The Sands of Freedom (standard:drama, 6287 words)
Author: Rick	Added: Jan 01 2004	Views/Reads: 3668/2424	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Jim is an ex-con who had developed a clever financial contingency scheme prior to his arrest. Execution of the scheme is put into jeopardy, however, when he meets the young and beautiful Megan, and a powerful attraction develops.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

trial, he had managed to keep the stash a secret.  He simply couldn't 
bear the thought of losing it in the legal mess.  Jim rationalized that 
this would be his reward when he got out. 

Thus, his plan was to locate that money and try to rebuild his life. 
However, he knew that finding work would be difficult.  He was too old 
to play pro basketball.  Going into the aviation industry was out of 
the question with his criminal record.  Indeed, getting a decent job 
working for anyone else seemed unlikely.  Instead, Jim figured that the 
hundred grand, if he could manage to locate it, would have to be 
laundered through investment in some type of secure business 
proposition. 

The bus stopped at the prison gate. The door swung open and Jim got on. 

“How much to Worcester?” he asked the driver. 

“Eighteen dollars, my good man,” replied the driver. 

He pulled out a small wad of bills from a front pocket and handed the
driver a twenty.  The driver handed him his change and a ticket.  Jim 
found an empty window seat about halfway back.  For the next two hours, 
he stared out of the window absorbing the passing towns and countryside 
of the free world. 

“Worcester, last stop.  Change here for Boston, Providence and Cape
Cod,” the driver bellowed. 

Jim filed out with the other passengers and walked into the bus
terminal.  He found a telephone booth and called his lawyer. 

“Everett, it's Jim...yeah, just a few minutes ago.  So, when can you
meet me?  Sounds fine, I have no place to go and only thirty bucks left 
after the bus ride.  Okay, see you at eleven.” 

Jim hung up the phone.  He had an hour to kill before Everett arrived
and very little money.  Rather than just sitting in the terminal, he 
walked around the nearby downtown streets to reacquaint himself with 
life on “the outside”.  He glanced at storefront windows and read the 
front page of a newspaper on a stand.  He stopped at a park and watched 
the activities in the playground area, including a pick-up game of 
basketball being played by a group of teen boys.  On his way back to 
the terminal, he justified spending two bucks on a decent cup of 
coffee, which he carried with him.  The simple pleasures of freedom 
felt good. 

Everett arrived a half-hour late.  He was well-manicured and wore a grey
trench coat over a three piece business suit and black wingtip shoes. 
He walked up to Jim and extended his hand.  Jim took it and the two men 
exchanged a brief handshake. 

“Jimmy, you old fool.  Glad to see you are still in one piece.  Sorry,
I'm late.  I got an urgent phone call from another client right after 
we spoke.” 

“Don't worry about it, boss.  I've got all the time in the world now,”
Jim said sarcastically, “So, do we have a deal?  I'm not asking for 
much and the payback will be substantial don't you think?” 

“Let's drive and talk, shall we?” Everett replied as he led Jim out to
his car.  They both got into a black BMW and sped off. 

“I prefer the security of my car,” Everett continued, “I'm sure you
understand, Jim, that your proposal is very risky for me.  I have a 
good practice, but I do like to help my friends whenever I can.” 

“Oh, I understand, quite well, Everett.  A hundred grand makes me a very
good friend.” 

Everett glanced over at him, smiling and handed him an envelope
containing five-hundred dollars, “Here's a little something for you.  
That should hold you for a few days.” 

“Gee, thanks, Everett.  I knew I could get you to go along.” 

“I didn't say that.  This is a gift from me to you.  Got it?” 

“Oh, sure, Everett, a gift.  Wouldn't an investment be more accurate?”
Jim said smiling. 

Everett didn't reply.  He pulled into an alleyway between two buildings
leading to a small parking lot.  He pulled up next to an old Ford 
sedan. 

“And there's another gift,” Everett said, tilting his head towards the
Ford, “The key is under the passenger side mat and there's a cell phone 
in the glove compartment.” 

“Well, you certainly are in a generous mood today, Everett.” 

“I do expect to hear from you soon, Jim.” 

“Don't worry, this should not take long.  I'll be on the Cape by tonight
and should have that cash in no time.  I believe we discussed a 20% 
share for you?  That would be twenty grand.  Not a bad return on five 
hundred and a beaten up old car.” 

Everett said nothing but turned his head towards Jim and blinked. 

Jim shook his head and said, “You lawyers are really something.  Wish me
luck, Everett.” 

“Good luck, Jim,” Everett replied in a deadpan tone. 

Jim gave Everett a firm slap on the shoulder and got out of the car. 
The BMW backed out and disappeared around the alleyway.  Jim got in the 
sedan, found the key, and drove off to shop for essentials. 

He drove back to a shopping center he had passed during the bus ride. 
Between the supermarket and the discount department store, he found 
everything he would need to get along on the Cape: a cooler, ice, food, 
fresh clothing including sneakers and boots, towels, some CD's and 
books, and a few pieces of sporting equipment including a basketball.  
He had kept in good physical shape while incarcerated and played pickup 
games in the prison yard whenever possible.  Now that he was free, he 
intended to continue playing by finding parks and schoolyards with 
suitable courts and backboards. 

With the cooler packed and trunk loaded, Jim headed out on the highway. 
Driving alone with the radio as companion was the perfect pastime:  He 
wasn't quite ready to be with other people, yet was hungry to 
rediscover life outside prison.  He spun the dial and managed to 
program in radio settings for three sports talk stations and five music 
stations.  After a few hours of steady driving, the bridge over the 
Cape Cod Canal appeared on the highway's horizon.  The image brought 
back an eight-year-old memory of his last trip to the Cape, and the 
desperate dash to conceal his illicit earnings. 

He finally stopped in Barnstable at the last major commercial rest stop
visible on Route 6.  After a quick trip to the rest room, he scurried 
back to his car, still in no mood to spend much time with other human 
beings.  He sat and ate a sandwich while people-watching out his car 
window.  The scene was dominated by families with SUV's and minivans 
but there were also quite a few small commercial trucks with various 
small business names embossed on their sides.  Law and order still 
prevailed.  Jim had been irrevocably transformed by his prison years, 
but the world looked more or less the same. 

After finishing the sandwich, Jim continued on Route 6 for the final
push towards Eastham and the Ocean Breeze Motel.  Upon check-in, Jim 
met Herb the owner, a slightly overweight, middle-aged transplant from 
New York.  His assigned room included all the basic amenities but was 
no bigger than his former prison cell.  As a new ex-con, however, he 
did not plan to spend much time indoors. 

It was now four in the afternoon and he decided to take a quick drive
over to the high school to inspect the outdoor basketball court and 
then continue on to Nauset Beach on the National Seashore. 

He found the school easily enough, but was thoroughly disappointed in
the hoops.  They were mounted right in the middle of the parking lot on 
tubular frame scaffold-like monstrosities.  The parking lot seemed 
rather sandy, which could present footing and agility problems.  The 
rims also seemed a little bent and were the stiffer playground-type 
double rims which are installed mainly for durability.  No forgiving 
rims here.  He decided to head elsewhere for future basketball 
opportunities. 

He continued on to the beach.  No ranger was present at the gate so he
just drove right in.  There were not many cars in the lot on this cold, 
raw and overcast afternoon so he was able to get the closest spot to 
the boardwalk which led to the beach.  Looking out atop a long stairway 
leading down to the sand, he encountered the vast and magnificent 
Atlantic Ocean, bordered by a seemingly endless stretch of sand backed 
by a steep dune which disappeared into two opposing horizons along the 
shore.  Jim stood there for a long moment to gaze at the beauty of this 
beach and ocean view.  Nothing could be more pleasing after being 
surrounded for so many years by cinder block, bars and barbed-wire 
fences. 

He stepped down the long sturdy stairway to the sand and took off his
sneakers.  A few scattered small groups of people walked along the 
water's edge or watched the seals playing offshore.  Jim crossed the 
deep sand of the back-beach which gave way to more solid footing on the 
wetter shoreline.  He stopped and gave himself a moment to take in the 
desolation of this place.  As he paused, he experienced a spine chill 
at the aching beauty of the continent's edge.  He had missed nature's 
bounty during his time in prison and was happy to spend a long, 
luxurious moment feasting his eyes on the beauty of the ocean and the 
beach. 

Upon his return to the motel he encountered Herb in the parking lot. 

“Oh, hi,” said Herb. “Say, I know you were interested in a larger room. 
We've had a cancellation so I do have a cottage for only twenty dollars 
more per night.” 

“Really.  Well I'll take a look at it,” replied Jim. 

Herb showed him the cottage which was actually an apartment at the end
of the motel, complete with living room, full kitchen and a much larger 
bedroom with oversized bath attached.  The carpeted living room was 
furnished with a comfortable couch, coffee table and television.  Jim 
looked around and, seeing no significant downside, rationalized that 
the increase was fairly small, given that he would have much more money 
soon. 

“Okay, I'll take it.” 

“Fine.  Just stop by the office for a few minutes so we can change the
paperwork and I'll get you the key.” 

His prior effort to neatly organize his clothes and other belonging made
the transfer to the new room relatively easy.  In less than ten 
minutes, he was relaxing in a much more spacious place.  What's more, 
his cooler of food was now guaranteed to stay cold in the full-size 
refrigerator, not to mention hot muffins and coffee in the morning with 
the microwave oven and stove.  After eight years in the slammer, this 
was quickly becoming a more civilized experience. 

He finally afforded himself the simple luxury of channel hopping on the
TV while he contemplated options for an evening meal.  Being on the 
Cape, fish or seafood were good options. 

A few minutes of driving down the main Cape drag, Route 6, was all it
took for Jim to find Sam's Clams, a typical Cape Cod seafood shack.  
The restaurant was not busy.  The light crowd consisted of mostly young 
families or older couples enjoying an evening meal of seafood and ice 
cream.  The counter help appeared to be college girls starting their 
long summer of restaurant work.  He walked up to the counter where he 
was met by a striking curvaceous young woman in a smock and shorts who 
stood ready to take his order.  Her mid-length silky brown hair was 
pulled up into a cute ponytail, but a few wisps of long hair fell 
lazily in front of her ears, framing her high-cheek boned tanned face.  
Her shorts exposed smooth tanned legs.  She flashed a smile revealing 
rows of clean straight teeth, and addressed Jim. 

“Hi.  Welcome to Sam's Clams.  Can I help you?” 

“Hi.  I'll have the broiled scallops with baked potato and a side
salad,” Jim replied.  As he spoke, he was mesmerized by her beauty.  
All sorts of fantasies began to flood his sex-starved brain. 

“Okay.  Anything to drink?”  Megan asked while continuing to scribble on
her order pad. 

“Yeah, a large iced tea, Megan,” he replied, noticing her badge.  She
looked up from her order pad and slowly scanned up Jim's large muscular 
torso to his face.  They both shot easy smiles at each other. 

“That'll be eighteen seventy-five,” she said, tipping her head slightly
to one side while maintaining a soft smile, “Hey, where's your name 
badge?' she continued playfully. 

“Ah, you got me there.  My name is Jim,” he replied as he handed her a
twenty. “So how's business?” 

“The off-season was slow, of course, but the summer crowds will arrive
in July.  Anyway, I like to work a little less in the early summer and 
get a nice start on beach rays and surf.” she said, handing him his 
change. 

“Sounds like you work here year-round.” 

“Yeah, I dropped out of school two years ago.  No money.  My boss here
offered me a full-time job.  I figured, why not?  I like restaurant 
work and I'll be able to surf every day.  Pretty good deal while I 
decide what the heck to do with my life.” 

“Sounds like fun.  Say, what's the best ocean beach for waves?  I
haven't been on the Cape in many years.” 

“Well, I to go Marconi with my friends.  You can usually catch some good
ones there,” she replied as she started to curl some of her stray hair 
in her index finger, “Do you surf?” 

“Used to,” Jim lied, remembering that the larger of his two stashes was
hidden at Marconi beach, “I don't own a board right now but if I pick 
one up, I'll give Marconi a try.  Maybe we'll run into each other.”  At 
this point, Jim wanted to do a lot more than just run into her.  The 
cottage was comfortable and a lot more inviting than a simple motel 
room.  His mind raced with the possibilities.  All he needed to do was 
figure out a way to woo her back to the place after purposely running 
into her at the beach. 

“I work at night so I'm usually over there during the day,” she replied
as she smiled again. 

The order was ready quickly and she handed him a large platter of food. 

“Well, nice to meet you, Jim.  Hope you find some good waves,” she said
as she moved on to the next customer.  He thanked her and walked over 
to an empty table in the corner where he could sit faced towards the 
counter, and Megan. 

He ate his food and tried to ignore the banter of some restless children
nagging their parents for ice cream.  Every so often, he caught a 
glimpse of Megan as she worked behind the counter.  As he watched her 
move -- once bending over to pick up a cup, fixing her ponytail -- he 
played out a fantasy of an embrace in the ocean waves, followed by a 
wild sex session back at the motel. 

After dinner, he stopped at a grocery store to pick up a six-pack of
beer.  While checking out, he overheard the conversation between a 
middle-aged foreign-accented counter clerk and a pair of twenty year 
old looking guys who were hanging around the store. 

“Hey, Alexi” said the shorter of the two young men, “What about doze
Lithuanian girls?  You know, de ones from las' year.  Miki said dey are 
not aroun' ” 

“Yez my frien', sorry to say dat is' true, de Lithuanian weemen are not
coming beck for verk,” replied the clerk, “Dey are not allowed come 
back to the US for a secon' summer.” 

“Ha, ha,” laughed the taller young man who also had an eastern European
accent, “Dis es not a problem for Russians.  Les' go dude.  We got 
places to go, tings to do.  Dat Croatian guy told me about party later 
on.  I hear der is some young hens over der'.” 

The two guys left with a half-salute to the clerk.  It was clear that
the young men were on the prowl for young women.  Jim visualized an 
entire sub-culture of young foreigners as well as American students who 
come to the Cape to work during the summer and the social interactions 
which their hormones oblige them to partake in.  It is a world that 
must exist as long as young single adults are packed into small 
geographic areas. 

He returned to the cottage and zoned out in front of the TV with his
six-pack. 

Jim awoke around 9 AM Wednesday, rested and motivated to begin his
search.  He had coffee and a muffin in front of the TV, showered and 
got out about 10 AM with the intention of doing his first stash search 
on the bay side.  Knowing high tide had been around 5 AM, the receding 
mid-tide would give him about an hour to find the approximate burial 
location before low tide revealed the exact spot. 

Only one other car was in the parking lot at First Encounter Beach on
this raw and overcast morning.  Jim parked, slipped a collapsible 
shovel under his jacket and walked down the boardwalk which traversed 
the back-dune and led to the sandy shoreline.  A man and a woman 
sitting together on a blanket were bundled up against the sand-laden 
biting wind.  He walked along the front of the dune which separated the 
beach from a grassy upland and shortly arrived at the rocky cove where 
he had buried the smaller of his stashes eight years earlier.  Pausing 
briefly and looking back up the beach, he noticed the brave beach 
couple finally giving up and preparing to leave. 

Jim stood at the cove and watched the bay water splash against the rocks
and recede rapidly with each wave. As he waited for full low tide, he 
stared at the arrangement of big boulders and rewound his mind to the 
moment eight years earlier when he had buried the watertight canister.  
This was not difficult as he had re-played the image many times in his 
mind while locked up in prison.  He knew precisely where to dig. 

On the way back to the motel, he passed through Wellfleet harbor and
took a quick look at the basketball court located there.  To his 
surprise, one end of the court was still covered with water from the 
previous night's rain.  The nets also looked to be in worse condition 
than he had remembered.  He then stopped at a pizza place for dinner.  
After stuffing himself with a salad and a few pepperoni pizza slices, 
he went back to the room to open the long-buried canister.  He sat down 
on the couch and slowly unscrewed the cap.  To his horror, he found 
that water had seeped in through cracks and turned the ten grand in 
cash into a mucky grey soup.  Jim swore out loud and slammed the 
canister down on the coffee table, causing some of the muck to splash 
out onto the floor.  He could now only count on being able to recover 
the second stash of ninety grand. 

On Thursday morning, Jim once again made himself coffee and ate a muffin
while watching the TV.  His goal for the day was to get to Marconi 
Beach and locate the larger stash.  He packed a sandwich lunch and put 
the collapsible shovel into his backpack and headed out.  On his way to 
the beach, he stopped by at a schoolhouse basketball court he had seen 
indicated on the map.  However, the rims appeared to not have nets.  He 
then swung back onto Route 6 and stopped briefly at the public courts 
behind Eastham Town Hall.  These courts were in much better condition.  
A few teenagers were playing a 3-on-3 pickup game on one rim, while a 
father and son practiced on the opposite end.  Jim made a mental note 
to return here for workouts and pickup games.  Today, however, he had 
more important mission. 

At the beach entrance gate, the ranger station was unattended.  There
were only a scattering of cars in the parking lot.  Passing trees and 
scrub on the roadside, he immediately recalled the location of the 
obscure hiking trail that he had used eight years earlier to find a 
hiding spot for his larger stash.  The trail was located at the far end 
from the beach, but, not wanting to appear too obvious, he chose a 
space in the middle of the lot near other cars. 

Jim grabbed his backpack containing the collapsible shovel and walked
swiftly to the far edge of the lot.  The narrow trail led through 
typical Cape scrub pine trees and bush.  After a few minutes of 
walking, the trail emerged from the trees into a gently rolling 
landscape covered with low-lying bushy green scrub and thick vines.  In 
spite of the green ground cover he knew he was walking on the dunes. 

He continued up the moderately rising trail that led toward the ocean.  
At the crest of the dune, he was presented with another awe-inspiring 
view.  Directly in front of him was an abrupt end to the dune.  A 
smooth, steep and sandy cliff dropped 200 feet to the beach.  Looking 
left or right, the tall cliff-edged dunes backing the seashore 
stretched out for miles.  Numerous white-capped waves graced the water. 
 The shoreline extended and disappeared into the horizons in both 
directions.  Under the circumstances, however, Jim only afforded 
himself a brief moment to absorb the view. 

He then scanned his immediate surroundings and recognized the little
sandy gully where he had buried the stash.  The scrub pines and beach 
plum bushes had helped to anchor the sand around it and thus maintain 
the general shape of the dune.  The gully seemed somewhat less deep 
than he remembered.  However, having spent many years mulling over the 
final sequence of events prior to his arrest, there was no doubt in his 
mind that this was the correct location. 

He opened the collapsible shovel and dug into the sand in several
places.  He dug numerous closely spaced holes each about two feet deep. 
 He could not find the box.  There were not even any roots or big 
rocks, only free-flowing sand.  After a few hours of back-breaking 
work, he sat down to rest.  He looked carefully at the topography of 
the sand for some new hint of the correct spot to dig.  Nothing came to 
his mind other than the nagging feeling that the gully seemed somewhat 
shallower than he recalled. 

Doubts began to creep in.  Was it possible that the stash had been
discovered?  That was certainly possible if someone had explored this 
area with a metal detector.  The gully seemed to be the right general 
location, but had the dune shifted?  A panicky feeling overcame him.  
Without any money, he had no future.  However, given that his muscles 
ached from the digging, he decided to quit and return for a fresh start 
the next day. 

Back in the motel room, Jim continued to strain his mind for something
new to latch on to.  He kept thinking about the shape of the gully 
relative to the crest of the dune and the trail.  He watched a little 
TV and drank beer.  He finally settled down to sleep at about midnight, 
but tossed and turned for quite a while thinking about the gully.  Just 
before drifting off, he visualized the gully slowly filling with sand 
over the ensuing eight years due to wind and storms.  That would 
explain the shallowness as well as the lack of roots or big rocks.  He 
just needed to dig deeper!  With that hopeful thought, he rolled over 
and quickly fell asleep. 

Jim returned to Marconi at about ten o'clock the next morning.  The
bright sunshine and rising temperature made it a perfect beach day.  As 
a result, the parking lot was already crowded.  A multitude of families 
and groups were crisscrossing the lot from their cars to the beach.  To 
mitigate any suspicion and to stake out the area, Jim decided to act 
like a typical vacationer and first go to the beach for a swim.  He 
would attempt to find the stash only after thoroughly checking out the 
crowd and waiting for the right moment to disappear into the woods.  He 
put on his backpack containing a towel and snacks, and made his way to 
the beach.  After finding a relatively open spot to drop his 
belongings, he wasted no time in heading into the water.  However, his 
ankles were immediately in pain from the frigid water temperature of 
the early summer.  He toughed it out, though, and body-surfed a couple 
of small waves.  Knowing the limiting factor was his ability to 
withstand this icy water, he rode as many waves as possible for about 
ten minutes, and then headed back to rest at his spot on the sand.  He 
pulled on a pair of dark sunglasses, laid down on his back and rested 
in the warm sunshine. 

“Hey...Jimmy.  Hi there!” 

Jim jerked his head in the direction of the voice and saw Megan about
twenty feet away enthusiastically waving to him.  She wore a revealing 
light blue bikini and oversized white mesh tank top.  Jim could see 
that she had a perfect hour-glass figure.  However, the last thing he 
needed at this point was for someone for recognize him.  He was annoyed 
at his miscalculation of befriending this beautiful young woman, but he 
needed to conceal his concern and get through the conversation. 

“Oh, hi, Megan.  So we meet again,” Jim replied as he sat up. 

“Yes we do.  So, did you buy a board?” she asked as she sauntered over
to Jim's blanket. 

“Not yet.  I thought I would just come down here first and check out the
surf.” 

She got close enough that they could lower their voices.  She then
dropped her knees to the sand, rested her hands on her tanned legs and 
tilted her head back slightly.  Her long brown hair fluttered easily in 
the breeze.  A few strands got caught on her lips so she gathered the 
hair with her hands and pulled it behind her head.  Jim watched her 
motion and was awestruck at her sexy moves and style. 

“Yeah, the swell is primo today, huh?  Say, do you wanna try my board? 
I'll bet a guy with a build like yours must be an old pro,” she said as 
she looked down briefly at his robust torso and then locked him in a 
brief alluring stare in the eyes. 

“Uh, yeah, well sort of, I mean, no thanks.  Body surfing is fine for me
right now.” 

“Well, okay.  Just let me know if you change your mind.  I'll be right
over there with my friends,” Megan said as she gestured down the beach 
and got up to her feet.  She pouted briefly and then smirked at Jim. 

“All right.  See ya' later,” Jim replied. 

As Megan walked away, Jim was transfixed by her long legs and firm round
bottom.  He was dazed.  He daydreamed about bringing her back to the 
motel and fulfilling eight years of sexual fantasies.  Her advances 
were making it easy.  All he had to do was reach out and take what she 
offered. 

After she sat down at her blanket, Jim turned his head back to the
ocean, and felt torn.  Megan was indeed beautiful, but his mission had 
already been stymied several times and would be vastly more complicated 
if he was detected.  Jim wanted to disappear from the beach and get 
this treasure hunt over with.  He contemplated possible exit strategies 
including the idea of simply waiting for Megan and her friends to 
leave. 

About a half-hour later, though, he noticed Megan and a few friends get
up from their blanket and head towards the water with their surfboards. 
 He had to seize this moment.  As soon as they paddled out to deep 
water, Jim quickly gathered his stuff and headed to the parking lot at 
a moderate walking pace. 

Back at his car, he removed his wet bathing suit and pulled on a
t-shirt, a pair of shorts and sneakers.  After replacing most of the 
beach items in his backpack with the collapsible shovel, he left the 
car and walked across the parking lot to the far end.  He tried to act 
as natural as possible and did not look back across the parking lot. 

Running at a high pace up the trail, he reached the sandy gully in a
matter of minutes.  He started digging again, working in the general 
area of the holes he had created the previous day, digging much deeper 
this time.  Occasionally, he took a short break to rest his back.  The 
afternoon sun was approaching the horizon, casting a yellow tinge 
across the sky and on the sand. 

After about two hours of sweaty effort, he finally struck the small
metal box about four feet below the surface in a more dense and moist 
sand layer.  Jim felt victorious and his heart raced faster with 
anticipation.  After extracting the box, he took a brief moment to 
inspect it.  The closure clasp had rusted and the screws holding the 
hinges were loose.  He then opened the box and hastily untied the 
knotted string holding a plastic bag closed.  Inside, the wads of 
hundred dollar bills appeared to be intact.  He quickly stuffed the bag 
back in the box and then rather carelessly jammed the box into his 
backpack, causing the weakened hinges to come loose.  During his jog 
back along the trail, the top of the box fell off completely and much 
of the cash fell out of the box and into the main compartment of the 
backpack. 

Across the parking lot, Megan saw Jim at his car and ran over to him. 

“Hey!' Megan yelled out, once she was within hailing distance, “You left
and didn't say goodbye.” She lowered her voice as she approached.  
Walking up rather close to him, she put her hand on his thick right 
forearm, looked up at him and continued, “I thought we had something 
going.  Don't you like me?” 

“Oh, I do, but I've got stuff to do, girl,” he replied as he gently
pulled his arm away and opened the car door.  He removed his backpack 
and slung it onto the back seat not noticing that this caused many wads 
of cash to fall out of the pack onto the seat.  As he turned back to 
her, she was quite close and staring up at him with watery dark brown 
eyes. 

“What kind of stuff, big guy?” she said in a playful tone as she reached
out again and stroked his right arm. 

Jim was now smitten with her beauty.  He could not help himself.  He
slowly embraced her, his massive arms enveloping her body.  They kissed 
passionately.  He felt waves of energy and emotion that had been locked 
away for many years. 

As they parted slightly from their embrace, they both sighed and smiled
at each other.  Jim spoke first. 

“It's been so long since I've done anything like that.  You have no
idea.” 

“I couldn't tell,” Megan replied, “I hope you're not still in a hurry,
mister.  I'd like to get to know you better.” 

Jim had to decide if staying with Megan was worth the risk to his
mission.  He started speaking slowly, “Well, actually, I do have to 
go...” 

A pained expression crossed Megan's face and she turned her head away in
disappointment.  Her eyes fell on the inside of the car.  The money was 
exposed and obvious.  She looked back up at Jim with a questioning 
glance.  He turned his head to the back seat and realized what she had 
seen. 

Jim grabbed her arms firmly and said, “Look, Megan.  Let me explain. 
It's my money.  I didn't hurt anyone to get it.  I've paid my dues and 
now it's mine.  Can you accept that?” 

“I don't know,” she said softly while her eyes searched his for a kernel
of integrity, “I want to believe you, but that's a lot of money.  
You're a great guy, Jim, but I'm too young to get mixed up in some kind 
of trouble.” 

Just then, the car with Megan's friends pulled up next to them. 

“Oh, hi, Jackie, this is Jim,” Megan said to the driver. 

“Hi, Jim,” she replied. 

“Hello,” Jim said. 

“Hey, Meg, were heading out.  Want your stuff?” the driver asked
suggestively while handing her a beach bag. 

“Uh...no, Jackie, I'm coming,” she said, turning towards Jim, “I think
I'll go.  Maybe I'll see you around sometime.” 

“Megan, wait...” Jim was at a loss for words. 

“Goodbye, Jim,” Megan was close to tears but held herself together long
enough to pull away from Jim's grasp and get into the car. 

Jim stood there for a long moment and watched as the car drove off.  He
then walked over to the beach and watched as the deepening sunset cast 
orange and purple hues across the sky.  The waves crashed endlessly on 
the now deserted shore.  Megan was gone but his mission was complete, 
and he was a free man.  He pulled out his cell phone and called his 
trusty lawyer friend. 

“Everett.  Yeah, it's me.  No, I'm fine, just a little tired, I guess. 
I'm still on the Cape, but I can meet you tomorrow.  That's 
right...everything went as planned...” 


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