The door opened. Josh appeared nervous and angry. “Just go, Charlie. Please. There’s a ton of people looking for you.”
“Josh, this place isn’t what it appears to be. The colonel’s a thief. Can’t you see that?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Oh no? I know for a fact that you robbed a fur store, a pet shop, and a beauty salon.”
Josh grabbed me by the front of the shirt, pulled me into his room, shut the door, and pushed me down onto his bed.
“I don’t know how you found that out,” he said, “but there was a reason—a legitimate reason—for doing it.”
“That’s what he wants you to think. But he’s been tricking you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Josh said.
“The colonel wants you to think that you’re helping save the environment, but it’s all a sham. Trust me. I was hiding in his office. I heard the whole thing.”
Josh squeezed the sides of his head. “I don’t believe any of this. The colonel is just like me. He cares about this planet.”
“All he cares about is lining his pockets,” I said. I got up off the bed. “One of these days, you’re gonna get caught. And they’re gonna throw your sorry butt in jail—not for a few days, but for a few years.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d welcome that. It’ll give me a chance to study our flawed penal system.”
Oh, brother. This guy was something else. Was there any cause he wasn’t fighting for?
“I heard Colonel Culpepper, with my own ears, call you a sap because you were so naïve,” I said.
“I refuse to believe that. You’re making all of this up.”
I wasn’t sure what else to tell him. I was arguing my case the best I could, but I was right back where I had started. If I couldn’t win Josh over, then I was all alone. I needed to think of something to at least save my own neck. I immediately noticed a phone—a shiny new smart phone on Josh’s desk. I walked over and picked it up.
“I have a friend who has a phone just like this,” I said.
“Put it down,” he said.
I tapped the screen and stared at the keyboard. “You know, I’ve never really figured out how to do that texting thing. Seems awfully complicated.” I then began feverishly tapping letters.
“What are you doing?” he said as he tried to grab it back.
I turned away and continued punching the tiny buttons.
A moment later, Josh had managed to wrestle it away. He angrily wiped the screen clean on the front of his shirt.
“I want you out of here right now,” he said.
“I’m not leaving until—”
Josh abruptly covered my mouth with his hand. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. “There’s someone out there. We have to hide you.”
But before either of us could react, someone out in the hallway threw a shoulder into Josh’s door, breaking it open. Splintered wood from the door frame littered the floor.
We found ourselves staring at Sergeant Stanley and at least a dozen members of his goon squad, all in riot gear.
The sergeant crossed his arms and shook his head. “Number one nineteen, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Josh pointed at me. “He forced his way in. I couldn’t stop him.”
“Do you know what the penalty is for harboring a fugitive?”
“But I didn’t do anything,” he argued.
The sergeant reached over and grabbed the cell phone from Josh’s hand. “Give me that,” he said. “You won’t be needing this where you’re headed. Let’s go.”
“Where are you taking us?” Josh asked.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” the sergeant said. “Congratulations are in order. The two of you have won the grand prize—a private audience with the colonel.”
CHAPTER 22
The Dead See Caper
Sergeant Stanley and his posse escorted us to a familiar place—Colonel Culpepper’s office. Josh and I sat in a pair of hard-backed chairs awaiting our fate. The colonel hovered over us while at the same time examining my business card.
“This Charlie Collier character. Is that who you work for, young man?” he asked me.
At that very moment I knew exactly what I should have done. I should have kept my mouth shut and denied everything. But I couldn’t help myself. This guy was so arrogant. Someone had to put him in his place. I guess my ego got the best of me.
“Hardly. Charlie Collier is yours truly,” I said. “And for your information, I happen to be a professional private investigator.”
The colonel threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the best joke I’ve heard in a long time.”
“It’s no joke,” I said.
The colonel’s expression suddenly soured. “Listen, kid, whatever it is that you came here to investigate, I’m afraid you won’t find it.”
“I already found out what I was looking for,” I said confidently.
“And that would be?” the colonel asked.
“Well, initially I was hired to find Josh and bring him home. But then I stumbled upon something far more intriguing.”
“Oh?” the colonel said.
“You might be interested in knowing that I had the opportunity to listen in on a conversation between you and one of your staff members. And I now know everything.”
“You know nothing,” he snapped.
Now, right at that point, if I had learned anything from Sam Solomon, it should have been to shut my trap and refuse to continue. I knew I had piqued the colonel’s curiosity, and I should have left it at that. He would think that I was bluffing and might be inclined to let us go just to get us out of his hair. But that wasn’t the case. Apparently I hadn’t learned a thing. The next words out of my mouth would seal our fate. It felt really good to say them, but I had badly misplayed my hand. I had revealed my cards far too early.
“I know how your little scam works, Colonel,” I said. “You send your bus out to the various jails in the area to pick up teenage offenders and claim that you can rehabilitate them. But you have no intention of doing that. You’re just recruiting a new batch of thieves. You send them out to rob and steal from local businesses…and in return, the kids live here in plush quarters with every electronic gadget they could ever want. And if they get arrested, they’re sent right back here, and the dirty little cycle continues.”
“You have quite an imagination, Mr. Collier,” Colonel Culpepper said. “Just try proving it.”
“That’s the easy part,” I said. I pointed to the portrait on the far wall. “Once the police look in the safe behind General Patton over there, they’ll have all the proof they need.”
Colonel Culpepper and Sergeant Stanley exchanged nervous glances.
“By the way, Colonel, you might want to have the cleaning people vacuum up all the dust bunnies behind the copier. It made for a good hiding place but could use a little tidying up.”
“Why, you nosy little brats,” the sergeant said. “What should I do with them, Colonel?”
Josh jumped up. “Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. Colonel, tell this kid he’s all wrong. Tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Tell him how much you love the environment and how you just want to protect it—like me.”
“Boy, you are dumb,” the colonel said. “Do me a favor and just shut up.” The colonel pushed Josh back down into his seat, walked around to the front of his desk, and smiled at me. He was still holding my business card. “Well done, Charlie Collier, Snoop for Hire. It’s just too bad that you won’t be around to share any of your findings with the authorities.” He turned to the sergeant. “Make our little friends disappear.”
“What if anyone comes here looking for them?” the sergeant asked.
“Sergeant Stanley, I’m counting on you to remove all traces of these infidels. Make it seem as if they never existed.”
The sergeant saluted. “Any suggestions, sir?”
“Throw them in the tools
hed for tonight,” the colonel said. “We’ll discuss our options in the morning.”
Now, most sixth-graders upon hearing those words would probably have cried out for their mommies, but not this one. I immediately thought—been there, done that. Just ask Rupert Olsen, who happened to be serving a lengthy prison sentence, thanks to me and my associates. When he held us captive in his basement a couple of months earlier, he planned to stuff us like all of his exotic birds. But he never got the chance to carry out his threats. So, the colonel’s tough talk didn’t scare me. I had been in jams like this before and managed to escape. There was no reason to believe this would be any different—at least, I hoped so.
Josh and I were placed in the back of a military jeep and driven off. We traveled what had to be at least a couple of miles before stopping. When we arrived at what the colonel had referred to as the toolshed, we found ourselves in a desolate area in the middle of nowhere. It was pitch-black, and there were no signs of civilization.
Sergeant Stanley, who was at the wheel, hopped out and motioned for us to follow. He pointed to a small steel structure about thirty feet away.
“So, how do you like it, fellas? Home sweet home. And by the way, if you get any crazy ideas about calling out for help, forget it. You could scream your lungs out, and no one—and I mean no one—will hear you.”
He led us to the front door of the building. It had a thick padlock on it. The sergeant slipped a key ring off his belt, fumbled for a key in the dark, and unlocked the door.
“Right this way, gentlemen,” he said as he shoved us inside.
A second later, the door slammed shut behind us. It was a solid steel door. We could hear the padlock being put in place and clamping shut.
I looked around. It was a typical toolshed, filled with what you might expect. Lawn tools—shovels, hoes, rakes, brooms, and the like—hung from hooks on the walls. I looked up. There was a skylight in the roof. It was at least ten feet off the ground. We were lucky that it was a clear night and the moon was nearly full. It provided enough light to keep us from tripping over each other.
“Nice going, Collier,” Josh said. “We’re both gonna get killed, thanks to you.”
“I’ve been in tougher scrapes than this and survived,” I said. “We just need a plan, that’s all.”
Josh plopped down onto the dirt floor. “You couldn’t just leave things the way they were, could you?” he said. “You had to poke your nose into something that was none of your business. Everything was going just fine. I was making a difference.”
Josh was fooling himself. He knew it, and I knew it.
“Boy, you’ve got a short memory,” I said. “Do I have to remind you that you were nothing more than a rent-a-robber for Culpepper? He could care less about the environment. He tricked you, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”
Josh didn’t want to hear the truth. He got to his feet, grabbed a rake off the wall, and tried to break it over his knee…unsuccessfully.
“Listen,” he said, “I would have eventually figured that out. And I would have left on my own.”
“Do you actually think he would have let you leave?” I said. “You were one of his best earners. If you had tried to walk out of here, with what you know, you would have ended up right here in this same place.”
Josh pounded his fist on the wall. “Just shut up. Shut up. We’re never gonna get out of here,” he said. “And I don’t even want to think about what they’re gonna do to us tomorrow. So just leave me alone, okay?” He moved to the far corner of the shed, dropped down to the dirt floor, rolled up into a fetal position, and closed his eyes.
I thought it best just to leave him alone. I was certain that once he had time to think things through, he’d come to his senses. As for me, I now needed to come up with an escape plan. I couldn’t count on help from Josh. If I ever needed a protester, he’d be my man, but this sure wasn’t his specialty. What I needed was someone who could get himself out of a tough scrape—someone like Sam Solomon. In nearly every story, Sam would find himself locked up somewhere. I had to think about some of the ways he had managed to free himself. As I tried to recall each episode, I was remembering that Sam always seemed to find some gadget that he’d use to pry open a door or jimmy a lock or something. I looked around at the tools on the wall and wondered if any of those might help. But when I thought about the thickness of the door, and the even thicker padlock, I realized that none of them would work.
I began to rack my brain in an effort to recall the various escape plans that Sam had employed over the years. When I was just about to give up, I realized I was staring right at it. Sam had been in the exact same predicament in Episode #40—The Dead See Caper. All I needed to do was to follow his instructions. It would work beautifully.
In this particular story, Sam was investigating a psychic who claimed to have the power to communicate with the dead. Unsuspecting clients, usually wealthy widows, would pay for the privilege of speaking to their dearly departed husbands. Each elderly woman would bring a picture of her late spouse to each séance, which was held in an old farmhouse. It didn’t take Sam long to discover that the psychic was a fraud. Her accomplice, a former Hollywood makeup artist, would take on the appearance of the deceased husbands and would reappear to the distraught widows. When Sam confronted the pair, he was overpowered and taken prisoner. They locked him up in an old barn with a dirt floor, just like this toolshed. It didn’t take long for him to devise a brilliant escape plan.
And if it had worked for Sam, it could work for us. I looked up at the skylight in the ceiling. That would be our passage to freedom. I was sure of it. I glanced at Josh, who had fallen asleep. I would have to do this on my own. I grabbed a shovel off the wall and began digging. I dug furiously for the better part of an hour. When the hole was about three feet deep, I hopped out and began digging in another location. It was right about then that Josh woke up.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he said.
“What do you think? I’m getting us out of here.”
He stood up and walked over to where I was digging. “Are you trying to tunnel your way out or something?”
“Nope,” I answered. “We’re going out that way.” I pointed to the skylight.
“But we’ll never be able to reach it,” he said.
Without making eye contact with Josh, I continued to dig. “In a few more hours, we’ll be able to reach it. Trust me.”
Josh scratched his head. “If we’re headed that way,” he said as he pointed skyward, “then why are you digging that way?” He motioned to the hole. “And why dig more than one hole? I don’t get it.”
If Josh had spent more time reading mystery novels instead of saving the earth, he’d know exactly what I was up to.
“If you dig a hole,” I said, “the dirt has to go somewhere, right?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“So if we keep digging holes, and we keep tossing the dirt onto that pile—which just happens to be directly under the skylight—” I stopped in mid-sentence. I was waiting for him to figure it out.
He reflected for a moment, and then a broad smile filled his face. “Then the pile will get higher and higher, and eventually we’ll be able to climb up it and reach the skylight,” he said. “Charlie, you’re a genius.”
I grinned. “And we’ll get out of here a lot faster if we both dig.”
“Oh yeah,” Josh said. He ran over, pulled another shovel down from the wall, and joined me. He was now in a different frame of mind. He didn’t seem angry with me anymore. He seemed hopeful.
For the next few hours, we dug and dug and dug. At one point it became difficult to get the dirt onto the top of the pile because it was getting so high. That’s when Josh positioned himself about halfway up. Then we used the old assembly-line trick. I would dig up some dirt, pass it on to him, and he would scoot to the top of the pile and dump it. By the time the morning sun appeared, we were both dog-tired and our backs were killing us, but we continued
on. It had to be about 7:00 A.M. when we were confident that the pile was high enough for us to reach the skylight.
“That should do it,” I said.
“Now what?” Josh asked.
I ran over to the far wall and grabbed a pitchfork. “We should be able to break the window with this,” I said.
“Let’s do it,” Josh said. He climbed about halfway up the pile, and I handed him the pitchfork. He crawled the rest of the way and then tried to stand on the top of the pile. It wasn’t the best footing. He was a little unsteady.
“Can you reach the window?” I said.
“We’re about to find out,” he said. A second later, Josh closed his eyes, and as if he were a medieval knight thrusting his lance at an oncoming opponent, he attacked the skylight.
I immediately took refuge under my shovel as shards of glass came crashing down. We had done it. Sam’s idea had worked. For the next several minutes, Josh knocked out pieces of glass from around the window frame.
“Okay, now, let’s get out of here,” Josh yelled. He exited through the opening and climbed out onto the roof. He poked his head back in. “Come on, Charlie, it’s your turn.”
As I scaled the pile, I thought back to a few of the second and third helpings of dessert that I had unfortunately chosen over the years. What I wouldn’t have given at that very moment to be lean and mean. But it wasn’t to be, and I just needed to make the best of it. It took me a few extra minutes, but when I neared the top of the pile, I could hear Josh’s words of encouragement.
“Just a couple more feet. You can do it,” he said.
At one point I was tempted to tell him to go on without me. I didn’t want to slow him down. But I knew that he wouldn’t leave me. I clawed my way the last couple of feet and gave out a long, loud sigh when I finally reached the top.
“Okay, take hold,” Josh said as he extended his hand in my direction. I grabbed on and with his help managed to climb out onto the roof.
From our vantage point, we were able to see the rest of the compound—Repentance Hall, Resurrection Hall, the auditorium—and most importantly, the front gate. That was precisely where we were headed. It was the only exit off the grounds. But first we had to get down from this roof, and jumping off didn’t appear to be an option. Josh crawled to one of the corners.
The Camp Phoenix Caper Page 20
