Helmut Saves the World

by Matt Sheehan

  I always drive to work. The city has a very efficient public transit system. The waits are short and the commute is relatively fast, but I’m not really a public-transit type of guy. I finally have a car that says I’ve made it, and I try to be seen in it as much as possible. It’s domestic, as all the good ones are these days.

  The old adage was always that the New World made the best leisure items and the Old World the best weapons. Fear was a good motivator in that regard. That saying remained true until the principles of mass production were implemented here in the States. After that it became cheaper and easier to build most everything here. Now we supply the Allies with vehicles and artillery. The constant threat of invasion is good for our economy.

  I really meant to be on time that morning, but some things I just can’t let slide. Such as Rocco and his crew loitering in front of the local pharmacy. I moved uptown to get away from nonsense like this. I had heard rumors that he had been trying to run a protection racket around town, and apparently he’d picked my neighborhood. I really didn’t want to show up late, rumpled and sweaty, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.

  I pulled over and parked a block past, then observed them as I made my way back. The thought of asking them nicely to leave did cross my mind, but I quickly nixed the idea. I was unarmed and alone, so they probably wouldn’t have taken me seriously. Plus I would have lost the element of surprise. And anyway, I kind of wanted the exercise. I hadn’t hit anyone in over a week and I was having withdrawals. Then I saw Alexa out front and I decided to try and impress her.

  There is a store closer to my pad, and parking on this street is hard to find after 11:00 a.m., but for the last month I have been a loyal customer to Von’s Drugs. An acquaintance told me about the raven-haired beauty, and he was so enamored with her that I had to see for myself. Wow. Medium height with an hourglass figure and pouty lips. She keeps her long black hair back in a ponytail and wears a pair of black-rimmed glasses that somehow seem to enhance her beauty. I had burned through pickup lines and bought enough toothpaste and shaving cream to last me through the next year, but hadn’t even gotten a coffee date yet.

  So there she was with her hands on her hips and her face flushed, yelling at Rocco and his two goons. Her posture was excellent, and at that moment it really accentuated her attributes. That seemed to be what the fellas were focused on as well. I was able to walk right up to them unnoticed, although in this case I didn’t necessarily blame them. I knew Rocco was some sort of ground fighter, but I didn’t recognize the other guys. One looked like a power lifter, and the other was fairly tall. Neither seemed to move in a way that made me think they were fighters, but you never know. Better to play it safe.

  As I got close, Alexa saw me and tried to warn me away with her eyes. Would she have done that for anyone? Was her concern for me a little more personal? I’ll have to ask her next time she stays over. Bodybuilder was closest, and I didn’t want him grabbing me from behind when I was occupied with one of the other two. I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey fella, your shoelace is untied.”

  As big guy dutifully looked down, I grabbed him behind the neck with both hands and pulled his head down as I leaped up with my right knee. The impact was spectacular. He went down flat on his back and didn’t twitch. I turned around in time to see goon number two approaching.

  “Are you insane? We’re going to—”

  He never finished his sentence, because that’s when my heel connected with his left temple. I always wanted to land a spinning hook kick in a real fight, and he just walked right into it. I didn’t stop to admire my work. I knew he was going down. The only question was would he ever get up again. For all you bleeding-heart lovers of humanity, I can tell you he eventually did, after weeks of grueling therapy at Sisters of Mercy Hospital. I sent flowers.

  “I’m not going to knock you out Rocco. I want you to remember this. Find another town to ply your craft in. You’re not welcome here.”

  “I’ll rip out your gizzard, punk.”

  I do have to give him points for bravery, if not for his knowledge of human anatomy. He squared up in a wrestler’s stance, right leg forward and crouched low. I’ve heard his go-to move is the double-leg takedown, followed by repeatedly introducing his opponent’s head to the ground. I winked at him. He cursed and, as expected, tried to take me to the pavement. He attempted to cover it with an overhand right, but I saw it coming and stopped him in his tracks with a lead-leg snap kick to the midsection. To his credit he didn’t double over, but he did buckle. I followed up with a chopping kick to his thigh and a left hook to the jaw. I pulled the last punch a little so I wouldn’t break my promise.

  He hit the ground hard, but didn’t black out.

  If more than two minutes had passed since I walked up on these clowns, I would have been surprised. I hadn’t even broken a sweat. I snuck a peek over at Alexa. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open, but even in shock she looked beautiful. I had to force myself to focus on the problem at hand. I walked over to where Rocco was lying, holding a jaw that was probably broken, and crouched down next to him.

  “Let me ask you a serious question, Rocco. Do you ever want to see me again?”

  All he could do was grit his teeth and shake his head no.

  “I would suggest you and your pals take up a more honest profession, but regardless, I don’t ever want to see you in this town again. You still have most of your teeth, and all your appendages. Next time I won’t be so nice.”

  Granted, the speech was a little over the top, but I had an audience and I was floating on the adrenaline rush. And anyway, Rocco seemed to take it to heart. It took him a few minutes to get his pals up and moving, and I stood there staring at them until they stumbled down the street and out of sight.

  “Helmut, is your hand okay?”

  The scar tissue on my left hand must have opened up when I hit Rocco. I spent years punching boards wrapped in rope and open containers of sand, and the skin on the knuckles paid the price.

  “Sure, baby, it’s just a flesh wound.”

  I didn’t bother with any more pickup lines or witty quips. I just stared into her eyes, gently grabbed her behind her supple neck, and kissed her on the mouth. She didn’t pull away.

  Chapter Three

  All in all a productive start to the day, but it made me considerably late for my morning appointment. As I pulled up to the office, I saw a large black sedan with whitewall tires parked directly in front. The few neighbors we have know not to park in our spots. Due to Shamus’s bird whispering, any offending cars get a thorough splattering from the local fowl. People are usually quick learners.

  Willie the Wonder Dog was there to greet me as usual. He has marked the left-front tire of my car since he was a puppy. No one else’s, just mine. It’s likely that Shamus trained him to do it, but he’s always denied doing so. We had to put in a doggie door in the back, because he was destroying our front door trying to get at my car whenever I pulled up. Even when I upgraded my ride, he still knew it was mine the first time I pulled up in it. After relieving himself, he stared up at me with his usual look, part contempt and part challenge. I went in through the front door and closed it fast so he couldn’t follow me in. Knowing he would have to walk around to his door in the back to get in made me feel a little better.

  We made sure to separate the living quarters, kitchen and gym from the part of the house where we conduct business. I found Shamus and Mr. Pallas chatting amiably at the big table in the conference room. Shamus had even put out coffee and biscuits.

  “Gentlemen, sorry I’m late. My first appointment this morning went a little long.”

  “No problem, Helmut.” The way Shamus said it let me know it was a problem. “I like your new shoes by the way.” I know he told Willie to eat them because they were destroyed the first time I took them off in the office.
“This is Mr. Pallas.”

  “Please, call me Alek. Shamus has been telling me all about you. Of course I know you both by reputation.”

  My first impression of Alek Pallas was that he was very nondescript. He was the type of guy you would meet and then not be able to pick out of a lineup the next day. His clothes and accessories, on the other hand, told me he could easily afford our bill.

  “Alek wanted to wait until you were here to talk business.” Shamus looked down at my shoes again as he said that. I really miss those shoes. “We’ve just been making small talk.” The only thing Shamus hates more than strangers is making small talk with strangers.

  “Shamus has been a wonderful host, and I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. I know your time’s valuable so I will get right to the point.”

  I almost missed the point because I was so impressed with his ability to lie. Shamus is a terrible host, but his compliment was said with such sincerity that I almost believed it myself.

  “I have a former employee who I need you to find. My people were able to track him to this city, but after that the trail went cold. I need him found as quickly as possible, and I am willing to pay double your usual rate upon timely completion of the objective.”

  Compliments and extra money are a nice one-two combination, but he really had not told us anything of substance yet. It’s always best to know as much as you can about your prospective employer before they become your actual employer. “Well, Alek, you seem to have us at a disadvantage. I’m not even sure what kind of business you are in exactly.” I smiled and tried to keep the tone friendly. “The more you can tell us about your business and your former employee, the easier it will be for us to do our job.”

  Alek nodded as he took a sip of coffee. “This is really excellent coffee.” Shamus had been zoning out, but that brought him back into the conversation.

  “I know right? I know a guy that imports the beans from a tribe of indigenous people in Braseal. They definitely have much more flavor than what you get at the supermarket. I can get you in touch with him if you like.”

  Shamus has little interest in being involved in what we actually do for a living, but bring up beer or coffee and all of a sudden he’s passionate about the subject.

  “I would like that actually. I can’t imagine going back to the weak brew at the office.”

  I cut in before Shamus could go off on a tangent about roasting methods or grinding techniques. “And what is it you do at your office, Alek?”

  Shamus glared at me but I ignored him. Alek took the hint and got back on track. “Yes, of course. As I said on the phone earlier, I am a junior partner of Markos and Dukas. We specialize in criminal law back East, mostly in New Athens and Megapolis, and represent a number of high-profile individuals. Last month my former employee, Mr. John Singh, didn’t show up for work. Soon after, we discovered that the branch supply of petty cash and all of his clients’ files he had access to were missing. The money is of no concern, but we need those files returned.”

  Shamus asked, “Whose chowder do you prefer?”

  Alek just stared blankly at him for a moment.

  “You know, one is tomato based, and the other is cream.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I think they’re both splendid.”

  Shamus just stared at him with a doubtful look on his face. I didn’t know what Sha was going on about at the time, so I just pressed on. “Yeah, chowder’s great. So, back to the task at hand. Did you report the theft to the police?” The question was a formality; I already knew the answer.

  “We decided it would be better to keep the matter private. Our clients would be unduly distressed if they heard that their confidential information might be in the hands of a blackmailer.”

  “Has he contacted you with his demands?”

  “No. We would have simply paid him if he had. I don’t know what his game is, and frankly I don’t care. You must get us the files.”

  At this point Shamus spoke up. I was genuinely surprised he had been listening. “By now he could have made a hundred copies of those files and distributed them to everyone he knows.”

  Alek sat back in his chair and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “We’ve thought of that. Honestly, we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s just start with finding him.”

  The obvious question was: would they kill him if we found him? Or if not them, maybe their clients would. As far as I was concerned, one should blackmail criminals and their attorneys at one’s own risk.

  “Shamus and I will need as much information on Mr. Singh as possible in order to get this investigation underway.”

  Alek nodded and began to speak, but Shamus stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Mr. Pallas, would you excuse us for a moment? I need to discuss the case with Helmut in private.”

  Our almost-client looked concerned, but I gave him my best it will be fine look and followed Shamus down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Okay, Shamus, what’s the problem?”

  “I really don’t think we should take this case.”

  I have learned the hard way that it is best to stay calm in these situations. I took a deep breath and counted to five before answering. “For the money he’s paying, you better have a great reason.”

  “Well, for one he’s lying.”

  “Since when does that matter? We would have to turn away most of our business if that was our criteria.”

  “But every word out of his mouth is a lie...except about loving my coffee.” He gave a quick, self-satisfied smile and continued. “You caught the thing about the chowder right?”

  “I recall you asking his opinion on soup. I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

  He sighed loudly and rolled his eyes at me before explaining. “Each city has its own style of clam chowder, and everyone who’s tried them both has a strong opinion about which one is better. No one likes both. Really, only the citizens of New Athens like that tomato swill. He didn’t even know what I was talking about.”

  I just smiled and nodded because I thought he was being ridiculous at the time. I’ve since tried both, and now I totally get it. Tomato?

  Shamus shook his head at me in annoyance and continued, “And, more importantly, it hurts my eyes to look at him.”

  “Shamus, I don’t even know what that means.”

  “I can’t explain it either. Something about him is just off.”

  That actually concerned me a little, but I tried not to let on. Shamus solves crimes on hunches and feelings, and he did look a bit under the weather. “I’ll tell you what. We get his info and give him the boot. I’ll do a little snooping, and if things are too shady we’ll drop the case.”

  He just rolled his eyes at me. Why do I bother? When we walked back to the conference room, we found Willie curled up at Alek’s feet getting a belly rub. I had never seen Willie lie on his back for anyone but Shamus.

  “What a charming pooch. Truly man’s best friend.”

  All I could do was stare. I think my mouth was open.

  “I hope you gentlemen have decided to help me.”

  Shamus remained focused on Willie. I’ve seen him stare down the barrel of a gun, and he handled that incident much better than this one. To see his beloved dog enjoying a good belly rub from another man was almost too much for him to handle. I left him to his fugue state and closed the deal.

  “We have decided to take the case, Mr. Pallas. We’ll need you to fill us in on everything you have on our quarry. You mentioned your employees had tracked him here to Wudong?”

  “Yes, internal security. Good men, of course, but not quite up to this challenge. I will get you what their investigation turned up. It includes all we know about John’s past as well.” Alek continued to rub Willie’s belly. Shamus continued to look c
restfallen.

  “We could also use any personal effects of his that you might have. You never know what Shamus might get a hit off of.”

  “I think we have one or two trinkets of his.” He finally stopped petting the dog and stood up. Willie looked up at him and let out a soft whine. I was genuinely relieved that Shamus didn’t cry.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Alek said, “I do feel better knowing that you are on the case. I will have a driver drop off everything I have by early this afternoon. During business hours you can reach me at our local branch office. Will this suffice as a retainer?”

  He handed me a business card and a check with the right number of zeros. I smiled on the inside. “This...will be acceptable.”

  Chapter Four

  Shamus was worn out from his hour of entertaining and went upstairs to take a nap. Willie must have been forgiven for his infidelity, because he followed Shamus upstairs and I heard them both snoring a few minutes later. They were probably spooning. I wouldn’t mention that, except I really miss my shoes.

  As usual, I was stuck with the real work. Mr. Pallas was true to his word. The package was dropped off at 1:00 p.m. by a burly man in an expensive suit. While Shamus was catching up on his beauty rest, I was digging through that box of junk looking for clues. There was surprisingly little in the way of personal effects left behind, considering John Singh had worked at that company for many years and then left abruptly. I had expected personal mementos or framed pictures of family at the very least. I got a lighter, a group snapshot taken from afar, what looked like a passport photo and a human resources file.

  The file gave some basic information. He was twenty-five, single and a grad of the Athena Polias Academy. So he was smart, both for graduating from one of the most prestigious East Coast schools in the country and for not being married. He had worked in the Megapolis branch as a solicitor for the last three years, which would have allowed him to get his hands on all sorts of client information.