by AJ Newman
“Dr. Brunner, what stage in the process do the issues start? After the Nanogold catalyst is added?” I asked while watching Brunner’s face. I knew that most people had a tell when they lied.
“No, it appears to happen about thirty minutes into the mixing process most of the time.”
I’d asked Cindy to look around and see what the process team’s reaction was to their visit. Cindy noticed an older black man with a broom who frowned and shook his head. She tapped me on the shoulder, and we fell back from the others for a minute.
“Dad, that old dude disagrees with what Brunner said. We need to interview him away from work.”
I’d heard her comment but caught something out of the corner of my eye. Several flies buzzed by my ear. I slapped at them and knocked a couple to the floor. “We’ll need to talk with him. Sometimes the least knowledgeable about an issue has the most insight.”
We walked on for a few minutes and climbed up metal stairs to stand twenty feet above the operation. I saw the industrial size Roomba sitting unused in a corner. It had some rags lying on top and was blocked in by some drums. Now, I did one of those double takes or whatever they call them when you notice something strange. They had five men and women sweeping the floors, rearranging gay lords of raw materials, and generally screwing around doing nothing.
Later, I caught Doctor Brunner. “Doctor Brunner, there appears to be an excessive amount of manual labor in the building. I saw a robot floor cleaner sitting in a corner that can replace three of the floor sweepers.”
“Oh, the sweeper broke down, and we had to call in some temps to clean until the tech comes to fix it.”
I watched the old black man, and he chuckled to himself and began shaking his head again. Mike and Beth had a meeting across town, so we called it a day and said our goodbyes to Brunner and his team.
“Mike, Cindy and I are heading home and will have a report on what we saw in the morning. Where do you want to meet up?”
“How about Long John’s at 7:00 am?”
“Works for Cindy and me.”
Chapter 12
Mobile, Alabama
Cindy drove away but stopped inside the Brookley complex. I read her mind. “Hon, the first shift ends at three, and most of the crew stops for a beer at Al’s about two miles up the Parkway. I want to buy that old man a beer.”
“How do you know that?”
“When I went to the john, I asked one of the help where to get a drink after work.”
“Dad, it’s only mid-morning.”
“I know. I’m punching an address into the GPS. We’re going to my student’s home. She was supposed to work as an intern at New Wave, and I saw her in an office there. She just left. I have another wacky idea that might rock the boat, but there is a lot more going on in that lab than a poor chemical reaction.”
“Don’t you think you should call her first?”
“I don’t have her phone number. For some odd reason, it’s not listed on her student info. Drive.”
“Will you let her think I’m your girlfriend?”
“No!” Damn, I answered too quickly.
“Hmmm. You let old men think I’m your girlfriend, and hot young students quickly know I’m your kid. I think you need a shrink. You’re too old to be bonking your students.”
I got serious. “Hon, I know you’re joking, but I don’t dip my pen in company ink, or bonk my students. I’m kinda tired of teaching but still, need the job to pay the bills.”
Crimson cheeks didn’t become my daughter. “Dad, I’m sorry. I guess I forgot who I was talking with.”
“Hon, you can tease me in private all you want, but bonking students is out of line. I usually bonk in private. Perhaps you can tell me about that professor you were bonking?”
The crimson spread to her neck until I thought she was going to explode. “Touché.”
“Hey, that’s Jane’s truck up there. Pull in behind it.”
Cindy stopped the car behind the old F150, and we started toward the house when I saw a head lift in the cab of the truck. Jane furiously wiped at her tears and checked her face in the mirror before opening her door.
“Doctor Logan, is there something wrong? I saw you at New Wave.”
I walked up and introduced Cindy. “Jane Beam, this is Cindy Logan, my daughter. I also saw you at New Wave and wanted to discuss something with you, but first, I would like to hear what New Wave said that upset you. Then, I want to tell you what we were doing at New Wave.”
“The HR lady seemed to be interested in bringing me aboard, but when she asked me about my professors, she excused herself and came back. A short time later, she told me they’d selected another student to work there for the summer.”
“What did you say about your professors?”
“Naturally, I told them how great you all were and that you had been my mentor. That’s about the time she lost interest.”
Jane listened to my explanation about my connection to Mike, the owner of J&M. “What does that have to do with me? They apologized and told me that they didn’t need me.”
Before I could say anything, a young boy ran down the steps, followed by a grumpy looking woman. “Momma, Momma!”
Jane picked the boy up and hugged him. The woman stopped and whispered a bit too loudly. “Your rent is overdue.”
The woman abruptly left, and Jane’s eyes watered, but she held back the tears. I was pissed because Jane was distressed and a bit surprised by my emotion. “Jane, I’m sorry I caught you at a bad time. My plan was to have you be my spy at New Wave to help see what’s going wrong with our equipment or process. Now it appears you have time on your hands. Would you like to work for J&M with Cindy and me at New Wave? I’ll pay you whatever New Wave was to pay.”
Jane’s frown slowly went away. “They were going to pay me fifteen per hour.”
“That’s too low. I’ll pay twenty, and here’s a signing bonus.”
I stripped off five one hundred dollar bills. “Don’t say anything but, ‘I’ll take the job.’ I need someone I can trust, and that person would be hard to find.”
Jane took the money, “Doc, you two came along at just the right time for me. Of course, I’ll take the job. It will help until fall when my master’s program starts.”
Cindy stuck her two cents into the conversation. “Thanks, Dad, for giving me the help I needed to get the job done. Jane and I’ll get along great. Jane, can we meet this evening at Dad’s house on the island and then walk over to Long John’s for supper to discuss the details? Bring your son. My treat.”
Honestly, Cindy jumping in initially put me off, but maybe that was because her mom was such a bossy bitch. “Jane, you’re in good hands and will report to Cindy. You both have similar interests and career paths. Now, we have to go to another meeting. Sorry, please forgive my bad manners. What’s your son’s name?”
“Jere for Jeremy. His dad didn’t come back from the Middle East.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I lost a few friends over there myself. You have a fine young boy there. I’ll see you tonight. Daughter, we need to get on to the next meeting.”
Cindy stopped the car and pulled to the curb when we turned the corner. She reached over and kissed me on the cheek. “That was sweet. Obviously, she’s in a bind for money. Does J&M have work for both of us next year?”
“Only if we get creative and develop a way to pay for her salary and make Mike some money.”
Cindy pushed the clutch in and shifted to first gear. “Dad, are you paying her out of your earnings?”
“None ya bizness! Daughter, drive, and mind your own business.”
Cindy rubbed her chin, and I knew more about Jane was inbound. “I guess this explains why a woman who could get a full ride from major universities is staying in Mobile. Even with tuition paid for, she has to stay close to her mom for support. She couldn’t afford to live around one of the leaders in Nanotechnology. Just the cost of babysitting would bankrupt her.”
; “I think Mike will see what a great asset Jane will be. I hope J&M and I’ll help her through her master’s program. Jane is the best undergraduate chemistry student I’ve ever seen.”
She leaned over to kiss me on the cheek; her foot slid off the clutch, made the car bug jump, and die. I laughed, and she burned rubber taking off. Damn, my expensive tires were taking a beating today.
Chapter 13
Al’s Place – Tillmans Corner, Alabama
I stripped my coat and tie off before entering Al’s Place. I also had to untuck my shirt to cover my pistol. It wasn’t a cut and stab kinda place, but it wasn’t a place for the social elite of the area either. I looked around the room and didn’t spot anything that gave me heartburn. The bar was mainly calm, but every now and then, a bad group would try to take over. Al wouldn’t stand for it and ran them off quickly.
A lady led us to our table.
Al’s food was great, the beer ice cold, and the wait-staff courteous but nothing to look at. The aroma coming from the kitchen made your mouth water as you waited to be seated. The building had been a grocery store back in the 1920s and looked the part on the outside. Only the new sign was modern. Cigarette smoke rose from the bar area, which was in the front left side across from a small seating area for those waiting on a table. Pictures of famous and infamous people from Mobile covered the inside walls. Many of them had been to Al’s place and had their photo taken with Al.
Al was actually Alice Lone Eagle, a Cheyenne in her seventies from Montana. She was a crusty old girl who could take care of herself. Alice’s husband had been stationed in Pensacola in the Navy and was killed in an accident. She’d bought the old store and started a bar forty some odd years ago. She had an early model 1911 .45 in her waistband and a double barrel shotgun under the counter. Alice didn’t allow fights and had shot several slugs into the ceiling to get drunks' attention when the bouncers couldn’t handle a fight.
It was a bit early, and only two men and a working girl were at the bar. The men were willing but broke. The working girl settled for some free drinks and boring conversation. A couple sat in the back booth, and I didn’t want Cindy to see what they were doing below the table. I maneuvered her to one of the side booths. I didn’t see the older man.
“As I live and breathe, it’s my old friend John. John, you haven’t been in here since you killed that monster. How’s that hoity-toity bitch ex-wife of yours doing? Is this your new girlfriend? Damn, she could be your daughter.”
I couldn’t find a rock to crawl under. “Alice, I’m glad to see you again. This is Cindy. She’s my daughter from that hoity-toity bitch you mentioned.”
Cindy punched my arm. “Alice, I’m honored to meet you. Dad speaks highly of you.”
Al’s face was bright red. “Does he mention that he caught that murderer right here? They traded gunshots, and the bastard fell dead in that booth over there. Look closely, and you can still see the bullet holes. Your old man took a slug in his arm.”
Cindy’s head yanked around to me. I shook my head. “Alice, please bring us some draft beer and a plate of your fried pickles.”
“Dad, you can’t change the subject like that. I knew you shot the man, but no one knew you were wounded. Mom would croak.”
“And I don’t want anyone to know who doesn’t already know. It was only a scratch… anyway.”
We ate the fried pickles dipped in Alice’s special sauce and had a couple of beers while we waited for the old guy to show up. About three, the crowd increased, and by four, the bar was three-quarters full. Cindy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.
“That’s him.”
I motioned to Alice to join us. “Do you know the old man at the end of the bar? I want to buy him a drink.”
“What old man? Ken is ten years younger than me. Are you saying I’m old?”
I stammered as I tried to think of a reply.
“I’m just messing with you. Can I ask why you want to talk with Ken? He’s not in trouble, is he? I’ve known him for a long time. He just sold his barbershop a year ago when his girlfriend disappeared. He’s been a bit off ever since.”
“He’s not in trouble. He works out at Brookley, and I hope he knows something about the business he works at. My company does business with them.”
“John, a word of advice, that old man was a Marine and then a Navy Seal back in the day. He can still kill you with one finger.”
Alice went to the bar, made a drink for the man, and ushered him to our table. “Ken, please join us. I’m John Logan, and this is my assistant. We visited New …”
“I know. I saw you there. There’s nothing I have to say about them.”
I took a hundred from my pocket and ordered another round. “Does this help loosen your tongue?”
“No, but I’d get real talkative with another two of those bills.”
I pulled another two hundred dollar bills from my money clip and handed them to Ken. “Now, does the auto-sweeper work?”
“Works much better than I can sweep.”
“Why do you work there as a sweeper?”
“I need the money.”
I stopped for a few seconds. “Have you seen anything odd going on around the reaction vessels?”
“A few times. That Russian prick and his friends sometimes appear to be tinkering with the batch settings and have added some crap they bring from the Russian’s office. They do most of their work on the third shift. I’ve been asked to come in a couple of times to drive a forklift for them. The stuff they make on third is almost identical to what’s made on days, but they appear to handle it cautiously like nitroglycerin.”
My mind heard Russians and bogged down, remembering my run-in with the Russian over at Joe’s. There wasn’t anything solid yet, but I don’t like coincidences. “What third shift?”
The old man looked surprised.
“There’s always been a third shift. I told you … that’s when the Russians play around in the lab.”
“Where do the Russians stay when they’re away from the lab?”
“They sleep at the lab and don’t stir around until after day shift has gone for the day.”
This crap was getting more confusing. Who the hell are the Russians, and was the one looking for Punk one of them? I don’t like coincidences. “Have you seen anything else that raised the hair on the back of your neck?”
“Yes, the cleaning staff doesn’t last long.”
“I wouldn’t think that would be uncommon in that line of work.”
“I mean they can’t be found. The boss told us a couple of them were illegals and got arrested, and a few others went to work elsewhere. I can’t find any of them.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“It’s a research lab, and labs need guinea pigs.”
“Oh, crap! Ken, was your girlfriend one of them?”
His nostrils flared. “Yes, and she went there to find her father, who had been my superior and best friend. That’s all you get for the money.”
“Come on. One last question.”
“Okay.”
“How many Russians have you seen, and do they look like military types?”
“They all look like ex-military and appear to be armed. Those men must be special forces.”
“What makes you believe that?”
“Weren’t you in the military?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“The way you entered the room. The way you swung your arms as you walked. You made sure the room was safe for your companion. You have a pistol on your back. Probably in a paddle holster. You’re not ex-special forces. You’re not cocky enough and don’t move like a trained killer. I guess the short story is after years of working with spec ops, you know them when you see them.”
“How did you know all of that? You weren’t in the restaurant when we came in a few minutes ago.”
“It was twenty-two minutes ago, and I was in the back corner in the dark. I didn’t want to be seen.”<
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“Thanks. I’ll stay in touch and have a few more hundreds.”
Ken looked at us and started to say something when a man entered the side door. Ken glared at the man and walked out of the bar in a hurry while the man was distracted.
“Oh, crap!” The man was the Russian from Joe’s. Ken was afraid of the man, and now I was too. I had Cindy with me, so I dropped enough bills to cover our tab plus a generous tip, and we slinked out of the bar unnoticed. Or, so we thought at the time.
Cindy maneuvered my car to the parking lot exit. “Hon, take a left and head north on Government Boulevard I want to see if the Russian guy made us.”
“Dad, are we in danger?”
“I don’t know, but do what I say when I say, and we’ll be okay.” I pulled my new 9 mm from behind my back and pushed it under my left leg. Then I retrieved my Glock 17 and an extra thirty-one round magazine from the glove compartment. I needed more firepower.
Cindy saw the guns. “Dad, are we in danger?”
“Hon, we’re prepared for danger, so don’t freak out.” Just then, I saw the black SUV from the bar about two cars behind us. “Take the left on Demetropolis. Shit, run the light!”
Tires squealed, and we shot through the intersection safely. I watched in the mirror and saw the black SUV slam against an old van and then dodge cars as it negotiated the turn against the red light. “Turn right!” Then a few seconds later, I yelled, “Turn left and then right at the next turn!”
I saw the SUV turn the wrong way. “Make the next right, and you’ll be on Government. Take a right up ahead when you see Demetropolis again.”
“Dad, what’s going on?”
I didn’t know. “Hon, I think that guy wants Punk. He looks like the guy who was asking questions about the dog over at Joe’s the other night. He was abusive to Joe’s bouncer, and Joe called the cops on him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that tidbit?”
“Didn’t know it was an issue, but now we’re seeing Russians pop up everywhere.”
I directed her back to Highway 93, and we were on our way home. The drive back to my place was silent until we crossed the bridge. Apparently, my daughter had been stewing over the situation. “What the freaking hell have we gotten ourselves into? Was that guy from New Wave, and why was he after us?”
