Chapter 61: I Need to Change the Shipping Address
"Easy fix, bro," Ron said with a wave of his hand, cutting off Leonard before he could speak. "You guys—all of you, including Collins—can stick to your usual four-person meal. I'll just order my own stuff."
"But everything's meant to be shared!"
Sheldon continued his meltdown. But after years of dealing with his brother's quirks, Ron knew exactly how to handle him. "Just pretend I'm sitting in a parallel dimension at the same table. Problem solved, right?"
"What's he talking about?" Collins whispered in Ron's ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine.
This girl was dangerous! The worst part was she had no clue what she was doing to him—it was all completely natural.
"Sheldon, think of it like a Star Trek transporter malfunction," Ron said, staring down his brother. "How's that work for you?"
"Fine, whatever," Sheldon finally relented after mulling it over. "I suppose that's... acceptable."
After dinner, Ron turned down Sheldon's invitation to stick around for some Xbox gaming and drove Collins home. Video games couldn't compete with quality time, even if Collins was currently off-limits. That didn't stop him from planning a quick detour to Max's place on his way back, though.
But just as he was about to make that move, his phone rang.
"Damn it!" Ron muttered under his breath as he pulled over to check who was killing his evening plans. When he saw his boss's name on the screen, he knew he had to answer.
"Evening, Frank. You never call this late," Ron said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Frank's voice came through crisp and authoritative as always: "I need you to handle something."
"What's up?"
"I need you in Miami. Tonight. Right now." Frank's tone left no room for argument.
"Miami?" Ron nearly choked. His boss wanted him to fly from Los Angeles to Miami? That was literally across the entire country!
"And you said right now—meaning what, exactly?"
"Boss, mind telling me what this is about?" Ron asked, his confidence boosted by his recent successes. There was a long pause, and just when Ron thought he wasn't getting an answer, Frank spoke again.
"Ron, can I count on you?"
"Always, sir." Ron caught something in Frank's voice he'd never heard before—uncertainty, maybe even worry.
He'd always known Frank as unshakeable, politically sharp, the guy they called "The Hammer" in his party circles.
"I've been stabbed in the back, Ron," Frank said, emphasizing each word. "That corn-fed idiot I helped get elected just broke our deal. He's planning to hand the Secretary of State position to Michael Cohen."
That's when it all clicked for Ron. He dropped the casual attitude immediately. "What do you need me to do, sir?"
Time to pick a side, and Ron chose Frank without hesitation, even though it looked like the losing team. Simple reason: he and Frank were on the same wavelength about how things should work.
That businessman-turned-politician was making a huge mistake!
"I need you to get evidence of Carter Verone's dealings with Michael Cohen. The FBI's already mobilizing, so you need to move fast." Frank's orders were crystal clear.
Every major American politician had at least one "fixer" working behind the scenes—someone to handle the dirty money and side businesses. Carter was obviously one of those guys, just dumb enough to work for an even dumber boss.
"No problem, sir. What's the play?" Ron wisely avoided asking about the high-level political maneuvering. That wasn't his pay grade.
His job was simple: do what he was told and keep enjoying Frank's protection while he raised hell, just like he'd been doing.
Did people really think the FBI and CIA, after getting played by Ron through Andy, were just going to roll over? Please. Even with all his skills, Ron was just one guy. The real reason those government agencies were walking on eggshells was Frank's influence backing him up.
"Catch the next flight to Miami. When you land, call the number I'm texting you. That's Monica—she's our undercover asset inside Carter's operation. The Bureau thinks she's theirs, but she's actually ours. She'll get you where you need to go.
Keep this quiet. The fewer people who know about this, the better. You're going solo on this one. Any questions?"
Frank's tone was deadly serious. Ron pulled completely over to the shoulder. "Just one. I'm going to need some specialized equipment for this job. Where do I get it?"
"Don't ask me. Call Orlov. I know you two have an understanding."
Ron grinned despite the situation. "Got it, boss. No other questions."
"Move out." Frank hung up abruptly. Ron could hear voices in the background—probably other calls coming in. This was clearly bigger than just his mission.
Instead of heading straight to LAX, Ron drove home to do some research on his laptop, accessing the classified databases he had clearance for.
His plans for Max's place were officially canceled.
Carter Verone. Ron studied the photo and immediately recognized him as the villain from 2 Fast 2 Furious. All he really remembered about the guy was drug trafficking and money laundering.
To be honest, the Fast & Furious franchise didn't really hit its stride until the fourth movie. The first three were pretty forgettable, and the third one was straight-up garbage.
Setting aside his movie criticism, Ron started planning his approach. Sure enough, he'd be going up against that rookie FBI agent Brian O'Conner again, but this time they'd be on opposite sides. He had to find and secure the evidence before O'Conner could get his hands on it.
This was going to be almost too easy. Ron's nerves settled immediately.
He dialed Orlov: "Hey, buddy, remember that LG-5 40mm grenade launcher I ordered from you? No, no, I'm not backing out of the deal, but I need to change the shipping address. Send it to Miami instead..."
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