Good Intentions (Samogon 1) by Eric Gilliland Page A

the trunk of the Impala. A recording device no doubt.
    “Hello?”
    Chris smiled and tried to disguise his voice without being obvious. “Yeah, it’s me. I made it a little early, but we might have a problem.”
    “What kind of problem?” asked the customer. Agent Daniels was standing beside him, listening with growing concern.
    “When we were leaving the motel this morning, my partner noticed a pair of cops sitting across the street. Can’t imagine they’re watching anything or anyone else except us. We might have to forget our business today.” Chris kept his field glasses trained on his customer and the tall lawman as he played his game over the phone.
    There are two of them, Daniels noted. He wasn’t expecting that. It didn't matter—he had enough agents to handle five moonshiners. The customer shrugged his shoulders at Agent Daniels gesturing for what he should say. “Make the deal,” Daniels stressed.
    While the customer replied back to Chris, Daniels radioed his surveillance team at the motel. “2-36, be advised our moonshiners have made you. A possible two suspects at your location who we believe exited the motel just earlier ago. Sit tight for further instructions.”
    “Copy that.”
    “Did they follow you out or are they still parked there?” It was all the customer could think to say while he pondered ideas to convince Chris to go through with the sale.
    “They stayed there after we drove out. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll leave word for the front desk to give you a spare key to the room. If the cops are gone, they must not have been watching us. The whiskey is in the room.” Chris continued his instructions. “Back-up to the room, load your truck, leave our money in the dresser drawer, and head out.”
    “I want him there when the money exchanges hands,” demanded Daniels. He then instructed his surveillance team. “2-36, clear out of there.”
    The customer pressed Chris to alter the pickup as Daniels demanded. “I’m not comfortable picking this stuff up without you there. Moreover, I don’t think the money will be there if housekeeping comes in and finds it. I’d prefer you be there.”
    “Look, we’re going to do this my way. I will call you at seven tonight. If you haven’t picked up the load by then, we’re pouring it all down the shower drain and heading back to Virginia. If you want this stuff, this is how you’re getting it.”
    Daniels ran his hand through his hair. His suspect just revealed a little bit more about himself—he was from Virginia, so Daniels thought.
    “2-36, give me all information on any vehicles at the motel with Virginia tags.”
    “Sending it to you now,” responded the surveillance team.
    “Agent Martin, go to the motel and get the manager to give you guest information on anyone out of Virginia. Do it now.” Daniels was not going to let his ghost slip away if his informant couldn’t seal the deal.
    “On my way , boss,” hollered Martin as she scurried off to her car.
    Daniels looked at his informant and nodded.
    “Okay, we’ll do it your way. What’s the room number?”
    “116,” Chris told his unsuspecting customer.
    “No need to wait until seven tonight to call me back. Call me in a couple of hours. I’ll be out of there by then.”
    “Will do. Be careful.”
    As Chris hung up, he realized that his customer hadn’t even asked where exactly the surveillance team was or what kind of car they were in. The man needs to work on his role playing skills , Chris thought as he destroyed his prepaid cell phone and chucked the pieces out the window. And with that, Chris was heading for the highway and heading home. The brandy would just have to sit for now. He wasn’t sticking around to see how things unraveled. He couldn't care less. His little ruse was simply to buy some time to gather some information and to escape arrest. He turned his thoughts to the potential loss of $50,000. The Donovan family needed that money— he needed