by Don Bruns
“When do you want it?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Be here in one hour, Mr. Moore. And bring Mr. Lessor with you. I’d feel better knowing where the two of you are at the same time.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Mr. Moore, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Bring the white truck.”
“Okay.”
“Not the brown one.” And he was gone.
James was leaning in, picking up the conversation. “Didn’t seem to appreciate the UPS truck diversion, did he?”
“Nope. What are we going to do, James?”
“J.J. is home.” He’d walked to the door and looked outside.
“I don’t care about J.J. We’ve got to get that card.”
“Listen, amigo. You may not agree with this, but Jim Jobs turns out to be a pretty good tech guy. Hell, he worked with nuclear bombs. Look how he took charge of your project.”
I didn’t need to be reminded.
“If we can lay this out for him, maybe he can help us.”
“Jim Jobs? Have you lost your mind?” He was already walking down to J.J.’s door.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“Closed the place down, boys. Feng comes out and says ‘everybody go home.’ And then he and the Gestapo stood there by the front door and checked everyone before we left.”
“And the cops?”
“Oh, they got all of the names and contact information.” J.J. sat on the well-worn green cloth couch, his wrinkled T-shirt proudly announcing Age and Treachery Will Win Out Every Time Over Youth and Skill. I hoped that wasn’t true.
“Guys, we don’t have time to sit here and discuss this. Em is in serious trouble.”
“Em?” J.J. gave me a puzzled look.
I laid it out as fast as I could, and it still took me over four minutes.
“You don’t have this card, correct?” He smiled and I could see his tongue through the missing front teeth.
“No. And if I don’t produce this card, this blue—”
J.J. scratched himself, let out a long breath and stood up. He turned the corner at the hallway, a mirror opposite of our apartment, and disappeared from view.
“James, Em is in serious trouble and we’re dealing with a—”
“Here you go.” J.J. had the identical card between his thumb and index finger. “It’s blank, with a lot of static on it. Now, if you give this to them, it’s probably enough. If they want to check it out to see if it’s the genuine card from the smoke detector,” he glanced at me, then held me with his eyes, “that one I told you was going to be trouble. Do you remember?”
I nodded.
“Well, it will have static. You tell them that it was run through a magnetic field. You got on an airplane or went through a metal detector somewhere.”
“That erases the card?”
“No. But chances are these guys don’t know that. We haven’t got time to develop much of a plan at all. Go with what you’ve got.”
I couldn’t believe this guy actually had a plan at all. “We’ll use it. Thanks so much, man.”
“You mentioned, briefly, that you had other detection equipment?”
“Well,” James started to do his shuffle, possibly because a spring from his chair seemed exposed and was possibly painful. “We used a GPS unit and something called The Sound Max. It’s a—”
“Hey, I know The Sound Max.”
I remember rolling my eyes at James. “I doubt that you—”
“Long wand, picks up conversations from almost anywhere.”
Damn.
“This building, it’s got two stories?”
“Yeah.”
“Get there early.”
Early was now.
“Set that puppy up on the roof and record the entire transaction.”
“Thanks, man.”
“It’s the best I can do on short notice.” He picked up a toothpick from the end table by the couch and started working in his mouth. James and I bolted for the door, and sixty seconds later we were on the road.
“For a ten-minute talk, it’s not a bad plan, Pancho.”
I had to admit it.
“Damn Sandy Conroy.”
“James, it’s not Conroy.”
“Guy on the phone said it was.” James ground the brakes at the stoplight, looking right and left, then driving through the red.
“Doesn’t make any difference. Chen is the only one who knows about the card.”
“How do you figure?”
“We were in the building the night Sandy Conroy asked Carol about us spying on him. She didn’t volunteer the information about the smoke detector, did she?”
“No. It never came up.”
“But she thought Chen was her partner. Chen was meeting with her at the Tiny Tots Academy. She told him about it. Chen knew about the card.”
“Why didn’t she give it to him. It pretty much incriminated Sandy Conroy.”
“I would guess, just a guess, that she kept the card as a bargaining tool. She had evidence on Sandy with the card. Chen may not know what’s on it, but he knows it has some evidence of the codes.”
“So you’re pretty sure Chen has Em?”
It rang in my ears. Chen has Em. Chen has Em. Chen has Em. “I’d bet on it. And he’s blaming it on Sandy Conroy, just in case we tell anyone.”
The brakes ground as he stopped at a light. It flashed green and James tromped on the gas as the truck eased ahead, slowly.
“James, if anything happens to Em, I will never, ever forgive myself.”
“I won’t forgive myself, amigo. But you know what? We’re going to get her back. I promise you.”
We were both quiet for sixty seconds. Then I could see the building, two blocks away, the gaudy graffiti splashed all over the outside. “I’d give my life for her, James.”
“Hey, you won’t have to.”
“I would. I really would. I just know that.” At that moment there was no question. If I had to die to save her, I’d do it. I just didn’t know it would come to that.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“Where do we park the truck?” James wheeled into the small parking area. I watched as the black and red whirls and swirls blended and spread out on the white stucco surface of the building. The artist had almost effected motion in his spray-painted tableau.
“Pull around back.”
You could ask James just about anything, but don’t ask him to back up. Without a rearview mirror—using only side mirrors—he was a basket case. But pulling around back was within his capabilities.
And there it was. As if by magic, a metal ladder ran to the roof of the second floor, bolted to the graffitied surface of the structure.
“You son of a gun. I’ve been around you all my life, Kemo Sabe, and I’ve never seen you get so lucky.”
I jumped from the truck and jogged to the rear, opened the sliding door and pulled out The Sound Max.
I checked my cell phone. We had about twenty minutes before I had to turn over J.J.’s bogus card. Pulling the box with the wand and recording unit out, I walked to the ladder, and, cradling the equipment in one arm, I started the climb. Two stories. Not a big deal.
“You’ll be all right, compadre,” James yelled up after me. He knew I was somewhat apprehensive when it came to heights.
Another step, and don’t look down. And another, and another. You can make fun, laugh if you will, but once anyone steps off ground zero, things get a little iffy. By the time I passed story one, I was breathing hard. Partly from the exercise, partly from the fear. I finally reached the top, looking down at James in the truck and wanting to throw up.
Pulling myself up on the roof, I refrained from looking down again. I dropped the bundle, then set the folding tripod in place. Lowering it to almost surface level, I mounted the wand onto the tripod. “James, can you see the wand?” I never looked down. Just shouted out loud.
“I see nothing, pard
ner.”
Plug in the wire, to the wand, then to the recorder. That should do it. The battery pack still showed two hours of life. If anything was said in the parking lot, we should be able to capture it. The word capture gave me a chill.
“Get down here, pal. They may be coming any minute.”
“Without an armload of spy ware, the descent was considerably easier. And, I was headed for the ground, where I belonged.
“Quick, let’s drive around front.”
James shifted into drive and pulled around front, parking next to the door with the rusty padlock.
“Number one thing is to get her back. That’s all. That thing on the roof, it’s not the most important thing here, James.”
“Settle down, pard. Courage.”
“I don’t feel so courageous. I just want her back.”
“We’re the only ones who can do it. Cops aren’t any help.” The bitterness was in his voice. “You know, whatever we say down here, right now, will be on the recording up there.”
“Yeah.”
So we both shut up for five minutes. The occasional car drove by, a couple of box trucks similar to ours. Even a police car cruised by. Nobody gave us a glance. The workingman’s vehicle, a used Chevy box truck. It was like walking into a business with a tie on and a clipboard in your hand. I’d heard that you could go just about anywhere with a clipboard. You looked official and nobody would question you. And I agreed with James that you could drive a box truck just about anywhere as well. It just seemed to fit.
Three blocks away a gray Honda turned the corner. “Heads up, amigo.”
“We’ve got to get her back, James.”
“It’s the Lord’s will. I mean it.”
The car pulled up and the driver’s door opened. An Asian man stepped out. Dark hair, good build, square jaw, and a sharp crease in his trousers. Professionally ironed, I would guess.
“Mr. Moore, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He didn’t offer his hand. “Do you have the card?”
I looked down at his feet. The black shoes were scuffed. “I have the card, Mr. Chen. Where’s Emily?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to take you to her. Let me see the card.” The Sound Max was up there picking it all up. I needed to make sure there was no mistake as to what was going on. “Once I give you this card, you’ll release Emily?”
He glanced around the parking lot. Walking to the truck, he unlatched the rear door and looked inside. Finally he walked back to me. “Yeah. I’ll release the girl.”
That was what I needed to hear.
“Lean against the car, hands on the door.”
I did as he ran his hands over my sides and front. I would have been hard-pressed to conceal a recorder in my jeans and T-shirt. He had James do the same thing.
“I assume this is the card,” he said as he pulled an envelope from my rear pocket.
I hesitated. This was the moment I’d dreaded. If he didn’t believe it was the real thing, I could probably say good-bye to Em.
“Get in the car.”
James took a step back.
“You. You drive the truck and follow us.”
Chen opened the passenger door, and I glanced at the hood before sliding in. A dent on the left side looked like a body might have done the damage. Shuddering, I closed the door. James got in the truck.
Chen was quiet as he started the car.
There were so many things I wanted to say. So many questions I wanted to ask, but if this guy knew what I thought we knew, he’d never let any of us go. I’d pretty much figured out he was behind Ralph Walters’s death and possibly those of Tony Quatman and his wife. I knew he’d killed Carol Conroy. This guy had nothing left to lose, except the rumored $75,000,000 from the Chinese. I think LeBron James got a contract with Nike Shoes for $99,000,000 and he never had to kill anyone. Just rough them up on the basketball court.
We drove a familiar path. I’d been heading that way for several days now, and I was pretty certain that Synco Systems was our final destination. This was the time where Chen should admit what had been going on. Telling me that he had a private plane taking him to an unknown location, and we’d never hear from him again. But he didn’t. This was the place in a good movie where I would say, “You know, you’ll never get away with this. The Department of Defense has all the information on you, and they’re freezing all their codes.” But I didn’t.
I was pretty certain that the DOD had blown me off. And this was the time I should have leaned over, looked him in the eyes as he drove, and said, “If anything has happened to her, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.” But I didn’t. Nothing was said as we pulled into the parking lot, James driving in behind us.
Chen got out of the vehicle and looked back at the truck. “I didn’t think that thing could make it this far.”
He opened his trunk, and motioned to James and me. We gathered around and he pointed to a large package in the well. “It’s heavy. Pick it up and take it inside.”
We looked at each other, an uneasy frown on James’s face. Together we picked up the box, about the size and weight of a case of beer. It was wrapped in several layers of plain brown paper. I wondered how much $75,000,000 in cash would weigh. Probably more than this, but I certainly had no frame of reference.
“Go.” A man of few words.
Three cars were in the lot. Em’s new blue BMW wasn’t one of them. Neither was Sandy’s yellow sports car. There was Carol Conroy’s Lexus, a new Cadillac, and another gray Honda Accord. I could only guess who was left in the building.
“Work room. Set it on a table.” We put it on a worktable next to a computer station and stepped back.
“Office one.” Chen pointed. No gun, no force, just the fact that he had Em and we didn’t.
I opened the office door and there they were. On the floor, side by side, tied with white plastic rope. Sandy Conroy, Feng, and Emily. And sitting on the desk, pistol in hand was Sarah Crumbly.
“Skip. I’m really sorry you had to get involved.” She nodded at me, a grim smile on her face.
“Gotta go where the money is, right, Sarah?”
“It’s just too sweet a deal to pass up, Skip. Just too sweet.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I’d never seen it coming. But then, I’m not sure she did either. Sarah Crumbly was a hooker. For sale to the highest bidder. When someone made her a better offer, she took it. It was as simple as that. It made sense.
“Can we untie Emily now. You’ve got your card.” James froze his stare.
“It’s not quite that easy.” Chen glanced around the room. “We’re taking the girl with us.”
“Hold on, you promised me that—” I glanced at Em. A rag was stuffed in her mouth, and her eyes were full of fire.
“We’re leaving her at the abandoned building. If you leave this building, or this office, within the next half hour, we’ll kill her.”
I turned my attention to Sarah. Hooking was one thing. Killing was something else. She never met my gaze, just held onto the pistol, waving it back and forth at the trio on the floor.
“Are we understood?”
I wanted to jump this guy. He was about five eleven, in good shape, but I knew James and I could have taken him. And why we didn’t, I don’t know. I don’t think that Sarah had the courage or desire to fire the pistol, but I couldn’t take the chance.
Chen leaned down and picked up Em, dragging her toward the door. “I’m closing this office door. And then I’m going to stand here and wait. I can’t tell you how long. If you open that door, I’ll shoot the girl, and I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“You can pick the girl up at the building in an hour.” Cold, menacing.
Sarah jumped off the desk and followed Chen out the door. I didn’t hold out much hope that she’d survive this ordeal either, but you could never tell. She pushed the door shut and James and I stood there, not knowing what to say. Em
was still in a lot of trouble.
There was a gurgle from the floor and Sandy Conroy scooted on his back and gave me a pleading look. Feng stared up as well.
“I don’t see any reason to help these two, do you?” James nodded to the two men.
“No. James, we should call the cops.”
“You should never call the cops, Skip.” The day they hauled his father off to prison was the end of any trust James had for officers of the law.
“But, man—”
“Bro, you call, they go after Chen, he kills Em.”
And, of course, he was right.
“What do you think was in the box?” The thought was in my mind too.
“I thought it might be money.”
“Yeah.” James sat down on the edge of the desk. “Lots of money.”
“James, do you think they’ll leave Em off at the building?”
“Skip, I can’t figure out why they left us all here. I mean this guy has apparently killed anyone who got in his way. So why leave us all alive to tell the authorities what happened?”
“Makes no sense.”
We were quiet for a minute. I glanced at my cell phone and saw that five minutes had passed. Sandy and Feng lay on the ground, obviously very pissed off at us.
“Do you think they’re out there? Ready to shoot if we open that door?”
“No.” I didn’t. I figure Chen was buying time. He was long gone.
“Care to take a peak?”
I thought about it. Em’s life would be in danger. I walked to the door and twisted the handle. “I’ll just tell ’em I had to go to the bathroom.”
I opened the door just a crack. Couldn’t see much. A little wider and I froze. There she was, lying on a worktable next to the brown box. I cringed, waiting for a gunshot. Nothing. I opened the door just a little farther, and saw the raw fear in Em’s eyes. Quickly glancing around the room I saw they were gone. And then it hit me.
I bolted out of the room. “James. Down. On the floor.” I grabbed the box, heavy, bulky like a case of beer, and I bolted for the doors. Down the hall, past the reception area, my legs pumping, my arms aching. The flames in my lungs leaped into my throat and my mouth as I hit the door. It opened and I ran into the parking lot, thinking that I’d seen this play out once before. Ten steps into the lot, I heaved the box, fell to the ground, and buried my head under my arms. I think I heard the roar of the explosion. But I’m not sure. I was dead.
