first hole, the FBI targets teed off
and headed for the second green.
“Well?” Brock hissed. “What did they say?”
Dex laid down his pen and wiped his brow with his hand. “They
made a drug deal, all right. But not for cocaine or heroin. For
Panasol.”
“What the hell is that? Some new kind of dope?”
“No. These guys are not what we thought. One them is president
of a pharmaceutical company and the other runs an HMO. Old
buddies, I’d say, by the familiarity of their language. The HMO guy—
Les, his friend calls him—wants to bump off some of his patients,
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