No Turning Back

Benny was one of my right hand men. That morning I told him what had happened and I also gave him the key to the suite I rented in Miami Beach.

I instructed him get the money out of there as soon as possible and to call me once he had it. 

He was supposed to meet with the lady who handled all my money transactions but he never arrived. The last thing I heard, months later, was that he was found dead in a hotel room in Costa Rica.

Back in Ft. Lauderdale, I had everything under control. I was ready to leave the country but before I did, I had to collect the $100,000 dollars that Hassan owed me.

We arranged to meet that same morning at a near-by Arby’s.

I was punctual as always, and so was he.

I walked over to his car and opened the passenger’s door, discreetly making my way in.

“Hey buddy,” he looked nervous. “How’s it going?”

“Good.”

“Are you ok?” I questioned to test his mood.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine…I brought you back the stuff.”

Right away I knew he was the “rat.” There was no way in hell he couldn’t sell the merchandise—pure and qualitative—after 2 weeks of having it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered since I knew he was “wired.” “You know that I’m only here to collect the money you owe my people.”

Without even waiting for a response, I gave him a cold stare and nodded as to say that I knew he “sold” me out.

No words were exchanged nor handshakes nor cordial gestures. I jumped out of his car and walked towards mine. Regardless of the increasing panic in my head, I pulled out of the parking lot in a cool and calm demeanor so as to not draw suspicion or attention towards me.

I knew it was a matter of time before the “Feds” would catch up to me.