"What about the scanner, the scanner in the car?"
"It's your hobby, listening to short wave broadcasts. José, don't worry, we have thought of everything!"
As the suspected auto thief was returned to the holding cage area, Alicia Devon walked up to the Sergeant once more; "I have to clear this guy with the bondsman before we make a request for release. There won't be any problem with release if I get a bond together?"
"Well, the officers who requested this guy be checked would like to consult with your client on his movements, and reasons for those movements, but I see no reason not to expect that your client, could be arraigned before a judge, and bound over to appear, by, er, this afternoon; O.K. Miss Devon?
"It's Ms. Devon, actually. Thank you for your co-operation, sergeant!" The tall female attorney walked slowly out of the Central Precinct office, and disappeared into the traffic on the sidewalk. Later in the morning, near midday, one of the other men in the holding cage shouted out, "Hey, this guy's in trouble!"
A patrolman retorted "You are all in trouble, that's why you are in there in the first place," but then looked around, and found the prisoner Martinez slumped over, clutching the left side of his chest. "Shit, we got a dropper. Harry, call an ambulance, alert the hospital, it looks as though he is having a heart attack!"
The ambulance rushed the man named Martinez into the main entrance of the Memorial hospital, and he was immediately transferred to an awaiting bed in the Emergency ward, with every treatment immediately available. He was pronounced dead, however, of a massive heart attack, thirty minutes after he arrived in the hospital. Due to the amount of emergency procedures which had been attempted, no one was alert to the small puncture, surrounded by a bruise, on the dead man's shoulder, as it was assumed it was another needle mark from the team as they fought to save his life. No one thought to order an autopsy, as the cause of death was so straightforward. As his body was not claimed, his mortal remains were forwarded to the Medical School, so young students may learn from anatomy dissection and tissue observation.
The phone rang at the desk sergeants' elbow, about three in the afternoon. "good afternoon, segeant, my name is Alicia Devon, I am representing a suspect named Martinez, Jose Martinez. I had hoped to be back earlier, but it proved remarkably difficult to persuade a Bondsman to raise a bond on Mr. Martinez. Seems he jumped bail twice before, and there was a forfeiture of seventy-five thousand dollars. However, I managed, and if the Judge agrees, I can bring the bond down to allow my client to be released."
"Er, Ms. Devon, I don't think your services are needed by your client any longer. While waiting further questioning, he had a massive heart attack, and died in hospital. Sorry, counsellor, but he won't need a bond, just a burial." The sergeant might have been more than puzzled if he had seen the face of the woman who went by the name of Alicia Devon, as she grinned in triumph at the news of her client's death.
Joseph Kozcinski paused on the ramp down from the Continental block, and waited until the big black man eased himself out from his car. "Sorry, sir, I'm Detective Moses O'Rourke, we hoped to be finished checking your auto earlier, but we ain't located any thing at all! Your car is clean. Our friend in the Corvette is still in custody, but his attorney is claiming that he was simply trying out the car for the day, and the car lot's story is that they bought the car in good faith. If we don't find anything else, he may walk!"
"But why was he following me? I know I didn't imagine it! Are you able to question him?"
"Only in the presence of his attorney, and she had to go check on some detail at her office. we should be talking to him this afternoon, before he is arraigned before a judge!"
"Thank you both, for your help. I hope he spills the beans." joked Joe, as he prepared to get into his car, and waved to the two detectives as he drove past, on his way home.
Chapter 11
In the Grand Rapids pension fund offices, which took up three floors of the administration building, few were working overtime. The ones who remained were spread over a wide physical area, and the man who sat in front of a computer terminal constantly glanced up, just to ensure that no-one was approaching his desk. He keyed in his passwords, set a further password in to the system, then typed in his terminal identity. A second passed, then a spreadsheet jumped into position on the big screen, this being the same view that Joe had seen when he inadvertently broke into the outer skin of the spreadsheet. Ben Newcomb's hands were calm as he keyed in his search requirements, and the checking began with the speed of light, as the electronic impulses raced between memory, instruction, and search pattern. The screen jumped, and a wider grid was displayed, showing ten names, ages, addresses, with other personal details such as health, savings, pension rights and whether the life insurance had been accepted, and if next-of-kin existed, also listed. Ben's eyes raced over the details, saw they were all within the prescribed limits, and keyed the printer into service. The ten individual sheets were placed in pre-printed and stamped envelopes, all ten were dropped into his briefcase, then Ben logged off the computer, put his jacket on, and switched off his desk light, as he went out the office, and then home.
When he arrived at his home, which was in an older suburb of Detroit, the pension administrator did the usual things a family man was expected to do on a weekday evening, including sitting for thirty minutes while trying to instill some enthusiasm for schoolwork into his eldest daughter. Finishing up the dishes after the family had completed dinner, he kissed his wife amid the soap suds, said casually that he had to go post some letters, picked the batch of ten letters from his case, and walked off down the street. He duly dropped them in a mail box, then strolled across the road to an empty pay phone booth. Dropping coins in to the slot, he dialled a local number, and waited until the receiver was lifted. then simply said, "Ben here. Ten fresh ones are in the race. The search included, as you requested, the presence of any senior personnel in the immediate family. No one on the list has that problem. O.K.?"
"Thats fine; the money's in the new bank account, as usual. See you, Ben!"
The administrator walked slowly home, not unduly worried by the fact he had just posted ten death sentences within the envelopes now under the protection of the U.S. Postal Service, but in fact counting up his extra bonus for the month, which would allow him to have a holiday in Bermuda, rather than the tacky tour he had endured the previous year.
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Joseph Kozcinski rolled his car slowly into his drive, slotted the selector into 'park', then switched off and left the car. He saw his wife's car already parked inside the garage, so she was already back from the Mall. Behind his wife's auto was parked a car he didn't recognise. Before entering the house, he called out, "Honey, Alex, it's me! Where are you? Speak, my love, and I shall rush to your side," but ceased his call as Alex came through into the lounge, then out on to the front drive, followed by a small, dapper man, dressed in what would normally be described as 'Banker blue'. Alex spoke before he could say a word, "This is Harold F. Sutton, Joe. Mr. Sutton is an attorney, and has called to advise us of our need to attend, uhh, what was it, Mr. Sutton, a disbursement!"
A disbursement of what, Mr. Sutton?" asked Joe, whose only real wish was to get a beer, and relax.
"It concerns your late father-in-laws' estate, Mr. Kozcinski." stated the attorney.
"I didn't even know he had an estate, "snorted Alex, "and I ought to know. He sold the old house, paid off the mortgage, moved in with us and bought himself a new car. We gave the car to my brother Sigismund. That is what Pop wanted. Pop didn't have a bean other than that. He earned a wage down at the plant, when he retired his pension started, but as my Mom had already died, when he was killed, the pension money ceased."
"Well, strictly speaking, he didn't; have any money that is. We refer to a disbursement as a general term whenever there is to be anything given to relatives from the estate of a deceased person. There are a set of files, which your late father, " he bowed slight
ly in Alex' direction, "has directed that we give to you. There is no other property, and as you rightly surmised, no money. Can I expect you down at our offices, in order to hand over the documentation direct?"
"Is there any reason why you came out here in person, Mr. Sutton?" asked a curious Joe.
A clearly uncomfortable attorney replied, "Mr. Bor's instruction were very clear on that point, Mr. Kozcinski; in his deposition, left with us when he deposited the documents, he expressly stated that contact was to be made in person, no contact to be made by telephone or letter, and certainly no mention of anything in his files to anyone else besides yourself, and your wife."
Joe stared at his wife, who simply shrugged, and asked, "what time is convenient for us to be at your offices, Mr. Sutton?"
"Any time after ten, Mr. Kozcinski, and I would repeat, your late relative's express instructions should be adhered to, in all respects. I am not aware of what is held in the files in our strongroom, but feel that you should treat them as being important. Good evening, Mrs. Kozcinski, Mr. Kozcinski." The couple watched as the attorney sat in his car, the engine swung over, and he reversed out of the driveway, before heading back into Detroit.
Alex snuggled up against Joe's broad shoulder, and slid her arm around his waist, "Joe, what do you think Pop has hidden in these files? Is it just an old Polish joke, or is there something that we should worry about?"
The couple started to wander back into the house, but Joe suddenly spun around, and walked away from the front entrance, his wife by his side. "Before we go back in, honey, can you remember if our friend Sutton mentioned anything about your fathers' business in our house?"
"Well, no, he actually walked me out on to the garden terrace before mentioning anything about his business. What is going on, Joe?"
"Honey, couple of days ago, I went to the police, and told them that I thought I was being followed. They put a trail car on me, and they picked up some guy who they thought was close-tailing me. He had a shortwave scanner in his car, but when the cops went over my car, it was clean. We had the ad crew in from Morson, Zeno, and I ran that detector gadget over the demonstration theatre before we started. I picked up a 'bug' sitting in the lecture stand, so I moved the whole thing next door; only trouble was that by the time I went back to see if I could find the damn thing, someone had forced the door, and the 'bug' had disappeared. I don't know what the hell is going on, but if they bugged an office, and followed my car, there is a faint possibility that your Pop was right; and we have mikes inside our house. We go to Sutton's office tomorrow, and find out what your Daddy has to give us, until then when we're in the house, just general talk, nothing specific about anything; unless we have the television sound up. It may sound paranoid, but there have been a couple of signals, and we shouldn't ignore them, O.K., honey?" Soundlessly Alex squeezed her husbands hand, with a troubled smile on her face, as they walked into the house, to have a quiet and uneasy evening, both wanting to speak; but feeling constrained by the feeling of being overheard.
In the morning, after a restless night, Alex stood cleaning her teeth in the bathroom, when Joe walked in, kissed her softly on the neck, turned on the shower, and held her tightly in his arms. She kissed him, then held her head back, smiled gently and asked, "You're using this secrecy routine as an excuse, Joseph Kozcinski, or is there some deeper motive?"
Joe's hands moved down her back, and pressed her flanks against his own. She felt his passion harden as his mouth sort hers, and slid her own hands down to caress and hold his sex. She felt his hand stroking her breast as she gently traced her fingertips along his balls, then felt him release the top fastening of her nightdress. Clinging together, they slowly moved until they felt the deep carpet underneath their feet, then Joe lifted her with both arms and laid her on the bed. He stripped off his shorts, and lay down beside her, but she quickly raised her shoulders, bent down and took him in her mouth, gently teasing the tip with her tongue, while Joe gently stroked her cleft as she moved her mouth more rhythmically over his sex. Joe moaned softly, as Alex swung back, eased herself above him and, with him guiding her, she sank down, impaled by his hardened sex. She started moving her hips, nearly withdrawing then sinking down once again as Joe felt his passion rise further. Alex felt his hips respond in total rhythm with her own, and felt his big hands roving over her breasts, as he stroked her body in adoration. She moved faster and faster, feeling the onset of her own orgasm, but trying to time it with that of her lover, finally feeling the waves of emotion roll over her, just as Joe spurted into her in a series of violent shaking heaves, as his face relaxed, and she sank down upon his body, and gently kissed him, their tongues lazily stroking each others', in a languorous end to an act which was always new.
Reluctantly, they separated, Joe kissing her lips in love and longing, but Alex shaking her head as she pointed at her watch, before rising and heading once more for the bathroom. Joe followed, capturing her breast as he spoke, "We'll get ready as normal, then I'll follow you to the Garden Mall, the girls have their own keys, so you just park, and we'll head in together to the attorneys' to see what Pop has left for us; okay, honey?"
Her smile lifting him, he watched as she stepped into the shower, her body firm and beautiful, before unearthing his shaving gear and preparing for the new day. Alex finished her shower, and, as she passed behind Joe, gently slid her hands around, to capture his sex once again, which nearly caused her husband to slice a portion out of his upper lip. Giggling, she dashed away before he could clear his face of foam and retaliate, and so the couple made ready for their day, to present the image which they cultivated to the outside world, that of a young, professional couple, who were regarded as slightly dull, and formal; with never a thought that they were more passionately in love than most of their contemporaries.
Locking the house as normal, the two left the drive in their separate cars, and Joe followed Alex towards the Mall, idling while Alex parked in a isolated slot, before walking over to Joe's Stiletto, sliding in and buckling the belt. Joe sent the big car forward, as the traffic steadily increased on their way in towards the business district of Detroit. Joe was aiming for an elevated multi-storey parking lot about a block from the attorney's office, and he just managed to grab a space before the 'Full' notice blinked on. Alex and her husband walked back down the ramp, and ambled along in the morning sunshine, then dropped in to a sidewalk drugstore, to kill the few minutes with a coffee. Joe sipped the brew, and relaxed back against the seat, grinning at his wife, who was still a little worried about their mission. "Sweetheart, there is absolutely no point in getting worried, because we have no idea what your Pop has hidden away. He might have anything in that office, so lets just concentrate on the coffee, and let me remember who it was that seduced who, this morning!"
"Kozcinski, you swine, just because you are a sex maniac, doesn't mean that everyone shares your proclivities. You took me against my will," she claimed, her mouth one big smile, "and with your superior strength, I didn't stand a chance!"
"Yes, I noticed how you struggled to escape, and the damage which you inflicted upon my person in the attempt to escape. I am looking at the sex maniac, that's who I married!"
The banter continued as they left the seats, paid their bill, and walked along the busy street, then forward into the office which bore the title 'Sutton, Frey and Delancey, Attorneys-at-Law'. they were welcomed by Harold Sutton, who asked for, and then carefully checked, the identification which they had been requested to provide. That formality over, Sutton went over to a large, solid cabinet, and withdrew a sealed boxfile. Sutton said, "Your late father, Mrs. Kozcinski, gave instructions to deliver this into your hands, or those of your husband. In the event of your deaths before the file could be so transmitted, his wishes were that the file should be transmitted to the head of the F.B.I.. Those instruction have now been fulfilled. I shall leave you to study the documents in privacy." so saying, the attorney rose and left the office, while Joe slit the seal open with a letter
knife from the desk, and lifted out the small stack of paper within. He lifted up the top page, and read it with his wife reading the page over his shoulder.
"Alexis, Joseph; if you are reading this in Harold's office, it means that I am dead, and cannot explain my thoughts. I had hoped to finish my task, and try and make sense out of what I think I have discovered, but obviously I have not been able to do so. Before you look any further, let an old Polish man state that no man could have a finer daughter than you, Alexis, the light of my life, and no better man to be her husband than Joseph Kozcinski, despite your many failings." Joe grinned, as he read the firm script from his dead father-in-law, "but simply to say that I hope all will go well with you is not enough, because I have uncovered a strange series of events, and have so far been unable to work out exactly what has been hidden away, for cover-up is what I am claiming. Please do not dismiss what I have written as the ramblings of an old fool, because I think you know me better than that. Read the documents, and lists, and try and draw some conclusion from them, because I am convinced that these happenings are not random, not unfortunate, and certainly not the will of any God; but are directed by men with evil motives. Goodbye, my children, may you always have each other."
Joe glance at his wife, who's eyes were filled with tears at the last farewell from her father, and the wishes therein. She nodded and helped Joe separate the small stack of paper, some separate sheets, some pages torn from a ruled notebook, and some lists from both the Auto Workers of America, and the Detroit branch of the American Legion. The scope of the paper was considerable, and after paging through some of the lists, Alex simply said, "Look, Joe, there is too much for us to sort through this lot, and make some sort of sense of Pop's work, while sitting here in Sutton's office. Let's pack it all up, close the file, and maybe go up to the cabin for the week-end. We are hardly ever there, so there is no chance of anybody listening to our talk, and we can check things out with your little gadget, just to make sure that all is safe; and we can also make out a little, whaddya say, honey?"
Continental Attack: Murder and Mayhem in Detroit's Auto Industry Page 10