Lady Justice and the Mysterious Box

by Robert Thornhill

  She ran down the front steps toward the van.

  “Another dead end” Fan said. “What now?”

  Jiao was about to reply when he looked in the rear-view mirror. The hefty manager was heading their way brandishing a bat.

  “Damn!” Jiao muttered, throwing the van in gear and fishtailing into the street, “These old people are dangerous!”

  I had just returned home when Dad and Bernice cornered me.

  “Walt!” Dad said, obviously agitated, “Two Chinese guys were here this morning posing as Jehovah’s Witnesses. I’m sure they were in Bernice’s apartment while we were away. They drove off like a bat out hell, but Bernice got off a couple of shots. I think there’s a couple of bullet holes in the back of their van.”

  I remembered Ishmael saying that Chinese agents were after the box. They must have discovered that Bernice was his sister and figured she might have it. Of course I couldn’t say anything about that to Dad and Bernice.

  “Uhh, yeah, I heard that there are a couple of con men posing as missionaries to get into people’s homes. I’ll give Ox a call.”

  That seemed to satisfy them for the moment.

  I had just entered my apartment when the phone rang.

  “Walt, it’s Mary. Two Chinese guys just left here. They said they were cops. They wanted to look in Oliver’s room. I let ‘em in and when they left, Mr. Feeney came down and said they weren’t cops at all. I chased ‘em with my bat but they got away. What should I do?”

  “Nothing. They won’t be back. I’ll take care of it from here.”

  After hanging up, I thought about it. The Chinese agents were getting close and it worried me. Sooner or later they might figure that the box was somewhere in our building, and I had no doubt they would do most anything to get their hands on it.

  It was time to have a conversation with Ishmael.

  I taped an X on my window and waited for his call.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next morning, the phone rang.

  “This is Ishmael.”

  “We need to talk.”

  I told him about the Chinese agents breaking into Bernice’s apartment and their visit to Oliver’s room at the Three Trails.

  There was a long silence. “I feared it might come to this. The Chinese are relentless. If they think the box may be somewhere in your building, none of you will be safe.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. What about the Homeland Security agents? Are they still after this thing?”

  “They are, but they are not as close. They lost track of McDermont when he escaped them in California. They just arrived in Kansas City. We need to get the box out of your hands before they catch up.”

  “What should we do?”

  “It’s time for me to send for the box.”

  I was confused. “If you can take it now, why didn’t you do it the first time we talked?”

  “My mission is to see that the box is safe and doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. I thought it was as safe as anywhere in your possession. Now all that has changed. I will send someone to pick it up.”

  I decided to play the devil’s advocate. “If that box is so important, why should I turn it over to you? It seems I still have other options, Mark Davenport, Detective Blaylock.”

  “First of all, neither of those men would have any idea what they possessed and because of that, it would eventually fall into the wrong hands. And second, if I wanted to take the box, I could have done so at any time. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “Okay, okay. I was just testing you. How will this work?”

  “I will send a man this afternoon. He will say, ‘It’s been unseasonably warm.’ That’s how you’ll know I sent him. You will reply, ‘Yes, but it’s better than two feet of snow.’ That’s how he’ll know he’s got the right man. Once you have made contact, give him the box and you will be done with this. And remember, not a word of this to anyone. You never saw that box. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  The line went dead.

  Actually, I was relieved that the damnable box would be out of my life.

  Randall Stokes pointed to the van a few car lengths ahead. “There they are. That’s Chen and Li.”

  “Good,” Brian Steele replied. “Now we’re back in the game.”

  “Scarborough got it right,” Stokes said. “The Chinese tracked McDermont to Kansas City and iced him but didn’t get the box. They’ve been following leads for several days. Our best bet is to follow them and hope they lead us to the box. Look, they’re pulling to the curb.”

  “I see them,” Stokes replied, pulling to the curb. “We’ll just wait and watch.”

  Jiao Chen looked at the three-story apartment building. “It has to be in there somewhere. The sister lives there. The maintenance man who cleaned out McDermont’s room lives there, and the guy who owns that crappy Three Trails Hotel lives there. Everything points to that building.”

  “So what should we do? We can’t just charge in, guns blazing, and kill them all.”

  “Of course not. We’ll wait, and watch, and see what happens.”

  I was glad Maggie was at the real estate office. She knew nothing about the box that had been sequestered in my safe. It would have been difficult to explain a stranger showing up at our door and me handing over the box.

  At three o’clock, I heard a knock.

  I opened the door to a man I’d never seen before. He didn’t waste any time.

  “It’s been unseasonably warm.”

  “Yes, but it’s better than two feet of snow,” I replied. I felt like I was in a James Bond movie.

  He nodded and stepped inside. “Do you have the box?”

  “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  I retrieved the box from my safe and handed it to the guy. He placed it in some kind of canvass bag, then turned to leave.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “No thank you card. No gift certificate? Nothing?”

  He looked at me like I was an idiot. “You have your orders.”

  And with that, he left.

  I went to the window and watched him head toward a sedan a half-block away. Then I saw two men jump out of a van across the street. I took a closer look. They were definitely Asian. They grabbed the courier and shoved him into the van. The Chinese had the box!

  I quickly found my gun and my car keys and headed down the steps. I had no intention of confronting two armed assassins, but I could follow them, then report back to Ishmael. It would be his problem then.

  I had just reached my car and started to pull into traffic when I saw a second car pull away from the curb behind the van. I got a quick look at the driver and passenger. It was Stokes and Steele, the Homeland Security agents who had crashed Dad’s party.

  So, the Chinese had nabbed the courier and the box. The American agents were following the Chinese, and I was following them both. I thought about the lyrics to the old C.W. McCall song, “Looks like we’ve got us a convoy!”

  The Chinese agents drove east on Armour, then entered Bruce Watkins Drive and headed south. Stokes and Steele were two car-lengths behind them, and I was two car-lengths behind the Homeland Security agents.

  They exited the freeway on 51st and headed south on Park Avenue. They started slowing down when they reached 59th. In the next block was the old Pershing elementary school. It had been shut down for years.

  The Kansas City School District, experiencing declining enrollment in the inner city, had closed dozens of school buildings. Some had been sold and repurposed as apartments or neighborhood centers. Some, finding no bidders, had been demolished. Pershing was probably on the list of schools waiting for demolition. Weeds had grown up through the asphalt, windows were either broken or boarded up. Several homes around the school were also board-ups. It was the kind of neighborhood where people minded their own business and didn’t ask any questions. It was the perfect place for a couple of black ops agents to hang out.

 
; As I suspected, the Chinese pulled into the parking lot. One got out carrying the box, the other pulled the courier out and pushed him toward the school.

  Stokes and Steele watched until the three were inside, then made their way to the door and waited.

  A few minutes later, a shot rang out from inside the school. Unfortunately, that most likely signaled the demise of Ishmael’s courier.

  As soon as Stokes and Steele heard the shot, they slipped inside.

  I got out of my car, tip-toed to the school door, and listened. Hearing nothing, I entered.

  I could barely see. The only light was what came through the broken windows. I heard footsteps ahead and followed the sound. I looked around a corner and saw Stokes and Steele sneaking up on what had probably been the principal’s office.

  Suddenly there was shouting, followed by gunfire. I flattened myself out on the floor as bullets came whizzing down the hall.

  Two figures, probably the Chinese, exited from the office farther down the hall, turning and firing at their pursuers. They took off with the American agents hot on their trail.

  As soon as they were all out of sight, I made my way into the office. The courier’s body was on the floor. I felt for a pulse, but there was none. Then, on the counter, I spotted the box. I grabbed it and sprinted out of the office and back to my car.

  I threw the box in the passenger seat, revved up the engine, and high-tailed it out of there hoping no one had seen me leave. I didn’t relax until I was back on the freeway heading home. I kept checking the rear-view mirror, hoping I wouldn’t see one of the cars I had followed to the school.

  I made it back to my building without incident. Safely inside, I placed the box in my safe.

  I collapsed in my recliner wondering what I should do next. It was obvious that I should call Ishmael and report the aborted transfer of the box and the death of his courier.

  The thing that worried me most was what the survivors of the school gun battle would think when they returned to the office and found the box missing. Some kid from the neighborhood, hearing the commotion, could have sneaked in and taken it, but that wasn’t likely. They might even canvass the houses around the school, asking if anyone had seen somebody leaving with a box. If that was the case, it would be me they were describing. Even without something like that, the most likely suspect would be somebody who had witnessed the abduction of the courier and followed. Again, that would lead them right back to our building. There was no doubt in my mind that the patience of whoever won the gun battle was growing thin. My fear was that they would breach the front door of our building, guns drawn, and search every apartment until one of us coughed up the box. No one in the building would be safe.

  I wished I had Ishmael’s number so I could call him directly, but that wasn’t how it worked. I had to put a stupid X on the window and wait for his call. I just hoped he would get back to men in time to avert a disaster.

  Fearing the worst, I got both my handguns ready and dug an old twelve-gauge shotgun out of the closet. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Then I realized I had another problem. Not another soul in our building, including my wife, had any idea I had the damnable box and that we might be under siege.

  When Maggie got home, how was I to explain why our apartment looked like the Alamo awaiting the attack of the Mexicans?

  I put the guns out of sight, but where I could get to them quickly. Then, to avert suspicion, I decided to make my signature dish, tuna casserole, and chill a bottle of Arbor Mist. I didn’t want Maggie to think there was anything out of the ordinary.

  “My, something smells good,” Maggie said, putting away her briefcase. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Oh, nothing really,” I lied. “I just knew my sweetie had worked hard all day and I wanted to do something special for her.”

  She gave me a big smooch. “That’s so sweet. Maybe later on I’ll do something special for you.”

  Maggie chatted through dinner, telling me about her day. That was fine with me. I found it hard to exchange idle chatter wondering if, at any moment, black ops agents would break through our door.

  Periodically, throughout the evening, I would go to the window and check the street, but there was no one there.

  I was about to turn on the TV to take my mind off things, but Maggie took the remote, then took my hand.

  “Okay,” she said with a seductive smile. “I promised you something special and I’m ready to deliver.”

  She led me into the bedroom and sat me on the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  While she was gone, I thought I heard a noise in the hall. I grabbed a gun and took a quick look. Nothing.

  I stowed the gun and got back in the bedroom just as Maggie returned in my favorite teddy.

  “Ready for some action?” she asked.

  Normally, I would be all a dither when confronted by my lover, but this wasn’t a normal night. All I could think of was being attacked while bare-assed. It was definitely a distraction.

  “Uhhh, is there any chance we could take a rain check?”

  Needless to say, she was somewhat perplexed. “Really? You’re always hot to trot. Walt, what’s going on?”

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. “I’m just a bit distracted with a new case. Lots of stuff mushing around in my mind. It has nothing to do with you. You’re beautiful. I’m --- just not with it tonight.”

  “Well, okay,” she said, heading back to the bathroom. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

  Actually, I did know what I was missing and it pissed me off that the damn box in my safe had taken away a night of romance.

  Randall Stokes and Brian Steele sat in their car down the street from the apartment building on Armour.

  “It has to be in that building,” Stokes said. “That’s where the courier picked it up. I’d be willing to bet that old P.I. had it. He must have seen the Chinese nab the courier and followed us. He probably sneaked in and took it while we were icing the Chinese guys.”

  “So what should we do?” Steele asked.

  “We wait for instructions from Scarborough. He’s calling the shots.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The call came early the next morning.

  “This is Ishmael.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but your courier is dead.”

  Silence on the other end.

  “When I didn’t hear from him, I thought that might be the case,” he finally said. “Do you know what happened? Where is the box?”

  I was a bit surprised. “You being the super snoop, I figured you know all that.”

  “I try to keep informed, but even I have my limits. Now tell me, what happened and where is the box?”

  “Your courier picked it up just like we planned. I watched him leave out my front window. The Chinese must have been on his trail. They nabbed him as soon as he hit the street. I figured I should follow. When I reached my car, I saw Stokes and Steele, the Homeland Security agents, take off after them.

  “I followed them both to an abandoned school building. The Chinese guys took your man and the box inside. Then there was the shot that killed your courier. Stokes and Steele went inside. As soon as I figured it was safe, I followed.

  “A battle ensued between the Americans and the Chinese. While they were distracted, I grabbed the box and ran. The box is back in my safe. I have no idea who won the gun battle.”

  A long pause. “You did well. As far as who won the battle, I have no doubt that Stokes and Steele were victorious. Scarborough’s black ops agents are ruthless.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard and it scares me to death. When they discovered the box was gone, surely they were smart enough to figure out I took it. After all, they watched your guy carry it out of my building. That puts everyone in this building in danger.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. The best thing for everyone is to get that box out of there and somewhere safe.”

&n
bsp; “I agree. Are you going to send another courier?”

  “No, you will be my courier.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I had seen what happened to the last one.

  “Hold on a minute! Why me? I didn’t sign up for any of this!”

  “It only makes sense. You have the box. Undoubtedly, Stokes and Steele are watching the building for another courier. It is your home turf. You know more about it than anyone. I’m sure you can figure a way to get the box out of there and elude them.”

  “You’re a lot more confident than I am. Even if I get the box out, how does that get my friends off the hook? They’ll think it’s still here.”

  “Once you’re safely away, I’ll leak the word that it’s no longer there. Once Scarborough gets the information, he’ll direct his men elsewhere.”

  “I see one flaw in your plan. They might still come after me to tell them where I delivered the box.”

  “I will let it be known where you delivered the box and that you had no idea where it was to go after that. They’ll have no further use for you.”

  “So where would I take the thing?”

  “To Springfield, Missouri. I have a safe house there. A man will be waiting.”

  “Springfield! That’s a four-hour drive from here.”

  “That’s correct, so you’d best not waste any time. I’ll text the address to you.”

  The line went dead.

  How did I get myself involved in this mess? I wondered, awaiting the address to come to my phone. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. If I could pass the wretched box off to someone else four hours away, maybe this nightmare would come to an end.

  The message came and now I had another obstacle to face --- how to tell Maggie that I was going to be on an eight-hour round trip.

  She was in the kitchen spooning a carton of yogurt.

  “Who was that on the phone?” she asked, looking up.