152 (12)

Michelle kept her eyes on Mokoto as she continued to fumble with the rope that kept her arms at her sides.  Mokoto still had her head on her knees, where it had been for a few minutes.  Michelle had her fingers around the end of the rope, and the next step was to figure out what kind of knot it was.  Mokoto’s head slowly looked up as Michelle’s face had a look of stern determination.  “Have you been staring at me this whole time?”  Mokoto said, as she unwrapped her arms and stretched out her legs.

“It’s not like you have a TV here.”

“Hmm” Mokoto grunted.  She reached up and slowly pulled her gun out of her holster.  She sat it on the ground, with the barrel pointing right at Michelle.  She then reached inside her holster and pulled out a small picture.  “Let me ask you a question.”

“I take it I have to answer.”

“I’d prefer you did.”

“Okay, shoot…” Michelle winced at her statement, but Mokoto actually had to stop herself from giggling.  “…well, not literally please.”

“Fair enough” Mokoto said, as her smile slowly faded over the course of around half a minute of silence.  “Do you believe in random chance, or that everything happens for a reason?”

Oh great, I’m tied up and being forced to have a philosophical discussion Michelle thought.  “Well, I’ve never really thought about it.  In my life, I’ve seen a lot of stuff that suggests random chance.”

“But, that isn’t your answer.”

“I met Phil in circumstances I’d call random chance, but at times it felt like it was meant to be, today notwithstanding.”

“Hmm” Mokoto said, her eyes still on the small photograph.  Michelle had felt around enough to get a good feel of the knot, and she was slowly trying to untie it without moving her arms too much.

“Why do you ask, may I ask?” Michelle was desperate to keep Mokoto’s mind off her and on whatever she was looking at.

“Some little girl in Sioux Falls told me I had a good tama.”

“Tama?”

“Spirit.  Soul.  Whatever.”

“Did you get her kitten out of a tree or something?”

Mokoto laughed under her breath.  “Hardly.  I was on my motorcycle, and I was seconds away from holstering my gun.  She just rode up behind me on her pink Hello Kitty bike with training wheels and started talking to me.”

“Why do you think she said it then?”

“I have no idea.”

“It is bothering you, because of what you’ve done in the past.”

“What I’ve done is done.  It’s what I do.  It’s who I am.”

“What you do shouldn’t be who you are.”

“In this business, at a certain point, what you do and what you are fuse together.  I’m too far gone to separate the two.”

“Really?  What about that talk about letting us go if you find what you want?”

Mokoto didn’t answer right away.  She just stared at the picture.  Michelle had the knot coming apart, but she suddenly realized something she hadn’t thought of yet.

What the hell am I going to do when I get untied?

140 (28)

Mokoto slowly got out of Michelle’s Toyota.  The motorcycle rider took off his helmet as Mokoto put her gun away.  “You’d better not have scratched that” she said as she walked towards the bike.  She glanced back and forth as Jeremiah sat the helmet on the seat.

“It handles real nice.  To bad it will probably get identified.”

“New license plate and some new detailing and I’ll be fine.”

“So, how in the world did you track them here?”

“Honestly?”

Jeremiah pulled a toothpick out of his coat pocket.  He looked around the alleyway and shrugged.  “Nah, I don’t really want to know.  It ruins your mystique.”

Mokoto laughed.  She saw Michelle inside the car, and she wasn’t talking yet.  “We need to get them in and separate them.  Phil and Michelle are the ones we can work over the best.  Bob might be a lost cause at this point.”

“That’s not so good.  He’s the one who was best friends with Gerrard.”

“I have some ideas for that, but maybe we’ll get lucky with Phil.”

“The girl?”

Mokoto took a deep breath.  “She doesn’t have anything to do with this, but we’ll keep her around for now.  I don’t think we’ll have to eliminate her.”

“We’ll see.”  Jeremiah smiled as he looked over the car’s passengers.

“Say, who’s Jebediah on the phone with?”

“Beats me.”  Jeremiah waved at the silver car, and Jebediah slowly got out of the car.  Once out, he flipped the phone closed.

“Let’s get these three inside.  Who were you on the phone with?”

“Mister Man.”

Jeremiah and Mokoto nodded.  They turned towards the Toyota.

***

A loud buzzing went off as the phone was hung up.  The chair spun around, so that the back was towards the door.  As the office door opened, the man in the chair spoke slowly.

“Shaun, what can you tell me?”

Shaun looked into the room.  A large, oak desk almost stretched all the way across the room.  The walls were covered in bookshelves, and the hardwood floors echoed his footsteps as he walked in.  He knew how far forward he could walk, and he walked in no further.  “We have no idea where Laura is.”

“That is…unfortunate.  Her actions could lead to…storm fronts that were not predicted.”

“We haven’t heard from our contact yet.  It’s possible they’re in a dead zone…”

“No.  That’s a case of two fronts…merging I would guess.  Fear not, for soon they will all be in the same isobar.”

“No word on where the F.B.I. Agent is.”

“He isn’t my concern right now.”  The man in the chair’s hand lifted, and three screens on the wall lit up.  The far left screen was a map of the the Dakotas and Minnesota, with some lights blinking red, and other areas were blinking blue, green and yellow.  The screen on the right was a long list of names, amounts and times.  The middle screen was the largest, and on it was the Weather Channel.  The hand lowered as Cheryl Lemke started going over the nation’s forecast.  “That’s all for now Shaun.  I’d like some time to absorb the new weather data now.”

“As you wish” Shaun said, as he walked out of the room.

136 (24)

Bob closed his eyes as Phil started reading the letter.  He was full of questions, but even with his would be assassin in the front seat, all he could think about was whether Phil could find a way to forgive him.  He knew throwing out the letter was wrong, but now he wishes he’d hat the guts to throw it rather than leave it to be found by Phil, or by someone who would give it to Phil.  Bob had lost one of his best friends on Friday, and now Saturday was looking more and more like a repeat.  He pulled his lucky sunglasses from his shirt collar and put them on.  He bent forward, resting his forehead on his hands, hoping no one would see him on the verge of breaking down again.

Michelle pulled onto 6th street, but she was adjusting and checking her rear view mirror more often than usual.  Her stomach was a knot before she came to the Millstone restaurant, and now it was not only tightening, but new ropes were coming in while old ropes were fighting to free themselves from the tangle she was becoming a part of.  Her heart rose when she saw Phil, then sank when he revealed he wasn’t in town for her.  Her anger was on the verge of violence when Bob made his confession, and she was ready to take it out on both Bob and Phil.  All of that rage was still there, but it was now backing down from the sudden surge of fear from the mysterious woman now sharing her front seat.  She glanced over, and saw a gun aimed squarely at her head from the woman’s lap.

Mokoto kept looking around.  She was aware that any vehicle higher than the small car they were in would see the firearm.  She also was trying to keep an eye on all of the variables in the car.  She had a pretty good feeling that if Bob and Phil didn’t have a wedge between them already, they would now.  Phil was mesmerized by the letter, and he now had something to lose…Michelle.  Michelle was the one Mokoto didn’t know how to read quite yet.  She’d been tailing her most of the day, but she still didn’t have a firm grasp on what to expect or how to handle her.  She was guessing she also had something to lose, but little to offer.  Right now Mokoto was happy to use her as a driver, even if it meant Jebediah would have to bring her motorcycle.

Phil read the letter’s ending, and he went back and started reading it again.  It was everything he’d hoped and feared it would be.  It pulled no punches in specifying where Phil had gone wrong in their relationship, but it also shouldered Michelle with some of the blame.  It touched on everything she realized she missed about him, and about them.  Most importantly, the end revealed she wanted to give Phil options.  Those options ranged from Michelle never writing again, to flying out to Las Vegas and getting married once he had decided.  If he’d gotten this three months ago, he wasn’t sure what he would have picked.  If he’d read this after last night, they’d be in Vegas already.  Now he was hoping that once this was all over he’d be able to choose, and that Michelle not only still wanted him to, she was still able to.

The car hung in silence until they approached main street.  “Turn right” Mokoto said.

134 (22)

15 hours ago

Chet unlocked the doors to Pike’s BP.  The station didn’t open until five, but he liked to get in early and start getting things in order.  Saturdays were usually a busy day, even in Webster.  He started brewing the coffee, and waiting for the newspapers to come in.  He was going through his checklist of things to do before five when he heard a knock on a glass door.  He wandered out and saw a Asian woman in glasses standing outside of the station.  He walked over to the door and opened it a crack.

“We’re closed until five.  The pumps take credit cards.”

“I’m gassed up.  I just need some coffee.”

“Sorry we’re…”

“I’m willing to pay above market value” the woman said, as she held a fifty dollar bill up.

Chet knew he’d get in trouble, but his shift would barely clear fifty after taxes.  He opened the door and gestured the woman to come in.  “It’s a bit odd to see someone out this late on a motorcycle, especially when you’re not one of our regulars.”

“I’m just passing through” Mokoto said as she unzipped her jacket slightly.  “I don’t suppose you have any doughnuts yet.”

“Nope, but I can get you a good deal on one of our breakfast pizzas in a bit.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Coffee’s over there.  I’ll even let you have the first cup.”  Chet kept his eye on her, mainly because he’d be fired if she stole or destroyed anything.  He also kept his eye on the way she filled her jeans.

“You’re too kind” Mokoto said, filling the largest coffee cup the store had.

“If you’ll pardon me for asking, it’s awfully late to be just passing through.”

“Well Chet, I’m on my way to Aberdeen.”

Chet was taken aback for a moment, until he realized he was wearing a nametag.  “I didn’t catch your name Miss…”

“Mokoto.”

“Miss Mokoto.  Why are you off to Aberdeen at four in the morning?”

“I left Sioux Falls rather late last night.  I don’t even know if I should be on the way to Aberdeen.”

“Are you lost?”

“No, not lost.  Just directionless.  I’m trying to find someone.  I’m not sure if Aberdeen is the right place to go.”

“You must have a reason for going.”

“Call it a hunch or women’s intuition or whatever you like.  I just have a gut feeling.”

“Fair enough.  I’ve heard than one plenty of times.”

Mokoto slowly sipped the coffee.  Her eyes closed in sheer delight.  “Chet, this is some damn fine coffee.  Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Is this what you want to do?”

“Excuse me?”

“This job…is it what you want to do?”

“Well, it’s not what I had in mind, no.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Well, I need a job.  I lost my farm about ten years ago, and I have to make child support payments somehow.  I work at the metal yard most days of the week.  I only work here on weekends.”

Mokoto sipped more coffee.  “Do you ever wonder if it’s time to do something different, even though you’re good at it?”

“I…I don’t follow.”

“You make damn fine coffee, for example.  Yet, you’re just not sure if you want to make coffee anymore.  But it’s what you’re good at.  What do you do?”

“Well…I don’t know.  I just do what I do to get by.  Are you having some trouble with your job?”

“Just making conversation Chet.  Thanks for the coffee.  I should be going.”  Chet watched her walk out, rev her motorcycle and ride off into the morning.  He shook his head and got back to getting the BP ready to open at five.

51 (23)

Three hours later

Mokoto walked out of the truck stop, and sat her coffee on the ground. She opened one of the side bags and slipped her holster over her shoulders. It bunched a bit of the fabric on her new shirt, but she would have to deal. The shirt wasn’t to her liking, and the jeans were taking some getting used to, but now she was ready to ride. She was about to close the compartment when she noticed the letter sitting at the bottom. She reached down and looked at it more closely. It was addressed to Phil, and the writing looked very feminine. She found a corner that wasn’t sealed all the way, pried her finger inside to open the envelope. She unfolded a three page letter, and began reading.

***

Will handed Clayton a fresh cup of coffee and sat down on a chair. Clayton blew on the coffee as Will leaned back in his chair. “So, are you going to file a report?”

“At 3 AM? No, but ask me again in the afternoon.”

“On behalf of the S.F.P.D., I’d at least like to offer my apology. That officer is at least getting a report from me.”

“On one hand he was doing his job.” Clayton took a long drink of his coffee. “On the other hand, I have this nagging suspicion that some of the people here don’t think a Native American can be an F.B.I. agent.”

“I never asked what nation you were a part of.”

“Ojibwe. I grew up on a rez in Wisconsin.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you for Wisconsin.”

“That’s okay. I only go back when I absolutely have to.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“Did your officers find Frank?”

“Nope, he’s not home. We have the place staked out, but maybe he’s already skipped town.”

Clayton took a long drink of coffee. “Well, whoever was shooting at me left in a hurry, and they somehow grabbed every important piece of paper out from under my nose. For that alone I deserved the cuff job your guys had me in.”

Will pounded the rest of his coffee. “Do you have a place to stay? I’ve got a couch that’s all yours if you don’t want to crash in a hotel.”

“Eh, I have an expense account, but maybe it’s best if I crash at your place. Maybe we don’t want these N.R.O. and N.G.A. types finding me yet, and sleeping on your couch is too obvious for most intel types.”

“C’mon” Will said as he stood up. “I have a feeling our weekend will get busier before we have the Monday grind rearing its ugly head.”

***

Jon walked along the rail cars. The next train was ready to head out, and once it did he’d get to call it a night. He glanced at every car as he walked by, but stopped at an old, green, rusty Burlington Northern boxcar. The door was open just a crack. Jon pulled out his radio. “Hold up, I need to check one car quick, over.”

“Well, make it quick. We’re ahead of schedule for once.”

Jon pushed the door open a bit farther, and flashed his light around. The loud noises of the rail yard made it hard to hear anything, and a quick flash around didn’t reveal anything out of place. Jon shrugged and lowered his light. He pulled the door closed all the way. “Okay, you’re clear.”

Bob’s eyes shot open as he heard the latch of the boxcar close, and then he felt the train moving once more.

48 (20)

Will lowered his phone. Tina saw a look of concern and fear on his face, then she saw his arm shooting towards her. He violently grabbed her radio handset from her shoulder clip, almost before she could react. “Will, what th-”

“ALL UNITS ALL UNITS! WE HAVE AN ARMED CONFLICT AT THE MORGUE. ALL UNITS RESPOND. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. REPEAT! ALL UNITS, PLEASE RESPOND TO AN ARMED CONFLICT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW AT THE CITY MORGUE!!”

Will released TIna’s radio handset and began running towards his car. Tina blinked, and turned towards her car. She knew now that getting out of work on time tonight was going to be the least of her worries.

***

Mokoto’s teeth chattered in the cold evening air. She tried to keep them from their noisy protest, but the chattering wouldn’t stop. She needed to get a new jacket, or at the very least a sweatshirt. There was no way she’d be able to ride her motorcycle in just a sleeveless shirt and a torn skirt. She was really hoping that she remembered the way to Wal-Mart, and part of her thought she’d rather be cold all night. She felt a sudden vibration on her hip, and she pulled over. After taking off her helmet, she flipped open her Nokia.

“M-m-m-m-mokoto here.”

“Are you all right? It sounds like you’re cold.” The voice was familiar and altered.

“I had a bit of a situation and my jacket is toast, for real.”

“Ah. Any luck with our friends?” Mokoto didn’t respond initially. “So, that’s a no?”

“We’ve had some setbacks. J & J are checking one of our last leads.”

“Leads? I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Well, when I can put it a way that makes you happy, I’ll call you back.” Mokoto closed the phone and then turned it off. She sat on her motorcycle a moment, pondering her next move. Her boss would not be happy if she didn’t get the data he wanted. The prospect of another big payday lingered in her mind, but the dream also clawed at her memory. She thought for a moment about this being the last time she took a job, and she remembered one her mentor’s words of advice from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

If you start thinking about getting out, it is time to get out.

***

Darlene was on the verge of hyperventilating. The sound of bullets hitting concrete and the deafening booms of Agent Iron-Horse’s pistol kept pounding in her ears. She had seen plenty of gunshot trauma, and had even heard a gun fired in her life. Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and her frantic breathing was all she heard.

“Mister FBI” came a voice from the other room. “Maybe we can work out a deal.” Clayton was in a squatting position, leaning against a wall. He had about one clip left. He knew that talking might be his only option until help came.

“All right. I’m listening.”

“We just need to check a friend of ours for something of ours. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Clayton thought for a moment. Darlene was still shaking, and with the amount of lead they’d already pitched his way, he was assuming they had more bullets than he did. He took a deep breath. “If you’re looking for Gerrard’s body, you’re out of luck. He’s not here.”

Silence.

45 (17)

Mokoto blinked, and then she stirred into action. She rolled her body against the wall of the apartment building. She looked at the grass where she had landed, but she didn’t see any blood. She felt a sharp pain in her back, and one of her legs didn’t feel quite right, but she was alive. The last thing she remembered was leaping for a tree, and choosing a branch to grab onto. Her choice of branches had left a bit to be desired.

***

Justin looked at Mike. “Why do you think there’s part of a leather coat in the tree?”

“Maybe our bandit made a jump for it?”

“You’d think they would have just lowered themselves and risked it. The tree was a gusty but stupid idea.”

“Ms. Gravley, do you know why there’s a leather jacket in the tree.”

Mabel got up from the sofa and saw the leather flowing in the night air. She recognized it almost instantly and began shaking and crying again. “Please PLEASE PLEASE get me to the police station. I need protection!”

Mike walked over to her. “Ma’am, what do you mean?”

“They’ll kill me, they’ll kill me. The two men who were here earlier. That jacket looks just like the one they had on.”

Justin walked over. “Ma’am, did you say there were two men here earlier?”

***

Mokoto looked up. The lights were gone, and she was waiting for the window to open. After ten seconds of it not opening, she sat up and surveyed the damage. All she had left of her jacket was her right sleeve and maybe a fourth of the back. Her skirt was torn on the side, and her sleeveless shirt was ripped in a few spots. Her shoulder holster was twisted around, and quickly Mokoto realized that she’d have a gun-sized bruise on her back. After adjusting her holster and standing up, she looked up. There were still no lights shining out the window. She walked forward and saw an envelope and her cell phone on the ground. She bent down to pick them up, and she noticed the letter was the one she took from Phil and Bob’s apartment. She quickened her pace and started walking towards her motorcycle, which she’d parked in an adjoining parking lot. She reached up to climb the fence between lots, and saw blood on her left hand. A quick check revealed that she had a pretty nasty scrape on her left arm that was dripping a small amount of blood down her arm. She paused and stared at the cut. It was almost in the same spot as the gash in her dream. The dream…it was different this time she thought to herself as she checked her holster. The picture of Sakura was still inside it.

***

Ruth flipped another page of Soap Opera Digest. The hospital was unusually quiet for a Friday, and there were no complaints from Ruth. She glanced up, and two large African-American men were walking up to the counter.

“Can I help you two?”

Jeremiah leaned over the counter and looked her over. “Ruth is it? Yes Ruth. We need to see someone in the morgue.” Ruth’s neck twisted slightly as she looked at Jebediah. He said nothing.

“I’ll have to call Darlene up.”

“Why don’t you take us there Ruth? We won’t be long.”

“I…I shouldn’t leave the desk. Besides, you haven’t given me a reason to take you there.”

Jebediah walked up to the counter, and rested his hands on the Formica. One of his hands held a gun, and he spoke in a low, quiet voice. “Take us there. Now. Or would you rather go alone?”

27

Old Man B straightened in his seat and grabbed his chest. Slowly, his hand went inside his jacket, and pulled out a phone. He flipped open the phone. “What? No. No. Oh for Pete’s sake! No. Uh-uh. Forget it! Maybe? Nah. What on earth? Are you a moron? No! Okay, see you tomorrow Clarence.” Old Man B tossed the phone into the passenger seat.

***

Jeremiah started the car. The black Cadillac rolled away from the apartment complex. Jebediah sat the stack of discs on the dash. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a laptop computer. “This shouldn’t take too long, we only found about 75 discs.  What if the disc is in the car?”

“We’ll worry about that later. There’s no use in worrying about what we can’t control. When can you check their hard drives?”

“I didn’t lift their hard drives. I turned their computers on before we left. I can hack in from outside. Besides, the odds are that Gerrard wouldn’t have tried to put the data on a computer like theirs. One didn’t even have a virus program.”

Jeremiah opened his mouth as if to talk, but stopped. He reached into his jacket and produced a vibrating Nokia. The two exchanged glances, and then Jeremiah answered the call. “Hello?”

“Where are you two?”

“Mokoto? So nice to hear from you.”

“Can it. How did the trip to the CD store go?”

“We got everything we wanted, except we didn’t see any releases from Grand Prix.”

“I was going to pick that one up, but I decided to get an album by the Police.”

***

For a Friday night, it was slow going at the 66 Station. Francis turned another page, and looked up. A tall woman was walking in from the gas pumps, and she was talking on a cell phone. Her long black hair blew in the evening breeze. Francis stared as she walked in and headed right for the beverage cooler. She was easily the best looking customer of the night, or the week, or even the month.  She didn’t notice him staring, as she was still talking on her phone.

“Well, I don’t know.  No, you can’t burn my Police.  Look, just check what you have.  No, I’ll call.  J…J…no, you listen…”  She stood with her hand on her hip.  Francis was still staring.  His glance happened to wander from her body to her head, and off to the side he saw her face reflected in the glass.  She was staring at him in the reflection.  He quickly went back to his magazine.  Great, my chance went from infinitesimal to zero he thought.  The cooler opened and quickly slammed.  He kept looking down as the slow sound of boots came towards the counter.  “No.  No.  We do this my way.  I’m not the boss of you, but today I am the boss in this town.  We don’t need to make that call.  Just…just do what you’re doing and keep your eyes open.  Dammit!  Don’t even go there.”  He heard a button being pushed quite angrily and the sound of a phone going into a pocket. 

“Hmm-mm.”

Francis glanced up.  The woman was standing at his counter, with her arms crossed and a stoic look on her face.  He tried to think of any of a dozen smooth lines, but she spoke first.

“Gas on number three.  And this.”  She put a bottle of the cheap bottled water on the counter.  Francis tried to think of a snappy comeback, but he was again interrupted as another customer came in.  Except it wasn’t a customer.  It was a man in a ski mask, waving a gun at his face.

“No heroics.  Just empty the register.”

26

Mokoto rode past the Grand Prix a third time. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Bob’s car. The car did her little good, as she saw a policeman searching it this time. The warrant must have been called in she thought to herself, as she decided to take another pass all around downtown. They had a good twenty minute head start on her on foot, unless they called a taxi. The needle of her gas gage was starting to touch the large E as she took a hard left.

***

Officer Travis Bucholz didn’t like it. He saw the other squad car parked, but there was no sign of Officer Stevens anywhere. Stevens was known as the most forgetful officer on the force, so he was holding out hope that Stevens just lost track of time. The spot right in front of the apartment was available. That already seemed out of place. Why didn’t Stevens park here? Officer Bucholz had a bad feeling. He parked the car, then made sure his radio was on and his gun was ready. He slowly approached the door. He knocked loudly. He was about to knock loudly again, but he noticed some damage to the door, which looked like it had been kicked in at some point. He tried the doorknob, and the place was unlocked. He swung the door open, and he then quickly backed away towards his car, recoiling from the sight of Stevens face down in a large pool of blood. Quickly, he reached for his handset. “This is Bucholz. I’ve got a ten-double zero. Repeat, ten-double zero.”

***

Mabel Gravley saw her life flash before her eyes. She remembered her childhood in Minnesota. She vividly remembered her first kiss with Chris Tobin on the playground. She saw her prom date and remembered the fun they had that night. She saw herself marching in a protest against Vietnam. She recalled her sadness when her first cat Ginger had died. She remembered meeting Richard at her alcoholics anonymous meeting in the early eighties. There was the elope to Vegas, followed by a divorce than ended her marriage at the same time as Ronald Regan left office. She relived moving back to Minnesota, then winding up in South Dakota for reasons she barely remembers, other than his name was Rafael. She recalled her sadness at Richard’s funeral, and his brother Michael getting her the job as apartment manager, which led to her taking a job at the humane society. Then, her brain saw the can of orange juice rolling on the floor towards the men who would take her life. She heard a metallic noise, and felt the impact on her chest. It didn’t hurt at first. Then, it didn’t hurt at all.

“Here’s your keys. Lock up and get out.”

It was the voice of the man who spoke very little. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her keyring was on the floor in front of her, and she was once again alone.

***

The door of the bookstore swung open, and Old Man B slowly walked to his car. He swung open the passenger door and tossed a brown paper sack onto the seat, then slammed it. He then walked around the back of the car. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t tell what it was. B shrugged it off and opened the driver door. He plopped down and turned the keys. The Pacer turned over, and he checked his mirror. A black motorcycle with a female rider roared by. “Not bad, not bad” he grumbled.

Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing.

24

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

Mokoto reached into her pocket. With a flick of her finger, her Nokia flipped open. “What?” she asked, in a tone that indicated her responses would be brief, and that her mood was several notches below good.

“Have you located the information?” came a familiar voice that had no familiar elements, other than that it was unremarkable, thanks to the voice scrambler.

“No. I’ve had some…things come up. I can’t seem to locate our friends.”

“That’s too bad. If you can’t find them and offer a jacket, it will be a cold night for them.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessary. I don’t see the weather going that way.”

“My dear, I’m the one with the meteorology degree. So I’ll be the one to say when it’s getting cold. Are we clear?”

Mokoto straddled her motorcycle, and frowned. “Clear as a bell.” She shut the phone and put it in her pocket. Based on the cold comment, she knew that J & J were still in town. She hated working with them, but since she let Phil and Bob slip through her fingers, they were back on task. If she didn’t find them first, there would be no point in finding them. Her Kawasaki revved up, and she guided it back to Minnesota Avenue.

The clerk of the liquor store slowly opened the door and looked out at the scene. He saw one man half lying in the truck bed, half hanging over the side, and other man lying in the semi caved-in windshield of a truck. The man in the windshield was still breathing, but he wasn’t sure about the other victim. He walked back inside, unsure whether to call the police or an ambulance first.

***

A can of frozen orange juice concentrate shifted upward. It tilted and found a willing ramp on a bunch of celery. The can rolled forward, and at the end of the celery it hit a small can of tuna and was airborne for less than half a second. The can hit the carpet and rolled. A large black boot rose up and gently came down, with it’s heel about a foot before the can. When it was close enough, the rest of the boot came down and the can came to a stop. The boot was connected to Jeremiah “Smith”, who had leveled a gun at the head of a suddenly very frighted Mabel Gravley. Her hair was still black in spots, but streaks of gray made her look older than the rest of her did. She had thin framed glasses, brown eyes, and her sweater was red and a bit frizzy. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremiah saw Jebadiah’s trigger finger move ever so slightly. Jeremiah lowered his gun. “Ms. Gravely, we’re not unreasonable. Let us take a look around apartment 203. Nobody has to get shot tonight. What do you say?” Mabel swallowed hard, and lifted her hand towards Jeremiah, her keys jingling as her hand trembled. Jeremiah smiled, but Jebediah didn’t.

***

“No, there’s no way I’m hiding in there!” Phil exclaimed.