Copyright 2011 / Douglas E. Wright
Smashwords Edition
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This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
30-Minute Delivery
By Douglas E Wright
“Look guys. Another one!”
The squad room funneled into Stinger’s tiny cubicle as Harry sat behind his computer monitor. He blotted sweat off his brow. A grin spread across his face. He pushed his swivel chair backwards, not once taking his eyes off the screen. “Hotmail address this time.”
Harry undid the top button of his pressed shirt. Behind him, the open window allowed the night breeze to blow in, fluttering sheaths of paper, scattering them over his old oak desk.
The email’s subject bar blinked like a blue neon strobe light: 30-Minute Delivery. Harry wiggled his fingers and then cracked them one by one, returning his hands to the keyboard. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the PDF attachment. Though the picture looked like a PDF; the file extension ended with jpg. A picture file.
He tapped the ‘+’ key and enlarged the killer’s clipped message. The photo-shopped attachment grew into a colorless blur. He tapped the ‘ - ‘ key twice. The image grew sharper as it shrunk. Harry’s voice came out low. Almost nonexistent. “The same letter only from a different email address. Like the other thirteen,” he said.
Alphabetical letters bobbed about on the screen as if in a bowl of dark electronic soup. Strung together in a make-belief PDF document.
A golden thread zapped over the screen. Harry hopped from his chair and punched his fists to the heavens. As if he’d just discovered Jesus Christ. “Holy shit! A face. A goddamned face,“ he shouted.
The features rapidly broke apart and washed into a sea of white noise before slowly returning in cutout letters in a field of crackly fuzz. Each one reemerged in a rainbow color, glittering behind the monitor’s dusty glass. Every letter hovered and twirled until they assembled into a fractured steeple image. Each letter mounting the other, until they finally came together in a rough likeness of a man’s face. And then just as fast, dissolved into a fancy-font message.
“Damn. He’s gone.” Harry scrunched up his face. “Shit, he’s good. I’ll lay bets that he’s some kinda techie.” Gotta get off the booze, he thought. I’m now prone to hallucinations.
“Or Computer hack,” an officer from the back of the crowd said.
“Sure. Hack. Whatever. All I know is I gotta get him. And super fast.”
“Any thoughts on who it is?“ a young policeman asked.
“No idea. Never saw him. ‘til now. I guess.“ Harry slapped the monitor’s side with his palm. The image returned, cartoon like. Then, it readjusted from the broken apparitional face into a solid email attachment. Harry grabbed his vest, holstered his revolver, and snatched a dull-black jacket from a coat hanger. He quickly pushed through the crowd, and before shooting past the cubical entryway, he said, “Even if it kills me, I’ll find that drug dealer killer.”
“You mean Mister Gloom and Doom,” Joanne said, waltzing down the narrow corridor toward him.
“One and the same,” Harry answered, winking at her. “God. You’ve been gone so long, I thought you went to Brazil for the coffee.”
She smirked as she blew past her cubical. “Very funny . . . How many’s that make now?”
“Fourteen,” Harry said. “C’mon. We gotta go. We’ve got ten minutes. And believe it or not, I think I know what he looks like.”
Joanne slapped the take-out coffees on a desk that she was passing. She brushed her wet hair back with her fingers as she shoved through the dispersing crowd in Harry’s office. She swung around the desk. “No we don’t,” she cried. “Did you see the time on this thing? Only sent six couple minutes ago. He’s given us thirty. And he’s only about five minutes away. Man, I think we’ve got him this time.”
“C’mon girl. Use your training,” Harry shouted. “The message was timed.“ He snatched a pen off a passing desk. “Tell me. Have we saved anybody yet? What leads do we have? Can’t answer? Then do me a favor. Get your fat ass in gear, girlie!”
Joanne tossed her hair over her shoulder and brushed past what was left of the tiny crowd. She burst out of Harry’s workstation. “We’ve never got there on time,” she confirmed. “Always ahead of us.” As she rushed past her own stall, she scooped a vest off a chair by her entryway.
She kicked open the double doors, shot down the stair steps and shadowed her partner to the electronic glass doors.
One after another, both of them charged into the underground parking lot.
Stinger took a quick breath. “Smoke and water,” he said. “He’s not where he says. He’s at the coal dock.” He swung to an unmarked black Dodge Charger. He glanced to the barred underground gate to where an overweight security guard stood outside smoking a cigarette. ”Crank it,” Harry yelled.
###
From inside the car, Joanne said, “I don’t get it. Why the coal docks?” She surveyed the underground garage.
“Email said he was taking out that drug dealer Muncho Greer out back of Walmart’s Dunbury location.” Harry blasted the car up the ramp and bounced onto a desolate side street. Within moments, they stormed down a grimy artery, pushing them into the city’s industrial wasteland.
Then as he reached the James and Water Street intersection, he cranked the steering wheel hard right. The car screamed around the corner. He quickly braked into a slow roll. The red light district flashed into view. Girls and guys, young and old, stood anchored in empty doorways and trashed alleyways. All but a few displayed their crimson lace and tight leather.
“You watch your side and I’ll watch mine,” Harry said, swerving past a large pothole that decorated the middle of the street. “You not notice the email’s subject?” he asked.
“Guess not,” she replied. “I usually take more notice when I’m dealing with domestic disputes.”
“And I take notice if it has anything to do with druggies.”
“Guess it’s all about us, eh? Our areas of expertise,” Joanne said.
“Yup, sure looks like it.” He slowed the car down even more. “Anyway, the subject said, coal burning passions. While the message did mention the location, it also said, sparking home fires this winter night.
“Guess I really missed it.”
“Obviously.”
As the Charger floated beneath the last row of flickering streetlights, a flaming barrel peeked out through a tangle of shrubs in an overgrown lot.
“What’s over there?“ Harry pointed.
“Nothing. Couple kids warming.”
As he eyed the road, he also peered at the desolate factories and apartment complexes lining the street. “These all should be torn down.“
“If the city hasn’t money to keep the public roads safe, what makes you think they have cash to waste on poor people?”
“Christ. You’re all heart aren’t ya?”
“The money just isn’t there. That’s all. These nobodies can get a job like regular people. Quit living off the state and make a living like the rest of us. Contribute instead of take.”