conversation with a
man she instinctively didn't trust.
As she stretched and
strained the man finished his conversation. He crossed the aisle to
talk to a burly man with a lightning bolt tattooed on his arm. With
her head nearly touching the floor she saw her new acquaintance
slip what looked like folded money to the second man. He received
something small in return. And no sales receipt. Now the space buff
moved further away.
***
An hour later Emily
returned to the team area after completing the vaulting horse
round. She'd deliberately failed to “stick” her landing. But she
inwardly reveled at the distance she reached from the apparatus
while doing the showy twists and turns of the form her coach
assigned her. As she drank sparingly from her water bottle she
looked through the curtain for the space buff. Finally she spotted
him some distance up the aisle. Their eyes briefly locked and she
waved. He returned the wave before moving to another
booth.
Now she scanned the
contents of the various booths visible. Almost no guns. A fair
number of knifes and other tools of the hunter and fisherman. But
the area seemed to be heavily into chemical lures and masking
scents. Not to mention sports drinks, with barely a brand she
recognized.
***
Roger Claiborne fumed as he
sat in his booth at the Rod & Gun show. His big client was over
an hour late. And there he sat doing virtually no business sitting
next to a case of bottles that could get a bunch of people
arrested. Including him. The refilled sports drink bottles sat
under a stand with a cloth over them. Claiborne could not help
keeping a close eye on them. Each bottle was worth thousands. And,
if some jerk managed to lift a bottle... And drink it... He'd be
spectacularly dead before he could put the bottle down. He
shivered, just thinking about it.
Then he saw that guy with
the blue suit headed back his way. Claimed he was writing an
article on sports drinks. Probably was, Roger could count the
number of men wearing suits at the show on one hand.
Then, off to the left, he
spotted his client, all dressed up in brand new hunting gear, with
his two bodyguards headed his way. Jeez, he wished he had a rod
that wasn't the kind for fishing.
Roger glanced around. Just
Rubes in all directions except for the guy in the blue suit. The
fellow seemed to keep circling the area. He'd hinted at a desire to
buy body building stuff. The every day under the table variety.
Roger decided he might make some extra money from the guy. But only
after the main event. Nothing was more important than
that.
After stopping at a couple
of other booths the client came up to Roger's.
“ Good morning, Mr. Luthor,”
said Roger, thereby giving the all clear signal. Lex Luthor, my big
toe, he thought. He knew exactly who this player was.
“ Morning, Claiborne,” came
the reply. The client glanced around and then at the smaller of the
bodyguards. The man nodded. “Things seem okay,” the man continued
in a lower voice. “You have what I'm interested in.”
“ Yes, sir. Been vetted by
the laboratory you told the maker about. This brochure has the
details.”
Roger passed over the
bright folded paper. “Mr. Luthor” opened the thing to read the
report hidden inside. He closed the flyer with a slight
smile.
“ You do realize that this
will be checked?”
“ Mr. Luthor, I know the
system. Check everything, not a problem. Those bottles haven't been
out of my sight since I picked them up. You'll get exactly what I
received. Believe me, I'm not looking for any kind of trouble. No,
sir!”
“ Good. Just so we understand
each other.”
Roger felt himself begin to
relax. Another two minutes and... That's when everything went to
Hell in a hand-basket.
“ Claiborne!” came an angry
voice from up the way.
All four looked that way to
see a big man rounding the corner of a cross-aisle booth. His
aggressive forward motion somehow got tangled with the man in the
blue suit.
“
man she instinctively didn't trust.
As she stretched and
strained the man finished his conversation. He crossed the aisle to
talk to a burly man with a lightning bolt tattooed on his arm. With
her head nearly touching the floor she saw her new acquaintance
slip what looked like folded money to the second man. He received
something small in return. And no sales receipt. Now the space buff
moved further away.
***
An hour later Emily
returned to the team area after completing the vaulting horse
round. She'd deliberately failed to “stick” her landing. But she
inwardly reveled at the distance she reached from the apparatus
while doing the showy twists and turns of the form her coach
assigned her. As she drank sparingly from her water bottle she
looked through the curtain for the space buff. Finally she spotted
him some distance up the aisle. Their eyes briefly locked and she
waved. He returned the wave before moving to another
booth.
Now she scanned the
contents of the various booths visible. Almost no guns. A fair
number of knifes and other tools of the hunter and fisherman. But
the area seemed to be heavily into chemical lures and masking
scents. Not to mention sports drinks, with barely a brand she
recognized.
***
Roger Claiborne fumed as he
sat in his booth at the Rod & Gun show. His big client was over
an hour late. And there he sat doing virtually no business sitting
next to a case of bottles that could get a bunch of people
arrested. Including him. The refilled sports drink bottles sat
under a stand with a cloth over them. Claiborne could not help
keeping a close eye on them. Each bottle was worth thousands. And,
if some jerk managed to lift a bottle... And drink it... He'd be
spectacularly dead before he could put the bottle down. He
shivered, just thinking about it.
Then he saw that guy with
the blue suit headed back his way. Claimed he was writing an
article on sports drinks. Probably was, Roger could count the
number of men wearing suits at the show on one hand.
Then, off to the left, he
spotted his client, all dressed up in brand new hunting gear, with
his two bodyguards headed his way. Jeez, he wished he had a rod
that wasn't the kind for fishing.
Roger glanced around. Just
Rubes in all directions except for the guy in the blue suit. The
fellow seemed to keep circling the area. He'd hinted at a desire to
buy body building stuff. The every day under the table variety.
Roger decided he might make some extra money from the guy. But only
after the main event. Nothing was more important than
that.
After stopping at a couple
of other booths the client came up to Roger's.
“ Good morning, Mr. Luthor,”
said Roger, thereby giving the all clear signal. Lex Luthor, my big
toe, he thought. He knew exactly who this player was.
“ Morning, Claiborne,” came
the reply. The client glanced around and then at the smaller of the
bodyguards. The man nodded. “Things seem okay,” the man continued
in a lower voice. “You have what I'm interested in.”
“ Yes, sir. Been vetted by
the laboratory you told the maker about. This brochure has the
details.”
Roger passed over the
bright folded paper. “Mr. Luthor” opened the thing to read the
report hidden inside. He closed the flyer with a slight
smile.
“ You do realize that this
will be checked?”
“ Mr. Luthor, I know the
system. Check everything, not a problem. Those bottles haven't been
out of my sight since I picked them up. You'll get exactly what I
received. Believe me, I'm not looking for any kind of trouble. No,
sir!”
“ Good. Just so we understand
each other.”
Roger felt himself begin to
relax. Another two minutes and... That's when everything went to
Hell in a hand-basket.
“ Claiborne!” came an angry
voice from up the way.
All four looked that way to
see a big man rounding the corner of a cross-aisle booth. His
aggressive forward motion somehow got tangled with the man in the
blue suit.
“
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