“Wait a minute mister, I’m sure I can make an exception. You said I could keep the change? O.K. just don’t tell anybody that I did you this favor, OK?”
Loughlin thought to himself that social engineering and natural greed goes a long way to get you what you want, but what he said was; “Sure thing Chief. I appreciate the favor.”
He scrawled a mark at the bottom of the contract and retrieved his ID while passing the cash over the counter. Where is the truck, Chief?”
“Out back, it’s the only fifteen foot cargo out there. Here’s the key”, he said sliding a Ford key on a tattered fob across the counter. “Just go out the door, turn right and go through the gate. Truck is right behind the building”.
“Thanks Chief. Appreciate your help”. As Loughlin turned he saw the clerk pocket the thousand and thought to himself little crooks little crimes.
Entering the yard he found the van behind the building as described. It was a tired-looking Ford cargo van but it looked sturdy enough to make the trip. Reaching into his hip pocket, Loughlin pulled out the European driving gloves and pulled them onto his hands. He made certain to smear any possible fingerprints on the key fob as he did so.
Putting the key into the lock, he unlocked the van and opened the drivers’ door.
Imagine an in-ground pool on a humid summer day filled to the brim with stale beer, cigarette butts, ashes and a dead cow. That's what the inside of this rat's nest smelled like. It came equipped with an opened bottle of Heineken under the driver seat and an empty dime bag in the back with a peppering of weed stems across the floor, oh and cup holders that someone decided to turn into ash trays.
If you wanted a truck that looks and smells like a porta-potty at Burning Man then you're in luck Loughlin thought to himself.
Sweeping some of the garbage out of the drivers’ seat and off the floor onto the driveway, he climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. The gas gauge showed one quarter full but it was about what he had expected. The point was, he had the truck and it was time to get over to the public storage facility, load his cargo and get on the road.
Heading west on Dempster he crossed the Edens expressway and spotted the BP station at the light ahead on his left at Central avenue. Waiting for the left turn arrow, he made the turn and pulled next to the open gas pump. Exiting the van he entered the convenience store part of the station and picked up a couple of spray cans of Febreze.
Putting them down on the counter, he counted out eighty dollars in twenties from his wallet and said to the bored clerk; “I’m going to fill up and I need to take these. Can I leave them with you in case I need to give you more money for the gas?”
The clerk, barely looking up from his Arabic newspaper just nodded his head and grunted his agreement. Loughlin went back to the van and started to pump the gas.
The twenty gallons or so that he put into the tank came to just fifty-nine dollars and eighty-seven cents. He went back into the store where the clerk rang up the gas, eight dollars and forty-two cents for the Febreze and counted ten dollars and seventy-one cents back into his gloved hand. Dropping the loose change into the little tray on the counter with the sign; “take a penny, leave a penny”, Loughlin pocketed the ten-spot, picked up his cans of air freshener and said “Thanks” to the preoccupied clerk as he turned to go back to the van.
Turning right out of the BP station into the neighborhood, Loughlin drove a block and a half to Theobald which ran on a south-west angle. At Menard he turned left and traversed the two blocks to Lincoln avenue, turned right and drove to the light at Austin where he drove south a few more blocks to Oakton.
The self-storage facility was Oakton St West of the Edens Expressway, between Natchez Ave and Nagle Ave., near Miami Woods. It was the antithesis of the truck rental place Loughlin recently left.
Looking less than two or three years old, the building was immaculately clean, the entrance, aisles, and drive-up accessible storage units are wide enough to accommodate large a vehicle, up to and including 40' moving trucks.
Fenced and lighted, with surveillance cameras, it limited access to customers with electronic access code pads so you could get to your space well before and after office hours. This space was one of two that had been rented by the owner of the merchandise. This one in Morton Grove, Illinois and the other one along the route in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He was meeting the owners’ representative here so he had help loading the merchandise, and his travel kit, into the van before he hit the road.
Pulling up to the gate, he rolled down the driver’s window and punched the seven digit access code on the key pad. The LED lights on the pad blinked from red to green and the motorized gate trundled to the left allowing him access to the facility. Driving slowly, the van bumped over a sensor on the other side of the gate which closed securely behind him.
The unit was at the far end of the yard. It was one of the drive in units and was actually way too big for what was being stored there but it had the advantage of allowing Loughlin to pull the van inside to keep prying eyes from observing what was being loaded.
The wiry, dark-skinned merchant’s representative was waiting at the overhead door to the unit as Loughlin pulled up and rolled down the driver’s window once more. “Hello Collins, I’m Sean”, said the man in what seemed to be a Filipino accent. “Damn man, your truck smells like an shithouse in the forest preserves.”
“Yeah, I know uh Sean. The rental company didn’t take time to clean it. If there’s a broom around here I’ll sweep it out and I got some Febreze spray to kill the stink.”
Sean punched the seven digit code on the keypad next to the overhead and the door began to raise. “Hang on Collins, don’t drive that thing into the space. There’s a broom in there. I’ll bring it out and you can clean the truck out here and spray it so you don’t kill both of us with the stench while we are working to load you up. Turn you rig around so once it’s cleaned you can just back in. Makes it easier that way.”
Normally Loughlin would have administered a beat-down to somebody who addressed him that way, but he was in a hurry and the smell of the truck would gag a maggot so he did as he was told as Sean reappeared with the broom.
Within five minutes the truck had been swept out and heavily sprayed with one of the two cans of Febreze. It wasn’t great, but it was tolerable so he backed the van inside while Sean closed the door behind him.
Six feet behind the van, eight black Pelican 0550 transport cases were stacked three cases, two high, measuring 51.05" x 27.54" x 22.79". They were military-grade with retractable handles and heavy-duty caster wheels.
At the right rear of the van was a small pallet covered with a tarp. Sean undid the straps and pulled off the covering exposing a number of olive-drab wooden cases with white lettering stenciled on the tops and sides.
The ten cases toward the rear of the pallet were marked:
“Red Army Standard 7.62x39 124 gr. FMJBT 1000 rnd/case”
One of them had been pried open for inspection.
On the front side of the pallet were twenty much narrower but longer cases marked:
“ABTOMAT AK-47 type 2A 7.62×39mm”
One of these cases too had be opened for inspection.
Loughlin first went to the open case of ammunition and drew out one of the smaller boxes. The markings on the inner box matched what was stenciled on the outside and opening the flap showed him that the ammo was as described. He then turned his attention to the open case on the front of the pallet. Lifting the lid, he was greeted by the sight of an object wrapped in brown waxed paper and his nostrils were assailed by the acrid aroma of Cosmoline. Unwrapping a little of the paper to get a glimpse of the contents without getting too much of the sticky goo on his fingers, he satisfied himself that this was, in fact, a new in the box, never issued CCCP military weapon as advertised.
“Well Sean, seems as if all is in order here. Shall we get this loaded into the van?”
“Not so fast, there’s a little matter of paym
ent first. The agreed on price for the ammunition is two hundred dollars per case, and the noisemakers go at eleven hundred dollars each. So that will be Twenty-four thousand dollars in gold.”
“Well Sean, gold today is at about twelve hundred sixty-nine, forty-nine so that would be just under nineteen ounces. I have it in my case and I’m willing to show it to you, but no transfer to your hand until the truck is loaded. That was the agreement I have with your principal.”
Grumbling his unhappy assent, Sean said; “O.K., show me the gold.”
Loughlin went back to the cab of the van and reached into his briefcase to retrieve a plastic tube containing twenty one-ounce US gold eagle coins. He slipped the tube into his left pants pocket while pulling the tail of his shirt out to make access to his belly holster holding his Glock 17 more easily accessible. This was not Loughlin’s first rodeo and he was not taking any unnecessary chances.
Returning to the rear of the van, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the tube of coins holding it up in plain sight while stepping back slightly with his left foot to present his left side at a forty-five degree angle to Sean. “Here it is Sean as promised. Now, as soon as we get the goods loaded into the truck we can complete the exchange and both be on our way.”
With a grunt that could have communicated almost anything or nothing at all, Sean turned and retrieved one of the Pelican cases and moved to the first wooden case of ammo. Removing all of the boards with the pry bar, he began to load the boxes of ammo into the Pelican case. He repeated this with two more cases of ammo until there were sixty boxes of ammo in the case. Then, he pried open three of the AK-47 cases and laid the weapons on top of the ammunition replacing the foam sheet over the weapons and closing and locking the latches. Grasping the retractable handle and lifting with his legs he managed to lever the case upward so he could roll it over behind the van.
“This bastard weighs about two-hundred pounds now Collins. I’m gonna need some help lifting it in.”
“Sure thing, no problem Sean.” Was Loughlin’s response as he stood at the opposite end of the Pelican. Sean swiveled the case so it was propped on the lip of the van floor and as Loughlin moved to the left of the case, Sean grabbed the right bottom corner and the two of the levered the case into the truck. Sean closed down the handle and slid the case toward the area behind the seats and secured it with the tie-down straps that had come with the truck.
They repeated the drill three more times until all the ammo and weapons were loaded and secured. Sean loaded the remaining four empty Pelican cases into the van, secured them down and covered the entire load with the olive green tarp that had originally covered the pallet.
“O.K. you’re loaded. I’ll take payment now.”
Loughlin reached into his left pocket once more to retrieve the tube of gold coins. Removing the cap, he removed one coin and said; “ There are twenty one-ounce coins in a tube. Nineteen of them will come to just about twenty-five thousand which should afford you a little bonus since it’s over the agreed amount.” He recapped the tube and tossed it over to Sean who seemed a bit happier with the additional loot.
“Pleasure doing business with you Sean. Can you get rid of the pallet and open the door for me so I can be on my way?”
“Sure thing Collins, sure thing.” Said a now much more agreeable Sean.
Loughlin pulled out of the storage unit and turned right headed for the exit. Paused momentarily as he crossed the pressure plate while the automatic gate trundled out of his way, he observed that the van rode much smoother with a partial load. Not as smooth as his Lincoln, but smoother none-the-less.
He waited for a break in the Oakton avenue traffic and then made his left turn toward the Tri-State toll road, the first leg in his trip to Vegas. Entering the southbound Tri-State at Touhy avenue Loughlin stayed in the far right lane and kept his speed to as close to the legal limit as possible.
He knew that he would be on toll roads all the way through DeKalb so he couldn’t use the cruise control for the better part of two and a half hours. It was a boring drive, but he forced himself to remain alert.
After driving along interstate eighty for almost six hours Loughlin’s bladder felt like it was about to bust and he had a serious need for something to eat. As he was passing through Newton, Iowa he spied the sign for Love’s Travel Stop and decided that this would be as good a place as any to stretch his legs, refuel the truck, empty his bladder and grab a quick bite.
Pulling up to the first available pump nearest to the entrance, he stopped the truck & locked it and started walking to the front door. It was the usual generic truck-stop convenience store slash greasy spoon with no distinguishing characteristics. The bleach-blond twenty-something behind the cashier’s counter sported a pair of full sleeve tattoos and the blank bovine stare that telegraphed that her overly displayed cleavage was considerably larger than her IQ.
“I need to fill up the truck, sugar, but first I need the men’s and maybe grab a quick sandwich.”
“No problem boss. The restrooms are over there to your right and down the hall. At the end of the hall past the bathrooms is our food court. We got McDonalds; Pizza Hut and Asian Ramen house with stuff to go.
We don’t have much business this type of day, so you can leave your truck by the pump and pay me for your gas after you take care of your other business.”
“Thanks sugar. I’d like to talk some but my teeth are about to float. I gotta go bad.”
“Go take care of business boss before you wet my floor”, she giggled. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
Following her directions to the restroom he entered the restroom, chose the urinal closest to the door and emptied his complaining bladder. Quickly washing his hands and splashing some water on his face and over his neck he started to feel somewhat human again. He exited the bathroom an turned to his left as the blond told him and was confronted with his three choices. He decided that McDonalds would be the least disgusting of his three choices and ordered a couple of Big Mac’s.
He got the usual; “You want fries with that?”, to which he said; “Nope. No drink either. Just the sandwiches. In less than a minute the cardboard containers were set in front of him and he paid with a five-dollar bill, picked up the sandwiches and left the coins on the counter. He walked back toward the front of the convenience store area and picked up four bottles of water. Placing them on the counter, he fished a twenty and a ten from his wallet and said to the blond; “ I need to fill up the tank.
This should be enough to cover the gas and these four bottles of water, but I’ll leave them here until I finish pumping just in case it runs over thirty. In meanwhile, can you put the water and my burgers into a bag miss?”
“Sure thing sir”; she said as he turned to go out to the pump island.
The tank took twenty-two dollars’ worth of gas and the four waters were two bucks each so the thirty should have covered it, but he wasn’t sure if there was sales tax on the water.
Returning to the cashier, he asked; “Do I owe you any more miss?”
“No sir”, she responded, “you’re all paid up. Your burgers and the four waters are in the bag here along with your receipt. Thanks for stopping and have a good evening.”
Loughlin returned to the van, unlocked the driver’s side door, put his food & drink into the well in the console and started the engine. Fastening his seat belt, he pulled out of the station and merged back onto I-80. He figured he had about another five to six hours drive before he stopped for the night and after putting about five miles between him and the truck stop, he fished one of the Big Mac boxes out of the bag, laid it down in his lap and wrestled the sandwich into his hand and took a large bite getting some of the special sauce on his chin. He settled down for the long drive eating a bit more carefully to avoid slopping more of the sandwich fillings on himself.
Some seven hours later with the Big Macs consumed and all but about a half bottle of water gone, Loughlin felt like he had come out
second in a MMA cage match. He was five hundred and seventy-five miles further down the road but he decided that his thoughts of making it to Cheyenne a bit early were unrealistic. Better to stop for the night, get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.
Coming through the town of Ogallala, Nebraska the sign for a “Days Inn” beckoned to him. He exited I-80 and followed Stagecoach lane for about half a mile to the property. It was a cookie-cutter two-story affair. The clerk barely looked up as Loughlin entered the lobby.
“ I need a room for one night, first floor near the door to the parking lot and away from the interstate if you’ve got it”
“I can fix you up fine sir. Got a room in the back, first floor. Most folks don’t like being close to the exit like that. Too much coming and going. One queen-sized bed for one night. That’ll be eighty-two thirty seven tax included. Payable in advance.”
“I was wondering if I could pay with a Traveler’s Check. Trying not to put too much on the credit card, you know.”
“Should be O.K. We don’t see too many Traveler’s Checks these days Mr. Uh?”
“Collins”, said Loughlin. “Jerry Collins. Here’s my driver’s license”.
He passed it across the counter and the clerk tapped the info into the computer. Loughlin endorsed five twenty-dollar Traveler’s Checks and slid them over to the clerk who rang up the transaction and counted out the change.
“Here’s your key card. Room 121 out the door to your left and about half-way down the building. The room is the first one on your right. Key-card opens the parking lot door and the room too. Bed’s all made up, fresh towels and toiletries and the coffee service is ready. There’s an in-room fridge that works like a vending machine. Coffee and tea is free though. Complimentary breakfast in the lobby lounge starts at five A.M. Sleep well.”
A Wake of Vultures Page 7
