Deadrock (8 page)

"Max. I'm
surprised at you. I thought we agreed on mutual trust. You know, since you said
you'd just been back a half-hour, that makes you a liar, too."

"We're
talking about you – not me! Where have you been all this time?"

"Like I
told you. I followed Ted,
then
when I saw that he was
going in the building I decided to get some lunch. Took forty-five minutes.
Maybe a bit longer.
By law I could've taken an hour but-"

"It doesn't
add up, Bird. As my Grandma would say, I smell a rat!"

"It's
probably Big Red there, said Bird, pointing to the dusty suspended rat. "I
think he's getting a bit fusty."

Max looked
into the big, innocent, braid-framed face. This guy is good, he thought. He
lies to my face without any hesitation. "I'm watching you, Bird. If I find
out you've been gambling when you should be working-"

"Speaking
of working, Max, I think I need to get back on the trail," said Bird, glimpsing
something over the cubicle wall and bounding out of the opening.

"Bird!
Hold on! Don't try to run out!" Max called and ran to catch up with his
partner. "I'm in charge!"

At the
doorway, Bird screeched to a halt and Max, unable to stop, rammed into his
broad back. "Gotta give Ted time to get a little ahead," whispered
Bird. The two watched as Ted, briefcase and clipboard in hand, took a last look
at the shipping list, shook his head, and went out through the etched glass
doors.

They counted
to ten, sprinted out the doors, down the stairs, and bumped into two thugs
entering the building. Like a pair of massive granite bookends, the bruisers
blocked their way.

"Presnell?"
the one with half an ear demanded in a Russian accent.

"Rhoades?"
the one with the flattened nose barked.

"Look-For-A-Bird,"
said Bird.

"Where?
Where?" The two ducked and looked skyward as Max and Bird hurried to catch
up with Ted.

"Who were
those gorillas?" asked Max.

"Probably
friends of Powers and Ted," said Bird, slinking around the corner.

"Friends
who don't know them by sight? Maybe they're paid assassins after Ted!"

"They
asked for Powers, too, Max."

"Hmmm. Maybe
the two partners are in trouble with the mob. They looked like mob goons!"

"Look
around you! Everybody in the twenty-first century looks like a goon," said
Bird, pointing to a man with a brain tattooed on his
bald
head
. "Hey, there goes Ted!"

They followed
him toward the subway stairs where Bird held back to allow some of the late
afternoon commuters to fill in between them. He craned his neck to keep Ted in
sight.

A woman in a pretzel
costume parked her hot pretzel cart next to the subway stairs and called out, "Hot
pretzels, a buck-fifty! Pretzels!" The yeasty aroma filled Max's nose and
tugged at his stomach.

He rummaged in
his pockets, pulled out a one-dollar bill and flipped through the pile of coins
in his palm.
Fifty cents, fifty cents – that's two
quarters, right?
Gnartz! I only have eight dimes and a bunch of pennies!
I hate dealing with money!

"Come on,"
said Bird, Max followed him down the steep, dark stairs. The smell of urine and
sweat wafted upward and made him feel a bit better about having to give up the
pretzel.

Max lost both
Bird and Ted in the moment it took for his eyes to adjust from bright sunlight
to the underground gloom. People swirled around him, busy to get to their
trains, impatient with him to move out of their way. Don't panic, Max, you'll
find
them,
don't panic, he told himself.

"Psssttt!
Max, over here!" Bird peeked out from behind a concrete pillar and pulled
the boy to cover.

"Sorry to
lose you, Max. Hope I didn't scare you."

"Scared?
Get genuine, Bird!" Max scoffed, taking a deep breath to still his racing
heart. He pulled the Mets cap from his back pocket, set it low on his forehead,
and scanned the crowd for Ted. He sighted
him,
twenty
yards away, waiting near the train tracks.

Ted looked at
his watch. He tapped the crystal,
then
shook his
wrist, flinging the watch to the ground. As he bent to pick up his watch, a
skinny figure, dressed in a raggedy long coat and a bulging beret, approached
him from behind. As a train whistle sounded in the distance, the crowd drew
closer to the track and blocked the detectives' view of Ted.
 

They
cautiously stepped out from behind the pillar, moved closer, and crouched
behind a newspaper rack. They saw the figure creep closer and closer to Ted.
The ground vibrated slightly under their feet from the coming train. Ted
straightened and moved up to the restraining line painted beside the track. He
fumbled with his watch and dropped it again. The train whistle blew loud and
strong as the raggedy figure pushed through the crowd to arm's distance of Ted.

Ted bent lower
to get the watch. The train screamed down the track into the station. The figure's
arm shot out!

"Help!"
Ted yelled and fell off the platform onto the tracks.

"Ahhhrrrgggh!"
someone screamed.

Max shut his
eyes in a grimace. When he opened them again, the crowd was breaking up around
the scene of the crime. A rabbi helped Ted back up onto the platform where he
dusted himself off. Only then did Max realize that the train was on the next
track. He looked around for the raggedy figure but it had disappeared.

"Where'd
he go?" Max jumped up and flew in three directions at once.

"Who?"
said
Bird.

"The guy
who pushed Ted! You see, Bird! The mob is after Ted!"

"Looked
to me like he bumped into him, Max. Besides, we know the body gets found in the
time capsule. What's that scruffy little guy going to do? Pick up dead Ted off
the tracks, lug him to the office, and drop him in the capsule, all without raising
just a teensy bit of suspicion?" Bird folded his arms and enjoyed the ridiculous
nature of Max's theory.

"Okay,"
bristled Max. "Maybe it was just an accident or a coincidence or
something. Hey, watch him, there he goes!" They saw the visibly shaken Ted
in the crowd and shadowed him toward the stairs.

"Maybe we
should keep a watch on the capsule," said Bird.

"I'm in
charge here, Bird!" said Max, trudging up the stairs and into the
sunlight.

"Just a
suggestion," said Bird lightly, "C'mon, let's split a pretzel. Ted's
moving pretty slow, we can catch up."

"No, they're
a dollar fifty and all I have is a dollar and these dimes," said Max,
showing him his coins.

Bird smiled. "Never
mind, just give me what you have and I'll treat you for the rest," said
Bird, taking the money.

"Hey, well,
thanks, Bird," said Max. Maybe this guy's not so bad after all, he
thought.

Ted went
directly back to the office. When he stopped to use the ATM outside the building,
the two detectives slipped inside. Back at the office, Nickie pounced on them
as they entered.

"Where
have you guys been? And where's my dad? Doesn't anybody tell me anything
anymore?"

"Sorry,
Nickie, it's my fault," said Bird. "Little Max here was hungry so I
thought I'd better take him out for a bite to eat." Max raised himself to
his greatest height and glared at Bird.

"Oh, of
course. You were right to go. You missed your lunch because of me," said
Nickie. "But have you seen my dad? The bank called because he didn't make
the payroll deposit. I'm worried about him."

Raised voices
at the back of the office interrupted her. She tiptoed forward and Max and Bird
crept along behind. They eavesdropped just outside Power's office.

"Don't
yell at me, sailor!" Gloria hollered.

"How
could you get it wrong, Gloria?" screamed Powers. "You stupid,
deck-swabbing-"

"Shut up,
Powers!" A loud stomp, followed by a painful howl rang out. Gloria stormed
from the office, her sharp elbows and knees pumping as fast as pistons.

The three
listeners cautiously peeked into Powers' office and saw him hopping about on
one foot on the plush Oriental carpet. Max was struck by the lavishness of the
heavy walnut desk and the sleek chrome and leather armchairs. On the walls hung
framed photographs of three progressively larger yachts.

"Blast!"
Powers wailed. He spied the three listeners who stared at his raised foot.

"Nautical
accident," he explained. "Blasted typing mistakes!" he said, hopping
toward Gloria's retreating back. "She just can't seem to get the hang of
Spell-Check!"

Gloria stopped
in her tracks, spun around and steamed toward him. "I'm not your
secretary, Powers! I'm an executive! We have lackeys like Nickie to do the
input!"

"Hey!"
said Nickie. "Who're you calling a lackey?"

"Let's
get something straight, kid!" said Gloria. "You can be replaced in a
New York min- Ted!" She changed her tone from vinegar to sugar
midsentence. "Ted, dear, are you alright?"

Ted shuffled
up the corridor from behind the group. He bowed his head and mumbled to
himself. "I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time," he
babbled to the group.

"Dad, where
have you been?" asked Nickie. "The IRS auditor was here looking for
our bank records. Powers and Gloria were out so he left, but he said he wants
them first thing tomorrow, okay? Okay, Dad?"

"Nickie,
it happened again. This time I was almost run over by a train!" said Ted.

"A train,
Dad? First a piano, then a truck, now a train." She gave him a pitying
look.

"Oh,
Teddy, dear, here, let Gloria make you a nice cup of tea," Gloria took him
by the arm and led him along to her office.

"I
thought it was just stress, but this is serious. He's becoming paranoid,"
said Nickie as she followed after Ted.

Powers shook
his head sympathetically to Max and Bird. "Overwork," he said. "Too
much responsibility, too many tasks, too many people to see."

"Oh, that
reminds me, Mr. Presnell. Some friends dropped by to see you this afternoon.
Did they find you?" asked Bird.

"Friends?"

"Oh yes,
handsome fellows. Burly. One with a pleasantly deflated nose and the other with
just a smidgen of ear missing."

Powers
blanched. "Gotta go!" He step-limped hastily toward the door. "It's
Friday! Gotta get the payroll deposited!"

"Overwork,"
said Bird, shaking his head sympathetically.

Planetary Earth Date: 17.7.2015

Max hid behind
Alice in Wonderland's skirt and clutched his battered toilet paper roll. The
storybook sculpture served as a good hiding place while he mapped out his
strategy. Over the weekend, the game of Coup Sticks had quickly outgrown the motel
room and the city block it sat on. Central Park was the new playing field,
though only after dark.

Bird was a
better tracker but Max was the better hider. Bird was so big, that if he moved
within Max's line of sight, he could always be seen. But he's awfully quiet, thought
Max. When he creeps up from behind, I never know he's there.

Max glanced
over his shoulder. Nothing. Last night and the night before, Bird had openly
let Max trail him to a spot,
then
just disappeared. He
had then doubled back and couped Max from behind.
But not
tonight.
Max was wise to the strategy and was widely doubling back
himself, hoping for a glimpse of the big man's shadow from the streetlight.

He heard a
sound and froze. He swung silently onto Alice's arm and dropped quietly onto
the grass, moving toward the sound. It was just the faintest stirring on the other
side of the bush.
Easy now, Max.
Just peek through the
leaves…a head! Dive in, Max!

"Gottcha,
gottcha, gottcha!" he cried.

"HELP!"
yelled the couple that had been kissing on the park bench. They covered their
heads and ran from the boy.

"No, wait!
I'm sorry!" he called to them.

"AAAIIIIYEEEEE!"
Something from above knocked him to the ground.

"Gottcha,
gottcha, gottcha!" yelled Bird, whacking him with his toilet paper roll. "I've
been waiting in that tree for half an hour. What took you so long?"

"You set
me up!"

"Of
course! You thought I was going to double back again, didn't you, Max? Oh, I
love winning! What's the score now?"

Max got to his
feet and tried to fix his flattened toilet paper roll. "Seven to five.
Your favor.
But that's counting last night's coup where you
cheated with Bluebell."

"That
wasn't cheating. A brave uses everything in his power to win. She really sniffed
you out, didn't she?"

"Just
about scared the bile out of me, too!" laughed Max.

"Speaking
of which, you really pulled a Palin by scaring those people. We'd better get to
another part of the park."

The two walked
through the warm summer night, slowing their pace and their breath.

"You
know, that wasn't bad thinking, assuming I would double back," said Bird. "You
are learning to think like the enemy. You would be a credit to the Pigeon
Society."

"The
what?"

"Pigeon
Society. A boy joins the Pigeon Society then works his way up to the Bulls. In
our tribe, a boy has to earn the privileges of his age."

"So what
would I do in the Pigeon Society?"

"Well,
you might cut off a finger joint as a sacrifice to gain the favor of the
spirits."

Max winced. "I
don't think so."
           
"Or
you could pay the elders to teach you – to give you – their songs,
or rituals, things that are more valuable than property. We think a boy doesn't
become a man just by owning property or by doing a man's job." He tapped
Max playfully on the head with his coup stick. "And we don't expect a boy
to live up to his father's name without training or guidance, Deadrock."

"You know
about that name?"

"Word
gets around the squad room."

They came to
the deserted Conservatory Water and sat on the pond's edge. Max leaned forward
and dipped his hand into the cool water just as Bird's belt coop began to beep.

"I don't
think we should let her out tonight. It's too risky," said Max.

"Don't
worry, Max. If someone comes, I can turn her off in a jiffy. They won't even
know what they saw." Bird directed the beam of light into the pond where
Bluebell materialized.

"PPPPPbbbbbhhhh!"
Bluebell snorted. She splashed her hooves daintily in the water.

"Did you
bring the…?" asked Max.

"Oh yeah,
almost forgot," said Bird. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out
the toy. "That was nice of you to buy it, Max. She loves her rubber ducky."
He threw the duck to Bluebell, who nuzzled it with her nose.

"What
would a boy have to pay the elders – to teach him, I mean," said
Max.

"Well,
say, in a purely hypothetical case, a boy, someone like you perhaps, could
treat the wise and gracious elder, someone like me perhaps, to an ice cream cone.
And in return he might help the boy find his spirit guide."

"Who's
the spirit guide?"

"It's usually
a what, not a who.
Something that comes to the boy in a dream
or a vision.
An elk, a whirlwind, a buffalo."

With a snort,
Bluebell lowered herself into the water, and rolled vigorously from side to
side. Waves began to overlap the sides of the pond.

"The
spirit guide tells the boy what objects to put together to make a charm to
protect himself," said Bird.

"What
kinds of things?"

"Well, I
could go on, but I'm having the strangest craving for a Packin-Robbins double
fudge ice cream cone dipped in chocolate and topped with sprinkles. Too bad I
blew my last paycheck on wild women and fast horses."

"You
wish!"

"You're
right. I do wish I had someone to spend my money on. Like yoooou do."

"I don't
know what you're talking about."

"I saw
you, Max. I saw you go into the toy store and buy it. At first I thought you
were lonely and wanted a snuggly friend but then I figured you must have gotten
it for Preeettty Niiiiickie-"

"What are
you doing following me? I'm in charge here! I tell
you
what to do!"

"But Max,
I have to keep an eye on you, too. You might be breaking the Policy of
Non-Involvement. Getting too involved with someone, falling in looooove."

"Me? You're
the one at risk for breaking the Policy – you and your gambling!"
said Max.

"So when
are you going to give it to her? Tomorrow? Don't blush when you do it, though.
You're blushing now, in case you didn't know."

"Bird, I'm
warning you-"

"I should
tell you that it's tough for me to stop teasing once I get started. You may
have noticed already. I can be distracted, though, by the Packin-Robbins ice
cream cone. I may have mentioned it already…"

"Okay,
okay, I'll pay for the cone! But then you've got to tell me about the charm and
spirit guide stuff. And by the way, Bird, it's Baskin-Rollins."

"I bow to
your superior knowledge!" Bird rose and gave a deep, mocking bow. "Come
on, Bluebell," he called to the splashing, romping buffalo. "Oh, we're
going to have a terrible time getting her out, now," said Bird. "She's
playing Custer's Last Stand again."