Only Two Cats

By J. Frank James

Everything was going along as planned for Lou Malloy. He had figured out a way to get the money he had hidden in a casino that he and Hilary had robbed, a year ago with Crushers help. However, like a house of cards, one thing and then another started to happen along the way. First there was the attempt on his life by a sergeant in the Timucua Tribal Police Department and then Malloys old nemesis, Detective Sal Ramiro, trying to arrest him for crimes that there was no evidence that Malloy did them in the first place.
In the meantime, Hilary has decided she wants a pet she could call her own and told Malloy that she wanted a cat. Malloy hated cats, but agrees to her request because he thinks the cat would not last a week living on Turtle Point property. But Hilarys cat is no ordinary house cat. When Malloy learns that it is a black three hundred pound wild Panther from a neighboring wildlife sanctuary, he tells Hilary that she had better learn to take care of it. Naming the big cat, MOJO, Hilary is thrilled, but there is a problem. MOJO has a female friend show up, a snow leopard that she names, Pumpkin. Now Malloy has two cats. But nothing is as easy as it seems. Having gotten the money out of its hiding place and in his gator hole, Malloy now had to gamble on how he could keep what he had regardless of the cats.
As if dealing with the extra money he had to hide was not enough, his significant other, Hilary Kelly has been kidnapped by a vicious killer from Cuba and now Malloy has to gamble with not only Hilarys life, but Bunnys as well since she was taken at the same time as Hilary.
Lou Malloy did not like to gamble at anything and yet, here he was putting everything on the line to ransom Hilary Kelly from the grasp of this vicious killer who has threatened to kill both Hilary and Bunny unless Malloy delivers the computer disks and hard drives used in the manufacturing of counterfeit futures contracts for counterfeit currency of various countries in the world. To make matters dicey, a secret black opts group within the U.S. Department of Homeland Security has made it clear that they want the disks to prevent financial terrorists from getting their hands on the technology. With all this happening, Malloy has to travel to Cuba, with the help of a special team of operatives, including Crusher and the mysterious Blue, to rescue Hilary and Crushers wife, Bunny. In the process, Malloy has to outwit a Greek criminal and two dishonest multi-millionaires who are after to technology as well and will do anything necessary to get what they want. The problem for Malloy is that he never knew he had possession of the technology until after the second robbery of the same casino that he had robbed fifteen years ago. Now, even if he wanted to give the Cubans the technology, he couldnt until Hilary and Bunny were returned to safety. Up until that point, he didnt know what he had until he had a computer expert by the name of John Goodman, access the technology from the disks to learn just what was there. Having learned that he had something that could cost him his life, as well as the lives of Hilary, Crusher and Bunny, Malloy knew he had to take the necessary precautions to safe guard the information. Things start to pick up at Turtle Point when a team of Miami Gangbangers try to raid Malloys property and find the computer technology. Malloy and his friend, Crusher, fight them off, but that just starts the ball rolling. Before long, Hilary and Bunny are kidnapped and the kidnappers are heading to Cuba with Malloy, Crusher and the mysterious Blue in hot pursuit. Along the way, Malloy and his team, traveling in a special configured yacht, fight off a hurricane and battle the kidnappers off the coast of Key West only to watch the kidnappers escape resulting in Malloy fighting for Hilarys life and the security of the technology he is sworn to protect.
Traveling to Cuba, Malloy must get Hilary back at all costs. All in ONLY TWO CATS.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514425213

J. Frank James

Born in Tennessee, James (Jim) F. Johnson began a career in writing while pursuing his degrees in Journalism and Advertising from the University of Florida at the College of Journalism. While attending school, James worked for the Gainesville Sun as a reporter, photographer, and plate maker. Several of his stories were picked up by the Associated Press. Subsequently, Jim went on to attend law school and obtained a Doctorate of Law. While in law school Jim was a member of the law review and published an article there. It wasn’t until later in life that Jim’s journalism skills would again serve him well as he began to write his books. It is in these books that Jim will introduce you to his cast of characters that make up the Crime Bandit team. You will meet Lou Malloy, Hilary Kelly, Crusher Barnes and the mysterious “Blue” as they fight their way through one intrigue after another. Jim writes under the pseudonym J. Frank James as a tribute to his father Frank Johnson, who gave his life serving his country during World War II. Jim has been many things in life, but his greatest enjoyment comes from communicating with people and introducing new readers to the characters that appear in his books. He has written ten novels to date. In addition to his writing pursuits, Jim is also a self-taught artist and rug designer concentrating on endangered species. Jim has displayed his art in several galleries. He has had shows in the Booth Bay Gallery, Booth Bay, Maine; The Goodyear Cottage on Jekyll Island, Georgia; Blue Frog Gallery, Atlanta, Georgia; Glynn Art Association, St Simon’s Island, Georgia; McIntosh Art Association, Darien, Georgia. Working with acrylics, his work is bold, fun, and inspiring. Prints are limited editions on both paper and stretched canvas. Jim lives in Atlanta, Georgia with his lovely wife, Lorraine, and their ninety-five pound boxer named Jake.

Book preview

Chapter 1

L ou, Lou, wake up.

Huh, what’s going on?

You tell me, said Hilary. I can see lights out on the old dock.

On the alarm clock next to the bed, the number 4 was flashing like a beacon in the night. I had to take a few minutes to collect my thoughts. When I went to bed, it was dark outside. When I got up, it was still dark. I had to be missing something.

How long have I been asleep?

About five hours, Hilary said. Now, get up. I can see people moving around on the dock.

Okay. I hear you, I said. Hand me the two-way. I’ll have to call Crusher.

After getting out of bed, I slipped on a pair of jeans and old boat shoes. I had been up the night before trying to come up with a plan for how I could get some money out the old basement area of the Golden Slipper Resort and Casino on Cumberland Island that we had stashed there a year ago. I just couldn’t get my head around the mechanism to pull it off.

You think they’re after the money? Hilary asked.

I gave the question a little thought because the answer was always the same. Every time someone tried to break into Turtle Point, it was always the money that brought them, and Hilary always asked the same question.

What else would they be after? I said. "Better to steal from a thief than a bank.

Hilary, I’m going to put on a pair of night vision goggles and step outside to see if I can find out who they are without having to kill them. While I’m gone, keep the twelve-gauge shotgun in a place where you can get to it in case someone gets behind me and makes it to the house.

Walking to a closet, I grabbed a Glock 17 pistol and two clips of ammo. The Glock was fitted for a silencer, and I screwed one on the end of the barrel and stuffed a blackjack in the rear pocket of my jeans.

I may go up to the top floor and watch from the crow’s nest with the Marlin thirty-thirty, said Hilary.

Suit yourself, I said. Just make sure you don’t shoot me or Crusher, and keep that shotgun handy, in case one of them makes it to the house.

Don’t bend over while you’re out there, Hilary said. The temptation may be too great to pass up.

I’ll keep that in mind, I said as I stepped out in the hallway leading to the back of the house.

The house Hilary and I lived in had once been part of a large tobacco plantation in the late 1800s. At the time the home was built, the owner spared no expense. It had a large descending stairway made from the wood of live oak and black walnut trees indigenous to the area. Because of the location of the house, I had installed a large palladium window over the front door to capture the view down the South Newport River that bordered my property. The only problem with that idea was that, like now, someone with a nightscope would be able to see me descend the stairs and easily pick me off. Luckily, there was a set of stairs at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen and eating area without going through the main part of the house. Walking down the hallway to the back stairs, I put the night goggles on and tried to raise Crusher on the two-way.

Crusher, this is Malloy, do you copy?

Yeah, Lou.

Where are you?

I’m standing just outside your kitchen door watching this bunch standing on our dock.

You get a head count? I said.

There are four of them. One guy is staying with the boat they came in, and the other three guys are walking toward one of the maintenance sheds in back of your house.

You have Brutus with you?

He’s standing right here. He woke me up when he heard the motor from their boat. Whatever they’re riding in, it’s not a Boston Whaler.

Do you think you can bag the guy in the boat?

Why? Where are you going?

I’m going to take the three heading into the shed, I said.

Okay. Once I secure the one on the dock, I’ll circle around to help out if you need it. And, Lou?

Yeah, Crusher.

Don’t take any chances. One day one of these boneheads might get lucky.

I hear you, Crusher, I said. I suspect that they are just here looking for the money. I’m going to try and keep one alive. Hilary is sitting up on the third floor in the crow’s nest with a thirty-thirty, and she probably has them sighted by now. You try and keep the one in the boat in one piece.

I can’t promise you that. Brutus is looking for some action now that he’s up, but I will do what I can.

Give him something to chew on, I said.

Where will you be, Lou?

Standing out near that big tree in front of the shed trying to figure out how to stop this shit, I said. It’s getting old. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have it.

Too late now, said Crusher.

Chapter 2

A year ago, after pulling off a caper that eventually led to the destruction of a large money-laundering operation by a syndicate known only as the Outfit, I had been given the opportunity to buy Turtle Point from the government. The fact that Uncle Sam even agreed to the deal was a shock in itself. But what made the transaction all the more amazing was the Department of Homeland Security agreeing to loan me the money to buy the land. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say, I took the deal. However, the terms were a bit strange since all I had to do was guard the place and make sure no one stole anything. At the time, I actually had little choice in the matter because I had to have access to the property due to the money I had hidden on it. As far as I was concerned, other than the hidden money, there wasn’t anything left to steal. I would later learn how wrong I was.

Turtle Point itself had an interesting history. When people asked how the name Turtle Point came about, I was happy to tell them.

At one time, a particular species of sea turtles used to frequent the area as a breeding site two months out of the year. That was until the U.S. Army decided to enlarge an existing airfield on the place to accommodate a training group of about a dozen P-35 and P-40 aircrafts to be used mainly for chasing German submarines along the Georgia Coast.

After the war ended, the government having determined that Turtle Point Airfield was no longer of any use from a strategic standpoint, they surrendered it to the State of Georgia and the state gave the property to the local powers to be. The result was a complete deterioration of the place to the point it was of no further use commercially. However, as a hiding place for the stolen $15 million, it was perfect. While the runways were shot, the place had a few large ponds on it, which served as a home to two alligators the size of pickups, which Hilary had named Elvis and Lucy. In return for our patronage, the two gators served as guards for the hidden $15 million. At the time Hilary had named them, I said, Sure thing. Call them anything you want. What the hell, why not give them a name? They earned it.

A year ago, I was pretty cavalier about things. Now, after spending the past twelve months fighting off poachers seeking to find the money and strike it rich, I was getting tired of the pace and wanted to finally put a stop to it. This brought me to my next plan, but first, I had to do something about the four guys now looking to strike it rich at my expense.

Chapter 3

T he distance was about 150 feet from the back corner of my house to the first maintenance shed. In between, there were four large trees, which offered me plenty of cover. When I stopped at the second tree from the shed, I could hear someone talking.

It has to be around here somewhere. How many places could it be?

Serge, why would this guy keep the loot in a maintenance shed?

Because, you dumb ass, this guy never does what you would expect a normal person to do.

I say we take the house and make him cough it up.

Okay, wise guy, Lopez and I will sit here and wait to hear from you. You just holler out when you got him cornered.

You don’t think I can do it.

Vinnie, you are dumb enough to try most anything.

There were a few more words, but I lost them when the one named Vinnie walked out the shed and his feet began to crush the shell driveway.

Using the night-vision goggles, I watched Vinnie leave the shed and walk directly toward me like he was walking on a cart path. Whoever Serge was, he was right. Vinnie was a dumb ass.

Chapter 4

F uckin’ pansies. I ain’t afraid of no washed-out convict and a woman.

When Vinnie reached the tree where I was hiding, I let him go by. As he did, I stepped up behind him and hit him just behind his right ear with the blackjack. He pitched forward and landed on his face. When he hit the shell rock, he hit like a fifty-pound sack of flour, nothing but dead weight. After he hit, he didn’t move a muscle. I thought about hitting him again but decided if I did, I might kill him, and I might need him to question later. For now, I just wanted to make sure he was out of the game.

After making sure Vinnie wasn’t going to be a threat, I went back to my spot behind the tree and waited to see what the other two in the shed were going to do when Vinnie didn’t return. Then again, maybe they didn’t care, and I would be waiting for nothing. On second thought, when I heard one of them express concern for Vinnie, I could have been wrong in my assessment.

Serge, you think maybe we should go check on Vinnie? ’Cause I don’t hear nothing happening.

No, Lopez. We’re sticking to the plan. If the money isn’t here, we move to the next shed. The old man didn’t want us lighting this place up until we checked everything out.

Yeah, Serge, but Vinnie’s my cousin, and families should stick together.

Bobby, we are cousins, remember? That makes us part of the same family, so where does that put us? No, we stay with the plan.

Whoever this Serge guy was, he didn’t sound like someone who would go off a tangent. I could hear them rooting around in the maintenance shed. While I knew there was no money in the shed, I didn’t want them to find something they could use on the house to damage it, thinking they could get us to cooperate.

I had about thirty feet to get to the edge of the shed. Once I got to that side of the shed, I would be able to look inside with the night goggles on and see what was happening. Moving from behind the tree, I stopped at the last tree before the shed and waited for a few seconds before moving on to the wall of the building with the opening. In my next move, I made the shed without raising an alarm. The busted-out window that I hadn’t had time to repair allowed me to look inside. I made a mental note to tell Hilary that there was something to be said for procrastination. From where I was standing, I couldn’t see them. Ducking under the window, I looked inside in the other direction, still nothing. Then I heard something drop on the other side of the shed and a voice saying, Bobby, I told you not to make any noise.

Sorry, Serge, I didn’t see the damn thing.

I got a bead on their voices, and now I could see one of them standing near one of the trucks we kept parked in the place. I moved to the rear of the building to come in from the door on that side of the shed. It was recessed and would not silhouette me in the doorway as I stepped into the building from the outside. It would also bring me to a closer point in the shed to where the two men were standing. Opening the door, I stepped inside and looked toward the truck. I could see one man holding a ladder for the other one who had climbed into the old hayloft.

You see anything, Lopez?

Not much up here, Serge. Just a bunch of old equipment and a lot of hay.

Okay, let’s move to the next shed.

I watched and waited for the guy on the ladder to start to come back down. Both men were concentrating on their ladder work. I sighted on the guy at the bottom and shot him in the left thigh. As he turned around and grabbed his leg, he yelled, Shit, someone shot me!

What was that? yelled the guy on the ladder.

I’ve been hit.

The guy on the ladder started looking around and tried to reach the gun on his hip. I shot him between the shoulders, and he fell from the ladder and didn’t move. The guy shot in the thigh was moving around as I walked toward him.

Don’t move, I said.

I’ve been shot.

No kidding. I don’t want this to come as a big surprise to you, but I’m the one that shot you. You move again, I’m going to shoot you in the other leg.

A pool of blood was forming under the guy who had fallen from the ladder. The guy I shot in the leg was not moving but was looking at me.

So, Serge, tell me who sent you.

You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?

Not sure yet, but it’s not looking good for you.

After a few more minutes, I heard Crusher come in the shed with Brutus growling as they walked in.

Don’t shoot, Lou. It’s me and Brutus.

I heard you coming, I said.

Here I thought I was moving in my stealth mode.

Crusher was six feet eight inches tall and a little over three hundred pounds. I told him that the chances of him moving around quietly was like a bull in a china shop trying to tiptoe over broken glass without making any noise.

Who do we have here? Crusher asked.

It would seem that we have one dead guy and another one named Serge, who refuses to talk. What about the other one with the boat?

I left him taped up with duct tape on the dock near their boat. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, said Crusher.

Actually, Crusher’s prediction of not going anywhere was not completely on target. Elvis, one of our resident alligators, had different ideas.

Chapter 5

"I swear, Lou, the guy was here. I left him all taped up on the dock."

Well, he’s sure not here now, I said.

Looking around, I saw some marks on the dock and in the ground, indicating that something heavy had been dragged off toward the marsh grass near one of the ponds.

You don’t think one of the gators came and got him? I asked.

Lou, the guy had to be at least two hundred fifty pounds. I don’t think one of those gators could haul off something like that.

"You ever watch Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins?" I asked.

I didn’t think you watched TV.

"We were convicts once, remember? Had to do something every once in a while.

If those gators can pull a thousand-pound water buffalo into a river, I’d bet you one of Bunny’s pies one of our gators could pull a two-hundred-fifty-pound man into one of these ponds with little effort. I bet one of our gators has him for sure.

About that time, we heard a bloodcurdling scream.

Help… help… me. I…

Then we didn’t hear anything more. We got to the pond just as a pair of legs went below the surface of the water. The gator was drowning the guy so he could drag him off somewhere and eat him later. To make matters worse, Elvis and Lucy had just had a bunch of little gators, and they would make short work of the body.

Aren’t you guys going to do anything? whined Serge, hobbling behind me. I had tied a length of rope around his neck and had pulled him along behind me rather than leave him tied up in the shed.

Not much we can do for your buddy now, I said. You don’t tell us what we want to know, you’re next.

Nothing like a late-night gator snack attack to loosen up a man’s tongue, and when Serge saw his friend disappear below the surface of the water, it took all of about two seconds for Serge to think about it and start talking.

Ready to talk about what you’re doing here? I asked.

For a few seconds, Serge was still mesmerized by the body of his buddy flopping around in the pond.

I don’t want to have to repeat myself, Serge.

We’re from Miami. A guy named Stanton hired us.

Where was this Stanton fella when you met with him?

Someplace in Delray Beach. I don’t remember the address because I wasn’t driving the car. The only thing I can remember was that the house was on the beach.

"What did this Stanton look like?

Heavyset. He was about six foot tall and kept taking orders from a woman that was there.

What did she look like?

She was about six foot tall too and had a serious case of the uglies.

Anyone else?

Serge wrinkled up his forehead as if deep in thought.

Maybe a guy about the size of a fire hydrant? I said.

Yeah. He looked like that dummy I used to see on TV when I was a kid… I can’t get his name.

Try Charley McCarthy, I said.

Yeah, that’s it. Charley McCarthy. He had the eyepiece. The whole works.

What did he tell you?

He didn’t say anything. The ugly broad did most of the talking, except when we needed to know what we were to do when we got here. That came from this Stanton.

Serge’s description of Stanton fit the phony Reynolds. The question was why were Stanton and company coming after the money now? It had to be this business about the counterfeit CBOTs.

They tell you what you were supposed to do once you got here? I asked.

All we were to do was locate the bag that had a red label on the bottom. He said that we wouldn’t know what it was but it was worth a hundred grand to us if we got the bag to this Stanton.

Did he mention anything else? I asked.

I was holding a flashlight on Serge’s face while he talked. I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t lying to us. After about five seconds of thinking about it, Serge looked up at me and said, Yeah. He said that if we could kill you and the woman with you, there was a fifty-grand bonus in it for us.

Standing out near the dock and the boat they came in, I turned over in my mind if there was anything else I needed from this guy.

Had eyes like a cat, she did.

Excuse me? I said.

The woman that looked like Frankenstein’s sister had eyes like a cat.

You mean like a Siamese cat.

As if he were recalling something specific, Serge looked up with a surprised look on his face and said, That’s it. She looked like a Siamese cat.

Hundred thousand is a lot of money, Serge, even for a big shot like you.

Yeah, well, we had a green light to get the bag any way we could.

I see. Now, what sort of green light do you think you got now? I asked.

The guy didn’t say anything. He knew where he was going and tried to make a run for it but ended up in the pond behind him instead. He had run right into the middle of the feeding gators. We heard him thrashing around. Finally, he made a gurgling sound, and then there was nothing.

This Stanton guy he described, Crusher said, sounds like that guy we met that night at that Hightower’s place about a year ago.

That would be my guess, I said. Woman described fits that Sabrina woman to a tee too.

The question was why, after all this time, look for this bag now? What was in that bag I hid seventeen years ago that made it so important now? If it wasn’t money, what was it? I didn’t want to go digging in that gator hole at the moment to bring out fourteen bags of money. Right now, I wanted to get the money we had stashed away on Cumberland out the casino there. First things first, I always liked to say.

What do you want to do with the dead guy in the shed?

Put him in with the other two guys, I said.

I can hear it now—if gators could talk. ‘Come on, punk, and make my day.’ I think I heard some actor say that in a movie once, said Crusher.

"Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry in the movie Sudden Impact," I said.

After we dumped the third guy in the pond, Crusher and I walked over to where Vinnie was still out cold.

Get some water, Crusher. Let’s see if this guy is more talkative than the other three guys.

Walking toward the shed, Crusher got a hose, hooked it up to some water, and walked over and sprayed Vinnie until he was soaking wet. Still, he hadn’t moved, so I kicked him. After a few minutes, he started to move.

Look alive, asshole, I said.

Spitting water out of his mouth, Vinnie rubbed his face with his hands.

Turn that fucking water off. I’m about to drown.

I waved at Crusher, and he shut off the water.

Who sent you? I said.

I don’t know. Serge took care of that. Ask him.

He’s gone. Just you here now, so tell me what you know.

Where’s Serge? What’s happened to him? Realizing the answer was obvious, Vinnie clammed up.

Nothing. I don’t know nothing. We were just told to shake you down and get a bag with a red mark on the bottom.

That’s it? I asked.

That’s it.

Too bad for you then, I said.

I shot him in the head, and then we dragged the body over to the pond and threw him in with the other three bodies. I thought of changing the name of the pond to the Gator Buffet.

Let’s go look that boat over, I said.

As I checked out the boat, I had to decide what we should do with it. It was too nice of a boat to just sink it somewhere.

Nice-looking boat, said Crusher.

It’s one of those racing cruisers, I said. Let’s get on it and see if we can find some papers showing where it came from or who owns it.

After rooting around, we found the lease agreement on the boat. The guy who rented the boat was a Serge Mantini, and he was from Coral Gables, Florida. What kind of thief rents a boat in his real name? They had to be gangbangers. After a further search, we found three MAC-10 machine pistols, all with suppressors. They looked to be brand-new. Crusher was holding it in his hands like a kid with a new Buck Rogers pistol.

Would you look at this, Lou? This thing has a fire rate of over a thousand rounds per minute. Plus, I found a box full of banana clips of thirty rounds, each of nine millimeter parabellum rounds and a box that looks like it has another thousand rounds in it. These guys were loaded for bear. I wonder why they didn’t take the weapons with them when they left the boat. If they had, we’d been a world of hurt.

It sure looks it, I said.

Under the box of rounds, there was another box that contained a SIG Sauer P220 DAK pistol with three clips of .45-caliber rounds in them and another box of fifty rounds of .45-caliber ammo. There were also two Glock 19 pistols and clips, but the real beauty was a SIG MPX submachine gun that had a NATO conversion on it to allow .9-millimeter rounds to be fired from it. All totaled, there were about $150,000 worth of armament in the boat. The question we would probably never get the answer to