Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8)

by M. Glenn Graves

  “You sound maniacal.”

  “Scare myself some days.”

  “Family?”

  “Too personal.”

  “Dogs and cats?”

  “Cat.”

  “Breed?”

  “Siamese. Big, mean, and actually adores me. We reflect each other quite well.”

  “Who takes care of the cat while you are away on business?”

  “Too personal.”

  “I keep running into that.”

  “You know more than most.”

  “I probably know more than everybody but the cat.”

  “You’re a funny lady.” Diamond smiled, a little.

  “I’ll be here through Thursday,” I said and Diamond laughed. It was an unusual sound coming from her. I can’t say that I had ever heard her laugh. Most of the time our situations didn’t call for laughter. She was all business in most instances. In fact, she was all business.

  Laughter was good.

  17

  An hour out from D.C. I had Diamond pull into a large truck stop so I could call Rogers. I was in desperate need of any information which Rogers might have uncovered by her perusal of the flash drive. We were about an hour or so from D.C.

  I used a pay phone to contact her. I had to search for the phone. Those modes of communication seem to be disappearing much too rapidly. Thank you technology.

  “You have something which might provide clarity for me?” I said.

  Diamond was standing close-by, shadowing me as if I needed a bodyguard. She frowned a little at my question. No doubt she wondered who might be on the other end of the line.

  “Far from it, love,” Rogers said.

  “So you couldn’t view the contents of the flash drive?”

  “No, I viewed the contents. I simply could not make sense of what I saw.”

  I waited. She said nothing.

  “Hard to imagine you, of all things, not able to comprehend something. You going to keep me in suspense?”

  “No, I am simply trying to search for the correct words, or succinct terms which will provide clarity.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  “A 3D configuration,” Rogers said.

  “On the flash drive.”

  “When you open the drive, there is only one file. It is a sophisticated document, and I used that word document loosely, since what I found is quite complex. It took me some time to discover the precise administrative operations with which to use to open said file and view it. As I said, it turned out to be a 3D creation.”

  “Of what?”

  “This is where I will tell you what it is and you will say back to me, ‘What?’ or something to that affect.”

  “Tell me so I can be as surprised and flummoxed as you.”

  “It is a complex, 3D creation of the plates used for the making of a one hundred baht denomination in the currency of Thailand, referred to as the Thai Baht.”

  “I refuse to say what. But I am thinking it. So, go on.”

  “There’s nothing to go on with.”

  “That’s it.”

  “That is what I have uncovered in my diligent search of the office of Thaddeus Wilkerson. As far as I can ascertain, that flash drive containing that 3D file is what Rosey brought back in the box from Bangkok, that small golden box.”

  “You found nothing else connected to or from that box?”

  “Only an operations file which says in distorted military-ese that the Secret Service was sending Retired Navy Commander Roosevelt Drexel Washington to Thailand to retrieve a box from a member of the Thai government.”

  “And that operations file was no doubt classified,” I said.

  “Of course it was. Aren’t they all?”

  “No name on the Thailand end of the mission.”

  “Not even a hint.”

  “Was that operations file easy to find on Wilkerson’s computer?”

  “No, I’d have to say impossible to find,” Rogers said.

  “Well hidden, huh?”

  “Not hidden at all. It was not there.”

  “So where’d you find it?”

  “On his assistant’s computer.”

  “And the name of the assistant would be …?”

  “Brenda Gale Singletary.”

  “Would you know whether they worked closely together?”

  “I would.”

  One would think that after several years of working with a machine that reasoned logically I would learn to ask the question that would provide me with the answer I sought. Maybe it proves that we humans are not as logical as we perceive we are. Or maybe it proves that Rogers, my invaluable information source, was merely playing me with her wit and devilishness. I leaned toward the latter.

  “Did Brenda and Thad work closely together?”

  “Intimately.”

  “So they had something going on the side?”

  “I suspect multiple positions, the side probably was one of them. I do not believe they hid their intimacy. Her texts to him are torrid. It was like reading an X-rated romance novel,” she said.

  “How would you know what an X-rated romance novel reads like?”

  “I am an information gathering demon. These are my formative years. I am still in my early twenties as you know. I recently came across a collection of works by Henry Miller. Shall I explain?”

  “No, thank you. So computer years are not like dog years?”

  Diamond glanced at me as if I had completely lost my mind.

  “Was that some attempt at a slight or merely an outright insult?” Rogers said.

  “Take it as a slight slight. I would think that with your voracious appetite for inhaling information, you would be well past the formative stage of human beings.”

  “Well said. I am surely on another level. But, it would seem that my appetite for wanting more and more knowledge has not yet diminished.”

  “No doubt. Did you read all of Brenda’s texts to Thad?”

  “Yes. Quite addictive, I must add.”

  “I can only imagine. Did you learn anything which might be useful to this investigation?”

  “They’re at her place tonight. They alternate sites. That gives you and Diamond freedom to investigate his office and townhouse.”

  “How did you know Diamond was with me?”

  “I keep telling you, sister. There is nothing artificial about my intelligence despite your continued usage of that term to describe me. My powers of intuition are rapidly developing into a skill similar to your own. A cautionary note to any who might want to deceive me.”

  “Call me if you discover anything that might help me,” I said.

  “There is one more thing. That 3D file is actually a hologram. The file can be imaged onto an extremely large screen and viewed in minute detail. When viewed in that format, one discovers that the creator made it quite intricate. There are notations, measurements, and other embedded texts as if it might be a workable model.”

  “You mean someone could take that file and actually use it in the correct device to make some plates for the imprinting of money.”

  “That would be the long way,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have researched this technique of holograms and, I must say, it is quite the cutting edge of technology; so, you can actually use it to make the money without making the plates. The hologram in that file can produce the currency if connected to the right equipment.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I do.”

  “Does Thaddeus have the right equipment?”

  “I am still searching his files for the answer to that one. My best guess is that he does not. Back at you as soon as I learn something significant.”

  We climbed back into Diamond’s Silverado and headed into the wondrous D.C. traffic. We rode along for a few minutes in silence. I could sense that she was thinking heavily about something. It was as if I could hear some wheels turning behind her wrinkled brow. The lights from the oncoming tra
ffic revealed the wrinkled brow to me.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would swear that your computer is really a human being in disguise. Or, you have lied to me about who Rogers really is, and it will turn out to be some secret deep-throat-type person working for you on the sly. Call me crazy, but you and Rogers have a strange relationship.”

  Since there was no question in her verbal thoughts, I could have easily avoided saying anything about Rogers. However, I decided that a really good fabrication might ease her suspicious mind.

  “My Uncle Walters help me build the computer. He thought it would be fun to have one that not only could respond to verbal commands, but could also answer back. He didn’t want one that would sound like a robot, so he configured this one with an attitude, a sarcastic wit, if you please, so that I would always be on my toes.”

  “He was wildly successful,” Diamond said without any passion in her voice.

  I was glad that she had no further questions about Rogers. I had no plans to divulge my secret about Rogers to her.

  18

  It was ten o’clock and dark when we arrived at Wilkerson’s townhouse. A light was shining from inside his place. Rogers had informed me as to which townhouse was his. We approached cautiously despite the romantic information that Rogers had given me earlier in regards to this week’s Singletary-Wilkerson rendezvous. Sam was asleep on the back seat. I invited him to stay in the truck while Diamond and I did our reconnaissance. No point in all three of us being arrested.

  “Should we knock on the front door?” Diamond said.

  “And if someone answers it, what are we selling?”

  “Selling? I’m not selling anything. I want to get in there and look around.”

  “So we should just ask them to allow us to do that.”

  “It would certainly surprise them. Not the usual approach, I must say.”

  “Why don’t you climb up that lattice work over by the corner and I’ll knock on the front door?”

  “Why do I get to climb the lattice work?”

  “You’re younger and more vigorous.”

  “True, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “You have more stealth than I do. I’m one of those front-door-kinda persons.”

  “I have no idea what planet you’re from sometimes,” Diamond said as she moved off quickly and climbed the trellis in short order.

  Wow. She did that with such ease and strength. I used to be able to do that, when I was a kid. Wonder what happened.

  I knocked on the front door.

  No answer.

  I knocked again, this time a little louder.

  I waited longer this time.

  I raised my arm to knock once more and the door opened. It was Diamond.

  “Why not just start yelling and inform the neighbors of our presence?” she said.

  “I was simply making sure.”

  “Amid all of the noise you were making. No wonder you’re no good at stealth. I’ll go back upstairs and look around. You can have this floor. Oh, yeah, tell me again what exactly we’re looking for,” she said.

  “I have no idea, but I will know it when I see it.”

  “That may help you, but it does nothing for me.”

  “Okay, we’re searching for a flash drive. It is likely hidden in some kind of container or box or envelope, or whatever. I don’t even know what the flash drive looks like. My guess is that it is small.”

  “Well, that certainly clarifies our search.”

  She moved away, stopped suddenly, turned back to me and took two steps in my direction. “What if we find a box full of those tiny data storage things you refer to as flash drives?”

  “We’ll take them all.”

  Diamond walked away without further comment. She was shaking her head but said nothing.

  “Oh, try to leave the place the way we found it. Let’s not give this guy anymore information that he already has.”

  “I figured that,” she said as she ran up the stairs.

  I opened every drawer and every cabinet in the kitchen. The room was small but had lots of storage space. That means he had many places to hide whatever he might want to hide. I even examined his counter containers for sugar, flour, and crackers. The one used to house crackers was a new idea for me. There was even an empty one. My mother would have allowed no such luxury in her kitchen. Every container was filled to the max. Especially the one that was home to the homemade cookies. Talk about a good memory.

  I moved to the bedroom. It appeared to be a guest bedroom since it had no real personality to it. But then, I didn’t know Thad well enough to know if he had a personality. All I knew about him was that he wanted my friend Rosey dead. That alone gave him strong contention for being a psychopath. Maybe I would find some trophies of former victims of his disdain. This bedroom showed me no signs of any of those behavioral characteristics.

  Empty closet, empty drawers, and sparsely decorated furniture tops forced me to move to the next room on the other end of the downstairs after I looked behind each piece of furniture for some hidden compartment or some container taped to the back. I passed quickly through the living room area and looked through some drawers and his small bookshelf which was maybe half full of books. It had contained nothing that I would read. I even looked for books which did not fit the norm of what he had collected there. Nothing appeared out of place.

  Next to the supposed guest bedroom was a smaller room which appeared to be a home office. I searched the desk top and four drawers, starting from the bottom and moving up. I found nothing. I moved to his wooden file cabinet. It had the same wood grain and finish as the desk.

  I was halfway through the top drawer of his four-drawer unit when Diamond entered the space.

  “We might have a problem,” she said.

  “Just one?”

  “Look at this.”

  She handed me a photo taken of a woman partially clothed.

  “You recognize her?” I said.

  “Not the reason I’m showing you this photo.”

  I took a closer look at the photo. Then it hit me.

  “Oh, my. That’s his downstairs guest room,” I said.

  “Good eye, Mrs. Holmes. He’s got bugs everywhere. We need to find the bugs,” she said.

  “And do what?” I asked.

  “Remove them.”

  “But he’ll know someone’s been here.”

  “If we leave them, he’ll also know someone’s been here,” she said, smiling at me. “And he’ll know what I look like. I don’t like photos. Shortens life expectancy.”

  “Point taken. We have to find them all.”

  “I’m going back upstairs,” she turned and was gone again.

  I remained in the small office area and discovered three bugs. One was in the air vent over the desk, one in the desk lamp, and one in the overhead fan. I scoured the place for more, but for the life of me could not find any other planted cameras or listening devices.

  One room down, more rooms to go.

  I figured the kitchen would be a prime place for some bugs and I was correct. He had one in the overhead oven light as well as one embedded in the refrigerator of all places. Good call, Thad. Once again the overhead light fixture seemed to be a favorite of his. There was one camera and one listening device. I scoured the remainder of the room but found nothing.

  I started to leave when the containers on the counter caught my attention once again. I picked up the empty container. It had intrigued me earlier. I looked on the bottom of it this time. Bingo. Someone was listening, somewhere, maybe even recording whatever was happening in that sacred space for food preparation. And, it might have been sensitive enough to pick up our voices even in his small office not too far from the kitchen.

  I knew the bedroom had bugs, so I had to be extremely careful in my diligent search. I used the angle of the photograph to locate the first camera. The second camera was in the light/fan combination overhead. Habits are hard to break. A third camera
was hidden in a hollowed out bedpost which had a tiny portal through which photos were likely taken. Lurid and revealing photos, but when you are a psychopath, it is only a matter of degrees from one variety to another. It was the early stages of my personality formation of Thaddeus Wilkerson. I allowed for the possibility that I could be wrong. I didn’t believe it, but I had to allow for it.

  A fourth camera was in the corner of the dresser’s mirror. It was also facing the bed. Shrewd detective that I am, I deduced that the bed was the focal point of the cameras in this room. Lurid and revealing.

  Four cameras discovered, but so far no listening pieces had been found. Surely he wanted some audio from this room. Since technology is getting smaller and smaller, bugging a place to hear what is said is much too easy. It is also much too hard if you don’t know exactly what type and size of device you seek. You have to assume that it is present, and go from there.

  Diamond joined me. She dumped her pile of discoveries on the bed. It was a mixture of eyes and ears.

  “Everything’s remote,” she said. “Makes it hard to trace to whatever device might be well concealed so as to find the source. We need that source.”

  “Meanwhile, help me search this space,” I said.

  She found a minuscule camera embedded in the corner of the otherwise empty dresser. She threw it onto the bed’s gadget pile.

  “Sometimes the best place to hide a thing is in plain sight,” I offered my Virginia-based homespun wisdom.

  Diamond stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned around trying to see what we might have missed. She stopped turning.

  “Odd place for a mirror,” she said and pointed to the placement of a full-length mirror above the light switch mounted next to the closet door. It was angled toward the floor from the top about thirty degrees, I guessed. The full-length would allow the viewer to observe whatever clothing one had selected to wear. Or to see how fat or skinny or whatever one might be looking for.

  “What’s odd about it?”

  “Not enough light.”

  “For looking at your clothes.”