White Cargo by Stuart Woods Page A

him at once.”
    â€œI’m very sorry, but . . .”
    â€œPlease don’t make it necessary for me to come to his office.”
    There was a short silence. “Please hold,” she said, exasperated.
    There was a longer silence, then a man’s voice. “Mr. Catledge? Cat Catledge?” The man had been reading his Fortune and Forbes. “I’m sorry you were kept waiting. How can I be of service?”
    Cat identified himself with the Printtech account number and his personal account number. He told the banker how he could be of service, explaining that the man could verify his instructions by calling him at the home number listed on his account records.
    The man was uncomfortable. “May I ask . . . you understand, Mr. Catledge, that by law this sort of transaction has to be reported to the federal government.”
    â€œI quite understand. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow.”
    The banker was still balking. “This sort of thing takes time, you know.”
    â€œMr. Avery,” Cat said, becoming exasperated himself, “you have nearly twenty-four hours. All I really want to do is cash a check. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow morning.”
    â€œYes, sir,” the banker said.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Promptly at eleven the following morning, Cat presented himself at the bank. Avery took him into his office, then into an adjoining conference room. Another bank officer and a uniformed security guard were standing at the end of the table.
    In the middle of the table was a stack of money.
    â€œTwenty thousand hundred-dollar bills,” Avery said, still sounding doubtful, “banded into bundles of five hundred, as you requested. Do you wish to count it?”
    â€œNo,” Cat replied.
    â€œThere are some papers to sign.”
    Cat placed his aluminum briefcase on the table and opened it. “Please put the money into this case while I sign the papers,” he said to the guard. Avery nodded and the guard began to pack the money.
    Avery shoved some papers toward him. “First, please sign a check for two million dollars,” he said.
    Cat signed the check.
    â€œThen, I have prepared a release of all liability on the part of the bank. We don’t usually transact business this way, as you can understand.”
    Cat signed the release. He noticed that the money fit nicely into the case, with a little room to spare. He had calculated correctly.
    â€œThat’s all in order, then,” Avery said. “I’d like our guard to walk you to your car. This is not the safest of neighborhoods, you know.”
    â€œThank you,” Cat said. “And thank you for doing this so quickly.”
    Avery walked him to the door. “Mr. Catledge, if you’re in some sort of difficulty, I’ll do anything I can to help,” he said earnestly.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Avery,” Cat smiled, “but it’s nothing like that. I just have to do some business in a place where ordinary banking facilities aren’t available. Please don’t concern yourself further.”
    The guard walked him to his car, looking nervously about them. Cat thought he might have been less conspicuous alone. When he walked into the house the phone was ringing.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œIt’s Bluey. We’re on for tomorrow morning. You all squared away?”
    â€œI think so. I’ve just got to pack. What will I need?”
    â€œSummer clothes for everywhere except Bogotá, if we end up there. Bogotá is at better than eight thousand feet of elevation, cool and rainy. A raincoat will be heavy enough. Bring a business suit, in case we have to impress somebody.”
    â€œOkay. Anything else?”
    â€œYou own a gun?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBuy one. Buy one for me, too, come to think of it. Get me a .357 magnum with about a four-inch barrel and a shoulder holster. Get yourself