Once safely back on the freeway, I called Kevin to report that I got the goods on Morey. We decided to meet the next morning to put the final phase of our plan in motion.
“Great shots,” Kevin said, perusing my array of smutty photos. “These should definitely get his attention.”
“Should we confront him in his office?”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
When we walked into Jiffy Loans, an attractive young woman welcomed us. I couldn’t help but wonder if old Morey was banging her too.
“How may I help you?”
“We’d like a word with Mr. Schwartz.”
“Certainly. I’ll see if he’s available.”
A moment later, Morey appeared from his office. “Good morning, gents. You looking for a loan?”
“No,” I replied, “we’re actually here to get one paid off.”
“Great! I love to hear that. Mona can help you with that.”
“This one is a bit unusual. We’d like to deal directly with you.”
“Well, okay. Step into my office.”
When we were seated, he asked, “What’s the name on the loan?”
“Irma Krug.”
“Ah, yes, Irma.” He pulled a file. “Looks like her balance is $750.00.”
“We’d like a receipt marked paid in full.”
“Sure. Will you be paying by cash or check?”
“Actually, neither one,” I replied, sliding an envelope with the photos across the desk.
When he pulled out the incriminating shots, his eyes grew big and I could almost see the sweat popping out on his forehead.
“Okay,” he said, after regaining his composure, “what do you guys want?”
“Exactly what I asked for, a paid receipt for Irma’s bill, a cancellation of her contract, and a promise that you will withdraw your lawsuit.”
His initial fear turned to indignation. “This is blackmail, plain and simple. I ought to call the cops.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, handing him the phone receiver, “but before you do, think about how much it’s going to cost you when Mrs. Schwartz gets a look at your photo spread.”
“Let’s not do that,” he said, hanging up the phone. “That’s all you want? Irma’s debt cleared? Nothing else?”
“That’s all we want.”
“How do I know you won’t keep coming back for more?”
“I guess you’ll just have to take our word for it,” Kevin replied. “Now do we have a deal, or should we head out to Sunset Hills to have a conversation with your wife?”
“No, no!” he pleaded. “Don’t do that. We’ve got a deal.”
Fifteen minutes later, we walked out of Jiffy Loans with Irma’s paid receipt.
Within twenty-four hours, I had been a peeping Tom and a blackmailer. I couldn’t help but marvel how far I’d come since I started working for the Lady Justice on the Dark Side, the one wearing fishnet stockings and high heels.
And yet, I felt no remorse. The look of utter relief and disbelief on Irma Krug’s face told me we had done the right thing and that justice had been served.
CHAPTER 6
The day after our encounter with Morey Schwartz, I was hoping to just kick back and relax. At age seventy-five, the day of surveillance and our face-to-face with the scumbag took its toll. Just a few years ago, an operation like this was a piece of cake. Now, not so much, and like Dirty Harry says, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
But it was not to be.
I had just poured a glass of Arbor Mist and was about to stretch out in my recliner and listen to some Ray Conniff records when the phone rang.
It was Maggie.
“The sale just closed on the bank building and Dr. Skinner is taking possession. He’d like you to be there.”
“Really? Why?”
“I have no idea. I’m just conveying his message. Are you coming or not?”
I looked wistfully at my glass of Arbor Mist. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Maggie, Dr. Skinner and Jacob Watson had just pulled up in front of the building when I arrived.
Skinner was beside himself with excitement.
“Walt! So glad you could make it.” He turned to the building and beamed. “Just look at it! Inside those walls, history will be made. There will be advances in the treatment of psychological illnesses that will astound the world.”
Maggie handed him a set of keys. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
He stepped forward, took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and as he stepped inside, he uttered Neil Armstrong’s famous words, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
Once we were all inside, he looked around approvingly. “Perfect! With a bit of remodeling, this will suit our needs very well. This will be the reception area and over there will be the secretaries’ desks, the offices further back will be the treatment rooms, and the vault will protect the device that will change the course of human history.”
Maggie said Skinner had paid cash for the building and now he was talking about expensive renovations. I couldn’t help but wonder who was funding the operation.
“Dr. Skinner, an undertaking such as this has to be very costly. Are you working with a government grant?”
“Heavens no!” he replied emphatically. “I want nothing to do with those war mongers. As soon as Homeland Security heard about Von Braun’s work, they were intent on getting their hands on it for military purposes and other clandestine skullduggery.”
That certainly coincided with what I experienced after the box fell into my hands. Homeland Security dispatched a trio of agents under the ruthless leadership of a man by the name of Garrett Scarborough.
They were willing to do anything, including murder, to get their hands on the box. It was Scarborough who kidnapped Maggie, offering to trade her for the box.
“No, Walt,” Skinner continued, “My funding comes from private sources, men of great wealth who hope that our program will bring an end to the suffering of millions of Americans. If successful, their contributions will be the legacy they leave behind.”
“One more question. I’m curious why you would spend the money for this building when you have no idea if you will actually ever possess the device?”
Skinner smiled. “It’s the old dilemma, which comes first, the chicken or the egg? If we have the device and haven’t provided any way to secure and protect it, it could easily fall into the wrong hands. With this building, we will be ready to move forward as soon as you locate it for us. And speaking of that, you said you were following some leads. Are you making any progress?”
“Uhhh, yes, I think I am.”
“Splendid! Let’s take a look at that vault.”
We followed him through the bank and into the huge room that housed the vault.
“Magnificent!” he gushed, beaming with pride.
Maggie handed him an envelope. “This is the code to the vault.”
“Thank you, my dear. Naturally, we’ll have it changed by a locksmith.” He turned to me. “Now all we need is the device. We’re counting on you, Walt.”
I wanted to tell him that it was locked securely in my safe at home, but I wasn’t ready just yet.
“I know you are,” I replied. “You have a lot to do here, and I need to follow up on those leads, so I’ll get going.”
He shook my hand. “God speed!”
I gave Maggie a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”
As soon as I got in the car, I dialed Nick and Arnie.
“You’ve reached the Watchers. Arnold Goldblume speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Walt. I was just wondering if you’ve come up with anything on Skinner and Watson?”
“We have,” he replied. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”
“Let’s start with the short version.”
“Well, they’re clean as far as we can tell. Dr. Skinne
r is a research scientist and written several articles for Psychology Today and even has been written up in The Journal of the American Medical Association.
“Watson has a PHD in Business Administration. Several of the articles we found linked them to Detrick Von Braun. It seems they were colleagues of sorts. The only negative we could find has to do with Skinner’s autism. Apparently, his penchant for uttering the truth offended some stuffed shirts in the psychiatric community.”
“I can see that,” I replied. “The first time we met, he told me Maggie had a fine ass for a woman her age.”
Arnie chuckled, then became serious. “The last time you were here, you were asking about the Neuron Encoding Synapse Disruptor. During the course of our research, we found that Von Braun was working on that very device, and that he had perfected a working model which very likely got him killed. I don’t suppose that Skinner and Watson have it in their possession.”
I still wasn’t ready to tell them the whole truth. “No, they do not, but they suspect it might be in Kansas City. They’ve hired me to try to locate it.”
I heard him whistle. “Wow! So the NESD really exists! In the right hands, it could be a game changer.”
“In your opinion, would the right hands be Skinner and Watson?”
Silence. “I don’t see why not,” he said at last. “From what we’ve read, he would be using it for the purpose it was intended.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a big help.”
“Walt, if you find the device, will you let us know?”
“I will,” I promised.
I had just hung up when my cell phone rang.
“Mr. Walt, this is Mary. You better come over. It looks like Josh Mason shot himself. He’s dead.”
Mary Murphy is my housemother at the Three Trails Hotel. As I previously mentioned, that establishment is not my pride and joy. It is a flop house with twenty sleeping rooms that share four hall baths. I charge $40.00 a week for a room with a bed, dresser, and chair. It’s not much, but it’s all my tenants can afford. Most of them are old guys trying to survive on meager Social Security checks or younger guys working out of the day labor pool.
My next call was to Willie Duncan who lives in a studio apartment in the basement of my building. He gets his rent free for doing the maintenance on the two buildings. I knew I would need him. This wasn’t the first dead body we’d encountered in the hotel. It’s never a pretty sight.
With Willie beside me, we headed to the hotel.
Mary was waiting for us on the porch.
“Oh, Mr. Walt! This is just horrible! Josh was such a good kid.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No, I called you. I knew you’d know what to do.”
“Let’s take a look.”
“He’s in #9.”
We climbed the stairs and I pushed open the door. Josh was lying on the bed in a pool of blood. There was a hole in his temple from the .38 snub-nosed revolver on the floor.
Mr. Feeney, a long-time tenant came out of his room.
“I heard the shot and told Mary right away. Damn shame.”
“What do you know about him?” I asked.
“He’s been here about a month,” Mary replied. “He wasn’t like most of the losers we have around here. From what I heard, he had a drinking problem. Lost his house, his job, and his family. He told me he came here straight out of a rehab program. He’d been sober for six months. He got a job at a car wash and was trying to put his life back together. That’s all I know.”
I spotted an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the corner.
“Looks like he fell off the wagon.”
“Sure did,” Mr. Feeney replied. “He came home last night with that bottle. Said he got laid off. Said he was never gonna make anything of himself as long as he had the monkey on his back. Said he’d do anything to get well. I didn’t hear nothin’ else till I heard the shot.”
I called 911, and soon the building was swarming with cops. After taking our statements, they determined his death was a suicide and his body was removed by the medical examiner.
I waited in the car while Willie took the blood-soaked mattress to the dumpster and cleaned the room.
I couldn’t get the image of the young man out of my head. A life wasted by the ravages of alcoholism.
Josh Mason was the perfect candidate for Dr. Skinner’s treatment. A life ruined by the disease, everything lost, and no hope.
Mr. Feeney said his last words were that he’d do anything to get well. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have volunteered to have his memory erased if it meant ridding himself of his affliction.
For Josh, we’ll never know, but how many other Josh’s are out there just waiting for the moment they put a gun to their head to end the suffering?
It was at that moment that I made the decision to give Dr. Skinner the device that was hidden in my safe.
CHAPTER 7
I thought long and hard about how I would turn the device over to Skinner and Watson. Undoubtedly, they would have questions as to how I acquired it. I decided I couldn’t tell them the whole story, that I had it in my possession the entire time.
I would have to make up another white lie.
At times, I’m alarmed at how easy telling lies has become since I started working for the Lady Justice on the Dark Side. Kevin, with a thirty-year career as a P.I. has told me more than once that stretching the truth is sometimes necessary in our business.
This was one of those times.
I opened my safe, retrieved the box, and placed it on my desk. Inside it was new technology that could indeed be a blessing to mankind, but had already cost many men their lives. Just knowing that revealing the existence of the device and the ensuing results, either good or bad, was in my hands, sent chills up and down my spine.
I could actually pitch the thing in the Missouri River as I pretended to do, and that would be the end of it. No more worries about it falling into the wrong hands.
Then, the image of Josh Mason, lying in a pool of his own blood, filled my mind. By delivering the device to Skinner, how many such tragic lives could be saved?
Josh’s death made me realize that it wasn’t my place to deny possibly thousands of souls the relief they desperately needed.
I had to hand over the box and hope for the best.
I picked up the phone and called Dr. Skinner.
“Dr. Skinner, I’m wondering if you had gotten the combination changed on the vault?”
“I did. That was the first order of business. When the device shows up, it must be protected at all costs.”
“Great! I’d like to meet you and Mr. Watson at the bank building.”
“We’re both here now.”
“I’ll be right over.”
I put the box in a grocery bag and headed out to fulfill my date with destiny.
Carl Luther and Evan Gomez had been watching the bank building from their car parked across the street.
“That’s Williams, the P.I. Skinner hired to find the device,” Luther said, as the grey-haired man walked into the bank.
“And he’s carrying a paper bag,” Gomez added. “You think he found the Disruptor?”
“I don’t think he’s delivering groceries. We’d better give Hatfield a call and see what he wants us to do.”
Dr. Skinner met me at the door. “I hope you’ve come to give us good news.”
I looked around. “Is anyone here besides you and Mr. Watson?”
“No, we’re quite alone. Why all the secrecy?”
Without any fanfare, I handed him the box.
His eyes grew wide. “Is this what I think it is?”
I nodded.
Skinner jumped up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “Jacob! Come! Quick!”
As Watson entered the room, Skinner held up the box. “We have it, Jacob! We have the device!”
Watson raced across the room and they embraced.
“At last we can begin the work for
which our brother, Detrick, gave his life.”
Skinner turned to me. “You must tell me how you found it. I must know.”
This was the moment I had been dreading.
“I can tell you some, but not all of it. I put out some discreet feelers with some people I know who keep an eye on all the latest technology. I received a call from one of them saying they might have a lead, but they wanted to know more about the intended use of the device.
“I told them about you, your connection to Von Braun, and how you planned to use the device. They said they would pass the word along.
“You must understand that since the device was taken from Von Braun, many lives were lost in pursuit of the box. Four countries sent agents to secure the box. All of them perished. You can certainly understand why the person who had the box wished to remain anonymous.”
“Of course. He undoubtedly feared for his life. Why, then, did he or she surrender the device now?”
“Because you are going to use it for the purpose for which it was created. The one who possessed the device was convinced that you and you alone would use it for the betterment of mankind. It’s a great and noble responsibility.”
He took a deep breath. “It is indeed, and I am ready to meet the challenge! Walt, I owe you an apology. I said on our first meeting that you were too old for this kind of work. I was wrong. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. No apology needed.”
“But I was right about your wife. She does have a fine ass for a woman her age. Watson! Let’s get to work!”
On the drive home, I thought about what I should do next.
I promised Arnie and Nick that I would let them know if I located the device. After all they had done for me over the years, I owed them that courtesy.
“Arnie, Walt here. I just wanted you to know that I located the NESD and delivered it to Dr. Skinner.”
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