by Brian Meeks
Her expression turned serious. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me for a moment,” she said and returned to the woman she had been helping. There was some discussion, and the brunette profusely apologized as she shooed the woman out of the store. She flipped the sign to closed, and the bell above the door gave a feeble ring. She locked the door, walked briskly past them, and said, “Please, follow me.”
She led them behind the counter, past a door with a pink curtain, and into the storage room. The shelves were filled with boxes, and the racks held all sorts of women’s undergarments. She went down an aisle. At the end, she turned, opened a door, and stepped aside to let 2 and 3 past. “I’ve been told you would know what to do from here.”
2 nodded and 3 said, “Oh, yes, we’ll be fine. Just give us a minute, and we’ll be out of your hair, which is lovely by the way.”
She blushed, whirled around, and headed back to the front.
2 pulled out the piece of paper with the instructions. He went directly to the wooden filing cabinet and removed the top drawer, which was full of files, and said, “Here, hold this,” and handed the drawer to 3. 2 reached into the opening and ran his hand across the back until he found a small lever. He pulled it, and a small panel popped open on the side of the cabinet. It contained a journal. He grabbed it and put the drawer back. He and 2 headed to the front of the store.
The brunette, who they presumed was Jenny, asked, “Did you find everything you needed?”
3 cut off 2 and said, “Almost, but one thing was missing.”
She looked concerned. “Oh, well, I really...”
3 grabbed the small pad of paper next to the register and the pencil next to it and said, “Your number?”
The woman took the paper and pencil, wrote Jenny, Klondike 5-8737, and handed the paper to him.
They hopped into the cab and before they could say anything, the cabbie gunned it.
“You’re back to your old self,” 2 said, shaking his head.
“It is good to be home,” 3 replied.
CHAPTER 91
Henry grabbed the knob. The door creaked as he pulled it open. In the center of the closet was an old, wooden chair with two, small, wrapped boxes sitting on it. Henry looked at Luna. She was wide-eyed and looked like a little girl at Christmas. She whispered, “Presents?”
“Literally, I’d say. I’ve always thought of the stuff as presents, but they’ve never come wrapped.”
“I guess you did a good job on this case.”
“I wonder.”
“Wonder what? Who’s sending them?”
“Well, yes, but this year all the ‘presents’ have been clues.”
“I know, but the case is over. You solved it. I really am quite proud of you. I think they’re just presents. Let’s see what you’ve gotten.”
Henry pulled the chair out and handed one of the packages to Luna. “Here, you open this one.”
“But they’re for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Okay,” she giggled and gently removed the bow. Luna carefully eased off the wrapping paper, making sure not to tear it.
“Is that how you open stuff at Christmas?”
“It’s too pretty to destroy,” she said. She smiled and looked at him like a kid filled with amazement.
Henry was curious and anxious to see what was inside, but he wasn’t about to ruin her moment.
Luna set the paper aside and pulled the lid off the box. She cooed, “It’s a pen! A very nice pen.” She handed it to Henry. “I think it’s just a present.”
Henry took the pen out of the box and looked at it. He took the sheet of wrapping paper and flipped it over.
“No! Don’t write on it.”
She was so cute. Henry shrugged. “Okay.”
He grabbed an old newspaper and scrawled his name above the headline. “It’s a good pen, that’s for sure. I’ve never had anything like it.” He looked at the box and read aloud, “Mont Blanc.”
“It sounds fancy.”
Henry handed her the other box.
“You don’t want to open one?”
“I’d make a mess of the paper. You wouldn’t want that,” he said with a wink.
Luna went at it again. This time, she gasped when she opened the box. “Wow, they’re beautiful.”
Henry looked over the top of the box, which she didn’t seem about to hand to him. A pair of diamond earrings in a blue velvet box. “I guess they are just presents. I suspect that one is for you.”
Luna threw her arms around him and gave him a big kiss.
* * *
The director asked 2 and 3 to step out of the office while he read the contents. They waited in the hall as he read. He read slowly and then, when he was done, he read it again. The task, by Enclave standards, was pretty straight forward, but the circumstances and the timing made it a special case.
He sat, surrounded by concrete walls and quiet, and thought. He considered the vast resources at his disposal and how any of his associates could handle this task. The obvious choice was the two men waiting in the hallway, but instinct told him he should go another way. He called them back in and said only, “Gentlemen, I’ve read the request. I’ll be mulling it over for the remainder of the evening. This is a debt I’ve waited to repay for many years, and it’s of the utmost importance that it be handled properly. I may choose to...well...let’s just say I’m not ready to discuss it with you at this time. Please check in tomorrow at A6, and we’ll discuss it.”
2 gave a polite nod, as did 3, but his expression belied a disappointment that the director expected and appreciated. They left, and the director put the task into his briefcase. The small opening behind the obelisk led to a wrought-iron staircase that descended two floors to a secure octagonal room with four desks. Each desk had three phones that connected to three different switchboards, a lamp, several neat stacks of file folders, and a serious looking, if not bookish, woman sitting behind them. One wall had a map of the world; another the United States; the third, of Europe, and the fourth, a map of China. Red, green, and yellow pins were stuck in the maps and indicated over three dozen operations in various stages around the globe. There were two walls with doors and two with detailed explanations of specific tasks that the Director was paying especially close attention to.
“Hilde,” he said to the red head sitting at the desk in front of China, “may I get a status update on the issue with the farmers?”
“That operation was completed less than twenty minutes ago. I’m just finishing the report and will have it filed within the hour. The long and short of it is a complete success. It went exactly as you had imagined.”
“Good. We’re moving to A6 this evening. The relocation team will set things up exactly as we leave tonight. I’d like you to put the China map away and get out Manhattan. Put one green pin at the Flatiron building. I’ll give you the rest, tomorrow.”
“Very well, Director,” she said, grabbing the phone. The director left without another word. The first pin was placed; the rest would follow; and soon his burden would be lifted. He hated debts.
CHAPTER 92
Henry awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. He stretched and crawled out of bed. Luna was humming when he sat down at the table.
“Did you sleep well?” She gave him a peck on the cheek.
“I did.”
Luna put a plate in front of him, poured some juice and a cup of coffee, and said, “I hate to leave a mess, but I promised the bakery I’d be in to help with the Feinstein wedding cake. I’ll come back later and do the dishes.”
“I appreciate the breakfast - you do take good care of me - but I’ll not have you coming all the way back over here to do dishes.”
“You don’t want me to come over?” she said with a devilish smile.
“You are always welcome, Luna, but there won’t be any dishes left to do.”
“I’ll see you later then.”
“Thanks for breakfast.”
Luna tos
sed her apron on the counter, grabbed her purse, waved, and dashed out the door.
Henry finished his eggs and nibbled on his last piece of bacon as he sat and enjoyed the quiet of the morning. He turned on the radio, found a good song, and cleaned up the kitchen.
After a shower and shave, he got dressed and headed into the office. Henry didn’t bother with the radio; his rested brain was already thinking about the tiles. He couldn’t let them go. Until he figured out what the major was trying to tell him, he couldn’t consider the case closed.
Henry waited in line at the newspaper stand, but impatience won out and he decided he could read the paper later. He checked his watch, it was 7:50 am, and he wondered if he would beat Celine to the office. Walking down the hall he heard her on the phone. Does she sleep here? he wondered.
Henry hung up his hat and said, “Good morning, Celine.”
She waved but kept talking, “Yes, I understand, but he isn’t in yet. No, that was someone else. I’ll give him the message. No, no, no, we don’t have any comment. Please, I’ll give him the message. Thank you.” She hung up the phone.
“What was that all about?”
She thrust a stack of messages into Henry’s hand., “The phone has been ringing off the hook. All of those are from very pushy newspaper men. It seems you figured prominently in the Daily’s front page article about the serial killings. Everyone wants an interview.”
“Damn, I should have gotten the paper.”
“I think you should. It’s getting ugly. I haven’t even had time to make the coffee. We’re going to need lots of coffee.”
“I’ll go pick one up.”
Henry grabbed his hat and started toward the door as the phone started ringing again. Celine answered, and she waved her arm at Henry to stop. “Henry, it’s Mike!” She handed him the phone.
“Hey, Mike, how’s it going?”
“Have you seen the paper?”
“No, I was just going down to pick it up.”
“It isn’t good, but I’ll let you read it for yourself. Call me back after you do. I think we need a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Just give it a read, then call me.”
Henry handed the phone back and said, “That didn’t sound good.”
“You better hurry. I’ll start the coffee.”
* * *
The director greeted the men. “I’ve already explained to 2 and 3 the history of this request. Were there more time, I’d bring everyone up to speed, but how this came to be is not important. How we handle it is. Associates 37 and 42 will execute Phase One while 2 and 3 will handle Phase Two.”
The director handed sealed envelopes to 2 and one to 37. He added, “I want hourly updates through the usual channels. If anything goes awry, let me know, and we will commit as many resources as need be.”
* * *
Henry, shaking his head, walked past Celine’s desk with an armful of newspapers. “I’ve only read the headlines, but it looks bad.”
Celine followed him into his office and pulled the top paper off the stack. She read aloud, “Serial Killer Cover-Up.”
Henry read, “Mid-Town Mauler Kept a Secret,” and said, “That isn’t even accurate. Dwight wasn’t even in the city.”
Celine picked up another. “Streets of Blood,” and then slammed it down. “I don’t even want to read them. They make it sound like catching him was a bad thing.”
Henry started reading and then said, “Damn it!”
Celine looked up. Buttons darted out from behind the filing cabinet and hid under a chair. Henry was not one to swear often.
The phone rang, and Celine grabbed it. “Hello? Yes. Here, it’s Mike.”
“Mike, what happened? It says you had to let him go.”
“Not enough evidence, and it seems the major is connected.”
“Connected to whom?”
“Everyone from the mayor to the governor has called and chewed the captain’s ass.”
“What about the call we took at his apartment?”
“His lawyer says it never happened. Apparently, the word of a detective doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“He’s a lunatic, and we’re just letting him roam free.”
“We’ve got guys watching his every move. He’s not going to be doing any more killing.”
“Unless he hires someone again.”
“I know, I know, but until we get something more, we’re out of luck. I’m as pissed as you are, but right now I don’t know what we can do.”
“He said something when I nabbed him at the park.”
“What?”
“He said it wasn’t over.”
The silence on the line said it all.
“Stay there. I’m coming over. We need a plan.”
“Good.” Henry hung up the phone and sat down.
Celine asked, “What’s going on?”
“They let him go.”
Henry didn’t elaborate, and Celine went back to her desk. The phone rang and she let it. The reporters were relentless and eventually she started to pick up again. The questions turned hostile around lunch and continued well into the afternoon. Every few minutes, the phone would ring, and someone else would yell something through the phone. Celine tried to be nice but started saying, “Henry is not available,” and hanging up.
Henry had tried to escape the furor by taking Celine to lunch, but as soon as they left the building, two reporters from the local TV stations spotted them and they were chased back inside. The poor guy at the front desk had his arms full keeping them at bay.
Henry did one thing all day: he played with the tiles. He made words, most of which meant nothing. He’d mix up the tiles again and search for a new meaning. Three minutes before 5pm he had “A R T M I S E” spread across his desk. He checked the dictionary. Nothing. He yelled, “Celine, does ‘ARTMISE’ mean anything to you?”
“Nope, sorry.”
He moved the “e” and spelled “Artemis”, looked back at the dictionary and saw it. Artemis: an ancient Greek goddess, the sister of Apollo, and associated with the moon. Henry yelled, “Celine, come here.”
She rushed in and he read the definition to her, then flipped to the ”l’s.” Luna: the ancient Roman goddess personifying the moon.
“Luna, oh no,” Celine said, clasping her hands to her mouth.
Henry grabbed the phone and dialed the bakery. No answer, but it was 5pm. They were closed. He tried his house. The phone rang six times before he gave up. Henry dialed her father’s place.
He picked up and said, “Hello.”
“Mr. Alexander,” Henry said. He tried to hide his concern. “It’s Henry.”
“I know your voice, son. What can I do for you?”
“I was, er, I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to pick Luna up or if she was meeting me at my place. Without letting her know how stupid I’ve been, can you simply let me know if she is there?”
“That would be a no.”
“Okay, thanks. Do you know what time she got off work?”
“I think she said she was only going to work on a cake, so I imagine it was around 3pm. Since she isn’t here, I’d guess she went to meet you.”
“Thanks. Please don’t tell her I called.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“You’re aces, Mr. Alexander.”
Henry hung up the phone.
“Well?”
“She’s not there.”
“What I meant was what do we do now?”
Henry got up. “I’m going to my place in Brooklyn first, then I’m...I don’t know.”
“Correction, we’re going to Brooklyn.”
Henry wasn’t about to argue. Celine added some food to Button’s bowl and grabbed her purse as the phone rang. She grabbed it. “Hello, Henry Wood Detective Agency. I’m sorry, Mr. Wood isn’t available right...” Celine turned ashen. She handed the receiver to Henry. “It’s him.”
Henry, not wanting to tip his hand, play
ed it straight, “Hello, this is Henry.”
“How’s my favorite soldier doing?”
“Major, I see you’ve slithered out of jail.”
“I have. How’s your little Roman goddess doing?”
Henry’s mind raced. He felt the Major reaching into his soul to push his buttons, knowing that a response would be exactly what he wanted. Henry tried to think of something reasonable to say, but he was just too mad, “You bastard! I guess you’re not man enough to keep this between you and me, so you got to go picking on girls. Your father must be so proud.” Henry knew a button or two also.
The major controlled his emotions better and simply said, “You’ll be hearing from me soon.”
The line went dead. Henry looked at Celine. “He’s got her.”
CHAPTER 93
The waiting ate at Henry’s soul. For two days he had done nothing but wait for the phone call or delivery. The next move in the chess game that the major insisted they play had yet to come. Only one thought ran across his mind, Luna must be so scared. It echoed over and over until he was near the point of madness.
Celine, Carol, Bobby and Mike had been through it with him, waiting and taking turns manning the phones. It was a constant vigil made worse by the continuing onslaught of press. The stories had turned from speculation about a cover-up to one that accused the hero detective of staging the entire killing spree so that he could swoop in and save the day. Celine looked in and saw Henry with his head down on the desk. She turned towards the others. “I think he may be asleep.”
Carol whispered, “I hope so. He looks so tired.”
Bobby also lowered his voice, “He is being eaten up inside. I mean we all are, but it’s worse for him. He just keeps waiting for the next shoe to drop. It’s cruel. We better catch that bastard. Should I go get some more food? We’re almost out of coffee. I wonder how long he will sleep. I’m going to go get food.” Bobby scampered down the hall.