Henry Wood Detective: Boxed Set (Books 1 - 4)

by Brian Meeks

  Mike shook his head. “He sure is an excitable little fellow.”

  “He just doesn’t know what to do with himself and...”

  The phone rang, and Celine grabbed it. “Henry Wood Detective Agency...hello...can you hear me?” She hung up and shrugged. “Nobody there.”

  Mike said, “I’m going to have to go. I told the captain I’d report in two hours ago.”

  Carol asked, “Will you be coming back?”

  “You can count on it.”

  The silence that followed was prolonged and heavy. Celine kept her right hand near the phone, ready to pounce. Carol ran her hands over Buttons who purred softly. The Flatiron building’s normal business chatter died down as people ended the business day until only rush-hour traffic and the tic-toc of the clock hummed in the background.

  Celine had bought the clock from the second-hand store near her apartment. It looked like it should be in a detectives office and up until now it had seemed a great choice. Today, it was a constant reminder of their helplessness. She imagined the major saying over and over again, “Not yet, not yet, not yet...” Her rage was becoming difficult to control. Patience was not one of Celine’s virtues.

  An hour passed without the phone ringing once. Bobby returned with some Chinese takeout and Coke. They didn’t wake Henry but ate in silence as the daylight faded. Nobody noticed.

  It was nearly 9 pm when Celine flipped on her desk light. The light woke Henry. He ate an egg roll and sat in silence with the others. There was nothing to say. It was just after 11 pm when a knock came at the door.

  Celine leapt to her feet to answer it, but Henry said, “No, let me.”

  He opened the door to two, very large men in dark suits. They stood side by side, and each carried guns. The one to the right stuck his gun in Henry’s chest and said in an accent Henry couldn’t place, “Inside, if you please.”

  The other man walked in and ripped Celine’s phone from the wall. He did the same thing with Henry’s.

  The man with the gun in Henry’s chest surveyed the office and held out an envelope to the other three. Henry reached for it, but he pulled it out of reach. “It’s not for you. It’s for them.”

  The accent could be Russian, but it seemed off, Henry thought.

  The man tossed the envelope on the desk and said, “Now you come with us, comrade.”

  Henry did as he was told. He thought it was strange they didn’t search him, but he wasn’t going to complain. When they reached the stair landing, the man said, “Please, hands on wall.”

  They took Henry’s gun, wallet, and car keys. “You’ll get them back if you win.”

  “Win what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The car ride was long and uncomfortable. Henry’s head was in a black silk bag. The number of turns and stops, told him that these guys were pros. The adrenaline that started the moment they knocked faded after an hour or so. Henry had no idea where they were, but he knew they hadn’t left Manhattan, because the tunnels and bridges all had their sound. Henry wished he had gotten more sleep the last two days. He didn’t feel at all ready for whatever “game” they were planning.

  When the car came to a stop, Henry was helped out, but the hood remained. The car pulled away. He felt a hand on his shoulder. The man behind him said, “We wait a moment.”

  Less than a minute later, a large door closed. The sound of footsteps told Henry the driver was returning. The men took him by the arms, led him forward a dozen steps, and placed his hands on a table.

  “Don’t take your hands off the table until the hood is lifted.”

  Henry heard their footsteps retreat and then there was music. Henry wasn’t an expert in classical music, but he did know the Toccata in D Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach. Anyone who had ever been to a haunted house or scary movie probably did, too. It definitely set a tone.

  The hood was lifted. He stood in complete darkness.

  * * *

  He heard a metallic thwack, and three bare bulbs burst to life. Henry, with his hands still on the table, blinked as his eyes adjusted. He straightened and looked down at the model set on the table. It looked like a warehouse. Tiny boxes were stacked on each other, and he could see a series of pathways, but the space was not very organized.

  Darkness returned with a clank. The bulbs faded, and another light appeared in the distance. Henry stood at the end of a massive warehouse and realized the model was a layout of the battleground. As his eyes focused, he saw Luna. She was on a platform and tied to a chair. The light above her faded.

  Henry listened for a sound. He wanted her to yell to him, but she said nothing. The lights above him came back to life, and he heard the major’s voice.

  “The war hero, Henry Wood, so pleased to see you.”

  “You’ve gone to a lot of work here, Major.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I don’t, but you seem to be holding all the cards, so why don’t you deal and get this game started?”

  “I had hoped for some banter. You know, reminiscing between old...friends.”

  “You want banter? Sure, I can do that. Why don’t you let Luna go and we can have a nice long chat? Heck, I’ll even give you my medals if that’s what you want.”

  The major yelled, “That’s NOT what I want...not YOUR medals...and not your pity.”

  “I don’t pity you. I don’t care at all. I barely knew you during the war. I’d been there two days. Things got messed up, and I did what I could to save my men. It worked out.”

  “If you had followed orders, my plan would have worked and...”

  “And you’d have gotten the awards and promotions, I know, I get it, but the Germans didn’t see things the same way. They didn’t do what you expected, and it all went to shit.”

  “It went to shit because you didn’t follow orders.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  There was a long silence. The major walked out of the shadows. He was accompanied by the two men who had brought Henry to the warehouse.

  “Mr. Wood, what you see before you is the battlefield.” He grabbed a long stick and pointed at the model. “Here is your objective, your lovely lady friend.”

  Henry saw a tiny platform on the map. A little wooden chair with a small doll tied to it sat atop the platform.

  The Major pointed to several paths. “This central path is the quickest route, but it’s guarded by soldiers here and here. They are heavily armed. The path to the right is more circuitous, but we don’t know if any troops are stationed along its path. The trail through the higher stacks of boxes and crates is dangerous terrain and could contain snipers.”

  Henry studied the board. It looked grim. “What are my resources, Major? Do I even get a gun?”

  “Of course you do, in fact, there is a supply depot here,” he said pointing with the stick and smacking it against a spot on the map that would be directly to Henry’s left.

  “Okay, so when does the battle commence?”

  “After the briefing, there will be fifteen minutes for you to ready yourself and...”

  Henry didn’t wait. He grabbed the edge of the table and heaved. The table tilted up and took out all three lights. Henry kept pushing and felt it crash into the major who had been caught off-guard. The two men on either side of him moved so that they weren’t knocked down, but they were startled. Henry bolted to the right.

  They were now in darkness, but Henry had kept his right eye, which had been obscured by the brim of his fedora, closed. As soon as the lights popped, he closed the left and opened the right. He had one eye that was already adjusted to the dark and it was just enough to see the edges of where the path on the right started.

  He could hear the major screaming and the two men lifting the heavy model off his chest. As soon as he rounded the corner, Henry took off his shoes. There was a stack of boxes near the corner behind him and he moved silently behind them. It was but a moment when he heard the heavy footsteps of two men running towards whe
re Henry had just been. The major shouted that Henry had taken “Charlie,” which meant that the center was “Bravo” and the higher passage was “Alpha.”

  Henry slipped around the boxes and started along the wall towards the center, where he had just been. He couldn’t see much, but the faint outline of the upturned table gave him a sense of where the central path started. The supplies would be along the other wall, near the far corner.

  He heard a man yell, “I don’t see him,” and saw flashlight beams. He counted four. It seemed that two of them had swung over from the middle. He couldn’t hear any sounds from the left. He reached the supply crate but couldn’t see what was on it.

  His hands came across a military issue .45 and two clips next to it. Henry picked up the gun and checked, it was loaded, but he didn’t want to risk chambering a round and having the sound give away his position.

  Henry padded back across the wall. Moments later, two of the men, carrying lights in one hand and hand guns in the other, came out of the Charlie passage. One man said to the other, “He must have doubled back. Check the weapons table.” The man who was giving orders passed his light along the back wall just as Henry reached the safety of the corner boxes.

  * * *

  The flashlights allowed Henry to make out some of the important features of the mountains of crates. Henry put his shoes back on, deciding he could walk quietly enough since they had no idea where he was. He heard footsteps coming near and crept around the corner. He saw a man heading towards where he had ducked behind the boxes.

  Henry left his hiding spot and crept into the darkness of the Charlie passage. He could see the flashlights were focused on the other two paths and heard the major yell, “Just turn on the damn lights!”

  Henry didn’t like his odds without the darkness. He scrambled up a crate and onto the one stacked next to it. The wooden boxes were piled three and four high all around him, so he was somewhat protected.

  Henry heard someone throw the master switch off to his right. He saw the shadow first.

  A man, carrying what looked like a Colt M1911 had eased himself out from between two stacks of crates. Henry thought it might be the same guy who had followed him into the corner. The man turned, looked up, and saw Henry. Henry fired first. It wasn’t a hard shot, and the man dropped to the ground. Henry bounded down the crates and ran for the gap with the dead man.

  Shouting was coming from all directions, and Henry guessed there were at least four voices all yelling and running towards his position. He passed behind the piles of crates and spotted the main switch. Henry threw the switch and fired three rounds into the switch box. It was dark again, but now they knew where he was.

  His first instinct was to run along the wall towards the corner, but he suspected the guy checking the supply table would head there, too. He moved between the crates again.

  His foot stumbled against something metallic and sent it skittering across the floor. The sound echoed from his hiding spot.

  At least two M1 Thompsons sent a hail of bullets into the crates around him. Henry couldn’t see where the muzzle flashes were, but he could tell there was one on each side of his position. If he went either way, he’d be cut down in a cross fire. Something told him to reach down and pick up the thing he had kicked. It was the flashlight. He grabbed it and moved back towards where he had found the switch.

  Henry didn’t see anyone coming along the wall. He felt to his left and realized he could travel further along the wall towards where Luna was tied up. It could be a dead end, but he had to risk it.

  Henry’s eyes were beginning to adjust again, and he barely avoided a pipe jutting out of the wall. He ducked under it just as a bullet ricocheted off the pipe. Henry dove to the ground. Another two shots rang out, zipping over him and hitting a stack of crates just ahead of him. Henry rolled over, brought his weapon up, and fired five quick shots back down along the wall. Three more bullets passed over him before the shooting stopped.

  Henry hoped he had gotten the shooter, but it was possible the guy was just reloading. Henry crawled forward. It looked like a dead end, but he couldn’t be sure. The muzzle flash from his gun had blinded his eyes, and he was back in complete darkness. The major would know if this path were a dead end, and he would bring his troops down on him any moment.

  Henry felt along the wall of crates and found he was right. It was a dead end. There was little time for retreat, so he felt around for anything that might let him climb out of the trap. He found nothing but remembered the pipe. He took three steps, his hands out in front, and found it. He grabbed the pipe where it bent and went hand over hand until he could get his feet on it. Using the pipe and the wall of crates, he propelled himself up the crates, which were stacked four high and probably twenty feet tall.

  A flashlight beam passed along the wall next to him. He heard someone running and yelling, “37 is down.”

  Henry understood immediately who the enemy was, beyond the Major, it was the Enclave. He didn’t know why or care, Henry just knew that these were not ordinary soldiers, these were trained assassins. They knew the terrain, were more skilled in the art of death, and were more than enough of a match for a gumshoe from Brooklyn.

  From his vantage point he could see that he was atop one of three long rows of crates. What he hadn’t noticed on the model was that they all ended half-way except for Bravo path. For now, though, he was on top of the canyons looking down on a maze that he presumed was filled with more dead ends.

  Three lights converged on the entry point to the dead end he had climbed out of, and one of them had just leapt across to his stack of cargo. They were being cautious and moving methodically into position. It was truly professional but their flaw was in assuming Henry couldn’t see where they were.

  He slid over the top of a crate and hoped it would only drop one level. It did. The level went a little further to the center, so Henry scrambled over the dividing wall and put his pursuers out of sight. The lighting was still tenuous at best, but he could feel his way along the top of the maze. It would have been easier to turn on the flashlight, but he didn’t have any intel about the troops stationed on this side. He crept along as quietly as possible, hoping not to run into a waiting sniper.

  Henry almost fell into the maze when a lengthy burst of machine-gun fire rang out.. He could pick up the pace, and they wouldn’t hear him. Of course, soon they would know that the mouse was out of the trap and headed for the cheese.

  Henry realized that the maze’s outer walls were a giant square. He could head straight to Luna, but he still watched his step or he might give away his position. He got to the platform and whispered, “It’s me, Henry. Stay still.”

  Henry reached out and touched her face. She had been crying. “Shhh, don’t cry.”

  He took the gag out of her mouth and started to untie her. It wasn’t easy; the knots were complex. Henry wished he’d looked for a knife on the table.

  The sound of commotion from the front half of the warehouse told him the major and his friends were back on the chase. It was no use, the ropes wouldn’t give. Henry said, “I need to put the gag back in so they don’t know I’ve made it here. Okay?”

  Luna whispered, “Okay.” She was the bravest woman he knew.

  Henry squeezed her hand.

  Henry made his way along the maze wall and headed for the back left corner. He wanted to get his pursuers as far from Luna as possible. He saw the flashlights go out as two of the men crossed the midway point. Now everybody was in the dark.

  Henry needed an edge. He tried to remember how many shots he had fired but couldn’t. He pulled the clip from his .45 and replaced it with a fresh one. The partially used clip went in his back pocket.

  Henry reached the corner and found a column of crates stacked two by two. He looked over the edge. It seemed to be a straight drop to the ground. It was too dark to see the two men, but, from the creaking of the crates, they were flanking him. Had he been making noise, too?

  Henr
y didn’t move. He listened. The sounds were faint, but he could tell one of the guys was coming straight for him. If they hadn’t heard him, maybe they were just getting into fallback positions, he thought. He knew the voice in his head was wrong. They were moving forward and purposefully, which gave him an idea.

  He pulled the partially empty clip from his back pocket, removed the remaining rounds, shoved them into his pocket, and tossed the clip in a long arc towards the center of the maze.

  The footsteps turned and moved quickly towards the center. Henry followed and snuck past where the one man had turned. He could see that the wall dropped down only one level. Then he got a lucky break.

  The man who had been moving down the opposite wall whispered something, counted to three, lit his flashlight, and shone it into the maze. Henry didn’t hesitate, he fired, from his side, three rounds and saw the man and flashlight drop, as his machine gun fired wildly into the space below. He saw the remaining man spin around and open fire. Henry dropped off the wall onto the next level.

  Just as Henry was feeling as if the scales were evening up, he heard dogs.

  It sounded like a half dozen German Shepherds were being unleashed on the maze. The barking was loud, but he could hear screaming above it. The men were yelling commands at the dogs and getting them all worked up. It sounded like the major was ordering more troops to the top of the maze wall. The only upside is that in all the chaos, Henry was still hidden by the darkness and no longer needed to worry about his footsteps giving away his position.

  Henry hustled across the dividing point of the maze and back into the front half of the warehouse. The three main paths were also created with stacks of goods, but their containers weren’t as uniform. Henry guessed the stuff had been here before the major built his battle field.

  It was slow going, but Henry made it to the edge of path ‘Alpha’ and paused.

  It seemed all attention was directed toward the chaos in the center of the maze until he heard heavy breathing below him. Henry looked and saw the glowing tip of a cigarette and the face of the first man he had shot. The man was wounded and held something over his gut. Henry’s first thought was to climb down and knock the guy out, but he saw the gun resting against the man’s leg. It was too risky. What wasn’t risky was dropping a small, but very heavy box on the guy’s head. Henry gave the box a light shake and whatever was inside seemed solidly packed. It would make some noise but not as much as a gunshot. Henry let it fall and heard a dull thud. The cigarette rolled across the floor, then faded.