by B French
“I won’t keep Shawna too long, but we are not sure whether to take the ‘little lady’ to one of the Natural Science museums for submission or not. There has been a bit of a furor as to where she will be displayed, and it seems everyone wants her.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Brian replied, as the two of them climbed the steps and disappeared into the confines of the foyer without looking back. “Bye,” he sighed in moped farewell and turned to walk away.
Begrudgingly paying the toll at the gate, Sandy and Delbert waited patiently from a short distance while Shawna and Brian exited their car and started off down a path on the opposite side of the lot.
“Hurry, Delbert! Find a parking spot.”
“Alright! Alright! Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Delbert replied, still in a bit of a snit at having to pay the parking, even though Sandy had.
“Excuse me!” was Sandy’s reply, getting upset over the reference to her knickers, which she so desperately wanted to change. As a matter of fact she wanted to take a bath so dreadfully; she was considering a dip in the Drumheller Fountain, near the entrance to the University.
“Come on!” Sandy continued, as they circled the parking lot looking for a vacancy. Then they circled again, and yet again. “Let me out here,” she sparked, jumping out of the car as he slowed near the pathway the two had retreated.
Within seconds, she could see them passing the Cedar trees and foliage that lined the path to the clearing at the head of the stairs that descended to the grounds beyond Paccar Hall. Several moments passed and Delbert came on her cell, “Your friends are here? They spotted the truck and flagged me down.” He paused for a moment, “Sandy, they don’t look so friendly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re pretty big, and I think one of them has a gun in a case,” Delbert replied, a slight breaking in his voice.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep,” he continued. “I’ve seen those cases before at the gun club. They are compact, high velocity, telescopic thirty-five caliber hand guns, with attachments to turn them into a sniper rifle.”
“Are those legal?” Sandy inquired.
“Dah! No!”
“That can’t be good,” she replied thoughtfully. “What are they doing now?”
“Apart from watching me and scouting the area, they are waiting for me to get back to them about location,” Delbert replied, nervously.
“Stall them for a minute or two. I’ll get back to you.”
“OK.”
Within moments of their conversation, one of the nasty’s came over and stuck his massive head in the window of Delbert’s SUV. “Get your partner on that thing.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Delbert replied, careful not to show the intimidation that was welling up inside. “Umm, Sandy, someone wants to talk to you.”
“Not now Delbert, I told you give me a couple of minutes. They’ve just split up, and the woman joined with someone and has gone into a building.”
Not liking the response, the goon grabbed the cell from Delbert, “Listen bitch, give me your location, now!”
‘Bitch’, Sandy repeated under her breath at the request. Slowly angering at the unnecessary response, she mumbled ‘bitch’ again. Pushing the ‘end’ button on her phone, “I’ll show you bitch,” she cursed in enraged response. “Waite till I shove my dirty knickers down your throat, ‘bastard’!”
Responding slowly to the request, she watched from behind the retaining wall alongside the cement landing as Brian leapt up the stairs and proceeded to the coffee bar inside. “The male target has just entered Paccar Hall from the front entrance,” she reported over her cell, figuring it was best to relinquish the surveillance to the new comers.
“Thank you,” came the condescending response to the call. “Retreat back to the parking lot and we will take over from here.”
Walking back up the stairs to the rear of the building, she noticed a stout, and lumbering hulk, with an oblong, musical, instrument case in hand, proceeding along the path she had previously navigated. Ducking out of sight, she watched from behind a blooming, Hydrangea bush as he continued along to the open, grassy expanse that languished before Paccar and Denny Halls. As she withdrew to the parking lot, from across the lane, she caught a glimpse of a black SUV, similar to Delbert’s, turning left on Memorial Way. She was not liking this at all.
As Brian followed King Lane through the grassy common, he was struck by the architecture and design of Savery and Raite Halls. Retreating from Paccar Hall, the Tenino sandstone, building’s façade stretched up before him. Above the foundations, ornate, arched windows reached majestically to the underside of the baroquely, decorated soffit and mansard. Benefactors and philanthropists peered down from a finely, chiseled façade, fixed in time with repose to scrutinize the many students as they scurried to ongoing classes. Entering the Quad Courtyard, adorned with blossomed trees and flower gardens, he dodged a Frisbee that was thrown haphazardly by a young female student. Apologizing profusely, she smiled with bright, young eyes and returned to the game amid jeers and laughter from her companions.
The familiarity of the vein took him back to his College years at Simon Frazer, when he too experienced the strange, symbiotic relationship between carefree abandonment and the unrelenting conviction to study. The tall cedars that guarded the entranceways to some of the buildings were bold and resonant of the campus at UBC. They were some of the best years of his life.
The university grounds here were the stateliest and colorful he had ever seen. Originally instituted in 1861, on ten acres of land previously named Denny’s Knoll, in the downtown area, the fledgling University of Washington, struggled through hard times. Attendance was sporadic, and in later times, with finances difficult, they moved to the greater area just north of Union Bay. Its first new building, Denny Hall, was as splendid as any previously built, and was the foundation of the modern new campus. The years that followed were more kind, reflective of the years of prosperity throughout the Seattle area. World War 1, and then II, brought growth in the way of utilizing unused university buildings and lands that were key to the war effort. The rise in available raw commodities, minerals and forest products, and foreign markets to sell them in, were all key in the rising economic tide of this northern shipping port. Today, Seattle can boast of a university that is world class, and rated amongst the highest.
Settling down on a bench in Grieg’s Gardening, Brian couldn’t help but admire the manicured coppice of lush grass amid a perimeter of cedar trees and ferns. An aged, cement pathway circumvented the grassy patch with several radials of pathways emanating outward towards the surrounding buildings and lanes. Beds of Periwinkle dotted with Northern Maiden Hair, and Lady Fern, over-shadowed the walkways and added sweet scent to the air already fragrant with the damp humus that reinforced the lush undergrowth.
Secluded and alone, apart from the stolid statue of the composer Grieg, staring off into the distant eithers, Brian closed his eyes and napped, breathing in the freshness that revitalized him. Startled, only minutes later by the clatter of a bag-lady skirting the perimeter pathways beyond the garden, pushing her cart, he remained oblivious to all and dozed.
Sandy and Delbert, sat in their vehicle contemplating the circumstances that vexed them sorely.
“How do you feel about this Delbert,” Sandy inquired, thinking about the instrument case and its purpose. “Are you sure of what’s in that case Delbert, because if your wrong?”
“I’m sure of it,” Delbert sighed. “These guys were on their phones to someone, confirming the identity and purpose. The one didn’t say it out-right, but I think they intend on killing the guy.”
“What do you think we should do,” Sandy asked, running her fingers through her tangled hair?
“We could call the police,” he replied.
“And say what. We think there’s about to be a murder.” Sandy paused for a moment and thought. “Plus, you and I were ordered here by our Mr. Katz.”
“That would mean he’s a part of this.”
They were both silent and watched as several people entered the car beside them and drove away.
“What if he doesn’t know? These people we’re following arrived from Mexico on a plane from who knows where. He may know no more than us and just obeying orders.”
“Yeah, right!” Delbert agreed, feeling slightly more at ease at the possibility of getting involved in something that was not completely sanctioned by their boss.
“Do you think we should go after these guys?”
“Now wait a minute Sandy. You’re a woman, and if these guys are going to beat someone, it will probably be me.”
“No Delbert. This is the land of human rights and opportunity,” she returned, a glint of sarcasm in her voice. “They’ll beat me as much as you.”
Delbert was not at all assured by her candid disposition; but he did give it some thought.
“Look,” Sandy continued. “I’ll follow the big guy with the case and you follow the truck. Stay in touch by phone, and we should be OK.”
“Yeah, alright. I can’t stand by and watch someone get hurt. I gave an oath to protect and serve when I became a security guard.” He slammed his open hands down hard on the steering wheel, startling Sandy. “And this is what it’s all about!”
Sandy gave a comical side-glance at Delbert’s enthusiasm and eased herself from the truck, her shoulder purse swinging profusely, “Remember Delbert; keep your phone on intercom.”
Sandy watched as the black SUV disappeared around the corner on Memorial Drive, and then headed off in the direction of the common languishing before Denny Hall. Moving cautiously from retaining wall to tree, and then following a line of bushes, she was troubled to find no sign of her mark. He was a professional, she knew, but he was not expecting to be hunted. Entering the Quad, she scouted in either direction. Satisfied he was not in the area, she continued down King’s Lane to Thompson Hall, and sat on the retaining wall across from the entrance to Grieg’s Gardens. She sat wondering where he could be and caught sight of Brian lounging on the bench below Grieg’s tall, cast-bronze statue. Panning the area to each side and sighting nothing, she was about to rise when she saw the hulk down the incline to the left. Cautiously, she leaned closer into the foliage and watched as he flanked the garden by the Husky Union Building. A thousand possibilities flooded her mind; the most vivid was the hulk’s size and how much it would hurt should she try and stop him. There had to be a way; an opportunity would present itself.
Oblivious to all, and concentrating on the bumps in the pavement that would hinder the smooth rolling of her shopping cart, a bag lady stopped at the recycle bin close by, to forage for whatever might be deemed worthwhile. Sandy, watching from her short distance, felt a pang of remorse at her condition. Scenarios flashed through her mind as to the reasons, or circumstance, that had brought her to this condition. She sat pensive, watching this spectacle of human fortitude. As she sat and considered, a light went off in her head.
Sandy strolled over to the animated lady and waited till she was done her task.
“Excuse me,” Sandy sheepishly addressed the woman. “I am working with a security agency patrolling the grounds,” flashing her Insurance Security Card photo I.D., “and I was wondering how often you did your rounds to collect these items. You know, the university has a recycle program that relies on a certain amount of volume to make it…”
The woman backed away with a bewildered and frightened look on her face. Her wispy, grey hair floated from beneath the edges of a grimy, woolknitted toque. “I don’t understand.” Confusion quickly turned to anger, “I have been at this university for twelve years and have never been asked to share my work. Carl, my friend at the Custodial Services Building, said that I can help him as much as I like.” Her eyes were ablaze and piercing with consternation.
Realizing she may have indeed been in the wrong, and causing undue stress to the woman, Sandy backed off. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you knew Carl.” She smiled and timidly backed away realizing she had been insensitive and confrontational. Sandy returned to her seat and scanned the area once again for the hulk. A cluster of Shamrock spilling out over the boarders of the walk opposite from where she sat, called out for ‘better luck next time’.
“Are you a friend of Carl’s too?” the woman asked as she followed Sandy slowly to her resting place on the wall. Her cart clacked and clambered as it bounced over the cracks and uneven areas of the concrete. Brimming with cans and bottles layered on the top, she was careful not to lose any from the rocky motion. Below in the cart, surrounded by cardboard and plastic, appeared to be her whole life’s possessions.
“I only met Carl briefly a few days ago,” Sandy replied, trying to play along with the deception. Thinking of it better, she continued, “Well, not really. I only saw him in his truck.” She resigned herself to the willful intercourse by motioning her to sit down. “Sandy’s my name, what’s yours?”
“Carolyn,” she offered, side-glancing Sandy with uncertainty. “Oh, it is a big truck isn’t it,” she cooed. “He always waves to me from it while he empties all the bins.”
Realizing this was going sideways and compromising the few short moments she had to spare; Sandy tried to focus on gaining her trust. If her idea was to work, it would have to take shape immediately. Fidgeting and uncomfortable at being in such close proximity with this unwashed woman, Sandy began to rise, “I think I need to go for a coffee.”
“Oh, I’ll get you one,” she offered excitedly. “I have another friend who gives me coffee and buns for free. She likes me.”
Sandy returned, “I don’t think so. I…” considering the generosity of a person so ill-affording of the gesture. Reaching for her purse, she motioned to offer money.
Cutting her short, “It’s just over there and around the corner. You look after my stuff, and I will be right back.” Looking back as she ventured off, “But be careful!”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah! You’re my friend too.”
Racing off in her tattered, knee-high stockings that ended above the knee and below her grubby skirt, Carolyn looked droll as her worn boots flapped profusely with each stride.
Relieved she had finally left, Sandy began to concentrate on the task at hand. Losing sight of the hulk that had disappeared through Hub Park, caused her to panic. Looking over to where Brian rested, she was relieved to see that nothing, for the time-being, had changed. Reaching for the cart to help her up, she toppled one of the cardboard sides exposing shoes and clothing of various colors and states of repair, or decay, whichever you chose to consider. She had no time to waste in implementing her plan; but would it work??
Delbert could barely see the tailgate of the truck as he followed along behind through the pedestrian packed George Washington Lane, that was designed more for cycling and walking than a truck of his size. Passing the Henry Art Museum, he watched as the lead truck turned left at Gate Five, and approached Red Square. Presumably, it would continue to Grant Lane, and then from there, the occupant would need to proceed on foot. Unable to stay back out of conspicuous sight, Delbert parked in Johnson’s Loop. Facing the parked SUV, he got out without regard and walked to the entrance to Gerberding Hall.
“Sandy, are you there,” he asked, as he found an inconspicuous spot behind a bookshelf close to the front doors.
“Hang-on Delbert. I’m having trouble getting into…there! OK, I’m done.”
“Yeah, I followed the truck over to near Allen Library,” Delbert stated, from behind the tinted glass. He looked over to the waiting vehicle and could barely make out a face in sunglasses behind its steering wheel. “Where are you and what’s that racket?”
“I think I am just on the other side of the library, pushing a shopping cart.” She struggled with the uneven concrete and the floppy shoes she had adorned. “Stay put for now. I am working on something. Are you near the truck?”
“Which one?”
> “Ours, you idiot!”
“Be nice. You may need me before you’re done. I’ll go back to it.” He grabbed a Varsity paper and headed back to the truck. Sitting askew behind the wheel again, he watched in the reflection of the side window his unaware prey.
Methodically plodding along the path beside Hub Yard, Sandy, adorned with an assortment of multicolored clothes and a broad-brimmed, cloth hat, worked her way around the rear of Grieg’s Garden. Along one of the periphery trails, she could see the shadow of the colossus tucked within the bushes and miniature trees. Unable to stay inconspicuous with all the noise, she continued along to one of the benches and plopped herself down within ten meters and started to rummage through the paraphernalia in the cart. Motionless for some time, the near giant began to move within her peripheral vision. Careful not to take note of the action, she pulled a tattered, wool blanket across her legs and settled in for a nap. Eyeing previously a short length of steel pipe in the cart, she was careful to have it at the ready should he recognize her or sense the infringement.
Watching intently from beneath the low brim of the hat, Sandy could tell he was readying to take a shot at the mark lounging peacefully below the statue in the garden. Along the path that head back to Hub Yard, she could see Carolyn looking from side to side with two cups in her hands. Turning to a large, garbage truck making its way along the narrow paths, Carolyn was screaming at the driver who Sandy assumed was Carl. Turning away from the truck that was continuing through the small maze of paths, she could only conclude that within moments, Carolyn would be screaming at her. It was now-or-never.
The hulk, concentrating on his target and talking on his phone, was oblivious to the stealth that was being enacted beyond the shadow of the tree. Sandy had grabbed the pipe quietly from the cart. Amid the ambient noise of bester about them, and now the drone of the engine from the garbage truck, she was able to creep unnoticed to just beyond the tree’s edge. With her heart beating wildly in her chest and fear grabbing her, she was careful not to cast a shadow within the periphery of his vision. She stepped forward just as he was sighting and unlocking the safety of his gun. Wishing only to hit the gun from his hands as he lay prone on the ground, she slipped on a moist, mosscovered root and the pipe came crashing down on the base of his skull. A hallow bonk resounded in the immediate area, and with a grunt and a gasp, the behemoth toppled to one side with Sandy almost spread-eagle