Diversion 1 - Diversion (3 page)

He packed up what few things hed brought with him, plus the laptop, exiting by the hotels back door. A pair of dark shades hid his stinging eyes from the harsh Florida glare. Without hesitation he approached a black Range Rover idling at the edge of the parking lot, opened the rear door, and climbed in. He shoved his belongings behind him into the back of the vehicle.

The rich scent of coffee filled his nostrils, along with the tangy scent of some woodsy cologne.Must be the drivers. Walters idea of personal hygiene rarely ventured past a walk on the wild side via a dab of Old Spice.

Without so much as a “How ya do?” Lucky extended his hand between the two front seats, a chuckle and Grande Starbucks cup servingas Walters greeting. Mornings sucked stump water. Lucky abso-fucking-lutely hated any hour between three A.M. and noon.

“Mawnin, sunshine,” his bossed drawled, trying and failing to match Luckys natural North Carolina accent with an Upper Boston twang.

“Fuck you,” Lucky replied, though his words held no heat. Hed gotten over his utter hatred of his boss a few years back, mostly, though he saw no reason to inform Walter of the promotion from pure-unadulterated-evil to fairly-decent-man-butdont-push-it.“Yall set to get this dog and pony show on the road?”

The driver put the vehicle in gear, heading out to the main road. Who the hell was he? Oh yeah. Bert or Bret Something-or-other, aka Newbie, aka Short-timer. Walter mentioned bringing on a new guy, who was supposed to be some kind of college educated hotshot. Didnt matter none. The guy might be the freaking best thing since sliced bread but he still hadnt paid his dues.
Hell never match me
gave Lucky some comfort, though not much. Odds were he wouldnt last long at any rate. Walters little collection of misfits suffered a high turnover rate, except for Lucky, for whom failure wasnt an option.
Only the bastards stay.

“Textbook,” Walter replied, adding, “with a twist bound to make us unwelcome at Regency Pharma for the foreseeable future.”

“Wont be the first time, but thems the breaks.” Lucky sipped from the cup hed never dare say “thanks” for. Instead he grunted. “Yall mustve gotten here too early. Coffees cold.” In fact, it was almost precisely the right temperature. Too bad Luckys job description included, “Card-carrying asshole,” and Lucky prided himself for being the best at his job.

Walter would never have taken the bait. Newbie, however, apparently hadnt gotten the “Lucky is an ill son of a bitch best left alone” memo. “Were right on time. Now quit your whining or next time I sleep ten minutes later and you can get your own damned coffee.” He used the same pleasant tones most folks did for discussing the weather.

A snicker sounded from the front passenger seat. Lucky sulked in the back, not deeming the upstarts comment answer-worthy. Apparently, this one wasnt going to lie back and let Lucky ride roughshod over him. He did love a challenge, and anyone with balls enough to fight back piqued his interest. However, he furrowed his brow at Walters traitorous attitude.

He stared out the window at the passing palm trees, breathing slowly in and out. “And you can
expose the weaknesses
by hijacking the fucking truck next time, too,” he murmured under his breath, but not low enough, if the snort from the driver proved any indication.

Walter broke into the low-scale pissing contest before the skirmish reached prizefight level. “Bo, allow me to introduce Richmond Lucklighter, but Ill warn you—he only answers to „Lucky. I wouldnt tempt fate by calling him „Richmond. Hes not fond of the name.”

From where he was sitting, Lucky had a good view of the drivers face via the rearview mirror and would have smacked the smirk off the bastards lips if he hadnt been worried about spilling his coffee, considering it a sin to waste good caffeine.

Walters smugness ticked down a notch when he added, “Lucky, I want you to meet Bo Schollenberger.”
Bo, Brett, whatever.
But the guy scored another point for having a last name almost as impossible as Luckys. Almost. Lucky grunted again and deliberately slurped his coffee.
“A pleasure meeting you, too, Mr. Lucklighter. But next time, try speaking English. Im afraid my Neanderthal is a little rusty.” The driver beamed impossibly white teeth in the mirror. Lucky dropped his eyes. No need getting friendly. Mr. I-bleach-monthly wouldnt last. No one ever did unless legally obligated to, or certifiably insane. “Do you hate „Richmond because you were named after a crazyuncle or something?”
Nosy jerk. Lucky started to answer with a grunt, but reconsidered in light of the Neanderthal comment. “If you must know, my parents were redneck enough to name their kids after NASCAR tracks.”
The smile in the mirror fell. “Youre pulling my leg.”
“Nope. I got three brothers: Bristol, Dover, and Daytona. Oh, and lets not forget my sister, Talladega.”
The guys mouth dropped open. “Your parents named your sister Talladega?”
The joke had gotten old long ago, but Lucky delivered the punch line anyway. “Nah. Actually, they named her Charlotte. Mom won the coin toss.”
A snicker erupted from Walters direction. Apparently, he still considered the rusty, old joke funny after hearing it umpteen times. Lucky never had, and cringed each time his dad told it in front of friends. Some people were far too easily amused.
“Damn. And to think I caught hell while growing up for being called Bo.”
The conversation died when the SUV pulled up in front of an ultra-modern monstrosity with arched metal gables, spires soaring into the clear blue sky, and walls made of way too much glass. The builders probably won awards for originality. Lucky found it ugly as homemade sin. He hated glass buildings about as much as he hated mornings. An equally appalling sign announced theyd indeed arrived at the corporate office of Regency Pharma.
Newbie scored another point with, “What a butt-ugly building.”
“Ours is not to judge,” Walter commented, reaching into the backseat for his briefcase. “However, Im inclined to agree.”
Lucky finished up the last of his coffee and tossed the empty cup to the floor, ignoring the raised eyebrow and “Born in a barn?” comment from Newbie. Ensuring his shades were on straight, he climbed out of the vehicle, staring up at the nightmare-inducing structure. A perfect triangle of clear glass nestled in the tallest gable, and for a split second, an image flashed before his eyes of a man, naked and spread-eagled against its surface, Lucky pounding into him from behind. What a fitting “fuck you” to convention
.
Walter led the way, Newbie dogging his heels. “Bo, youre here to observe today. Be sure to take notes. You can learn a lot by watching when no ones aware you are.”
Heh. Lucky had once offered the same advice to Walter. He trailed behind their suited backs, tuning out Walters murmured instructions. Another installment of the Walter and Lucky Show.
Why the fuck bring the kid? Was he even old enough to order a victory drink in a bar later? Oh, right. College grad.
Pharmacist.
Eight years of higher education. Must be one hell of a lot older than he appeared, unless he turned out to be one of those whiz kids who graduated high school at twelve. And he sure didnt strike Lucky as being overly intelligent. If he were, he wouldnt be working for Walter. Maybe he did something terribly wrong in a past life he needed to make up for. Or, like Lucky, did something terribly wrong in his present life. Lucky pushed his feeble conscience aside. Hed more than paid his debt for any wrongdoing, in his opinion, even though the rest of the world may not agree.
Screw the rest of the world.
The scorching heat created sweat beads on his forehead and droplets that dripped down his back before he reached the buildings front entrance. The last week of October didnt necessarily mean cooler weather in Florida. Walter opened the door and Lucky stepped through—into more glass!—immediately surrounded by chilled air. The rookie smiled at him, and Lucky fought back the urge to growl, “What gives you the right to be happy?” Hed save it for later, once the young woman in the too- tight dress currently approaching them disappeared.
“Mr. Smith?” she asked, eyes traveling from Lucky to Walter to Bo.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Walter offered, stepping forward with right hand extended. He gave the woman his best “Im harmless” smile. Liar. Walter was anything but harmless. A barracuda disguised as your favorite uncle summed him up better, with his twinkling brown eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, laugh lines, and shriveled prune of a heart. At six foot six, he towered over the receptionist, and his girth brought to mind a two-legged mountain. Mt. Walter.
The woman shook Walters hand, probably seeing a grandfatherly gentleman instead of a piranha in a business suit. She smiled broadly, chancing an appraising peek at Newbie. Yeah, he wasnt roadkill. Big deal. However, if Lucky were her, hed pick Bo, too, the least of the three evils currently invading her workspace, eye-candy-wise.
“If youll follow me, everyones waiting in the conference room.” She led them down a long hallway, her high heels clicking across a polished marble floor. Walter and entourage squeaked and clopped along in her wake. “Can I get you gentlemen anything? Coffee, soda, juice?”
“Black coffee, lots of sugar,” Lucky volunteered, blurting over Bos, “Bottled water, please,” and Walters feeble attempt at humor, “Rum and Coke, if you dont mind.” Walters overly proper enunciation made him seem far more serious than he was.
The lady shot him a wry smile over her shoulder. “Cokes the best I can do.”
“A Coke it is.” More smiling, like they were on some sort of social call.
Their escort stopped in front of a set of double wooden doors. “Ill be back with your drinks; you can go right on in.”
Lucky took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
Showtime!
“Now remember, youre here to observe,” Walter cautioned the new guy. To Lucky he said, “Anything youd like to say before we start?”
“You read my report.”
Or you better have, since I blew time Id rather have spent trying to sleep to type the damned thing.
After Bo slipped through the door out of earshot, Walter leaned down to whisper into Luckys ear. “Yes, and might I commend you for outdoing yourself. Im proud of you.”
“Proud of me?”
What the fuck?
Too bad Walter chose to follow Bo into the conference room and not answer.
Proud of me? Since when did Walter ever consider me more than a necessary evil?
It wasnt often someone struck Lucky speechless, and it took him a minute to regroup and enter a room suitably pretentious to match the buildings exterior.
He idly strolled around an oblong conference table, counting six seated women and eight men, in addition to Walter and the newbie. Two of the assembled execs he recognized, though hed bet a dollar to a doughnut they didnt remember him.
Knowing full well he was holding up the meeting, Lucky didnt care, taking time to select his seat. The woman hed met in the hall stepped through the door, searching the room until her eyes fell on Bo. She double-timed to the opposite side of the table, handing Walter the water and Bo the Coke.
She planted Luckys coffee at his elbow in a rush before fleeing from the room. Bo and Walter silently exchanged beverages. Lucky trailed his finger through the coffee sloshed onto the table, doodling on the dark mahogany.
Wasted coffee, how dare she?
The man whose arrogant bearing declared him Regencys CEO cut directly to the chase. “Joining us today are Walter Smith and his associates with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureaus Department of Diversion Prevention and Control. I believe youre all aware of why theyre here. Mr. Smith?”
Walter wobbled to his feet, having sunk too far into a hideous purple chair, color coordinated to match the room. Hadnt these folks heard that too much purple drove people insane? The chair groaned when Walter stood.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Walter said, declining an offered microphone with a shake of his head. With his booming voice, he didnt need amplifying despite being in such a massive room. “On Friday a shipment left your Raleigh facility, en route to Orlando. The driver reported the trailer stolen at ten P.M., though its estimated to have been taken somewhere between nine P.M. and ninethirty.”
Apparently the majority hadnt known, based on the shocked gasps from around the table. “What exactly was the trailer carrying?” a pale man asked, fingers fumbling with his bright orange tie. Had Lucky been CEO, hed have fired the jerk on the spot for daring to clash with the board room. An orange tie? Jeez!
“According to the manifest”—Walter slid on a pair of glasses, only to stare over the tops to read from the stack of papers spread out before him—“the shipment contained a mix of over-thecounter and prescription medications as well as class three and four controlled substances.”
On a scale of one to five, one being the most dangerous (and against US law), and five being the least (including prescription cough syrups with codeine), class three and four products weren't the most dangerous or addictive, but still heavily regulated.
A collective groan rang out before frantic chatter filled the air. Lucky, Bo, Walter, and an entirely too smug CEO remained quiet. A CEO who likely expected to duck the shit about to hit the fan.
No such luck, pal.
“Silence!” The CEO slammed his hand down on the table finally, causing many to jump. Lucky didnt flinch. “Whats happened has happened and cant be undone. The best we can hope for now is damage control. Mr. Smith?” He gave Walter the floor again.
“As I was saying, the shipment contained class three and four substances. The DEA has been notified and will expect a full investigation. My colleagues and I are here to gather preliminary data, assess the damages, and work to minimize losses.”
Thats where Luckys outfit fit into the great scheme of things. While the DEA and FDA were national and states each had their own branch of the Board of Pharmacy, the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau maintained regional jurisdiction, often working behind the scenes.
Its the dog you dont see thatll sneak up and bite the hardest.
Sweat sheened Walters beefy face. “Mr. Kramer,” he addressed the puffedup CEO. “Do you have a copy of the manifest? Good. Tell me, whats standard excursion time for those specific products?”
The balding little man pretended to peruse the list. Lucky wasnt fooled. The bastard better learn to play his part before his employees noticed his smirk. “According to our standard operating procedures, any product exposed to questionable temperatures or conditions in excess of twenty hours must be destroyed. Its Monday, the shipment disappeared late Friday evening. If it miraculously reappeared right now, itd still be too late.”
A wavering voice queried from Luckys left, “Whats the total dollar value of the shipment?”
“Sir?” Walter lifted an eyebrow at Kramer.
“Three and a half million dollars,” Kramer replied.
Lucky stood a snowballs chance in hell of ever being on the board of a multimillion dollar company, but felt pretty sure hed be needing oxygen if hed been told hed lost three mil in a few hours.
“Three million!” someone rasped, in horrified tones more in keeping with the news.
Cool as a cucumber, Walter added insult to injury. “Those figures cover the physical loss of property. The cargo has not been recovered, and might possibly be on its way back into the supply chain. We must prevent these goods from finding their way onto pharmacy shelves.” He quieted, letting the board members draw their own conclusions. After all, one would hope theyd gained some knowledge of supply chains while working for a pharmaceutical company.
“How many lots are affected?” The sickly shade of Orange-tieguys complexion appeared even paler against his mandarin silk neckwear.
Walter glanced down at his copy of the manifest, for show no doubt. More than likely hed spent the weekend memorizing the list and any other relevant details. Despite their differences over the years, Lucky grudgingly acknowledged Walters competence at his job, and his “stage presence.” Instead of an immediate reply, he paused, timing his words for maximum impact. “Seventeen.”
“Seventeen lots? Good Lord!” Tie-guy appeared a little faint.
A debate whirlwinded around Lucky. Having heard variations of the same conversations for far too many years, he tuned it out, fixing his attention on the newbie. Probably some trust fund baby, partying on Mommy and Daddys dime for eight years and earning a piece of paper for managing not to get kicked out of college. No wrinkles marred his clothes, and hed probably never had dirt under his nails even as a kid. Hell, more than likely those unbroken nails received a professional polish and buff each week. What kind of weird-assed glue did the guy use to keep every hair neatly in place? He probably spent more time in front of a mirror than he did a TV.
And Walter had to go and hire the asshole, like dragging Lucky around by the leash wasnt entertaining enough. Lucky would love to see Newbies fashionably styled hair sex-tousled, those full lips swollen from kissing and sucking. Oh shit. What was this stupid crap he was thinking?
I have got to get laid. Soon.
With Ol Windbag up at the head of the table in full steam about legalities, causing Luckys eyes to glaze over, he thought,
What the hell,
and let his imagination out to play. In a brief mental vacation he fisted those highlighted brown locks in his callused hands, as Bos enticingly sinful lips got down to business.
Oh, baby, I bet you could suck the sheets straight up my ass, city boy.
Lucky searched the fingers clutching a bottle of spring water. Nope, no wedding ring, but Newbie sure groomed well. Most straight single guys of Luckys acquaintance didnt give a rats ass about appearance unless they were on the hunt. Even Lucky spiffed up a bit if heading out in hopes of finding a rousing game of hide the salami. Was Bo straight?
Spaghettis straight until things heat up. Purdy boy, do you have any idea how many ways Id rock your world?
Following Walters instructions, Bo swiveled his attention from one end of the conference table to the other, pen racing over a legal pad. Lucky followed his line of sight, hoping to pick out some better fantasy fodder. No such luck. He wouldnt fuck any of those suits, not even with Walters dick. Well, except for Bo