Total Recall td-58

by Warren Murphy

  "It took me awhile to see you," Remo said, joining Chiun behind the fence.

  "I know," Chiun said. "I allotted you fifteen minutes to find me, and then showed myself."

  "Right," Remo said. Chiun would never admit that Remo had spotted him on his own.

  "Why are you here so soon?" Chiun asked.

  "Things are starting to happen." He told Chiun what he had found in the Sterling house, and then what he found when he went to the plant. "The kid has to be next," he summed up.

  "We must keep that from happening," Chiun said.

  "That's why I'm here," Remo said. "You haven't seen any… children go into the church, have you?"

  "No, none."

  "Well, that doesn't mean he wasn't in there when you got here," Remo said. "How about Moorcock? Did you see him leave?"

  "No."

  "I think I'd better go in and have a talk with him. If he knows where the kid is, maybe I can convince him to tell me."

  "I will come with you."

  "I think it would be better if you stayed here. If Walter Sterling is in there, he might take off the back way when he sees me."

  "Very well, but you must try your best to get the man to help us. It is vital that no more children die."

  "For once, Chiun, I agree with you."

  Remo left the cover of the broken fence and crossed the street to the church. When he entered, he found the place empty, and he was frankly surprised that the doors were not locked. As he started down the center aisle, a door in the front of the church opened, and Lorenzo Moorcock, minister and failed politician, came out.

  "You have come back," he said. "To worship?"

  "To ask for help."

  "It is the same thing."

  Remo stopped where he was and spoke to Moorcock from across the room. "I'm going to be very frank with you, Reverend."

  "How refreshing."

  "I'm looking for a boy named Walter Sterling. Do you know him?"

  "He is a member of my flock, as is his family."

  "His father isn't anymore," Remo said. "He's dead, and I think whoever killed him is out there looking for Walter right now to do the same to him."

  "Why would anyone want to kill the boy?"

  "Because he's involved with drugs, and he's become a liability to whoever he's working for."

  Moorcock stared at Remo for a few seconds and then said, "How do I know that you don't simply want to arrest the boy for dealing drugs?"

  "I'm not a policeman, Moorcock. I've told you that."

  "Yes, you have, but I can't help but notice that you act very suspiciously like a policeman—"

  "Moorcock, if you were any kind of a minister, you'd want to keep that boy from being killed—"

  "How would you suggest I do that?"

  "Tell me where he is."

  "And if he shows up dead anyway, I would have no recourse but to suspect you of having something to do with it."

  "You've got a suspicious nature for a minister," Remo said. "Or maybe I should say, for an ex-politician."

  Moorcock did not look surprised that Remo knew something about his past. "You are well informed," he said. "A policeman would be."

  "What do I have to do to convince you?"

  "Suppose I think about that question for a while and then get back to you," the minister suggested.

  "Reverend, I wouldn't wait too long if I were you," Remo said. "And to make it easy, here's the number where I'm staying."

  "That sounds like a threat."

  "Take it any way you want."

  Remo started for the exit, then turned to face the minister again. "Talk to the boy, Moorcock. Give him a chance to decide his own fate."

  "I'll be in touch."

  Remo left the church and walked directly across the street to where Chiun was watching.

  "Did anyone leave the building?" he asked.

  "No one," Chiun said. "I take it the minister was not very cooperative."

  "He's a suspicious man," Remo said, "or he wants us to think he is."

  "What does that mean?"

  "He's more than he seems to be," Remo said. "Maybe tomorrow we'll find out, when the Mexicans arrive."

  "And until then?"

  "He's supposed to call me if he decides to cooperate. I think one of us should go back to the hotel and wait for that call."

  "Do you really think it will come?"

  "I don't think I want to take a chance that it will and we aren't there to answer."

  "What have you in mind?"

  "I think you should go back, Little Father. I want to try another way of bringing Walter Sterling to the surface."

  "How?"

  "I'm going to ask someone else for help."

  "Detective Palmer?"

  "I'll have to talk to him, yes," Remo said, "but even before I see Palmer, I want to go and see an old friend of mine— a pusher named Danny the Man."

  "What makes you think he will help?"

  "I'll ask him real nice, Chiun," Remo said. "You know how persuasive I can be."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Danny the Man wasn't expecting company… again. This time the young lady was white, blond, and busty instead of willowy, and she was right in the middle of earning her "candy" when there was a knock at the door.

  "Jesus!" Danny the Man said viciously.

  "Mmmm?" the girl asked.

  "Let me loose, Carla, I got to answer that."

  "Mmm-mmm," the girl said, unwilling to give up when she was so close to earning her fix.

  "Business before pleasure, Carla, honey," the black man said. He gave her an open-handed slap alongside her head and snapped, "Let me loose, dammit!"

  The girl allowed him to slip away, and then pouted as he swung his legs to the floor, stood up, and put on his silk robe.

  As he was heading for the door, the knocking became a pounding, and he wondered which of his customers was so hard up for a fix already. He was sure that business had been concluded for that particular day. Danny the Man knew his regular customers, and knew when they were due to fix, and that meant that whoever was knocking wasn't a customer.

  Cops, he wondered, or… Naw, it couldn't be that crazy white dude again, could it?

  He swung the door open and said, "Aw, man…"

  "Hello, Danny," Remo said, walking past the pusher into the apartment.

  "Man, you can't be doing this to me all the time. My sex life is turning to shit."

  "Try getting some nice young lady to do it for love, Danny, and not for candy."

  "Thank you, Dear Abby," Danny said. He slammed the door shut and put his hands on his hips, facing Remo. "What is it this time?"

  "Before we start, why don't you keep your friend from walking out here naked. I'd hate to have to play that whole scene again."

  "And I can't afford to have you cure another one of my girls," Danny agreed. "Wait a sec."

  Danny went into the bedroom, and Remo heard him exchange a few less than friendly words with a young lady. In a few moments the pusher was stepping back into the room, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him.

  "You got anything on under that robe?"

  "What the hell do you think I was doing when you barged in," Danny said, "dressing for the policeman's ball?"

  "Just see if you can keep the robe from falling open. I don't think I could take the excitement."

  "Ha-ha. I'm dying laughing." He poured himself a drink. "You want one this time?"

  "No."

  Danny sat down on the couch, taking care not to allow his robe to gape open. "All right, man, lay it on me. What do you want?"

  "I want your help finding somebody."

  "Who?"

  "A kid pusher named Walter Sterling."

  Danny made a face and said, "Don't sound like the name of one of my people."

  "He's not. He's white."

  "A street pusher?"

  "Yeah."

  Danny shrugged and said, "I don't know him."

  "That may be so, but that doe
sn't mean you can't help me find him."

  "How do you propose I do that?"

  "You've got street people of your own, Danny. Put the word out. One white boy can't be that hard to find in this neighborhood, right?"

  "What makes you think he's hanging out here?"

  Remo shrugged and said, "A hunch. If he's hiding out, he's hiding where he thinks no one will look for him."

  "You want my people to find this kid for you," Danny said. "Is that all?"

  "Not quite. The next part is tricky."

  "1 don't like tricks."

  "You'll love it. It'll spice up your life."

  "I hate it already."

  "I want you to front for me in setting up a meeting with someone from this new drug operation."

  "We've had meetings. Nothing ever gets done," Danny said. "The top man never comes."

  "I don't want the top man. I just want somebody I can question."

  "What makes you think that whoever they send will talk to you?" the pusher asked.

  "I'm a real persuasive guy, Danny."

  "Man, I'll bet you are too."

  "What do you say?"

  "I say maybe I ought to give you a try," Danny said, giving Remo an appraising look.

  "You carrying your blade in that?"

  "I wouldn't need my blade."

  "Oh, yes, you would," Remo said, "and that would still give you next to no chance at all." They stared at each other in silence for several ticks of the clock, and then Remo said, "Believe me."

  "That's the problem, man," Danny said. "I do."

  "You'll set it up, then?"

  "I'll give it a shot. Where do I get in touch with you when— and if— I do?"

  Remo gave Danny the Man his hotel and his room number.

  "Call me there. I'll be waiting for another call anyway, so someone will be there at all times."

  "Got some other fool working for you too?"

  "Working," Remo said. "But I don't think it's for me."

  * * *

  Remo's next stop was the police station, where Detective William Palmer was breathing fire.

  "What the hell do you mean by leaving the scene of a homicide?" the detective demanded. "I could put you away for that and throw away the key. You know that, don't you?"

  "I know. But you won't."

  "And why not?" The detective placed his hands belligerently on his hips.

  "Because I'm going to solve these murders for you."

  "Is that a fact? You got some kind of crystal ball?"

  "I'm just working on something, that's all."

  Palmer stared at Remo, breathing hard through his nose, and then said, "What about the kid? Did you find him?"

  "Not yet. That's one of the things I'm working on."

  "And where's your friend?"

  "He's back at the hotel, resting."

  "Yeah," Palmer said. "If I killed six men, I'd need a rest too."

  "What are you talking about?" Remo said casually.

  "Six stiffs showed up in the parking lot behind your hotel this morning." The detective lit a cigarette. "Funny thing," he said through a jet of blue smoke.

  "Every last one of them's a known killer with a record a mile long. And enough juvenile offenses to fill the side of a building."

  "Do tell," Remo said.

  "Don't get smart with me, Zorro. It don't matter that they were scumbags. Detroit ain't no place for vigilantes, no matter who they work for." He stabbed his finger into Remo's chest. "You and the old geezer just better watch your ass, get it?"

  "Look, you know I didn't have anything to do with killing Louis Sterling."

  "Mister," Palmer said, "I don't know nothing about you. And that's the way I want to keep it."

  "I know, and I appreciate it. You won't be sorry."

  "Hell, I'm already sorry. Go on, get your butt out of here before I come to my senses."

  "I'll be in touch."

  "I can't wait."

  Back at the hotel Chiun told Remo that the minister had not yet called, but that a man named Danny Lincoln had.

  "That's Danny the Man, Chiun. What did he say?"

  "He said that he had put the word out but had not yet been able to make that appointment you wanted. He will call you tomorrow."

  "Well, I guess that means we can stop waiting for the phone to ring tonight."

  "The child Walter Sterling is still out there, in danger," Chiun said.

  "With a little luck, Chiun, that'll change tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow you will follow the minister?"

  "Yes, while you wait for Danny the Man to call. He's either going to find the kid for us or put us in contact with someone else involved with the drug selling. One way or the other we could wrap this thing up tomorrow."

  "We will have to make sure that luck has nothing to do with it," Chiun said. "Only a white barbarian would trust success to luck. The welfare of the children of the world must not be left to chance."

  "Right, Chiun."

  "So tomorrow we will make sure that this matter comes to an end, and the killer of children will be punished."

  "I'm with you, Chiun," Remo said.

  "I hope that is not meant to be a source of encouragement to me."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lorenzo Moorcock turned to Walter Sterling and said, "He wants to kill you, Walter."

  "What makes you say that?" the kid asked.

  "I can see it on his face, in his eyes. This Remo Randisi is a born killer. It is what he does."

  The Reverend Moorcock had no idea just how right he was. "The best thing for you to do is stay right here until everything blows over, believe me."

  "But my mother," Sterling said. "She'll be worried about me."

  "Don't worry about your mother," Moorcock said. "I will tell her that you are all right."

  They were in a small room on the second floor of the church, where Walter Sterling had been hiding since the first time Remo followed him. Now that Moorcock had told him that his father was dead, Walter was terrified that he was next.

  "I will bring you something to eat later," Moorcock promised him. "For now, you had better rest."

  "Thank you, Reverend," Sterling said, grabbing the man's arm. "Thank you."

  "Not at all, my boy," Moorcock said, patting his hand. "After all, you are part of my flock."

  Moorcock disengaged Sterling's hands from his arm and left the room. He took the steps down to the main floor but did not stop there. He went through another door and continued down until he reached the basement. A man was standing at the door as he entered the basement.

  "How is it going?" Moorcock asked him.

  "It's going fine."

  "Will we be ready for our Mexican friends tomorrow?"

  "More than ready. We'll be able to handle everything they bring us."

  "Good," Moorcock said.

  "What about the Sterling boy?" the man asked.

  "He's all right where he is for now."

  "I still think we should have killed him days ago when—"

  "I'm aware of your opinion, Donald," Moorcock said, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "You'll get your chance to kill him soon enough."

  "You don't think I like killing, do you?" the man asked.

  "No, Donald," Moorcock said, "I think you love it."

  Both men laughed, and Moorcock went to look over his operation.

  * * *

  Lorenzo Moorcock had been a very unhappy man the day he lost the election for city commissioner of Detroit. But now, five years later, he couldn't have been happier about the outcome. If he had been successful in his political career, he wouldn't now be the proud owner of a wildly lucrative drug operation.

  It had taken Moorcock time to set up his elaborate drug-cutting factory in the basement, after he had purchased the run-down church. But the church was a perfect cover, and once he had that set up, it was just a matter of rounding up the right people and the right contacts. Some of his old political affiliations had been helpful
in that area, especially his Iranian friends.

  Using juveniles as his street peddlers had been a stroke of pure genius. When they got arrested, it was only on juvenile charges, and they were soon out on the streets again. And when they got older, he simply moved them into another area of the operation.

  It was all perfect, right down to the way the drugs were brought into the country and placed in his hands. For that, he used not only the Iranians but also the Mexicans.

  In the eighteen months that his operation had been running, no one had ever come close to impeding it… until now. The American and the Oriental were becoming dangerous and would have to be dealt with. He wouldn't want his Mexican friends to find out about them and get nervous. Removing them would have to be handled carefully because the Mexicans would be in town tomorrow. For once Moorcock admitted to himself that he may have made a mistake. He should have listened to Donald and let him kill the pair sooner.

  Of course, he hadn't realized how difficult they'd be to kill. The American had somehow scared away the kids who had been sent to kill him on the street, and then he'd managed somehow to get back to the hotel in time to save the old man.

  This time he'd send seasoned men after them and get the job done right.

  While he was inspecting the cutting operation to make sure everything was in order, Donald came up next to him with a message.

  "From whom?" Moorcock asked.

  "Danny the Man Lincoln."

  "The nigger dealer?"

  "That's the guy."

  "What does he want?"

  "He wants a meeting."

  "With me?"

  "Actually, the word is he just wants to meet with someone from our operation."

  "For what purpose?"

  "I don't know."

  "Perhaps he wants to join us.

  "God knows he can't beat us."

  "Please," the minister said, "we do not speak of God here. He is not part of our modern beliefs."

  "Right, right," Donald said, wondering how serious Moorcock was.

  "All right, Donald," Moorcock said. "Set it up. Arrange the meeting with Mr. Danny the Man. Who knows? Maybe he could be useful to us."

  "When should I set it up for?"

  "Tomorrow night, I think. I'll want you with me when we meet with the Mexicans."

  "You'll want me with— uh, you mean I'm going to meet with him?"

  "Who else would I send, Donald?" Moorcock asked. "You are my right-hand man."