Warren Murphy - Total Recall

He eliminated the other two men in similar fashion, leaving all three so that their blood seeped through the grilled floor of the catwalk and dropped down to the warehouse floor below.

When Remo returned to where they had left Walter Sterling, Chiun was already waiting, shaking his head.

"Sloppy technique," he said.

"What happened?" Walter asked.

"I thought it would be a nice touch," Remo said.

"Like the dripping of three faucets," Chiun said. "The sound is offensive to me."

"You have no imagination, Chiun."

Chiun was about to answer when there was a faint sound below. Only he and Remo heard it.

"What did you—" Walter started, but both Remo and Chiun silenced him, and the boy lapsed into an exasperated silence he swore not to break.

They all listened intently, and finally Walter realized what had happened. Someone had entered the warehouse by more conventional means than they had— the front entrance.

Remo and Chiun decided to let the man stew awhile.

Wagner entered the warehouse confidently, certain that all five of his men had him in their sights to protect him. He wondered if the black dealer had arrived yet.

He knew the warehouse pretty well, and he knew where the main switches were. He found them and threw the switch for the lights for the lower half of the warehouse. The upper portion was still swathed in darkness, which was fine by him. That would make it easy for his men to remain unseen.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was ten minutes past the time of the meeting. Where was that black bastard, anyway?

He started to wander around the floor, wondering what Moorcock would think about filling this place with drugs. How much would a warehouse full of H be worth, anyway? Billions?

As he was walking, he suddenly slipped on something slick and almost fell. Cursing, he looked down at his shoe and found something red staining the bottom. He looked behind him and saw that he had stepped into a puddle of blood. As he watched, another drop fell, and then another and another. He could actually hear them. Suddenly, he became aware of similar sounds coming from other areas. He found two other puddles of blood, also leaking from the catwalk.

"What the hell—"

"Effective, don't you think?" a voice behind him asked.

He turned so quickly that he stepped into a blood puddle and fell on his behind. From the floor he stared up at the man looking down at him— a white man with dark hair.

"Who the hell are you? Where'd you come from?"

"I came from up there," Remo said, pointing up. "And I think you already know who I am."

"Y-you're the guy—"

"Right, I'm the guy."

"Where's the… the black guy? The dealer? Where's Danny the Man?"

"Speaking from past experience, he's probably home making some little lovely earn her candy."

"What— I was supposed to meet him here."

"Alone, right?"

"Of course."

"Then you don't know anything about the five dead men on the catwalk?"

"Five men on the catwalk?" Wagner said. "I told some of them— wait a minute. Five dead men up on the catwalk?"

"Either that, or they've got really bad bloody noses," Remo said, looking down at the widening puddle of blood.

"Uh," Wagner said, getting slowly to his feet, "uh, no, I don't know anything about—"

"All right, let's forget about the dead men," Remo said.

"Good. I'll just be going—"

"You came here to meet someone, my friend," Remo said, "and that someone is me."

"You?"

"Yeah, we've got some things to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Like drugs."

"I don't know nothing about drugs."

"And I don't know anything about putting out a newspaper," Remo said, "but I used to sell them when I was a kid."

"Look, pal," Wagner said. "I'm leaving, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Wanna bet?"

Wagner suddenly remembered that he had a .38 under his left arm and pulled it out. "Move out of my way," he said.

"Sorry."

"You're going to be even sorrier," Wagner said, and he pulled the trigger.

The gun went off with a deafening blast, but the man was still standing there.

He couldn't have missed.

"Try it again," the man suggested.

Wagner pulled the trigger again, and the only thing that happened was that the man was suddenly closer to him instead of falling down dead.

"That's impossible."

"I'd like to let you keep trying until you get it right, but we really don't have time for that," Remo said. He closed the distance between himself and the man, took the gun away, and twisted it like a pretzel.

"Here," he said, giving it back. "Let's talk."

"What do you want to know?"

"I want you to confirm a suspicion I have that Lorenzo Moorcock is the man behind this whole kiddie drug system. Am I right?"

"This could get me killed."

"Would you like to go up on the catwalk?"

"No!"

"I'm sure your friends would love to have you join them."

"That's okay," Wagner said, wishing that the damned nigger had shown up instead of this dude.

"Then tell me about Moorcock."

"He set up the whole operation. He used his political contacts to get it started."

"Where do the drugs come from?"

"Iran."

"Why Iran?"

"Well, he had plenty of Iranian supporters when he was in politics. The Iranians feel they're contributing to the downfall of the United States by supplying Moorcock with the drugs."

"But the drugs are brought in by Mexicans, isn't that so?"

"Yeah, but see, the Iranians fly to Mexico City, where they turn the stuff over to some Mexican diplomats, then the diplomats fly here to Detroit to see how cars are made."

"But they also stop at the Church of Modern-day Beliefs."

"Right, and they drop the stuff off there."

Wagner seemed to be warming to his subject. He was really quite impressed with Moorcock's operation. And if talking about it would keep him alive, it was fine with him.

"Where is the stuff processed?"

"We step on it right there, in the basement. We got a regular factory down there."

"And then it's doled out to the kids to sell on the streets, right?"

"Yeah, right."

"Kids like Billy Martin and Walter Sterling?"

"Yeah, them and others."

"By 'others', you mean kids whose fathers work in automobile factories?"

"Just some of them. We don't need too many."

"What's their end of it?"

"That's the beautiful part," Wagner said. "They hide the stuff in the fender wells of the cars, and then somebody at the other end picks it up. It works like a charm."

"So what went wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"Why did Billy Martin kill his parents?"

"That was the kid's own doing," Wagner said. "He said his father was starting to get nervous about the drug money and was gonna talk to the cops."

"So why'd he kill his mother too?"

Wagner shrugged and said, "Maybe she woke up at the wrong time, or maybe the old man confided in her. Hell, maybe the kid just wanted to use the opportunity to get rid of both of them at one time."

"And then what happened to him?"

"Well, when he got caught, we figured he'd talk his head off to help himself, so Moorcock gave the order to have him killed."

"After he was bailed out."

"Right. I had one of my boys call that lawyer and make the arrangements to get him out, and then a few of the boys took care of him."

"Who blew up my car?"

Wagner fidgeted on that one. "Well, I went to the rental office and got your name and your hotel and then sent in one of the men to plant the explosive."

"One of the men up on the catwalk?"

Wagner looked up nervously and said, "Yeah, a guy named Jim Burger."

"Good," Remo said. "I'd hate to leave that little bit of business unfinished."

"Can I go now?"