I wanted to be as truthful as possible. “Uhhh, that was the new client I was telling you about last night. He needs me to make a trip to Springfield, so I’ll be gone about eight hours. Don’t wait supper for me. I’ll get something on the way home.”
“Springfield! Exactly what are you doing for him?”
“Delivering some sensitive documents to a business partner. He didn’t trust the mail.” That was also a partial truth.
“Well, at least that doesn’t sound dangerous like so many of your cases.”
If she only knew!
I gave her a smooch. “Have a good day.”
“Drive carefully. There’s a lot of idiots on the road.”
It wasn’t the idiots I was worried about. It was the assassins!
I got the box from the safe, went downstairs, set the box aside, and pretended I was getting the morning paper. While there, I looked for strange cars parked up and down the street. Seeing none, I retrieved the box, climbed into my car, and headed south.
Brian Steele and Randall Stokes were in their car a block away. They had been watching the building through binoculars.
“There he goes,” Stokes said, “and he’s got the box. Scarborough was right. Now, all we have to do is follow him, pick our spot, ice the old guy, and get that box.”
I took Armour to the I-49 freeway, then headed south. My route would take me through Grandview, Belton, and Peculiar. At Harrisonville, I would take 7 Highway east to Clinton, then south on Highway 13 to Springfield.
I had an uneasy feeling and continually checked my rear-view mirror looking for a tail. When I turned onto the freeway, I noticed a blue sedan that was following several car-lengths back. I kept looking, hoping the sedan would take one of the exits and disappear, but it didn’t.
At Peculiar, I pulled off and stopped at a gas station to fill up. There was no sign of the blue sedan. I breathed a sigh of relief. The driver was probably just another dude headed somewhere and whizzed on by.
I pulled back on the freeway, and a few miles later the sedan was back on my tail. I had a sinking feeling. There was no doubt that I was being followed --- probably by Stokes and Steele. If I didn’t lose them, I’d most likely wind up as dead as the two Chinese and the box would be lost.
I ran a number of scenarios through my mind, but they all ended the same way --- being caught by two assassins.
Then, I had another thought. Highway 13 would lead me through the little village of Osceola, and I had a friend there, Dan the Catfish Man.
I had met him there several years ago. I was pumping gas and he pulled up beside me. I heard a thumping in his boat and discovered it was the biggest fish I had ever seen outside of an aquarium. We struck up a conversation and I learned he was a fishing guide among other things. I also learned he had lived in St. Clair County all his life and knew pretty much everything that was going on in the little Ozark community.
That proved to be beneficial when three different cases led us to St Clair County. I solicited his help in each one. The last was especially memorable. He helped lead us to a cache of gold coins that had been buried in a fishing camp for seventy years.
At Harrisonville, I pulled into an Arby’s restaurant and ordered a sandwich. While waiting for my order, I called Dan.
“Howdy! How can I hep ya?”
“Dan, this is Walt Williams.”
“Hey, city slicker. What’s cookin’?”
“If you’re available, I need your help.”
“Again? My goodness, you city boys sure get in a heap o’ trouble. I was just goin’ to the creek to catch some blue gill to bait up my trot line, but that can wait. Whatcha need?”
“I’ve got a couple of really bad guys on my tail. I need to lose them. Any ideas?”
“I jest might. Meet me at Osceola Cheese. I’ll have my pickup out back. You park in front and come on in. I know the guy who runs the place. We’ll get you out the back door and you can take my truck. They’ll be waitin’ for hours for you to come out and you’ll be long gone.”
“If I have your truck, how will you get around?”
“Don’t you worry none about that. I’ll have a buddy pick me up.”
“Thanks, Dan. You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ll see you in an hour.”
I left Arby’s, and sure enough, the blue sedan was on my tail.
An hour later, I pulled into the Osceola Cheese parking lot, grabbed the box, and went inside. Dan was waiting for me.
“It’s the old green Ford,” he said. “the keys are in it. I got it all gassed up for you.”
I gave him a hug. “Thanks again. I’ll give you a call when I’m heading back this way.”
“Be safe,” he said, as he walked me out the back door.
I climbed into the truck. Dan had left an old straw hat on the seat. I put it on and looked in the rear-view mirror. If the assassins were watching, I’d just be another old rube heading to the feed store in my pickup.
As I pulled back on Highway 13, I spotted the blue sedan in the parking lot of a gas station across from the cheese store. They were watching the entrance intently. I wondered how long they would wait before realizing I had given them the slip.
It was another hour and a half to Springfield. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip through the country side. It was the first time I had relaxed since I left home. I looked at the box in the seat beside me. Soon it would be out of my life forever.
When I reached Springfield, I pulled to the side of the road to get my bearings. I had pulled up directions on Mapquest before I left. The address was just a few blocks off of Highway 13 about a mile past I-44.
I found the street and started looking at house numbers. It was just a few blocks farther.
I went another block and saw flashing red lights. Cop cars had cordoned off the street and crime scene tape fluttered around the porch of a small bungalow.
I looked at the number on the house, and to my horror, discovered it was the address where I was to deliver the box.
I stashed the box behind the seat and approached an officer.
“What happened.”
The officer glanced my way. “A neighbor heard a shot and called 911. Officers arrived and found a man shot to death. That’s all I know.”
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Ishmael’s safe house was anything but. Someone had sniffed it out and killed the man who was supposed to take the box off my hands. Two of Ishmael’s men had been killed in the last two days. I was beginning to think he wasn’t as omnipotent as he let on.
I backed quickly away. The killer might have known about the delivery and was waiting for me to show up. I glanced around the crowd that had gathered, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to me.
I climbed back in the truck and got out of Springfield as fast as I could without exceeding any speed limits.
A half hour out of Osceola, I called Dan.
“I’m heading back. I’ll meet you at Osceola Cheese in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
I parked the truck in back where I had found it and entered the store. Dan was waiting for me.
“Everything go okay?” he asked.
“Just great!” I lied. “Thank you again. I gassed it up for you. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothin’” he replied. “Just glad I could help a friend.”
I knew he would probably say that, so I left a hundred-dollar bill in the driver’s seat.
It was a two-hour drive back to the city, and I spent every miserable minute wondering what I was going to do with the dreadful box sitting in the seat beside me.
CHAPTER 10
On the way back to Kansas City, I pondered several questions. Stokes and Steele knew I had given them the slip. Ishmael was supposed to have spread the word that I’d delivered the box to a safe house. Did they believe I had done so and were out of my life or was it one of their agents who had taken out the man I was to meet?
If it was one
of their agents, they would know I still had the box, meaning everyone in my building was still in danger.
On the other hand, if it wasn’t one of their agents, that meant some other entity was after the box.
Neither of those scenarios gave me any comfort. After all, I still had the box and at least one agency, and maybe others would be coming after it.
I had to get rid of it once and for all. I needed to talk to Ishmael.
Before returning to my apartment building, I stopped at a grocery store and bought some stuff which I had the checker pack into two large paper bags. In my car. I put all the groceries in one and the box in the other. I hoped that if Stokes and Steele were watching they would think I had just bought groceries.
I cruised the street a few blocks in each direction before parking. I didn’t see the blue sedan but that didn’t mean that the two agents weren’t close by.
It was after seven o’clock when I entered my apartment. I hurriedly stashed the box and went to greet Maggie.
“Hi Sweetie. I’m home.”
She gave me a big smooch. “I just got home too. Did you stop and get supper on the way home?”
I had been so busy mulling over my predicament that I forgot to eat. “Actually, no I didn’t.”
“Well, neither have I. How about ordering a pizza?”
“Works for me.”
I stripped off and took a long hot shower while we waited for the pizza. I had just poured two glasses of Arbor Mist when it arrived.
After we had polished off the last crumb, Maggie snuggled up to me. “Last night you asked for a rain check. Are you ready to cash it in?”
For the second night in a row, I begged off, saying I was just dog tired from my long road trip. Maggie didn’t press the issue, but I could see she was surprised. In all of our years together, I had never turned down such an opportunity even once, let alone twice!
Before turning in, I pasted a big X on the window.
In each of the two times I had placed the X on the window, Ishmael had called early the next day. When he hadn’t called by noon, I was starting to worry. By three o’clock, I was frantic. I needed him to tell me how to get out of this mess.
I was really pissed that he had never given me his number. Every time he called, my caller-id read, ‘Blocked call.’
I wondered if there was a way around the blocked call thing. I knew who would have the answer to that, Nicholas Thatcher. He was a computer guru and the real technical brains behind the Watchers.
I wanted to give him a call, but with all the cloak and dagger stuff going on, I wondered if my phone had been bugged. The last thing I wanted to do was get my friends in trouble.
Then I had an idea.
I called Willie.
“Hey, Mr. Walt. What’s up?”
“I need your help.”
“Sho nuff. What you want?”
“I need you to get in your car, drive around the block, and park on the street behind our building. Then come in the back door. I’ll meet you there. I need to borrow your car for about an hour and I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Dat’s kinda weird, but you got it. I’ll go right now.”
I met Willie at the back door. He handed me his keys. “Anything else?”
“No, I appreciate your help. Don’t say a word about this to anyone.”
I slipped between the two buildings right behind ours, climbed in Willie’s car, and headed to the Watcher headquarters on Rockhill Road.
Naturally, they were surprised to see me. I had never gone there without calling first.
“Walt,” Arne said, somewhat apprehensively, “this is a surprise. Please tell me you’re not here because of the contents of that box.”
“Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here, but you needn’t worry. I took precautions. I wasn’t followed. No one knows I’m here.”
“I hope you’re right,” Nick replied. “We can’t afford to get on the wrong side of Homeland Security assassins. Why are you here?”
“I desperately need to talk to Ishmael. I put the X on my window but he hasn’t responded. Every time he calls, I get a ‘Blocked call’ on my caller-id. I figured if there was any way around that, you’d know.”
“Let me see your phone,” he replied. “There just might be.”
He took my phone, fiddled with it, then attached it to his computer with some kind of cord. He punched some keys and a moment later, “I got it. It’s a Washington D.C. area code.”
He wrote the number on a piece of paper and handed it to me along with my phone.
“I can’t believe it,” Arnie gushed. “We’d heard about Ishmael, but I never dreamed someone would actually be calling him right from our office!”
“Well, here goes,” I said, punching in the numbers.
A man answered. “Who is this?”
“This is Walt Williams. I need to speak to Ishmael.”
“How did you get this number?”
“That’s not important. I left an X on my window and he hasn’t returned my calls. I’m getting desperate.”
There was a long silence. “You won’t be getting any more calls. Ishmael is dead. In fact, if you had called an hour later, this number would have been disconnected.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Dead! That can’t be true. I need his help to get rid of this damn box.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams, I’m afraid you’re on your own. Just remember this, you must protect the box at all costs. If it falls into the wrong hands --- well, it just can’t. The events that would follow would be catastrophic.”
I had to think quickly. “Wait a minute. You’re in Washington. I put an X on my window in Kansas City. That must mean that you have someone here who is relaying the message. Who is it? Maybe they can help me.”
Another long silence. “I don’t know if she is even still alive. Her name is Alexandra Dupree. I’ll give you her cell number, but I haven’t been able to communicate with her for two days.”
I copied the number as he dictated it.
“One more thing before you go. I know Stokes and Steele are after the box. I assume the Russians and Chinese are currently out of the picture. Is there anyone else I should know about?”
“We have heard that Kim Jong-un has heard that the box is in play. He may have sent a team to secure it.”
“North Korea! You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I wish I was. Good luck, Mr. Williams, and God Speed.”
The line went dead.
Both Nick and Arnie were just standing there with their mouths open. “Holy crap!” Nick muttered. “Ishmael dead! Walt, this is serious business.”
“No kidding,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. “I’m going to leave now. There’s no way I want the two of you to get involved in this mess.”
“We appreciate that,” Arnie replied, “but if there’s anything we can do --- without the spooks finding out --- please let us know.”
I drove home in a daze.
I was in possession of a box, the contents of which, according to the now-deceased Ishmael, could change the course of history, and it was being sought by several groups of very bad people. The thing that worried me the most was that there didn’t seem to be any good guys on my side. The one I thought could help was dead. I had no idea what to do next.
I parked the car where Willie had left it, slipped between the two houses, and entered through the back door.
I knocked on Willie’s door and handed him his keys. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”
He must have noticed I was upset. “Mr. Walt, you don’t look so good. Wot’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing, Willie. I’m just beat. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
When I opened my door, I was surprised to see my partner, Kevin, sitting in my living room.
“What are you doing here? Do we have a new case?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “You tell me.”
“What are you talking ab
out? There’s no new case.”
“Oh, really? That’s not what Maggie thinks.”
“Maggie called you?”
“Yeah, she did. She said you’d been acting weird the past few days, weirder than usual anyway. She said you’d been moping around. Then you took off and were gone a whole day. She said she found that old twelve gauge of yours in the office. You haven’t had that old blunderbuss out of the closet in years. She’s not blind. She saw the tape you’ve been putting on the front window. And most important, you’ve passed on two straight nights of sweet lovin’ from my beautiful sister. What gives?”
I was torn. The last thing I wanted to do was get more people involved in this mess, but I had to face the fact that I was totally alone and I needed help.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes, but you may be sorry.”
I told him the whole story from the moment Mr. Feeney shoved that box in my hands right up to the moment when I discovered that Ishmael was dead.
When I finished, he just sat there stunned. It was the first time I had ever seen Kevin speechless.
Finally, he muttered, “Good Lord!”
“Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Any thoughts?”
“So you have no idea what’s in that box?”
“I’ve looked at it, but I don’t know what it is, and everyone who seems to know says I’m better off not knowing.”
“May I see it?”
We’d gone this far, I saw no reason why he shouldn’t. I retrieved the box from my safe, placed it on the desk, and opened the lid. “Does this mean anything to you?”
He studied it for a few minutes. “No, I have no idea what I’m looking at, but it does look important.”
I put the lid back on and locked it in the safe.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked. “We know for sure some rogue Homeland Security agents are after it, and now, maybe the North Koreans. As good as we are, we just don’t have the juice to tackle black ops assassins.”
“You’re right,” he replied, “but we know someone who does, Nightshade!”
He was referring to his wife’s mother who had been an agent in a clandestine CIA operation called Consular Ops for forty years. She had given up her daughter and never contacted her in all that time until she found herself out of favor with her agency and on the run. Figuring her days were numbered, she wanted to see her daughter one last time before she was terminated.
Lady Justice and the Mysterious Box Page 7