Run into Trouble

pop out at you.”
    Slightly mollified, the clerk pointed to the envelope, which was sitting on a table on his side of the counter. He opened the door for Drake, who took a handkerchief out of his pocket, stepped behind the counter, and carefully picked up the envelope by its corner. He smiled at the clerk.
    “I have this friend who likes to play practical jokes.”
    With his free hand, Drake reached into another pocket and pulled out his wallet. Using dexterity fueled by long practice, he extracted a dollar bill from the wallet using only the one hand, and handed it to the clerk.
    “Thanks for notifying me so fast.”
    “Oh, the envelope came an hour ago.”
    “Did you see who delivered it?”
    “It must have happened when I stepped away from the counter for a minute. I had to go to the men’s room. When I returned, it was sitting right here.”
    Drake thanked the clerk again and hurried back to his room. He sat on the bed and inspected the envelope. It was a white, business-size envelope and had his name typed on the outside, just like the first one. The printing looked different, however. Several of the letters were slightly smeared, as if from dirty typewriter keys. They had been typed on a manual typewriter, not an electric.
    The envelope was sealed in one spot, just like the first one. Drake took the small Swiss Army Knife he carried and slid a blade under the flap to unseal it, being careful not to touch the envelope with his fingers. Holding it with the handkerchief, he opened it and extracted the white sheet of paper inside, using a different part of the handkerchief. He unfolded the paper and read it.
    To: Oliver Drake
    From: The Syndicate
    So far good. You have recovered nice from acident. Good news. Now that you back in top shape we need you to do one thing more. Win race. You long shot, exelent odds. Good for both of us. You get million dollers, we get big money to. You have to start working harder. Maybe we help you. Dont forget Melodys mom. Dont show letter to any one.
    Win the race? Why not ask him to fly to the moon without a rocket? The stakes were being raised. Shit. Drake retrieved his wallet and found the card that Slick had given him. He picked up the phone and called the number listed for the Christian Bookstore, not expecting an answer this early in the morning. The call was answered on the second ring by a female voice.
    “Christian Bookstore.”
    “This is Drake. I need to talk to Slick.”
    “He’ll call you back in five minutes, Mr. Drake. May I have your number?”
    Drake gave her the number and hung up. He debated whether to tell Melody about the new letter immediately. He decided not to for a couple of reasons, including the fact that he didn’t know Grace’s room number. He opened his suitcase and, using the blade from his Swiss Army Knife, carefully reopened a slit in the lining that he had made after his room had been searched.
    He had sewed it up again using the sewing kit his mother had put together for him when he left for college. Fine stitches, just like she had taught him. Even a person experienced in finding things wouldn’t spot them during a fast search. He pulled a copy of the original note out of the space behind the lining. Now he could verify the similarities and differences between the two notes.
    He would also make a copy of the new note before he gave it to Slick. If he were careful, he could do it without damaging any fingerprints. The motel had a copier; the clerk at the desk would help him.
    ***
    “We’re running faster today. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
    Melody’s question brought home to Drake what effect the letter was having on him. It scared the hell out of him. All the runners were in a tight group as they navigated east Long Beach. Of course, if he and Melody wanted to actually win the race, they had to be ahead of the others, not just with them. Way ahead. They were many hours behind Tom and Jerry overall.
    “Let’s drop back ten yards. I need to talk to you.”
    “We’ll catch them again if they have to stop for a light.”
    “I haven’t noticed that they pay much attention to mundane things like traffic lights.”
    It was true. The runners tended to keep moving in these urban areas, regardless of traffic, crossing streets against lights, endangering themselves. It was amazing what the carrot of a million dollars did to one.
    Drake and Melody dropped back as they turned onto Ocean Avenue. With the beach now on the left, there