The Grey Ghost

by Nicholas Cara

  “Quarterpenny…” Joe nodded tiredly whispering back.

  As the paramedics slammed the back doors shut neither Patsy nor Joe noticed the lone form starring in shock at them before rising from the pavement and quickly disappearing into the assembling crowd of onlookers leaving Patsy’s bundled jacket lying on the street.

  Hours later, the large oak chair creaked as the imperious form of Minos settled back on its frame. Leaning back, it was as if he simply rejoined his natural element now once again partly swallowed by the dark room’s shadows. A hideous smile of pearly white teeth could be made through the shadows as the enigmatic villain slowly and methodically removed the pair of black gloves in which he had been wearing, attentively laying them in front of him.

  After a long moment of silence, Minos reached forward and pressed a small recessed button on the side of the garish lamp sitting to his right. Summoned by the silent signal, the massive form of Vega entered the shadowed office through a side door of the polished office.

  “I trust my dear Mr. Vega, that you are the bearer of good news this afternoon. As you can see I am not in the proper mood for otherwise,” Minos smoothly stated leaning forward to stare at the giant.

  “The operation went through without a problem boss,” the giant Vega reported. “We were able to place the charges at the locations marked on the map by Rosán for stage two and detonate them before anyone noticed.”

  “Now was the good doctor correct with his calculations?” Minos asked.

  “Yes sir, this city’s Scar has quite a large mark of its own now,” Vega quickly replied. “And the wind speeds are now much stronger as he had predicted.”

  “Ah, excellent Mr. Vega, well done,” Minos commended, never moving from his shadowed perch. “I then take it that your two new associates performed admirably?”

  “KC and Rigs did their parts,” Vega replied. “As much as I had expected hired muscle should be able to.”

  “You are the bearer of grand news today my large friend,” the shadowed villain continued. “Much needed to be true after the bungling that was reported to me earlier. I will admit that it truly had vexed me for a time.”

  Walking a few steps closer as Minos eyed the floor just in front of the large oak desk; Vega was easily able to even in the darkened room make out the form of a body lying collapsed against it, unmoving.

  “You want me to take care of that boss?” Vega asked motioning to the scene.

  “If you would be so kind Mr. Vega,” Minos replied off handily. “I must also sadly task you and your associates with other priorities now as well.”

  Vega’s only response was a small nod barely noticeable to the shadowed boss.

  “It seemed that the agent I believed capable of the job failed miserably to both retrieve the young man’s journal from police custody and dispose of our Mr. Gregs discretely as instructed,” Minos explained. “For reasons baffling me still, my man… this imbecile believed it was best that if he couldn’t find the journal before his discovery then it was best to try to destroy it without knowing if it was even there. After being caught eliminating Gregs, while following his gut, this fool decided to torch all of Police Plaza One in an attempt to cover his bungling on both parts.”

  Vega took this news in silently as Minos continued.

  “And do not think for a second I have forgotten that it was your incompetence in this whole matter that caused this cascade of stupidity,” Minos finished staring across the desk at the giant.

  “So the book is ashes now?” Vega asked softly. The large monster stood there with his head lowered; cowed by Minos’ reminder that it had been him, not Wiggy, who had missed the journal when the kid had been searched.

  “Possibly, yet because of this fool’s bungling we cannot know for certain without further action. Without the knowledge of its contents, the journal sadly sits out there as a loose thread to our tightly knitted operation, and Mr. Vega, you know how I hate loose threads,” Minos smoothly answered. “Earlier this morning I received news that the police had been making use of an expert to decipher the journal. It is quite possible this expert may have had the journal in her possession at the time of the botched fire.”

  “You want me to make a little visit to this expert?” Vega asked.

  “No, not you Mr. Vega. This person and area may be a little sensitive to your touch from the past few weeks,” Minos explained chuckling. “I would like you to send your associates to pay her a visit and see if the journal still exists once and for all. I have a more important task that requires your delicate skills at this time.”

  “Whatever you need boss,” Vega replied.

  “Now with stage two completed, our dear Doctor Rosán should be, by my calculations, very close to completing his instruments as our deadline looms,” Minos said. “I tire of his whining about receiving credit for the Greece expedition and such. Honestly my good man, lying to him that we were ever going to even take possession of the artifacts has become quite grating and a deception I wish to be done with. With the need for the doctor’s expertise fast approaching, I am putting you personally in charge of this operation’s completion and its clean up Mr. Vega. So please, collect both the good doctor and his equipment and help with both of their relocation to the site before the operation commences.”

  “OK boss, no problem,” Vega replied as he reached down to heft the lifeless body away from the desk, effortlessly throwing the dead weight on his shoulder.

  “Excellent,” Minos smiled. “And sadly my dear sir I believe on retrospect I owe you an apology.”

  Surprised by this Vega stopped dead in his tracks, “What…what for boss?”

  “Earlier I admonished you for calling our operation a game. Thinking upon it, I believe you were partly correct in your assessment. This operation as of late with its recent twists and turns has taken upon in my opinion the feeling of an intrigue match of wits, do you not agree?” Minos explained. “Every small move we make seems to be the sliding of a pawn or a rook setting up the meticulous final trap for their king.”

  Vega not knowing how to answer Minos’s analogy simply stood silently listening as Minos continued on, the weight of the body on his shoulder forgotten.

  “And sometimes in games such as chess, one must seemingly lose a turn to correctly position themselves for their ultimate victory. For instance, we will have to simply mark this turn in our enemy’s favor, however…” Minos’s bright smile once against broke through his shadowed face as he looked at the draped body on Vega’s shoulder. “No game of chess has ever been lost because of the sacrifice of one’s Bishop.”

  Chuckling at the turn of phrase, the giant Mr. Vega turned lugging the deceased body of the fallen police officer out of the shadowed office away from the sound of Minos’s maniacal laugher.

  Patsy watched Joe slowly hang up the desk phone and roll back to the small hallway where he was propped against a side handrail. The two detectives stood in silence peering through the small window of the care room as nurses and the doctor methodically worked on the injured Captain.

  “I miss anything?” Joe asked never taking his focus from the scene before him.

  “Nah, the doc came by and didn’t say a word, “Patsy replied. “ They’ve been hard at it ever since. How are things back at the homestead?”

  Joe replied that everything was fine back at his house. Learning from last time, he had made it a point to phone both Kate and his mother letting them know both Patsy and he were unharmed by the fire at the station.

  Returning to silence as they stood watching the medical professionals perform their jobs, Patsy finally broke the silence trying to take his mind off the scene before them.

  “So what really happened back there?”

  “Not here,” Joe replied worried of who might overhear them. “Follow me for a second.”

  Moving over to the next empty room, Patsy angled himself in the doorway, blocking it but staying visible enough in case the nurse needed to find them quickly. Joe,
keeping his voice barely above a whisper, told Patsy what had happened after he had entered the burning station. Standing silently, Patsy absorbed every detail of the adventure never interrupting until Joe was nearly finished.

  “So I barely saw the gasoline can before BOOM! The place went up like a firecracker!” Joe explained.

  “How did you all end up in the sewer then?” Patsy asked. “You surprised even me pulling the Captain out of that muck.”

  “When I saw the explosion, I jumped on the three of them and ghosted them through the floor. Before I knew it, we all slashed down in the drain under the station. I’ll be honest with you, we got lucky with that,” Joe continued explaining. “After I figured out where we were it took a little bit to find that manhole, but we got out eventually.”

  “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone covered in muck in my life buddy. You should’ve seen the place go up. The fireball blew out almost every window in the station!” Patsy replied resting his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You really had me worrying a bit there bud.”

  “Ah you do care,” Joe joked before becoming completely serious. “You do understand that nothing back at the station was an accident, right?”

  “Unless we started to store gas cans next to the evidence locker and no one told me about it,” Patsy retorted.

  “The fire definitely started there from the smell in the locker, but here’s the question, did our killer torch the place to destroy something in the locker, or was it just to cover up Gregs’ murder?” Joe said mulling over the motives out loud.

  “Gregs’ cell really wasn’t that close to the locker,” Patsy interjected.

  “Close enough…” Joe rebuffed cutting himself off as a pleasant looking nurse carrying a large clipboard made her way next to Patsy in the hallway.

  “Excuse me gentlemen, are either one of you Detective Bevine?” the nurse asked the partners.

  Glancing at the nameplate adorning her uniform, Joe made out the name Jolene next to a very long and complicated last name starting with an M before replying,

  “Yes miss, I’m Detective Bevine. What can I help you with?”

  “James Robinson next door is asking for you,” the nurse replied.

  “He’s awake, how is he?” Joe asked.

  “He has a deep cut on the crown of his head that required 18 stitches, a minor muscle tear in his right shoulder and is recovering from smoke inhalation but seems to be responding to treatment,” the nurse replied. “However, he’s been horribly rude since he woke up; it might be his way of coping from any pain he might be experiencing. I’ve seen that a lot.”

  “Sadly miss, that’s not the pain talking,” Joe chuckled, smiling at the pleasant nurse.

  “Well either way try to keep him calm,” the nurse responded walking the two detectives to the front of the captain’s room.

  Looking inside, all three were surprised to see the Captain not waiting for his visitors. Standing next to the hospital bed, Robinson struggled to get his shirt on around his injured right arm which sat in a sling.

  “Whoa Cap, what do you think you’re doing?” Patsy asked walking toward his superior. “You need to get back into bed.”

  “So when did you start giving me orders Thomas?” Robinson scoffed back. “From what I hear my precinct is under siege and you think a bump on the head and bum wing is going to keep me on the sidelines?”

  “But Captain…” Joe started to interject.

  “Don’t you start with me Bevine, you more than anyone,” Robinson said cutting Joe off.

  Realizing that barring the Captain being cuffed to his bed there was nothing they could do to keep him at the hospital. Patsy walked over and helped the Captain put on his uniform shirt.

  As he finished dressing, Robinson asked for a status update on the situation at the precinct. Joe could see the older man’s shoulders fall slightly as he filled him in about the complete loss of Police Plaza One.

  “Did the fire travel to the old courthouse? Captain Robinson asked after Joe finished.

  “After the last explosion, there was a small part of it that started to go up, but I think the C.C.F.D. had it contained when we left the scene,” Patsy answered.

  “Good. If the fire department got to that quickly enough and there isn’t any structural damage we’ll move operations over there for the time being,” Robinson replied. “We are going to need somewhere to lock the rat up that burned down our home.”

  “Captain, are you sure?” Patsy started to ask seeing Robinson start to limp as he tried to make his way down the hall toward the exit, ignoring the protests of the hospital staff.

  “Don’t start again with me, Thomas,” Robinson barked cutting Patsy off again. “Your only job right now is to get me back to the station or what’s left of it and immediately place officer James Bishop under arrest.”

  “Wait…what? Bishop?” Patsy replied looking now at Joe finding only a similar mask of confusion mirroring his own.

  “Yes Bishop, that snake in our house. I ran into him back in the holding cells just after the fire alarm started wailing. Just as I made my way past the bonfire in the evidence locker to the holding cells, I found him dropping Gregs to the ground,” Robinson started to explain. “He started yelling to me over the commotion that Gregs had passed out but I bent down to check on him something clubbed me in the head! I remember seeing him look down at me and then take off just before things went black and I woke up here.”

  “Jimmy? I just can’t believe it. He’s a twenty-year man on the force,” Patsy said thinking back to the officer he had just spoken to outside the burning precinct.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it either Patsy. He’s always been a straight shooter,” Robinson replied almost sadly. “I suspected for some time now there might be a mole in our house, but I never would have thought of Bishop and that probably is what earned me this bump in the noggin.”

  “So what did he want to achieve by all of this?” Joe asked from in front of them as they made their way out of the emergency room. Joe continued to mull the question around in his head as Captain Robinson barked at a nurse to get the wheelchair she was bringing toward him away, yelling that he didn’t care about some silly hospital policy. “Was taking Gregs out the end game just so we couldn’t talk to him?”

  “I don’t think so Bevine,” Robinson answered finally getting away from the nurse. “I think what Bishop was looking for was that kid’s book.”

  Reaching down to his side Joe patted the yellow envelope still tucked next to him.

  “What in the world would he want with this thing?” Joe said.

  Looking at his two detectives, Robinson shook his head seeing that they had not connected any of the dots.

  “Think about it you two! Why was the evidence locker torched? Just to cover Gregs’ murder? No, the evidence locker was burning way before Bishop even had made it to Gregs’ cell.”

  “So you think Bishop was trying to salt the earth of the whole investigation, so to speak?” Joe asked remembering a Roman saying he had once heard from Kate’s father.

  “Exactly. I think Bishop planned to destroy both ends of leads in the case, those being the journal and Wiggy Gregs. Why, I have no idea, but I think since he couldn’t find the journal in the evidence locker, he decided to torch the place on the chance he might burn it wherever it was in there and also hoping to cover taking out Gregs in the fray.”

  “So he didn’t know that Kate was working on the journal back at the house?” Patsy asked as he started to wave a cab down from outside of the emergency department.

  “No one but the three of us and your gal knew about that,” Robinson answered looking at Joe.

  “But did anyone else know that Kate was even working on the journal for us?” Joe asked a fearful realization starting to dawn on him.

  “It really wasn’t a secret that she was helping us piece it together no,” the Captain replied meeting Joe’s worried look. Joe could see the same realization start to appear on his C
aptain’s face as well.

  “So if whoever is behind all of this was willing to kill Gregs to keep him silent and burn down an entire police station only on the chance they could destroy this little thing,” Joe started.

  “Then going after the expert who worked on the journal wouldn’t be that far of a leap,” Captain Robinson finished Joe’s fearful thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Arriving back at the still smoldering police station, Joe and Patsy left their resilient Captain to deal with the yelling cabby as they peeled away from the curb in their cruiser. Cutting across two lanes of traffic, Patsy hit the siren, taking corners and passes at break neck speed as he weaved in and out of traffic making his way through town. Grabbing the frame of the car, Joe braced himself to avoid being thrown at every sharp-angle Patsy introduced to the automobile as it passed other cars like they were standing still. Time was of the essence for the two partners to make it to Kate before anyone else did with an entire city unknowingly sitting in their way.

  Jumping the curb along the entrance to the Trumbull Memorial Bridge, the cruiser crashed down on its tires jarring the two detectives. Joe was surprised to see the straightaway of the bridge empty of traffic, which was odd for this time of day. Needing no encouragement, Patsy laid into the accelerator sending the cruiser speeding across the suspension bridge with a loud roar.

  So caught up with the urgency of their race against the clock, it took Joe almost the length of the bridge to notice something was incredibly wrong with their situation. Looking ahead it dawned on him that the lack of traffic wasn’t the only thing missing on the scene of the grand old bridge. The fact he could “see” that there wasn’t any traffic along the entire bridge wasn’t right.

  “Hey where’s the Curtain?” Joe started to ask out loud when a sudden strong wind slammed into the side of the cruiser.