Don Bruns - Stuff to spy for

“Go.” A man of few words.

Three cars were in the lot. Em’s new blue BMW wasn’t one of them. Neither was Sandy’s yellow sports car. There was Carol Conroy’s Lexus, a new Cadillac, and another gray Honda Accord. I could only guess who was left in the building.

“Work room. Set it on a table.” We put it on a worktable next to a computer station and stepped back.

“Office one.” Chen pointed. No gun, no force, just the fact that he had Em and we didn’t.

I opened the office door and there they were. On the floor, side by side, tied with white plastic rope. Sandy Conroy, Feng, and Emily. And sitting on the desk, pistol in hand was Sarah Crumbly.

“Skip. I’m really sorry you had to get involved.” She nodded at me, a grim smile on her face.

“Gotta go where the money is, right, Sarah?”

“It’s just too sweet a deal to pass up, Skip. Just too sweet.”

I ’d never seen it coming. But then, I’m not sure she did either. Sarah Crumbly was a hooker. For sale to the highest bidder. When someone made her a better offer, she took it. It was as simple as that. It made sense.

“Can we untie Emily now. You’ve got your card.” James froze his stare.

“It’s not quite that easy.” Chen glanced around the room. “We’re taking the girl with us.”

“Hold on, you promised me that-” I glanced at Em. A rag was stuffed in her mouth, and her eyes were full of fire.

“We’re leaving her at the abandoned building. If you leave this building, or this office, within the next half hour, we’ll kill her.”

I turned my attention to Sarah. Hooking was one thing. Killing was something else. She never met my gaze, just held onto the pistol, waving it back and forth at the trio on the floor.

“Are we understood?”

I wanted to jump this guy. He was about five eleven, in good shape, but I knew James and I could have taken him. And why we didn’t, I don’t know. I don’t think that Sarah had the courage or desire to fire the pistol, but I couldn’t take the chance.

Chen leaned down and picked up Em, dragging her toward the door. “I’m closing this office door. And then I’m going to stand here and wait. I can’t tell you how long. If you open that door, I’ll shoot the girl, and I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“You can pick the girl up at the building in an hour.” Cold, menacing.

Sarah jumped off the desk and followed Chen out the door. I didn’t hold out much hope that she’d survive this ordeal either, but you could never tell. She pushed the door shut and James and I stood there, not knowing what to say. Em was still in a lot of trouble.

There was a gurgle from the floor and Sandy Conroy scooted on his back and gave me a pleading look. Feng stared up as well.

“I don’t see any reason to help these two, do you?” James nodded to the two men.

“No. James, we should call the cops.”

“You should never call the cops, Skip.” The day they hauled his father off to prison was the end of any trust James had for officers of the law.

“But, man-”

“Bro, you call, they go after Chen, he kills Em.”

And, of course, he was right.

“What do you think was in the box?” The thought was in my mind too.

“I thought it might be money.”

“Yeah.” James sat down on the edge of the desk. “Lots of money.”

“James, do you think they’ll leave Em off at the building?”

“Skip, I can’t figure out why they left us all here. I mean this guy has apparently killed anyone who got in his way. So why leave us all alive to tell the authorities what happened?”

“Makes no sense.”

We were quiet for a minute. I glanced at my cell phone and saw that five minutes had passed. Sandy and Feng lay on the ground, obviously very pissed off at us.

“Do you think they’re out there? Ready to shoot if we open that door?”

“No.” I didn’t. I figure Chen was buying time. He was long gone.

“Care to take a peak?”

I thought about it. Em’s life would be in danger. I walked to the door and twisted the handle. “I’ll just tell ’em I had to go to the bathroom.”

I opened the door just a crack. Couldn’t see much. A little wider and I froze. There she was, lying on a worktable next to the brown box. I cringed, waiting for a gunshot. Nothing. I opened the door just a little farther, and saw the raw fear in Em’s eyes. Quickly glancing around the room I saw they were gone. And then it hit me.

I bolted out of the room. “James. Down. On the floor.” I grabbed the box, heavy, bulky like a case of beer, and I bolted for the doors. Down the hall, past the reception area, my legs pumping, my arms aching. The flames in my lungs leaped into my throat and my mouth as I hit the door. It opened and I ran into the parking lot, thinking that I’d seen this play out once before. Ten steps into the lot, I heaved the box, fell to the ground, and buried my head under my arms. I think I heard the roar of the explosion. But I’m not sure. I was dead.

I f you donate your organs, they like to harvest them when they’re fresh. And when the body is still functioning, but there’s no brain activity, the organs are fresh. I never signed the paper to donate my organs. Probably a good idea, considering.

They call it neurologic shock. There’s no brain activity and your brain is swelling from the concussion. As far as I’m concerned, when your brain quits working, you’re dead. And that’s what the doctor told me.

They can drill holes in your head to give the brain room to swell. James would have had a field day with that solution. But I think it was a drug, Mannitol, that takes fluid from the brain so it goes back into your bloodstream, that saved me. That and a bunch of very good doctors. I’ve got to thank the team of Drs. Bob and Pat Gussin, James Kahn, Praveen Malhotra, and Anne Gideon. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be around if it hadn’t been for them.

“You saved us, pally.”

“Yeah. But died in the process.”

James grabbed my arm and squeezed. Very hard. I thought there were tears in his eyes, but this was my buddy James. I’m sure I was mistaken.

“Visiting time is over.” The surly nurse escorted him out. Five minutes at a time. They said they just wanted to keep me alive this time. I appreciated the effort.

“Two weeks. And it seems like two minutes.”

“Hey, you slept most of the time.” Em looked great, fresh, hair hanging down around her shoulders, a light summer dress.

She stroked my cheek. “You’re getting a little shaggy, Skip.”

“When you sleep twenty-four-seven there isn’t much time to shave.” I was sitting in a chair. An hour a day now.

“I kind of like a beard on you.”

“So, you’ve been quiet about current events.”

Em sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “They caught Chen.

He never got out of Miami.”

“You know the thing about Sarah is that she’s a-”

“I know. James told me. She wasn’t with him when the cops took Chen in.”

“You don’t think he killed her?”

“Personally, we don’t think there was time. James is scanning the escort services. He says she’ll show up sooner or later.”

“They know that Chen killed Carol Conroy?”

“Evidence was all over his car. He never got it fixed.”

“And Sandy? Feng? How can they still be walking around?” She reached out and put her hand on mine. “No evidence.

They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit.”

“Can’t prove it, babe. That video card hasn’t turned up. If there’s any evidence on that, it’s disappeared.” She stroked my hand. “You saved their lives.”