Rising Tide by Wayne Stinnett

Author:Wayne Stinnett [Stinnett, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, adventure
ISBN: 9781735623153
Publisher: Down Island Press
Published: 2021-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

Once we reached the marina and got the Revenge tied up in her slip, I told the others to stay aboard while I walked to the bank. I carried a well-worn backpack on one shoulder.

It was only a mile and the walk allowed my mind to decompress from the run up from the Keys. When I arrived at the bank, I stood in line for the teller windows and when it was my turn, I asked to speak to the manager.

I’d done this kind of financial transaction before and knew it was a waste of time to tell the window clerk what I wanted. She asked me to have a seat in the lobby and Miss Thompson would be right with me.

I sat and watched the news on a TV with the sound turned down. After a few minutes, a middle-aged woman approached. She wore a business suit and skirt, and her hair was cut short.

“I’m Noreen Thompson,” she said. “What can I help you with?”

I stood and extended a hand. “Jesse McDermitt.”

She shook my hand and invited me to her office.

I dropped my empty backpack in one of the chairs in front of her desk and sat down in the other one.

“I received a wire transfer for you,” she said. “But I’ll need to see some identification.”

After showing her my license, she asked how I’d like the funds.

“Twenty straps,” I replied.

She picked up her phone and talked to someone for a moment, then after hanging up, turned to her computer. After a few seconds, the printer started, and she produced a receipt and asked me to look it over.

She seemed reserved and slightly put off, and I knew why. Bankers encounter all kinds of businesspeople. But a rough-looking customer picking up a ton of cash usually meant only one thing in South Florida. What she thought I was doing with the money or what kind of person she thought I was didn’t matter, and I offered no explanation.

The receipt seemed in order and I only nodded.

An armed security guard came in with a metal briefcase. He placed it on her desk and left, closing the door behind him.

Miss Thompson pulled the blinds, then turned and opened the briefcase. Inside were neatly stacked bundles of one hundred-dollar bills. She removed them one by one, counting them out as she placed them on her desk.

“Please sign here, if everything’s okay,” she said, moving the receipt closer and pointing to an X.

I signed for the cash, then put it all into my backpack.

Ten minutes after walking in, I was back out on the street, headed toward the marina, with nearly a quarter million dollars in my backpack. I wasn’t armed, but I also didn’t look like a target.

Muggers and thieves usually worked in darkness, anyway. And they preferred victims who wouldn’t fight back. Though there were some gray hairs around my temples, at six-three and over two hundred pounds, any would-be thief would think twice. So, I wasn’t worried.

Still, as was my habit all the time, my head was on a swivel and I walked with a confident stride.

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