by Matt Rogers
Chapter 36
The pizza had a calming effect on them all. They took their time eating the wonderful pie topped with supreme pleasure and sat back to allow their digestion to take hold. They were in a quandary and knew the truth for what it was; Johnny Johnson was indeed listed in the database and therefore had been screened by the intoxicating wonder which was Melissa. They didn’t know the exact contents of the screening process but Wesson was pretty confident the answers would not be something he desired. He estimated the odds of Mr. Johnson not having something to do with the fact a prison he held a controlling interest in also happened to be the very one Bob Simpson and Steve Wazziznaim met their maker before Bob was also found dead in a closet also in a location the mysterious Mr. Johnson happened to reside. Everything was indicating illegality which was not very good for the bottom line when the issue of monetary gain was approached. As they were stuffing their mouths with bread, sauce and cheese Wesson did a metal calculation of where it was they stood. His conclusion found him on a ledge where a leap was required. He didn’t know what was in the file or even the access code necessary to open it but he had to try. For some reason he knew the answer to economic independence was located in the digital bytes and was determined to sample the contents.
Smith found himself in the same position but under different pressures. It wasn’t the unraveling of clues and formation of theories which was his talent, he was more the ladle which stirred the pot. The pot was Wesson’s skull and the stew inside was his innate intuition and dogged determination to find answers to problems needing solutions. At that time the solution was how to locate Mr. Johnson without uncovering criminal mischief. So far they hadn’t actually found any. It didn’t mean there wasn’t any and Smith was quite worried if they dug too deep they’d dig themselves out of financial freedom. He was also worried about one other slight detail which Wesson had not brought up… and then he did.
“Smith?”
“Seriously? Again?”
“It can’t hurt to ask.”
Smith knew it wouldn’t hurt physically but his emotional state was another matter entirely. He didn’t know why he was upset over something so trivial but in the end it didn’t really matter because he was going to do what his partner wished so long as a glimmer of hope remained in sight.
“Hello, Nat?”
“Hello, Detective Smith. I assume you’re not calling to tell me the whereabouts of Mr. Johnson?”
“Sorry, not yet, but I’ve got a feeling the next time we speak I’ll have a better answer for you.”
Smith could almost feel the butler’s interest rise over the phone.
“Really?”
“Yes, but first we need your help one more time.”
“I already told you, Detective, if you are trying to access the Hillcrest Blood Bank’s files you already hold the key in your hand.”
“Um, yeah, about that. You see, we entered the program once we figured out your little phone number thing but now we’ve sort of hit another roadblock.”
Smith waited for some off-the-cuff vague response or even a dial tone to indicate he’d been cut off but instead was greeted with something quite different.
“Excuse me?”
“Um, I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t hear me. I said we have run into another…”
“Did you say another roadblock?” Smith heard and sensed worry for the first time in the servant’s voice.
“Yes, there is a secondary security code within the program. We need that authorization code to access Mr. Johnson’s file.”
He could literally hear the emotions coming through the line. It was a strange sensation and one he’d never had before but he was positive the butler-cop was actually stunned at the revelation.
“Detective Smith?”
“Yes?”
“I will need to get back to you in a moment. Please stay by your phone.”
Smith glanced at his handset for the man had disconnected but at least he had done so with a somewhat acceptable form of severance.
“What did he say?” Wesson inquired.
“He seemed surprised another security code was in place.”
Both men looked at each other and then at the two owners of the blood bank. Both were heartily intrigued by their conversation and seemed to be interested in what was going to transpire next.
“Mistress Priscilla?”
“Yes, Detective Smith?”
“Do you have the authorization code for Mr. Johnson?”
“No, Detective, I surely do not. Although I believe you already possess the knowledge necessary.”
Smith was positive he had no such thing. He was going to answer her statement in the negative when his phone began ringing.
“This is Smith” he said as he answered.
“Detective, I am sorry for the trouble but I’m afraid I will be of no help to you at this particular junction. I have no authority for this type of circumstance.”
Smith instantly became confused.
“Huh?”
“You have entered a Superior realm and I have no authorization in those matters.”
“Seriously? Are you telling me we’ve come all this way and you can’t find someone to hack into this computer?”
“I am sorry, Detective, but in this case my authority does not extend beyond what I have given you. I am afraid you will need to find another way to locate Mr. Johnson.”
Smith was about to tell the not all-powerful butler to drop his act and get them the code but was denied the privilege through dial tone.
“Son of a…! He hung up on me again!”
“You really should be used to it by now” Wesson intoned and Smith ignored.
Smith was angry. He was mad at getting hung up on and mad at a computer program. He had the same feeling as Wesson; whatever was in the file would give them the answers they were looking for. It could be an address or a phone number or even the name of his next of kin. It didn’t matter, they were close and both bloodhounds could feel it.
“Well, what do we do now?” Smith asked.
“We finish our pizza” Wesson replied.
Smith looked at his partner and wondered. Wesson was not like other men, he couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. It was one of the reasons Smith generally took the lead on cases. It was Wesson who would do the solving but Smith would show the way.
“You already know the password?”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
“You mind letting me in on the secret?”
Wesson glanced over to Priscilla and Vincent.
“I believe the person who added the second security layer is the man we are currently looking for”
When they smiled he knew his guess had hit the mark.
“I’m also coming to the conclusion for some reason or another everyone wants us to find Mr. Johnson but are playing some kind of game in the process.”
Once again a pair of smiles confirmed his suspicion.
“Therefore the security code is something which will immediately jump to mind when the thought of accessing Mr. Johnson’s file comes up.”
Smith looked at his partner as realization smacked him in the head. He knew he was right but couldn’t believe it until he entered the keyword and the file of Mr. Johnson became available.
SECURITY CODE REQUIRED
PRIVILEGE
The information was not what they’d prepared for. The truth was both felt a vial would be a much safer transport container for a deadly virus than what the gentleman with a thousand secrets provided.
“Does that say…?”
“Yep. Mr. Johnson was a Bird Flu carrier.”
The readout was straightforward. Three vials of blood were obtained from the left arm of Johnny Johnson, screened and then purportedly disposed of by the tech in charge, Melissa. On the exact same day Johnny’s blood was removed the two prisoners who hoped to reap oil profits off land they both had a claim to were diagnosed with the only known cases to ha
ve entered the territory they resided in. The information contained in Johnny’s file had never been accessed, his records had remained sealed until the two detectives from the top investigative firm of Craft and Sons worked their way backward to find a man who appeared to be one of the rare forms of individuals who could host the flu without any ill effects. Nothing on his chart indicated the slightest symptom of discomfort, no side effects or health problems, in fact, no health conditions at all. He was in every way the epitome of average. The file was slightly disconcerting to the detectives for while it was still circumstantial it was quite a coincidence the man they were after would be a carrier for a disease which killed two men who held a previous lien on the property producing oil his family controlled. There was also one other slight detail which caught their attention.
“Is that a phone number?”
“Yep.”
“Is that our names?”
“Yep.”
At the bottom of the page on the lower right hand corner was an invitation.
“Dear Detectives Smith and Wesson. Congratulations. Please call when you find this note. 666-666-6666.”
“Are those all sixes?”
“It would appear to be the case.”
Smith wasn’t sure he wanted to dial to a number which contained the numerical moniker of the Beast but also saw no reason not to so he opened his phone, punched in the code and waited for infinite wealth to answer.
