I wasn't so sure about the whole beach bum thing by the time the closing arrived. I figured it was still real estate, even it if was a crappy location. Cindy seemed thrilled to have me settled into something. I explained to her about the trailer and my intention to stay behind the shop until I could got the business going.

I didn't want some smart ass accountant finding too much money in my hands. IE the government reward for the Sanchez brothers, or my own ill gotten gains, could send up flags.

"I'm glad one of you finally gets it." she said.

"One of you," I laughed. "Maybe i should get you into a sensitivity training class,"

"I meant one of you witnesses. Most think it's going to be business as usual."

"I think in my case, the certainty of a Columbian necktie, if they find me, is enough to keep me focused. I know I need to stay hidden. It's my ass so it's in my own best interest to keep out of sight both in my real life and with my paper trail."

"Good for you. Do you really think you can sell bicycles out in the country like this."

"No, I think I can make them here, then sell them in town or on the beach. Maybe even on Craig's list. I'm going to have a bike rack put on the rear of the car. A good one, not one of those strap on things, but one welded on by a pro."

"To deliver bikes? Isn't it going to be hard to sell a bike sight unseen?"

"Actually more to take me to a place where I can ride with maximum visibility, I plan to be my own best advertising." Probably up and down Wrightsville Beach, then down to Carolina Beach. I'm going to spend some time in Holden Beach and Fort Fisher as well. I might even go up to Emerald Isle. You know places like that never see these bikes. I think showing the bikes and giving out cheap brochures is the way to go."

"So sign this last page and initial it on the front, then the building is all yours," the lawyer said.

"Mine and the bank." What no one knew was that after a year my little off shore holding company would buy the mortgage and the payments would end. Until then Uncle Sam was making them anyway, so I played along. The first year's expenses were part of my resettlement settlement.

Cindy and I went to a well known but grimy seafood restaurant, located on the inland waterway, for lunch. It survived on the local trade mostly, since tourist wanted a dining experience not good food,

"How the hell did you find this place?" Cindy asked.

"It was recommended by a cop," I admitted.

I had decided to buy a 25' camping trailer. I planned to park it behind the shop. I could sleep in it until I got my affairs in order. I wanted to get the place up and showing a profit, even if the profit were only on paper, before I bought a house or beachfront condo. It had to do with cover maintenance. I didn't want anyone asking question about me.

I found the trailer on Craig's list. My plan was to move it somewhere down south and have a second beach home. It was comfortable as those tin cans go. I paid six grand for it, but it was only money. I didn't mind that but I did hate the three hundred dollars I had to pay to get the thing towed to the shop.

The shop was due for closing in a week, so I took the chance and stored the trailer on site. If the building fell through I could just pay a few bucks and have the trailer moved. I didn't do anything but have the driver do anything but level the tongue jack. I didn't plan to live in the darn thing until the closing and then only for a few months at the most. Just enough time for it not to be so suspicious me buying a house.

One thing about being in jail with a lot of white collar criminals, it teaches you how to screw around with money. I learned how to make myself a loan for the house I wanted to buy. It would be so clean that nobody would every doubt it. I would just be my own mortgage company. One who never complained about a late payment. Somewhere down the line when the government cut me loose from their assistance, I would just refinance the shop with myself as the banker. Thanks to a couple of guys who made Bernie look like a rank amateur, I could do all kinds of neat things with money and the trail it didn't leave.

I tried my hand at fishing off the pier at Wrightsville|Island. I had a lot more luck at the beer parlor next door. I caught no fish on the pier but I met a heck of a nice young woman in beer joint. She and I seemed to share the same sarcastic sense of humor. There were many nasty zingers floating around the bar that morning.

"Well sorry to do it Eddie, but I have to get ready for work," the almost thirty year old blonde said to me.

"Oh at noon what kind of job starts at noon?"

"None that I know of but it takes me a while to get dressed."

"Oh then you aren't a topless dancer?" I asked.

"Not even close, I'm a Holden Beach police officer," she said flatly. She also stared at me to see what my reaction would be.

"All those years of thinking on my feet had prepared me for all kinds of things. It is probably why I reacted in a positive way rather than a negative one. "Wow, could we play with your handcuffs sometime?" I just knew that it was the right thing to say.

"Oh so original," she said smiling.

"There is a reason why men ask that. We all want to be ravished by younger women."

"And there are plenty who will gladly do it for a price."

"Ah too bad money had to be mentioned. I guess I will just have to dream, since I have no money. Actually I was going to try to borrow enough to pay for these beers."

"No way, I never pay for it." She gave me an evil smile.

"Hell, best I ever had I paid for," I said it smiling. "I can show you sometime."

"Call me," she said writing something on the rear of a business card then handing it to me.

After she left I finished my beer and then I headed for home. Home was still the motel. Fortunately the closing was less than a week away at that point.

As I was driving toward the motel after dropping Cindy at the airport, I saw a long row of bicycles sitting in front of a very old building. The hand lettered sign painted on the window of the building advised me that it was a thrift store and flea market. Since I had passed the building I had to turn the car around to get a better look.

I inspected the bicycles as if I knew what I was doing. All I really knew was that I didn't want to buy used bikes that looked like used bikes. So of course I didn't buy anything. I sat in the car getting myself ready to leave the parking lot when realized that I had made a terrible mistake by buying the old country store.

No I hadn't bought anything at the thrift store/flea market, but it also hadn't cost the owner a dime to get me in. I had seen his bikes as I drove down the road. He had drive by traffic and I would have none. No wonder the owner of the building had jumped at the change to sell it to me. I was as they say in poker drawing dead. I had no chance to win in that situation.

I would have been depressed except that I really wanted to be a beach bum. The business was just cover for me.

It had been less than 24 hours since the owner had accepted the contract on the building. Even so I drove out to take another look at the building. I was shocked to see the door open and men on the roof. The owner seemed to be trying to do everything at once.

One of the trucks was an Owen's Plumbing Company truck. I found Mr Owens himself checking the toilet and sink. "Hi there, I'm Eddie Wilson the buyer of the building," He just nodded, a man of few words I decided, "So everything going to be okay with the plumbing?"

"Yeah, gonna have to replace the hot water heater and then some drain lines but nothing much to it," he replied.

"Do you have a card, I might need some work done after I move in," I suggested. "By the way, be sure to check that floor drain please." I had plans for that drain, but he didn't need to know about them.

I returned to the motel with the bag from a fast food restaurant. All prisoners in any facility will tell you that they miss cheese burgers from a fast food restaurant most. Even if I had been in a country club prison, I was no exception.

Since all we could do was wait for an answer to our offer, Cindy and I went shopping. I needed everything so it wasn't a one hour project. I bought clothes, a cell phone, and a small laptop computer.

At least I didn't have to buy a car. Cindy would be leaving me the car with which she drove me to Wilmington. It had been confiscated from someone, so they could run a false paper trail and award it to me for services rendered. It didn't even have to show up in their budget.

The realtor had warned us that the decision might take a couple of days, so Cindy was making plans for a mini vacation. We were headed to the beach on Wrightsville Island, when her cell phone rang. "Hello," she said. I was glad she didn't answer by identifying herself as a Marshall. "That's good news, so when will they have the repairs complete?"

Obviously in the current real estate market, my offer had looked good enough for them to leap at it. I began making plans in my mind as Cindy tried to split her attention between the busy road and the conversation. "Very well, but we will be keeping check on those repairs."

"Well Eddie, you will soon be the owner of a bike shop." she said as she closed the cover on her phone.

"That's good news, I need to make some calls to order inventory," I suggested.

"Not till I swim in the ocean at least once."

"Aren't you going to hang around till this is a done deal?"

"No, but if you need anything at all just call me. The rent on the rooms is on one of our black accounts, so just stay there until you find a place to live. Are you planning to live in an apartment?"

I had always said not to worry I would find somewhere to live after the shop was ready to go. She accepted that at the time. I imaged that since the pretty much set, she would be antsy to get me out of the government paid motel, and into something where I would have to foot the bill.

"No I think I am going to find a way to live at the bike shop." I replied.

"Well you make damn sure you are not in violation of any zoning ordinances. I do not want to have to contract the locals or to pull your ass out of here. You can see that it is a lot of trouble to se these things up."

"Don't worry, I'll figure something out."

"Well I'll be back for the closing so we can work on it then. They promised to close by the end of the month so we will see."

When I awoke the next morning Cindy was already awake watching the news on TV. She had insisted that I sleep in the small bedroom. I thought at the time that it was because the room was the safest. At that moment I realized, it had been so that she would watch TV. If she slept at all, it was in her clothes on the unmade sofa. It could not have been comfortable. I was sure her sleepless night had nothing to do with protecting me. Cindy seemed to have demons independent of me.

Two hours later she tried to walk me into one of those chrome and glass chain store type restaurants. "No way I'm going to eat in that place," I said as she pulled into the parking lot."

"Oh really, and where do you plan to have your breakfast, because I'm eating here." She made a point of it so as to let me know who was in charge.

"Look Cindy I know you want to be rid of me, so that you can get back to your own life." Actually I didn't know that at all. "So let's say if you start trying to shove things down my throat, I am going to become uncooperative. At the least it will make your life miserable. Why not just go along with me on the stupid restaurants where we eat. I will go along with you on other things."

At first her face was flushed as if she were about to have a stroke. I suppose that after thinking about it, while sitting in the parking lot, she decided that it made better sense than to sit in the car all morning. "Alright where to?" she asked resigned to her breakfast fate.

"Just drive toward the downtown, we are bound to find a better place." We did find a better place. We found Oscar's breakfast house in a strip mall.

The place could have used an oil change before it got a new coat of paint inside. There had to be an accumulation of at least ten years cooking grease on the walls of the dining room. I noted that it had a 99.7% sanitation grade. My thinking was anything over 95% was good enough.

The eggs were perfect, and the hash brown potatoes were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. Oscar used highly spiced sausage and it too was delicious. Cindy opted for the smoked bacon with her breakfast. She ordered extra crispy and I could tell from the smile she tried to hide that the breakfast pleased her as well.

We spent the rest of that day with realtors and rental agents. Ones who had time to run all over the area showing us abandoned gas stations and grocery stores. Most of them dumped us after the first stop. Then we found one agent who was pretty chubby and sweaty. Most likely there weren't many appointments on his schedule, so except for a two hour lunch break, he spent most of the day with us.

It took a second day before he showed us what must have, once upon a time, been a service station and country store combination. That would have been before the state cut a new road around Monkey Junction. There was no town just a couple of buildings along the edges of the crossroads. The country store service station had one service bay, and a much larger room which must have been the grocery store part. It had only one bathroom, but it was a large room so it would work fine for me. I had hoped for a building in which I could live, but the building I saw would only work for the small business I hoped to open.

"So is this for sale or rent?" I asked.

"Both," the agent replied. "According to the listing information the owner is willing to rent it as is, or will do a small amount of renovations for a sale at full price."

"And what is the price and the rent?" Cindy asked.

"The asking price for the sale with all needed repairs is $95,000. To rent it as is with just minimum repairs, like patch the roof it is leaks, is $700 a month."

Cindy pulled me out of earshot of the chubby agent. "I'm not an expert, but this building is not worth that kind of money either way."

"I am absolutely sure that you are right. It's concrete block is likely from the forties, so it's probably sound enough. The floor is concrete with only one water source so there won't be a lot of floor to break up for plumbing repairs. The roof is wood frame with shingles which is pretty ordinary construction.. There is no ceiling in the shop so I can see how it's made. It has leaked for sure. the ceiling in the store part has water stains. The building probably has country water and sewer, if not those need to be checked and repaired as well. So if I got all that checked an repaired, plus repainting the place, I would be comfortable with a price of say $75,000 for a quick sale."

"Let me get an inspector and appraiser out here before you make an offer. I'm worried about the gas tanks as well," Cindy said referring to the above ground tanks which had been used to store the gas sold by the service station/country store. I was confident that they had been drained years before. Being above ground would make it easier to get them inspected and passed by the EPA.

"Let's make the offer just like that and add price to be reduced to appraised value if it is less. That should satisfy everyone. " It was the best suited of the places I had seen. Being ten miles from town would give me some problems, but I hoped not too many.

So that was the offer I made. The government was going to help me secure real estate and small business loans. My plan was to supplement that with money from the off shore bank. Cindy didn't need to know that part. As far as they knew the twenty thousand in my bank account when I went into the federal prison camp was all the money I had. The feds might suspect more but they couldn't find it.

I took a good look at Marshall Cindy Tripp as she drove from the parking lot. The Marshall service was obviously generous with their weight restrictions, if Cindy Tripp was any indication. She had to be at least thirty pounds overweight. She was not unattractive but it was in that large woman kind of way. You know all soft and round no corners at all.

During the drive she worked hard to avoid any reference to my crimes. "Since you aren't going to ask about my con of the Sanchez brothers, how do you feel about a political discussion?"

"No politics, no religion, and I know nothing of your background."

"Right?" I said sarcastically. Everyone in the Marshall service seemed to know. My only hope was that they didn't share with outsiders. If push came to stampede, I could always disappear on my own. I had done it previously without the Marshall's help. I expected that I hadn't forgotten how to go about it.

Since it was a boring drive along multi laned roads, and since Cindy Tripp was boring as hell, I passed the drive by napping against the car door. I slept much longer and harder than I had expected to.

"Wake up Mr. Wilson we are here."

Here was one of those modern motels which advertised suites. Sweets were quite a bit different that what I thought of as a suite but hey I could make a sandwich at midnight so I was happy enough. Upon arrival at the third floor suite, I found a two room unit one was a bedroom with a double bed and the other a combo living room and kitchen. The sofa was ugly enough to open into a bed for sure.

I searched the local online multiple listings, while Cindy went for pizza. There were plenty of properties for rent since the real estate market when to hell. I had a list of five addresses by the time Cindy showed up with the pizza.

While we ate she checked out my list. I watched TV while she did the search. It seemed as though the airwaves were filled with cop shows. It had to be a sign. A really bad one to me.

The hand off didn't come for a couple of more days, so I sat in that tiny little apartment with noting to do but research for my bike project. I figured the first thing I needed was to determine what kind of bike frame would work best, then find a seller.

From reading about five hundred entries on a couple of different forums, I found that a good steel framed dual suspension bike was my best bet. At the final sales price of the bike, I did not want to begin with a cheapo frame. I looked around and finally found a guy who sold a bike called the Mystic Mountain. It was an import from China of course, but it was a step above the department store bikes, or so the reviews all said. It came only partially assembled. The distributor assured me in an email that the assembly was simple and that all parts were warranted by him. There would be no going back to the china manufacturer for parts.

It all sounded good until he mention that the minimum order had to be for five bikes to get the special $125 each, wholesale price. The bike retailed for $200 bucks up depending on the bike shop. If I were to buy ten at a time the price dropped to $105.

Next I had to find a decent kit. After reading another five hundred forum entries I decided to go with a kit from a distributor in Hong Kong, If I bought five kits, which seemed like a lot, but since I had to buy at least five bikes, it would work out, I supposed. Each of the front motor hub kits contained the front wheel, with heavy duty spokes and tire. It also contained a 36volt speed controller and throttle. The price for the kits in orders of at least five was $450 and change.

The real pain in the butt came with the battery packs. There was no question at all, after only a hundred forum entries, that it had to be a lithium battery pack. The 36volt, twenty amp hour pack, which was the most economical size for the bike I planned to build, was going to run me over $600 bucks. I thought that it was a terrible price to pay, but I decided to spring for it anyway.

It looked as though the price of the bike complete would retail for about two grand. It was the price for a rich man's toy not a guy trying to commute to work for a reasonable price. I decided not to decide for the moment.

It was just as well. I got pulled back into the resettlement issue since the handover day had arrived. The drive from Charlotte to Raleigh took about four hours. We met my new handler for in the parking lot of a cheap steak houses by the interstate. I should have asked about the new handler in advance, but I just didn't care. One was the same as another as far as I was concerned.

"Eddie, this is Marshal Cindy Tripp. She will be your new handler." My temporary handler turned to Cindy and asked, "So Cindy how you doing."

"I'm just fine Will, So Eddie, I have your file. I have to admit you are the first client I have ever had who seems to understand the system. That doing time under the new ident was a brilliant stroke. There will be real white collar criminals who know you. It was just masterful."

"Come on Cindy don't get to enamored with our mooch, he is still just a mooch. Maybe he can talk nice, but in the end he is just a cheap grifter."

"Ten million in drug money, doesn't sound cheap to me."

"I lost it all though," I replied.

"Sure," she agreed. "You want to have lunch or move on down the road first?"

"Move on down the road a ways. Your buddy here wasn't all that great a companion, I do hope you will be better."

"I'm just here to help you settle in Eddie, not be your best friend. Still I might be your best friend, if you get in trouble down there."

"I don't expect to do that. My big plan is to be a respectable businessman, and part time beach bum."

"That sounds encouraging, So lets get a move on." She signed a couple of documents then we switched to her car. Just like all the Marshalls, she drove a nondescript car. Hers was a Chevy Malibue. It was new, but completely ordinary in every other way. Right off the lot with just the right number of bells and whistles but no fancy options.