AVAILABLE IN PRINT AND ALL E-BOOK FORMATS

Julian Berger, a charismatic young man with a magnetic personality and movie star-good looks is an accomplished scam-artist. After a series of successful scores scamming local drug dealers, he follows Bruce and Jill to Acapulco where they are vacationing.  
            While there, he meets one of their friends, a wealthy, widowed New York socialite. He weaves a web of deceit to engineer a three million dollar diamond heist and then scams the FBI when they set up a sting operation to recover the stolen diamonds. 
            After successfully avoiding prosecution for the theft of the diamonds, he once again ends up on the FBI’s radar screen, but this time they enlist his con-artistry to thwart the attempt of a terrorist cell in South Florida to acquire Stinger missiles to bring down passenger jets departing three of Florida’s major airports. 
            This is the fifth book in the series of humorous novels about Baltimore attorney, C. Bruce West.

                   EXCERPT
On a Friday afternoon in the beginning of December, my secretary, Kelly, rang me on the intercom and said, “There is a Julian Berger on the phone.  He said he was just in an accident and would like to speak with you.”
            I pushed the blinking button to pick up the call that was on hold, “Hi, this is Bruce West.  How can I help you?”
            “This is Julian Berger…I was just in an accident and my Corvette was totaled,” he replied.
            I did what lawyers do best…began asking a lot of questions. “Where was the accident?”
            “At the intersection of Reisterstown Road and Fallstaff Road,” he responded.
            “What happened?”
            “I was on Reisterstown Road headed west.  I entered the intersection at Fallstaff Road on a green light and the other guy ran the red light and plowed into the right side of my car.  I think it’s totaled.”
            “Are there any witnesses to the accident?”
            “There were was a lot of traffic, but I didn’t get the names of any of the other people.”
            “Did the police investigate the accident?”
            “Yeah, they wrote a report and I have the report number.”
            “Do you know if they got the names of any witnesses?” I asked.
            “I don’t know, but they took statements from me and the guy that hit me.”
            “Were you injured?” I asked, that being the most important element of whether or not I wanted to handle the case.
            “Well, it just happened.  Who knows how I may feel an hour from now or tomorrow morning?”
            “You know, if the other driver claims that he had a green light and there are no independent witnesses, you will be unable to prove who was at fault for the accident,” I explained.
“Well, the guy who hit me is standing right here and he admits that it was his fault,” Julian advised. “I’ll get him to come with me to your office and he’ll give you a statement.  Will that work?”
            “How are you going to get here?” 
            “Oh, I’ll call one of my friends and he’ll pick us up and bring us to your office.”
            “How soon do you think you can get here?” I asked.
            “I’ll be there within an hour,” he replied.
            “Okay,” I said.  “I’m looking forward to meeting you,” and I hung up.  That was to be the beginning of a strange relationship that lasted for many years.
            Within an hour of my conversation with Julian Berger, Kelly buzzed me on the intercom to let me know that he and two other men had arrived.  She ushered them into the office. Julian was twenty-nine years old, six-foot one, about 190 pounds and very athletically built. He had Paul Newman’s good looks with thick, wavy light-colored hair, a warm captivating smile and a magnetic personality.  
            He was dressed in jeans, a long sleeve sport-shirt with the cuffs rolled up to just above the wrist and was carrying a zippered leather jacket over his shoulder. I noticed he was wearing a gold Rolex watch. He introduced himself with a warm smile and a firm handshake, exuding an aura of pleasure which engendered a sense of affection one might feel upon greeting an old friend.  He was charming, self-assured and conveyed a commanding presence.  He introduced me to his friend, Eddie Bloom, who had picked him up at the scene and brought him to the office.  He then introduced Mark Coleman who was the other driver involved in the accident.
Everyone seated themselves around my desk and Julian turned to Mark and asked if he’d mind telling me how the accident occurred.
            Without hesitation, Mark described the accident, “I was headed…I think it was south on Fallstaff Road. When I got to Reisterstown Road,  I wasn’t sure which way I was supposed to turn to get to the shopping center, so I glanced at the piece of paper I had the directions written on and didn’t notice that the light had changed from green to red.”
            “Do you have any objection to my secretary typing your statement? She is a Notary Public and can put you under oath and witness your signature.”
He readily agreed to do that.  Using my dictating machine, I restated his admission that the accident was his fault and buzzed Kelly to come into my office.  I handed her the tape and asked her to transcribe the statement and then bring it back with her Notary seal for his signature.
As Kelly was headed back to her desk, Julian asked, “So, can you do anything to help Mark?”
            “What do you mean help him?” I asked.
            “You know, like represent him and get him some money?” he asked seemingly with genuine concern about what was going to happen to the guy who just totaled his car.
            “I can’t represent both parties in an accident…it would be a conflict of interest.” I explained. 
I addressed Mark and asked if he had automobile insurance. He responded that he was insured by State Farm Insurance Company. 
            “Do you happen to know your policy number?” I inquired.
            He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. After thumbing through a number of cards, he handed me a card from State Farm Insurance Company which contained the policy number. I wrote the number on my interview sheet and in an effort to offer some helpful advice, told him that Maryland law required that he carry Personal Injury Protection coverage in the minimum amount of twenty-five hundred-dollars.  I explained that he could recover up to that amount for the payment of any medical bills and lost wages he might incur as a result of injuries he may have suffered in the accident.  I also advised him to report the accident to State Farm and if he had collision coverage they would pay for the repair of his car less the amount of his deductible.
            By then, Kelly returned with his typewritten statement. I examined it and passed it with a pen to Mark for his signature.  He signed it; Kelly witnessed and notarized his statement and left the office.  I then asked Mark and Ed if they’d mind moving out to the waiting room so I could finish my interview with Julian.
            “So, Julian, I need some information about your car.”
            “Sure what do you need?”
            “Whose name is on the title?”
            He took an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out the car title and handed to me.
            “Who is James Thornton?” I asked reading the name of the owner from the title.
            “He’s my ex-father in-law.” Julian responded without explanation.
            “Why were you driving your ex-father-in-law’s car?” I asked.
            “It was his car, but he gave it to my ex-wife.”
            “Well, then explain to me why you’re driving your ex-wife’s car?”
            “She didn’t like driving it so she gave it to me to drive.”
            “But technically, it’s still James Thornton’s car,” I explained.  “The insurance company is going to issue the check for the car in his name.”
            “That won’t be a problem,” Julian assured me.
I didn’t want to know what he was going to do with a check payable to someone else or why he thought it would be no problem.
            “What kind of work do you?” I asked.
He kind of laughed and replied, “I’m a broker.”
            “A broker…what kind of broker…stock broker…real estate broker?”
            “Um…a deal broker.”
            “What exactly is a deal broker?”  I asked, never having heard of a deal broker.
            “Well, let’s say you have some money you want to invest and I know somebody looking for someone to invest money in a deal he’s putting together.  So I put the two of you together and get a piece of the action.  Or maybe you’re looking for a classic collectible car and I know somebody who has a car like the one you’re looking for.  He wants fifty grand for the car.  I tell you I know where I can get a car like the one you want for fifty-five thousand bucks.  Then I tell the guy with the car that I can get him the fifty he wants, but I want five grand as a fee for selling it.  If you both agree to the deal, he sells his car, you buy it and I make ten grand.”
            “You can actually make a living doing this kind of stuff?  I mean where do you find people who want something and then locate the something they want?”
            “Well, the cars are easy.  My friend Eddie…” he nodded toward the waiting room indicating he was talking about the friend who brought him to the office. “…he’s a wholesale car dealer.  He buys used cars at the car auctions and repos from the banks and peddles them to car lots or people that want a bargain on a car.  I hang out in places where I meet lots of people.  It doesn’t take very long to size them up and find out if they want something I might be able to get for them.  If they happen to be looking for a car, I just call Eddie.”
            “I knew someone that was in that kind of business, but she only made a few hundred dollars per car. She was doing the same thing Eddie does.”  I recalled a woman who several years ago was involved with one of my clients in a federal conspiracy case.  She had been accused by the FBI of involvement in the interstate sale of cars stolen from new car dealers in New Jersey.
            “How many deals can you put together in a year?  When was the last time you made money doing that?” I asked out of pure curiosity.
            Again he laughed and said, “Sometimes I pick up a couple hundred grand in a single deal.  It doesn’t take many of them to make a comfortable living.”
            “What kind of deals can you put together and make that kind of money?”
            “Suppose I tell you that I can turn a two hundred thousand dollar investment into five hundred thousand in one week.  Would you be interested in a deal like that?”
            “Absolutely not!  There is no possible way that kind of money can be made in that short of period of time in any legal transaction. Even a sale of publicly-traded stock could not produce that kind of return without inside knowledge which would violate the law.  You know the old adage that anything that sounds too good to be true, is too good to be true!  No thanks; I wouldn’t even be interested in hearing the details.”
            “I didn’t suggest that it would be legal, but you’d be amazed by the number of people who would jump at that kind of opportunity,” he demurred. 
            “So are you telling me that you make your living putting together illegal deals?  I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but allow me to blow my own horn for a second.  I happen to be a helluva criminal lawyer.  I have a great reputation and a great record in the criminal courts.  I’d be delighted to represent you when you get busted for one of your deals. Have you ever been busted for doing that shit?”
            “In the deals I broker, the parties on both sides are unknown to each other and neither of them is in any position to complain to the authorities. Nobody would ever know you were involved.” he explained.
            “Three people would know…me, you and God.  God might say something to the Bar Association.  Look at my suit,” I said gesturing toward the lapels of my jacket.  “Look at my shoes,” I said pointing at my feet.  “Look at my nails,” I continued, holding my hands out to show him my nails.  “I like being a lawyer.  I like wearing nice clothes and fancy shoes.  I never get dirt under my fingernails.  I rarely have to lift anything heavy and I don’t think I’d like being the girlfriend of some three hundred-pound black guy named Bubba.  No thanks!”
            He laughed and said, “You’re a cool guy.  I’m really glad I’ve met you.  I’d like you to be my friend, not just my lawyer.”
            “Well, if you’re involved in illegal activities, I don’t mind you telling people I’m your lawyer, but let’s keep our friendship a secret,” I said, with a big smile and a wink. “Let’s get back to this case.  It’s highly unusual for the person who causes an accident to come to the other party’s lawyer and give him a statement that the accident was his fault.  It raises a suspicion that this is not legit.  Was it really an accident or is it a scam to get money from the insurance company for a car that belongs to someone else?”
            “You see what I’m like.  I can talk anybody into doing whatever I ask them.  I just asked him to help me out and make this easy.  I never in my life met him before this accident.”
            “Okay…if the impact was severe enough to total the car, you might have suffered some muscular damage to your neck or back which might become apparent later tonight or tomorrow.  For this case to have any value, you will need to seek medical attention for those injuries.  Do you have a doctor you can see for treatment if you have suffered an injury or do you want me to recommend one who will treat you?”
            “I’ll go with your recommendation, but if I claim an injury will that delay getting paid for the car?”
            “No, it shouldn’t.  Property damage claims are usually settled within two weeks.”
            “What’s involved if I’m not injured?”
            “I’ll just get you the check for the car and close the case.  I won’t charge you a fee if that’s what happens.”
            “That’s great.  I’ll let you know if I feel any injury. Then I’ll call you in two weeks to see if you got the check for the car.”
            “I won’t be here in two weeks; it’ll have to wait until after the first of the year. “ I told him.
            “Why where are you going to be?”
            “I’m going on vacation for a couple of weeks,” I explained.
            “Oh, where are you going?”
            “To Acapulco.”
            “Neat…have you been there before?”
            “Yeah, I was there at the same time last year.”
            “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard a lot about the place.  Las Brisas…isn’t that the in-place to stay…I heard they drive you around in pink jeeps while you’re there?”
            “It’s one of the more popular hotels, but it’s on the southern end of Acapulco Bay. We are staying at the Villa Vera.  It’s a lot smaller and more intimate. It’s closer to most of the popular restaurants and night clubs, so we don’t need a car because just about everything we want to do is within walking distance. I think it caters to a different type of clientele.”
            “What’s to do there?”
            “Well, it’s really a laid back kind of place. There are lots of good restaurants and a bunch of great night spots. The night life is unbelievable. The beach is close by; they have a great swimming pool that has a bar built into it.  The seats are in the pool, so you can sit at the bar, have a drink and be in the pool at the same time.  The sun is quite strong, so that’s a popular feature.  They have a lot of tennis courts and a full service spa. I enjoy lying around the pool with a good book.  Last year, a lot of the Europeans and wealthy Mexicans who stay there were playing backgammon all afternoon for a lot of money.  They attract a number of spectators. I spentsome time watching them”
            “Backgammon? For a lot of money?  What’s a lot of money?”
            “I think they were playing for a hundred dollars a point.”
            His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, “I love to play backgammon and I’m pretty good at it…a hundred a point, huh! “Well, it’s been great meeting you.  I’ll call you tomorrow.” 
            I sat there reflecting on our meeting.  I liked him, but I really had mixed feelings. He was an interesting and very personable guy. I enjoyed being in his company. Julian was very smart, very glib and very wily…a born leader who could have achieved and been successful in any endeavor he chose to undertake.
            It was apparent that he could extemporaneously bluff his way through any situation so convincingly that his adversary would never realize what had happened. I wouldn’t trust him, but I got a sense that he quickly sized me up and realized that he could not get me involved in any of his schemes.  
            I was also sure that he would not go to the doctor and I would earn no fee in this case, because I really believed he just wanted to collect the money for the car.  I figured by the way he parried my comments about the check being made payable to his ex-father-in-law, that the ex-wife and ex-father-in-law would never see a penny of the money.
            My instincts told me that beneath his wholesome mien, Julian was cold, heartless and had ice water for blood. I had the impression that he would stab you in the back while embracing you and when he finished draining your blood, turn you into his best friend.

Available in Soft-Cover, Kindle and All other eBook formats           

To order NOW Click Here               

<<PREV [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] NEXT>>