it's been entertaining so far. You're doing a good job. I don't have any great ideas as to where to go with it but if the spirit moves you, feel free to keep going.
Bill
After all these years
Moderator: Styles Bitchley
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robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
Light colored gravel crunched under foot as we walked to the main house. I could see a white van near the door and some guys on ladders painting the stucco. The house needed it. The trees and bushes had recently been given a trim, and the gravel on the drive looked new. Robin was sprucing the place up.
We went towards the front door but the security guy stopped. He didn’t look quite as grim before.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Magnum, I’m sorry for how we got started back there. Can we begin again?” He switched his cane to his left hand and stuck out his right. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Nick Christopher. Mr. Higgins hired me last year. He has told me a lot about you.”
I took his hand and shook it. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.” I said it like I meant it. I went on. “I hope Higgins hasn’t filled your head with too many ideas about me.” I let me eyes sweep across the grounds and the house. “Looks like the compound is getting fixed up.” The painters were clearly almost done.
“No, sir, not too many stories. Yes, the compound was run down. Mr. Masters hasn’t used it for a long time. We expect him soon, sir.”
Higgins was telling Magnum stories to this guy? Oh boy. I tried to cover my irritation. “Robin’s not here yet?”
Nick shook his head. “No, sir. He was delayed coming in from Vancouver. Mr. Masters should be here tomorrow.”
Wonderful. I had busted my tail to get here and Robin hadn’t arrived. “Any idea what this is all about?” I was as mystified as anyone, but for that matter why had I scampered here so fast?
“No, sir.” He shifted his cane back to his right hand and leaned on it heavily. “Sorry, get a twinge once in a while.” His faced wrinkled in pain.
I knew the look. I had seen it on my own face too many times in the mirror. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”
Nick smiled. He knew that I knew. “Both. Last trip was to Helmand Province, Afghanistan. Special Forces. We were in a little place about 50 klicks from Lakshar Gar.”
“Rough duty.” I vaguely indicated his leg. “Bad?”
“A tour in Iraq; then to Helmand. Seven months in country working with the Brits. IED got me. But the guy used a really thick piece of steel as the pressure plate. Blew me over a wall. Busted my foot pretty good.”
Those improvised explosive devices were nasty and they were making them deadlier. I nodded in understanding. “Sorry to hear that. Doing alright now?”
His eyes met mine and I could tell he was lying. “Yeah. It’s OK.”
Our eyes met. He knew that I knew. “Let’s go to the house.”
“Yes, sir,” he continued. “I’m not sure why Mr. Masters wanted you to come.”
“Would you quit calling me sir?” I was mad but kept my voice calm. “Just call me Tom. And I don’t know the reason behind this trip either.”
“OK, sir… uh, Tom. Mr. Higgins wondered if it had something to do with Mr. Masters’ latest manuscript. It will be his 30th book, you know.”
I’d seen the steady stream of Robin’s work over the years, and there were a few pages in “The Purloined P.I.” that reminded me of a few of my old cases. But I really hadn’t kept up with Robin’s work. I suppose that Robin had his own reasons for summoning me and I hoped I’d find out soon. Meanwhile the jetlag was giving me a headache. Nick motioned me to the door so we went into the main house.
We went towards the front door but the security guy stopped. He didn’t look quite as grim before.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Magnum, I’m sorry for how we got started back there. Can we begin again?” He switched his cane to his left hand and stuck out his right. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Nick Christopher. Mr. Higgins hired me last year. He has told me a lot about you.”
I took his hand and shook it. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.” I said it like I meant it. I went on. “I hope Higgins hasn’t filled your head with too many ideas about me.” I let me eyes sweep across the grounds and the house. “Looks like the compound is getting fixed up.” The painters were clearly almost done.
“No, sir, not too many stories. Yes, the compound was run down. Mr. Masters hasn’t used it for a long time. We expect him soon, sir.”
Higgins was telling Magnum stories to this guy? Oh boy. I tried to cover my irritation. “Robin’s not here yet?”
Nick shook his head. “No, sir. He was delayed coming in from Vancouver. Mr. Masters should be here tomorrow.”
Wonderful. I had busted my tail to get here and Robin hadn’t arrived. “Any idea what this is all about?” I was as mystified as anyone, but for that matter why had I scampered here so fast?
“No, sir.” He shifted his cane back to his right hand and leaned on it heavily. “Sorry, get a twinge once in a while.” His faced wrinkled in pain.
I knew the look. I had seen it on my own face too many times in the mirror. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”
Nick smiled. He knew that I knew. “Both. Last trip was to Helmand Province, Afghanistan. Special Forces. We were in a little place about 50 klicks from Lakshar Gar.”
“Rough duty.” I vaguely indicated his leg. “Bad?”
“A tour in Iraq; then to Helmand. Seven months in country working with the Brits. IED got me. But the guy used a really thick piece of steel as the pressure plate. Blew me over a wall. Busted my foot pretty good.”
Those improvised explosive devices were nasty and they were making them deadlier. I nodded in understanding. “Sorry to hear that. Doing alright now?”
His eyes met mine and I could tell he was lying. “Yeah. It’s OK.”
Our eyes met. He knew that I knew. “Let’s go to the house.”
“Yes, sir,” he continued. “I’m not sure why Mr. Masters wanted you to come.”
“Would you quit calling me sir?” I was mad but kept my voice calm. “Just call me Tom. And I don’t know the reason behind this trip either.”
“OK, sir… uh, Tom. Mr. Higgins wondered if it had something to do with Mr. Masters’ latest manuscript. It will be his 30th book, you know.”
I’d seen the steady stream of Robin’s work over the years, and there were a few pages in “The Purloined P.I.” that reminded me of a few of my old cases. But I really hadn’t kept up with Robin’s work. I suppose that Robin had his own reasons for summoning me and I hoped I’d find out soon. Meanwhile the jetlag was giving me a headache. Nick motioned me to the door so we went into the main house.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
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robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
The inside was little updated from twenty years ago. Same dark furniture, although the wallpaper and paint looked fresh. Nick took me to the study where Jonathan Quayle Higgins III sat behind the big desk, half glasses perched on his nose, writing in a leather bound journal. He had lost some hair and there were tinges of gray in his hair and moustache, but he looked about the same as long ago, down to the khaki bush jacket.
Higgins put down his pen and stood up speaking in his usual haughty tone. “Ah, Magnum. You are finally here. You’ve certainly took your time getting here.”
Same old Higgins, who immediately put me on the defensive. “Oh come on, Higgins! I got here on the earliest flights I could book. You can’t imagine how full airlines are today.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I see you’ve met Nick. He’s been helping me here at Robin’s Nest. We’re preparing for Robin’s arrival tomorrow. I trust you can stay awhile.”
His tone got under my skin. “That depends, doesn’t it? What’s going on? Why does Robin need me?” I felt a headache starting.
Higgins said, “Magnum, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that Robin directed me to have you come here. I called and you came.” He smiled and came around the desk. “And here you are.” He stuck out his hand and we shook.
“Thanks, I guess. Where can I…?” My legs felt weak right then. Jetlag was hitting me hard.
“Ah, yes. You can use the Guesthouse… if you must.” He went back towards his journal and glanced up at me. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” I followed Nick down the hall. So much for a happy homecoming.
Nick grinned at me. “Need a map to the Guesthouse?”
“I think I can find it.” I picked up my duffle from the hall and left the house past the painters who were packing up. I marched across the lawn. The ocean to my right was a pale blue and the sky was that solid cloudless shade that you can only see in the Islands. Past the tennis court through the cocoanut palms, and it was there; my old home.
It was ten years ago when I had last visted here. Lily and I were living in San Diego then with the NIA keeping me busy with West Coast Operations. The door on the lanai opened to my push and my old address appeared. The furniture looked new, but I was only interested in one thing and that was bed. I had caught the red-eye out of Norfolk, which put me into LAX very late. A few short hours later I was on the plane to Honolulu. The flights had worn me out.
I have a friend who claims the best way to deal with massive jetlag is to drink, a lot. Another says to stay up as late as possible after arriving when going west, and the opposite when heading east. There were likely many magic schemes. But I went right to bed and in no time I was asleep.
The next day I woke up around six. I felt fine. There’s something about fifteen hours of sleep that will cure many ills. The tropic sun was still below the horizon when I went out. I'd found orange juice in the fridge then went to the beach. The soft sand was perfect for a morning run and I easily put two miles onto my feet. I circled back to the seawall, stripped off my shirt and shoes and started to swim. The ancient turtle pen and offshore reefs blocked the surf and I felt at ease in the warm water. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, breathe. I fell into an easy rhythm and let my mind drift, but I still didn’t know why Robin had summoned me. Maybe he only wanted to talk. I made a few laps of the enclosure with sure easy strokes. Then I heard someone yelling.
Someone on the beach was calling me. “Magnum! Magnum! Blast it, Thomas!” It was a voice I knew too well.
I waved to the little major on the shoreline and glided into the shallows. “Higgins?” I choked on seawater. “Argh, aahrr… can’t you let me finish my laps?”
Higgins slapped his riding crop against his leg. “Thomas, I need your help. Robin Masters is missing.”
Higgins put down his pen and stood up speaking in his usual haughty tone. “Ah, Magnum. You are finally here. You’ve certainly took your time getting here.”
Same old Higgins, who immediately put me on the defensive. “Oh come on, Higgins! I got here on the earliest flights I could book. You can’t imagine how full airlines are today.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I see you’ve met Nick. He’s been helping me here at Robin’s Nest. We’re preparing for Robin’s arrival tomorrow. I trust you can stay awhile.”
His tone got under my skin. “That depends, doesn’t it? What’s going on? Why does Robin need me?” I felt a headache starting.
Higgins said, “Magnum, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that Robin directed me to have you come here. I called and you came.” He smiled and came around the desk. “And here you are.” He stuck out his hand and we shook.
“Thanks, I guess. Where can I…?” My legs felt weak right then. Jetlag was hitting me hard.
“Ah, yes. You can use the Guesthouse… if you must.” He went back towards his journal and glanced up at me. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” I followed Nick down the hall. So much for a happy homecoming.
Nick grinned at me. “Need a map to the Guesthouse?”
“I think I can find it.” I picked up my duffle from the hall and left the house past the painters who were packing up. I marched across the lawn. The ocean to my right was a pale blue and the sky was that solid cloudless shade that you can only see in the Islands. Past the tennis court through the cocoanut palms, and it was there; my old home.
It was ten years ago when I had last visted here. Lily and I were living in San Diego then with the NIA keeping me busy with West Coast Operations. The door on the lanai opened to my push and my old address appeared. The furniture looked new, but I was only interested in one thing and that was bed. I had caught the red-eye out of Norfolk, which put me into LAX very late. A few short hours later I was on the plane to Honolulu. The flights had worn me out.
I have a friend who claims the best way to deal with massive jetlag is to drink, a lot. Another says to stay up as late as possible after arriving when going west, and the opposite when heading east. There were likely many magic schemes. But I went right to bed and in no time I was asleep.
The next day I woke up around six. I felt fine. There’s something about fifteen hours of sleep that will cure many ills. The tropic sun was still below the horizon when I went out. I'd found orange juice in the fridge then went to the beach. The soft sand was perfect for a morning run and I easily put two miles onto my feet. I circled back to the seawall, stripped off my shirt and shoes and started to swim. The ancient turtle pen and offshore reefs blocked the surf and I felt at ease in the warm water. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, breathe. I fell into an easy rhythm and let my mind drift, but I still didn’t know why Robin had summoned me. Maybe he only wanted to talk. I made a few laps of the enclosure with sure easy strokes. Then I heard someone yelling.
Someone on the beach was calling me. “Magnum! Magnum! Blast it, Thomas!” It was a voice I knew too well.
I waved to the little major on the shoreline and glided into the shallows. “Higgins?” I choked on seawater. “Argh, aahrr… can’t you let me finish my laps?”
Higgins slapped his riding crop against his leg. “Thomas, I need your help. Robin Masters is missing.”
Last edited by robspace54 on Mon Dec 21, 2009 3:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
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robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
The khaki clad figure stood over me. “Robin’s plane landed this morning. Mr. Masters and his long-time bodyguard Rene left the airport in a limo. Robin had the driver stop outside a Waikiki hotel undergoing renovation. He left the limo, directing Rene to wait, as he would be gone only a few minutes.” He paused to catch his breath then continued. “Rene followed after a few minutes and found Robin nowhere to be found. He was just reaching for his cell phone to call the estate when someone struck him over the head rendering him unconscious. He’s in the hospital now.”
“We’ll have to do something about it,” I said.
Higgins grabbed my arm as I stood up from the water. His expression said it all. “Thomas, I’m sorry your homecoming had to start like this. Come!” and he strode off to the main house.
For an old man Higgins could move fast. By the time I pulled on my shirt and picked up my shoes he was gone. I raced after him, catching him at the door just as Nick came out holding a cordless phone.
The kid looked flushed. “Mr. Higgins, it’s for you.”
Higgins took the phone. “This is Jonathan Higgins speaking. Who is this?” He listened for a few seconds then said, “Just what do you think you are doing? Is Mr. Masters alright?” He lowered the phone. “They hung up.” He sized up Nick and me for a moment with a grim expression. “That was a rather rude young man who told that he is holding Mr. Masters for ransom.”
I was amazed. “Robin, kidnapped?”
“Apparently.” He turned to Nick. “Nick, how did they get the private number?”
“I guess they got it from Mr. Masters. That’s what the caller told me when I answered the private line. He did not sound very nice. When he asked for you, I asked him who it was. He said that if I didn’t get you on the phone right away, I’d have a dead author on my hands.” The kid was shaking.
Higgins patted him on the shoulder. “That’s alright son. We’ll find him.” He turned to me. “We will won’t we?”
I nodded. “Did he say anything else?”
“Just that he would call back tomorrow. And not to call the police.” Higgins swayed a bit. “Thomas, I…”
“We’ll find him Higgins!” Something told me finding Robin would not be easy. I also sensed something else was brewing; something I was not being told.
Higgins dug a toe into the drive and began pushing gravel around.
“We’ll have to do something about it,” I said.
Higgins grabbed my arm as I stood up from the water. His expression said it all. “Thomas, I’m sorry your homecoming had to start like this. Come!” and he strode off to the main house.
For an old man Higgins could move fast. By the time I pulled on my shirt and picked up my shoes he was gone. I raced after him, catching him at the door just as Nick came out holding a cordless phone.
The kid looked flushed. “Mr. Higgins, it’s for you.”
Higgins took the phone. “This is Jonathan Higgins speaking. Who is this?” He listened for a few seconds then said, “Just what do you think you are doing? Is Mr. Masters alright?” He lowered the phone. “They hung up.” He sized up Nick and me for a moment with a grim expression. “That was a rather rude young man who told that he is holding Mr. Masters for ransom.”
I was amazed. “Robin, kidnapped?”
“Apparently.” He turned to Nick. “Nick, how did they get the private number?”
“I guess they got it from Mr. Masters. That’s what the caller told me when I answered the private line. He did not sound very nice. When he asked for you, I asked him who it was. He said that if I didn’t get you on the phone right away, I’d have a dead author on my hands.” The kid was shaking.
Higgins patted him on the shoulder. “That’s alright son. We’ll find him.” He turned to me. “We will won’t we?”
I nodded. “Did he say anything else?”
“Just that he would call back tomorrow. And not to call the police.” Higgins swayed a bit. “Thomas, I…”
“We’ll find him Higgins!” Something told me finding Robin would not be easy. I also sensed something else was brewing; something I was not being told.
Higgins dug a toe into the drive and began pushing gravel around.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
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robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
Since you asked 
and thanks for reading and the encouragement! -Rob
- - -
“Higgins?” I said with a little sarcasm. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Jonathan Quayle Higgins III pulled himself and inch or two higher before he faced me. “No.” he bristled. “I only know what’s been said. Robin is missing and that’s that. Don’t you think you’d better change out of those silly swim trunks so we can get to the hospital and check on poor Rene?”
In no time the three of us were flying down the road into Honolulu. Nick was driving Robin’s latest sedan, a BMW. We hit Hawaii 99 and soon were on the H2 headed downtown. The kid handled the car like a dream. It was a silent ride.
Rene couldn’t give us any help. His lined faced peered up at us blearily from the white sheets. The bandage on his head wasn’t that big, but there were two IVs stuck in him and there was a heart monitor hooked up. “Magnum?” he croaked through cracked lips. “What .. uh..” Then his eyes closed. The nurse kicked us out.
A doctor in the hall turned as the door closed and pointed to a young guy drinking a cup of coffee. His suit looked expensive. “You guys came to see him?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m from Kalani Limo. Name’s Tsubaki Johnson. I brought the guy in.”
We introduced ourselves. Higgins said “Thank you for bringing Rene into the hospital. What happened?”
“Well, I got the call for the pickup at the private air terminal. Arrived just as the plane pulled in. Nice Gulfstream. I think it was a G650. Hadn’t seen one of those up close before. Sweet plane. Anyway, I picked up the passenger and his bodyguard. Not much luggage. The passenger, big guy with a deep voice gave me an address downtown. It’s an old hotel on Kalakaua Avenue. I was surprised, as it’s not a great place. Flying in on a plane like, I figure the guy must be loaded. Anyway the hotel has a major refurb going on. Big mess. Anyway, I pulled into the place. The fare told me to wait for a few and climbed out. The bodyguard, Rene, started to get out too, but the other guy told him to stay. ‘Only be five minutes,’ he said. Then he walked into the parking garage.” He shook his head. “Weird, but not as weird as some I’ve driven.”
“That’s it? Nick blurted out. “Then what?”
One of the rules I had written in How to be a World-Class Private Investigator was to let every witness tell their story. Nick was breaking my rule. I gave him a loaded look and he shut it. “Go ahead, Tsubaki. What happened next?”
“So we waited. After about ten minutes, the fare hadn’t come back. That’s when the other guy went into the building. I got out too and stood by the car. Rene went into the garage, and after a minute I heard a shout. I dashed in and found Rene on the ground; his head was bleeding. I loaded him into the limo and came here. Thought I’d better stick around.” He shook his head. “No sign of the passenger.”
I asked “Anything else?”
“Oh, yeah, there was a white van that burned rubber out of there just as I ran in. Didn’t catch the license plate.”
The dark haired lady doctor butted in. “You’re friends of Rene?”
“Yes. I and these gentlemen, like Rene, are employed by the same company - Masters Enterprises.” expounded Higgins in his haughty tone.
Now I was an employee? Higgins could play with the truth a bit. I turned on my charm. “Can you tell us how Rene is?”
She looked me up and down and smiled. “Let’s go to the desk and we’ll deal with the legalities.”
I met Higgins and Nick outside a few minutes later. The limo drive was leaving with a big smile. Nick was putting away his wallet.
“I hoped you tipped him, Higgins.”
“Yes I certainly did. What about Rene?”
“He won’t be going anywhere for a while. Severe concussion from head trauma. The doctor said it looked like someone nailed him from behind. And for a man of his age, it’s not great. They may discharge him in a couple days. I asked the doctor not to file a report to the police for a few days. Just as a favor. She agreed.” I smiled at them.
Nick and Higgins traded looks that were priceless. I kept grinning at them. I was old, but I still had some charm. Finally I spoke “I think we should check out the hotel.”
Higgins said “Nick and I had better get back to Robin’s Nest and wait for the next phone call. You do what you have to do.” Sounded like a dismissal. “You do know what to do?”
Same old Higgins. “Yeah, I do.” So I did.
and thanks for reading and the encouragement! -Rob- - -
“Higgins?” I said with a little sarcasm. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Jonathan Quayle Higgins III pulled himself and inch or two higher before he faced me. “No.” he bristled. “I only know what’s been said. Robin is missing and that’s that. Don’t you think you’d better change out of those silly swim trunks so we can get to the hospital and check on poor Rene?”
In no time the three of us were flying down the road into Honolulu. Nick was driving Robin’s latest sedan, a BMW. We hit Hawaii 99 and soon were on the H2 headed downtown. The kid handled the car like a dream. It was a silent ride.
Rene couldn’t give us any help. His lined faced peered up at us blearily from the white sheets. The bandage on his head wasn’t that big, but there were two IVs stuck in him and there was a heart monitor hooked up. “Magnum?” he croaked through cracked lips. “What .. uh..” Then his eyes closed. The nurse kicked us out.
A doctor in the hall turned as the door closed and pointed to a young guy drinking a cup of coffee. His suit looked expensive. “You guys came to see him?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m from Kalani Limo. Name’s Tsubaki Johnson. I brought the guy in.”
We introduced ourselves. Higgins said “Thank you for bringing Rene into the hospital. What happened?”
“Well, I got the call for the pickup at the private air terminal. Arrived just as the plane pulled in. Nice Gulfstream. I think it was a G650. Hadn’t seen one of those up close before. Sweet plane. Anyway, I picked up the passenger and his bodyguard. Not much luggage. The passenger, big guy with a deep voice gave me an address downtown. It’s an old hotel on Kalakaua Avenue. I was surprised, as it’s not a great place. Flying in on a plane like, I figure the guy must be loaded. Anyway the hotel has a major refurb going on. Big mess. Anyway, I pulled into the place. The fare told me to wait for a few and climbed out. The bodyguard, Rene, started to get out too, but the other guy told him to stay. ‘Only be five minutes,’ he said. Then he walked into the parking garage.” He shook his head. “Weird, but not as weird as some I’ve driven.”
“That’s it? Nick blurted out. “Then what?”
One of the rules I had written in How to be a World-Class Private Investigator was to let every witness tell their story. Nick was breaking my rule. I gave him a loaded look and he shut it. “Go ahead, Tsubaki. What happened next?”
“So we waited. After about ten minutes, the fare hadn’t come back. That’s when the other guy went into the building. I got out too and stood by the car. Rene went into the garage, and after a minute I heard a shout. I dashed in and found Rene on the ground; his head was bleeding. I loaded him into the limo and came here. Thought I’d better stick around.” He shook his head. “No sign of the passenger.”
I asked “Anything else?”
“Oh, yeah, there was a white van that burned rubber out of there just as I ran in. Didn’t catch the license plate.”
The dark haired lady doctor butted in. “You’re friends of Rene?”
“Yes. I and these gentlemen, like Rene, are employed by the same company - Masters Enterprises.” expounded Higgins in his haughty tone.
Now I was an employee? Higgins could play with the truth a bit. I turned on my charm. “Can you tell us how Rene is?”
She looked me up and down and smiled. “Let’s go to the desk and we’ll deal with the legalities.”
I met Higgins and Nick outside a few minutes later. The limo drive was leaving with a big smile. Nick was putting away his wallet.
“I hoped you tipped him, Higgins.”
“Yes I certainly did. What about Rene?”
“He won’t be going anywhere for a while. Severe concussion from head trauma. The doctor said it looked like someone nailed him from behind. And for a man of his age, it’s not great. They may discharge him in a couple days. I asked the doctor not to file a report to the police for a few days. Just as a favor. She agreed.” I smiled at them.
Nick and Higgins traded looks that were priceless. I kept grinning at them. I was old, but I still had some charm. Finally I spoke “I think we should check out the hotel.”
Higgins said “Nick and I had better get back to Robin’s Nest and wait for the next phone call. You do what you have to do.” Sounded like a dismissal. “You do know what to do?”
Same old Higgins. “Yeah, I do.” So I did.
Last edited by robspace54 on Wed Dec 23, 2009 3:07 am, edited 2 times in total.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
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J.J. Walters
- Founding Father
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- Contact:
I checked out the hotel on Kalakaua Avenue just after lunch. What a dump. The furniture and decor looked like it hadn't changed since the 1960s and it had this horrible smell, a pungent mix of suntan lotion, damp towels, and bottom-shelf bourbon!
I entered the lounge and immediately made eye contact with a lady I knew a long time ago.... Leslie Emory!
No, just kidding guys! robspace54, LOVE the story so far! Keep up the good work!
I entered the lounge and immediately made eye contact with a lady I knew a long time ago.... Leslie Emory!
No, just kidding guys! robspace54, LOVE the story so far! Keep up the good work!
Higgins: It's not a scratch! It's a bloody gouge!
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robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
Geeze. Thanks for the kind words. Now I'm really on the spot! But here goes! -Rob
- - -
Downtown Waikiki, the scene of the crimes; kidnapping and assault. The hotel had the look of a battered molar, chewed on for many years, and now after a couple of root canals it was waiting for the dentist to pull it. I had hitched a ride with the limo driver and got a rental car from the airport. Now at least I could go where I wanted or needed to, without Higgins and his young pup looking over my shoulder.
The hotel high-rise garage had a smell of oil-stained concrete, plaster dust, and hot metal, with a dash of something old and dead. I nosed the rental Chevy into a slot, headlights bouncing off the gray walls which reflected my mood. This did not make sense. Why did Robin come here? And why was I here? Why did somebody attack Rene? Was that part of the kidnapping, or something else?
Prying my creaky body out of the car I walked past a line of trash containers to the lobby door. There were a least a dozen of the massive steel containers filled with carpeting, drop ceiling supports, stained ceiling tiles, fragmented counters, and five-gallon paint buckets – the debris of any building after many years of use and abuse – now consigned to a landfill.
The lobby carpeting was a trampled dingy grey, the walls painted with stripes of brown, orange, and gold, new when Agnetha and Frida first belted out Dancing Queen. Workers were hauling out tip carts of trash to the garage amid a din of power saws and jack hammers. Peering through a cloud of dust I could see a work table covered by scattered blueprints, a laptop, a cell phone and three people waving their arms at one another close by.
A passing worker yelled at me and pointed to a pile of hardhats by the door. I grabbed a yellow one and stuck it on my head, then approached the demolition war room.
There was one voice blaring through the noise. “You guys are killin’ me! You said you’d have all that stuff off the mezzanine by today. I’ve got the masons showing tomorrow to start the forming! The bankers will have my tail for breakfast if we’re late again!!!” This from a little guy in a shiny suit, his hardhat seconds from falling off his head as he waved his arms and flung his head around. “Now get your butts up there and put some life into those guys!! Fire a few if you have to!!!” The underlings disappeared and the guy took off the plastic headpiece and wiped his brow.
From the back there was something too familiar about him. He was once a scared kid strapped into a Huey Slick, the grips of an M60D machine gun clutched in his sweaty fists. “Rick? Is that you?”
Orville Wilbur “Rick” Wright III whirled around and yelled at me. “Thomas? What the hell are you doin’ here!”
I grabbed his outstretched hand and he pulled me into a hug. Of course I hugged him back. Suddenly we had an audience; a silent ring of workers giving us the eye as two men in their 60s gave each other a giant bear hug.
Rick screamed at them. “Heh! This is my old ‘Nam buddy, Thomas Magnum! And I will hug him if I want to!!! Any of you monkeys what to make something of it?”
I laughed as our spectators departed.
“Now, Thomas, what are you doing here? Must be what, ten years since I’ve seen you?”
“Yeah, about that long. Just doing a little job for Higgins.”
“Higgins? How is that crusty old bastard? Man, he still gives me the evil-eye every chance he gets!” He guffawed. “Not that that will ever change!” Rick laughed some more.
“Rick, what are you doing here at the Hotel Despair?”
Rick said, “I and my investors bought this dump and are ripping it apart so we can put it back together. When the economy picks up we’ll be ready. New condos only blocks from Waikiki Beach, right near lots of restaurants and shops...”
“Whoa, whoa, Rick! I didn’t come here to buy a condo, I’m looking for…”
Rick butted in. “And today I’ve got my biggest investor dropping in for a quick look. He might increase his stake and if he does, we can buy the joint next door and double the units. A real high roller, he owns the IHC conglomerate.”
Rick had come a long way from running the King Kamehameha Club and his rotten disco from the 70s. He had grown up after all. I opened my mouth to ask about the events of the early morning in the hotel garage, when a shrill scream of high tech machinery penetrated the ancient building. Rick dragged me out the back of the lobby to see a red Bell Jet Ranger helicopter float down onto the torn up grass.
The skids touched down, rotors whirled overhead as the right side door opened, and two suits climbed out. One tall with a briefcase, the other older and burly. They came around the chopper towards us. The older African-American suit whipped off his sun glasses and gave me a giant toothy grin. And suddenly I knew who the big shot was.
But here goes! -Rob- - -
Downtown Waikiki, the scene of the crimes; kidnapping and assault. The hotel had the look of a battered molar, chewed on for many years, and now after a couple of root canals it was waiting for the dentist to pull it. I had hitched a ride with the limo driver and got a rental car from the airport. Now at least I could go where I wanted or needed to, without Higgins and his young pup looking over my shoulder.
The hotel high-rise garage had a smell of oil-stained concrete, plaster dust, and hot metal, with a dash of something old and dead. I nosed the rental Chevy into a slot, headlights bouncing off the gray walls which reflected my mood. This did not make sense. Why did Robin come here? And why was I here? Why did somebody attack Rene? Was that part of the kidnapping, or something else?
Prying my creaky body out of the car I walked past a line of trash containers to the lobby door. There were a least a dozen of the massive steel containers filled with carpeting, drop ceiling supports, stained ceiling tiles, fragmented counters, and five-gallon paint buckets – the debris of any building after many years of use and abuse – now consigned to a landfill.
The lobby carpeting was a trampled dingy grey, the walls painted with stripes of brown, orange, and gold, new when Agnetha and Frida first belted out Dancing Queen. Workers were hauling out tip carts of trash to the garage amid a din of power saws and jack hammers. Peering through a cloud of dust I could see a work table covered by scattered blueprints, a laptop, a cell phone and three people waving their arms at one another close by.
A passing worker yelled at me and pointed to a pile of hardhats by the door. I grabbed a yellow one and stuck it on my head, then approached the demolition war room.
There was one voice blaring through the noise. “You guys are killin’ me! You said you’d have all that stuff off the mezzanine by today. I’ve got the masons showing tomorrow to start the forming! The bankers will have my tail for breakfast if we’re late again!!!” This from a little guy in a shiny suit, his hardhat seconds from falling off his head as he waved his arms and flung his head around. “Now get your butts up there and put some life into those guys!! Fire a few if you have to!!!” The underlings disappeared and the guy took off the plastic headpiece and wiped his brow.
From the back there was something too familiar about him. He was once a scared kid strapped into a Huey Slick, the grips of an M60D machine gun clutched in his sweaty fists. “Rick? Is that you?”
Orville Wilbur “Rick” Wright III whirled around and yelled at me. “Thomas? What the hell are you doin’ here!”
I grabbed his outstretched hand and he pulled me into a hug. Of course I hugged him back. Suddenly we had an audience; a silent ring of workers giving us the eye as two men in their 60s gave each other a giant bear hug.
Rick screamed at them. “Heh! This is my old ‘Nam buddy, Thomas Magnum! And I will hug him if I want to!!! Any of you monkeys what to make something of it?”
I laughed as our spectators departed.
“Now, Thomas, what are you doing here? Must be what, ten years since I’ve seen you?”
“Yeah, about that long. Just doing a little job for Higgins.”
“Higgins? How is that crusty old bastard? Man, he still gives me the evil-eye every chance he gets!” He guffawed. “Not that that will ever change!” Rick laughed some more.
“Rick, what are you doing here at the Hotel Despair?”
Rick said, “I and my investors bought this dump and are ripping it apart so we can put it back together. When the economy picks up we’ll be ready. New condos only blocks from Waikiki Beach, right near lots of restaurants and shops...”
“Whoa, whoa, Rick! I didn’t come here to buy a condo, I’m looking for…”
Rick butted in. “And today I’ve got my biggest investor dropping in for a quick look. He might increase his stake and if he does, we can buy the joint next door and double the units. A real high roller, he owns the IHC conglomerate.”
Rick had come a long way from running the King Kamehameha Club and his rotten disco from the 70s. He had grown up after all. I opened my mouth to ask about the events of the early morning in the hotel garage, when a shrill scream of high tech machinery penetrated the ancient building. Rick dragged me out the back of the lobby to see a red Bell Jet Ranger helicopter float down onto the torn up grass.
The skids touched down, rotors whirled overhead as the right side door opened, and two suits climbed out. One tall with a briefcase, the other older and burly. They came around the chopper towards us. The older African-American suit whipped off his sun glasses and gave me a giant toothy grin. And suddenly I knew who the big shot was.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
-
robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
Theodore Calvin, but always T.C. to me, came close and over the sound of the slowing copter rotors barked out “Magnum!?!” He put hands on hips and gave me a scowl. He turned to his assistant and nodded at me with his head.
The adviser whipped out a PDA and with a whirling stylus assaulted the device. Peering at the screen, he shouted out “Magnum, Thomas Sullivan III. Account shows no activity since 1989, principal amount owed for goods, loans, car repairs, copter fuel, and services a total of $17,989.13, plus interest of course.” He displayed the device to T.C.
T.C. scowled at the tiny screen as if it was trying to bite him. “Well? What about it, Thomas?” His voice was ratty.
“Oh come on, T.C! I thought we squared that long ago!” Some people have memories that are way too good.
He stepped closer and peered into my face intensely. I could see a bead of sweat run down his face from his bald scalp. His pencil moustache was all grey. “Well?” he growled.
I reared back as he threw his beefy arms around me. He cracked up laughing. “Thomas, you should have seen your face! Gotcha!” Rick gave him a high-five and a hand shake.
“T.C! You had me going. Wow! Been a long time.” Whew. That was too scary.
T.C. stalked around me looking me up and down. “Well, you haven’t changed a whole lot, but for the hair.” He laughed as he touched his own head. “But we’re all just a little...”
I didn’t want to talk what Time had done to all of us. “So you’re his big-shot, according to Rick? Pouring some dough into this wreck of a hotel.”
T.C. gave Rick a hard shot in the arm. “Well, our business relationship has been better. Right, Orville?”
“Now, T.C. hold on now! I said last week we were on time, well, we were, I mean…” Rick trailed off rubbing his arm. “But you should see the new schedule, and if you’ll let me explain?” Pleading now. “Come on, T.C! Don’t be a hard ass!”
“Ha, ha, HA! Got you too!” He shook his head as he chuckled. “Both you guys are too easy. Rick, let’s go over your new schedule, and then we’ll buy Thomas some lunch. Need to catch up!”
“Later, Thomas. Business, you know,” and sweeping T.C. under his arm Rick escorted T.C. and his aide into the building.
As my two friends walked out of the hot sun, I went back into the garage. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I started inspecting the place. The tire marks where the white van had spun its wheels were easy to see. Also found a pool of transmission fluid where it had sat for a while.
A darkened blood spot marked where Rene had been coshed or at least been found. I pulled out a mini flashlight and started scouring the ground. My jeans quickly picked up a coating from the dirty concrete. As I was crawling around I contrasted what I was doing with the power brokering on next door between two old friends. Who knew that Island Hoppers, T.C.s old charter business, had grown so much? IHC was a conglomerate? Must be Island Hoppers Corporation. I didn’t read the business pages, so how could I know?
I found a few scuff marks on the concrete but nothing obvious. Whether the marks were made this morning or last year I couldn’t tell. As I leaned against one of the trash containers I heard an electronic beep. I took out my phone but had no missed calls. So it wasn’t my phone. I waited a few seconds and heard the noise again. Circling the bin, I figured it was coming from inside the thing.
It wasn’t hard to climb over the side. As I pawed through the piled construction junk I managed not to get impaled on rusty steel. In the corner under a pile of water-strained Fiberglas batting I found a cell phone. A tiny LED was flashing on it. I flipped open the cover and the screen lit. Date and time were superimposed on a picture, which I recognized as the cover of Robin Masters’ first novel Dead Scream, published long after he became a success. Looks like I was getting somewhere at last!
The adviser whipped out a PDA and with a whirling stylus assaulted the device. Peering at the screen, he shouted out “Magnum, Thomas Sullivan III. Account shows no activity since 1989, principal amount owed for goods, loans, car repairs, copter fuel, and services a total of $17,989.13, plus interest of course.” He displayed the device to T.C.
T.C. scowled at the tiny screen as if it was trying to bite him. “Well? What about it, Thomas?” His voice was ratty.
“Oh come on, T.C! I thought we squared that long ago!” Some people have memories that are way too good.
He stepped closer and peered into my face intensely. I could see a bead of sweat run down his face from his bald scalp. His pencil moustache was all grey. “Well?” he growled.
I reared back as he threw his beefy arms around me. He cracked up laughing. “Thomas, you should have seen your face! Gotcha!” Rick gave him a high-five and a hand shake.
“T.C! You had me going. Wow! Been a long time.” Whew. That was too scary.
T.C. stalked around me looking me up and down. “Well, you haven’t changed a whole lot, but for the hair.” He laughed as he touched his own head. “But we’re all just a little...”
I didn’t want to talk what Time had done to all of us. “So you’re his big-shot, according to Rick? Pouring some dough into this wreck of a hotel.”
T.C. gave Rick a hard shot in the arm. “Well, our business relationship has been better. Right, Orville?”
“Now, T.C. hold on now! I said last week we were on time, well, we were, I mean…” Rick trailed off rubbing his arm. “But you should see the new schedule, and if you’ll let me explain?” Pleading now. “Come on, T.C! Don’t be a hard ass!”
“Ha, ha, HA! Got you too!” He shook his head as he chuckled. “Both you guys are too easy. Rick, let’s go over your new schedule, and then we’ll buy Thomas some lunch. Need to catch up!”
“Later, Thomas. Business, you know,” and sweeping T.C. under his arm Rick escorted T.C. and his aide into the building.
As my two friends walked out of the hot sun, I went back into the garage. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I started inspecting the place. The tire marks where the white van had spun its wheels were easy to see. Also found a pool of transmission fluid where it had sat for a while.
A darkened blood spot marked where Rene had been coshed or at least been found. I pulled out a mini flashlight and started scouring the ground. My jeans quickly picked up a coating from the dirty concrete. As I was crawling around I contrasted what I was doing with the power brokering on next door between two old friends. Who knew that Island Hoppers, T.C.s old charter business, had grown so much? IHC was a conglomerate? Must be Island Hoppers Corporation. I didn’t read the business pages, so how could I know?
I found a few scuff marks on the concrete but nothing obvious. Whether the marks were made this morning or last year I couldn’t tell. As I leaned against one of the trash containers I heard an electronic beep. I took out my phone but had no missed calls. So it wasn’t my phone. I waited a few seconds and heard the noise again. Circling the bin, I figured it was coming from inside the thing.
It wasn’t hard to climb over the side. As I pawed through the piled construction junk I managed not to get impaled on rusty steel. In the corner under a pile of water-strained Fiberglas batting I found a cell phone. A tiny LED was flashing on it. I flipped open the cover and the screen lit. Date and time were superimposed on a picture, which I recognized as the cover of Robin Masters’ first novel Dead Scream, published long after he became a success. Looks like I was getting somewhere at last!
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
-
robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
The restaurant was too nice. T.C. and Rick in their suits fit in just fine, but I stood out in my faded shirt and scuffed jeans. The hostess had a disgusted look when she seated us. I’d given her my best smile, but she had not been impressed.
Rick struggled to oil his way into T.C.’s wallet a little more after we ordered drinks. Rick had asked for a Martini, T.C. went for a diet cola, but I just asked for orange juice. Breakfast was a long time ago and I needed the sugar. Rick was spouting off more financial facts of his condo dream development until the drinks came, when T.C. cut him off with a brusque wave.
“Orville, enough! Ok? Let that wait until later. Man, you are giving me the willies with the hard sell. Park it!” he turned to me. “Thomas Magnum, what are you doing back in Hawaii?” He laughed “Not that I am sorry to see you or anything.”
So I told them about the abrupt summons by Higgins, my rushed trip, the attack on Rene, and Robin’s kidnapping. All of which threw me into this strange reunion with the two of them. They were suitably shocked.
Rick said “Thomas, man, sorry that you have to work, well, I mean nice to see you and all, but what a lousy reason for a visit!” He looked at T.C. long and hard. “Maybe we can help you out.”
T.C. had been slurping his drink, now he choked. “Help? Oh my God, not again! How many times have we had to save your sorry tail? Man, the times I had to risk my neck to pull you out of some hellhole. If it wasn’t Nam, it was on a mountain top or some bad guys, or…oh Hell. Thomas Magnum! Has there ever been a time that I haven’t helped you out?” He nodded his shiny head. “You actually think I’d stand aside? Man, what are friends for?” He pounded the table. “And I guess we will again!” He laughed his deep T.C. laugh. “Right, Rick?”
Rick tried to drill a hole in the tablecloth with his finger. “Yeah, we have to. I guess. Thomas, what do you need from us?”
I held up the cell phone I had found. “I’m pretty certain this must be Robin’s phone. But I can’t get into it. The thing is password protected. I'd sure like to know who he'd been calling lately. Any ideas?”
Rick grabbed it. “I know some people…” He laughed. “Of course I know some people! We’ll see what we can do. I know a guy who can probably crack it.”
“Better make it fast, Rick. I don’t know what our timeline is on this thing. Hours or days?” I turned to T.C. “I’d sure like to go back to the hotel and poke around some more. How about after lunch?”
The food came and we ate, setting Robin’s kidnapping aside for a few minutes. I heard all about how IHC was now a big part of inter-island transport plus bringing in freight from the mainland. Rick weighed in with how his various companies put his fingers into a lot of pies, most of which made money. I thought about my two-bedroom condo in Virginia Beach and had my paltry author’s income was slowly struggling to add to my Navy retirement. Maybe I should have studied investing a lot more.
T.C. picked up the check, Rick took off to look into the phone, and the two of us headed back to the hotel.
Rick struggled to oil his way into T.C.’s wallet a little more after we ordered drinks. Rick had asked for a Martini, T.C. went for a diet cola, but I just asked for orange juice. Breakfast was a long time ago and I needed the sugar. Rick was spouting off more financial facts of his condo dream development until the drinks came, when T.C. cut him off with a brusque wave.
“Orville, enough! Ok? Let that wait until later. Man, you are giving me the willies with the hard sell. Park it!” he turned to me. “Thomas Magnum, what are you doing back in Hawaii?” He laughed “Not that I am sorry to see you or anything.”
So I told them about the abrupt summons by Higgins, my rushed trip, the attack on Rene, and Robin’s kidnapping. All of which threw me into this strange reunion with the two of them. They were suitably shocked.
Rick said “Thomas, man, sorry that you have to work, well, I mean nice to see you and all, but what a lousy reason for a visit!” He looked at T.C. long and hard. “Maybe we can help you out.”
T.C. had been slurping his drink, now he choked. “Help? Oh my God, not again! How many times have we had to save your sorry tail? Man, the times I had to risk my neck to pull you out of some hellhole. If it wasn’t Nam, it was on a mountain top or some bad guys, or…oh Hell. Thomas Magnum! Has there ever been a time that I haven’t helped you out?” He nodded his shiny head. “You actually think I’d stand aside? Man, what are friends for?” He pounded the table. “And I guess we will again!” He laughed his deep T.C. laugh. “Right, Rick?”
Rick tried to drill a hole in the tablecloth with his finger. “Yeah, we have to. I guess. Thomas, what do you need from us?”
I held up the cell phone I had found. “I’m pretty certain this must be Robin’s phone. But I can’t get into it. The thing is password protected. I'd sure like to know who he'd been calling lately. Any ideas?”
Rick grabbed it. “I know some people…” He laughed. “Of course I know some people! We’ll see what we can do. I know a guy who can probably crack it.”
“Better make it fast, Rick. I don’t know what our timeline is on this thing. Hours or days?” I turned to T.C. “I’d sure like to go back to the hotel and poke around some more. How about after lunch?”
The food came and we ate, setting Robin’s kidnapping aside for a few minutes. I heard all about how IHC was now a big part of inter-island transport plus bringing in freight from the mainland. Rick weighed in with how his various companies put his fingers into a lot of pies, most of which made money. I thought about my two-bedroom condo in Virginia Beach and had my paltry author’s income was slowly struggling to add to my Navy retirement. Maybe I should have studied investing a lot more.
T.C. picked up the check, Rick took off to look into the phone, and the two of us headed back to the hotel.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
-
robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
Back in the garage again, T.C. making very sure not to get his suit dirty. He turned up his nose at the garage smell and the dirt. “Been a while, T.C?”
“Yeah, Thomas, to tell the truth the dirtiest I usually get anymore is in a sand trap at the country club but I do work on cars when I get the chance. In fact I’ve recently been working on a sweet little car…” he stopped abruptly. “Oh, never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Say, how we do know that the white van the limo guy saw was the kidnapper’s? And how in the world can we find it?”
“I don’t know T.C. but this all seems fishy to me.” At least I had someone to talk it out with. “Why did Robin come here? Who was he meeting? Did he leave in the van or go somewhere else? Why did Rene get knocked out?”
T.C. was squatting over the pool of transmission fluid rubbing it between his fingers and sniffing at it. “Thomas, it’s been a while, but I think this is from an old Ford. The internal seals are shot, that’s what gives off this burned smell. The guy probably has to top it off every couple months.”
I was amazed. “You’re telling me that you’ve built a corporate empire and know car transmissions too?”
T.C laughed. “Old buddy, the smell of hydraulic fluid is something I’ll never forget and don’t think I’ve been driving a Mercedes forever either. Till just a few years ago I still worked on my own cars.” He looked at his expensive watch. “Thomas, I just have to take off – got a meeting. I’ll call you later.” He was gone in a whirl of rotor blades.
There wasn’t anything too revealing in the garage and the hotel itself was awfully busy with demolition. But nearby was a rental agency, Baptist Church, an ABC Store, and across the street another hotel. I went door to door, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything around six that morning. I got a solid hit at the ABC.
The manager had been in to restock very early and had seen a white Ford van circling the block. He remembered it as his tutu kane, his grandfather, drove one just like it. Grandfather had been a TV antenna installer. He carried his tools in the van, complete with ladder on the roof, just like the one this morning. As I left he added “In fact, there might have been two vans. Or it was traveling very fast around the block. Seemed like I kept seeing the darn thing too often.”
I walked into the living hotel across the street. The lobby was filled with fresh flowers and there was a busy trade in tourists. The economy might be down, but those who want to and could, came to the Islands anyway. Maybe Rick’s building was dreaming to be like this one again, someday.
I found the manager and asked who might have seen anything across the street. He sent me to the morning bell captain, who was just ending his shift.
The bellman was a genteel dark-skinned fellow with white hair, who spoke in a very respectful way. He seemed very tired. “Yes, sir. I was here at 6 AM this morning,” he said. “Nothing very unusual today, it’s pretty quiet that early. Not much going on. But I did see a haole come of out that hotel garage over there and get into a white tradesman’s van.”
“Was there a ladder on the roof?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “The man, perhaps older than you sir, waited at the curb for a few minutes. I think he used a cell phone as he waited. The van stopped on the garage ramp. The man spoke to the driver and then the side door opened. I couldn’t see as just then a limousine pulled in to this hotel and I had to help the driver load it.”
“Did you see the license plate? On the van, I mean?”
“No, sir. I did not. But I heard a voice shouting from inside the garage. It sounded like someone calling out a name. Then the white van started up and sped into the garage. I could hear tires squealing.”
“When the haole got into the van did anyone help him in?”
“No sir. The door opened and he climbed in. I got the impression he knew the people inside.”
I thanked him and let him go home to rest. I had found out some things. The van was waiting for Robin. It was a white Ford with a ladder on the roof. And the transmission leaked. It could be almost anywhere, just like Robin. Somewhere in the 597 square miles that makes up O’ahu, The Gathering Place, Robin was hidden. Now I just had to find him.
“Yeah, Thomas, to tell the truth the dirtiest I usually get anymore is in a sand trap at the country club but I do work on cars when I get the chance. In fact I’ve recently been working on a sweet little car…” he stopped abruptly. “Oh, never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Say, how we do know that the white van the limo guy saw was the kidnapper’s? And how in the world can we find it?”
“I don’t know T.C. but this all seems fishy to me.” At least I had someone to talk it out with. “Why did Robin come here? Who was he meeting? Did he leave in the van or go somewhere else? Why did Rene get knocked out?”
T.C. was squatting over the pool of transmission fluid rubbing it between his fingers and sniffing at it. “Thomas, it’s been a while, but I think this is from an old Ford. The internal seals are shot, that’s what gives off this burned smell. The guy probably has to top it off every couple months.”
I was amazed. “You’re telling me that you’ve built a corporate empire and know car transmissions too?”
T.C laughed. “Old buddy, the smell of hydraulic fluid is something I’ll never forget and don’t think I’ve been driving a Mercedes forever either. Till just a few years ago I still worked on my own cars.” He looked at his expensive watch. “Thomas, I just have to take off – got a meeting. I’ll call you later.” He was gone in a whirl of rotor blades.
There wasn’t anything too revealing in the garage and the hotel itself was awfully busy with demolition. But nearby was a rental agency, Baptist Church, an ABC Store, and across the street another hotel. I went door to door, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything around six that morning. I got a solid hit at the ABC.
The manager had been in to restock very early and had seen a white Ford van circling the block. He remembered it as his tutu kane, his grandfather, drove one just like it. Grandfather had been a TV antenna installer. He carried his tools in the van, complete with ladder on the roof, just like the one this morning. As I left he added “In fact, there might have been two vans. Or it was traveling very fast around the block. Seemed like I kept seeing the darn thing too often.”
I walked into the living hotel across the street. The lobby was filled with fresh flowers and there was a busy trade in tourists. The economy might be down, but those who want to and could, came to the Islands anyway. Maybe Rick’s building was dreaming to be like this one again, someday.
I found the manager and asked who might have seen anything across the street. He sent me to the morning bell captain, who was just ending his shift.
The bellman was a genteel dark-skinned fellow with white hair, who spoke in a very respectful way. He seemed very tired. “Yes, sir. I was here at 6 AM this morning,” he said. “Nothing very unusual today, it’s pretty quiet that early. Not much going on. But I did see a haole come of out that hotel garage over there and get into a white tradesman’s van.”
“Was there a ladder on the roof?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “The man, perhaps older than you sir, waited at the curb for a few minutes. I think he used a cell phone as he waited. The van stopped on the garage ramp. The man spoke to the driver and then the side door opened. I couldn’t see as just then a limousine pulled in to this hotel and I had to help the driver load it.”
“Did you see the license plate? On the van, I mean?”
“No, sir. I did not. But I heard a voice shouting from inside the garage. It sounded like someone calling out a name. Then the white van started up and sped into the garage. I could hear tires squealing.”
“When the haole got into the van did anyone help him in?”
“No sir. The door opened and he climbed in. I got the impression he knew the people inside.”
I thanked him and let him go home to rest. I had found out some things. The van was waiting for Robin. It was a white Ford with a ladder on the roof. And the transmission leaked. It could be almost anywhere, just like Robin. Somewhere in the 597 square miles that makes up O’ahu, The Gathering Place, Robin was hidden. Now I just had to find him.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.
-
robspace54
- Vice Admiral
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:18 pm
- Location: Cincinnati, Ohio
I drove away from downtown, trying to figure out where to go next. The facts in this case were scattered and hard to connect. As I drove towards the H1 I could not believe how many white windowless vans I saw. Most had names on their sides, but many did not. Maybe an enterprising driver could even run two businesses out the same vehicle. But it wouldn’t do to have Frank’s Dry Cleaning on the side of a van delivering flowers. I was near the highway when my cell rang. I pulled into a spot on the street and cracked it open.
“Thomas? It’s Rick!”
“What you got for me, Rick? Any luck with the phone?”
“Yeah. You’d better come over here. You’ll have a lot to wade through.”
The address Rick gave me was off the Nimitz Highway in a warehouse. Inside was the whine of fork trucks carrying pallets of boxes. I found Rick and his tech maven in a windowless office near the rear.
Rick waved me in. “Magnum! This is Malo Palianolo. I think he’s found some things you may find interesting.”
The guy looked up from his computer, racked against the wall with a lot of cell phones plugged in around it. “Hi! You see here we take cell phones and recycle them. We even have a service to help out owners who have scrambled their phone info. This one,” he pointed to the one I found, “is a little different. But I don’t think the FCC will hear about what I’ve done.” He gave Rick a look.
Rick said, “Malo, I owe you one again. We’ll settle up later. Show Thomas what you found.”
“Here,” Malo said and handed me a thick document. “This is a list of all the numbers stored – there are about five hundred. Every name seems to be in code. You’ll have to figure those out. But these sheets,” and he gave me some more, “are the time and date of every call made in the last two weeks. The third and fourth pages list the time of calls to each number.”
I hefted about a half-pound of paper, rapidly flicking to the last two sheets. Malo had listed them in descending order. Many numbers I did not recognize. The one to Robin’s Nest stood in the center. There had been eight calls. Probably Robin telling Higgins he was coming. The one above it had received fifteen calls. That number was likely his publisher and the name was Benjamin Franklin, a somewhat known printer. But I was most interested in the one at the bottom of the list; just a single call. The name said Canvas.
I left the warehouse, while Rick argued with Malo about how much his special services were worth. I was cruising back towards downtown, when I realized I was being tailed. It wasn’t that hard to see the car, a beige fastback. Especially when the car sped through every light to keep up. I took some oddball turns and managed to lose it.
Now I had someone watching over me. Another odd thing about this case. I was stopped at a light when the hatchback came through the intersection on the cross street right in front of me. I got a good look at the driver. It was Nick.
I decided it was time to talk to Higgins.
“Thomas? It’s Rick!”
“What you got for me, Rick? Any luck with the phone?”
“Yeah. You’d better come over here. You’ll have a lot to wade through.”
The address Rick gave me was off the Nimitz Highway in a warehouse. Inside was the whine of fork trucks carrying pallets of boxes. I found Rick and his tech maven in a windowless office near the rear.
Rick waved me in. “Magnum! This is Malo Palianolo. I think he’s found some things you may find interesting.”
The guy looked up from his computer, racked against the wall with a lot of cell phones plugged in around it. “Hi! You see here we take cell phones and recycle them. We even have a service to help out owners who have scrambled their phone info. This one,” he pointed to the one I found, “is a little different. But I don’t think the FCC will hear about what I’ve done.” He gave Rick a look.
Rick said, “Malo, I owe you one again. We’ll settle up later. Show Thomas what you found.”
“Here,” Malo said and handed me a thick document. “This is a list of all the numbers stored – there are about five hundred. Every name seems to be in code. You’ll have to figure those out. But these sheets,” and he gave me some more, “are the time and date of every call made in the last two weeks. The third and fourth pages list the time of calls to each number.”
I hefted about a half-pound of paper, rapidly flicking to the last two sheets. Malo had listed them in descending order. Many numbers I did not recognize. The one to Robin’s Nest stood in the center. There had been eight calls. Probably Robin telling Higgins he was coming. The one above it had received fifteen calls. That number was likely his publisher and the name was Benjamin Franklin, a somewhat known printer. But I was most interested in the one at the bottom of the list; just a single call. The name said Canvas.
I left the warehouse, while Rick argued with Malo about how much his special services were worth. I was cruising back towards downtown, when I realized I was being tailed. It wasn’t that hard to see the car, a beige fastback. Especially when the car sped through every light to keep up. I took some oddball turns and managed to lose it.
Now I had someone watching over me. Another odd thing about this case. I was stopped at a light when the hatchback came through the intersection on the cross street right in front of me. I got a good look at the driver. It was Nick.
I decided it was time to talk to Higgins.
Sometimes I get so lucky, even I don`t believe it.