Blame Charlie ©
by K Pelle
Chapter 2
I just stared at that attaché case for a few minutes, then decided the guy probably wasn't coming back that day, which meant I had to move it. There was even an extremely slim chance that someone might drop by and it wouldn't be polite to have that sort of temptation staring any visitors in the face. There was no way I was going to pick that case up though, not with my bad back I wasn't, especially since it had to weigh close to two-hundred pounds. Instead I headed for the basement to find a moving dolly. First though, I carefully closed the lid of the case – no sense in leaving that sort of temptation open to the local ravens or jays who collect any sort of bright object.
After I'd come back with a moving dolly I heaved and grunted until I'd managed to tip the case up on its narrow side. Next I skidded first one end, then the other onto the little plate at the bottom of the dolly. Finally I tipped the dolly back wheeled it inside the house and straight into my office, where I could keep that case under lock and key. Even then I wasn't happy about having that much gold in the house, but not in my safe. Only I knew the case was too big to fit in my little safe and I wasn't about to move the individual coins out of that case. At least not until I had made up my mind about the deal, which was definitely going to take some thought. In fact, I decided that I needed some advice from some professionals.
First I called my banker and lawyer cousins and asked them to drop out to see me that evening. Since they were involved in the ranch as minority owners – they held the final 33% of the title for the ranch between them – I felt they needed to have some input concerning the decision of what to do. Besides, Fred, my banker cousin could check over those Krugerrands and tell me if they were real, or counterfeit copies. At the same time, Bert, the lawyer cousin could write up a rental contract for the weirdo to sign which would limit his actions and cover our butts for any legal comeback he might have. I thought that between them they could make sure I wasn't stepping into a minefield if I did rent any property to the kook.
Next I called down to the ranch house and talked to José Cabrera, my ranch foreman. I asked him if he, his wife, Maria, and my range boss, Diego Diaz, could come up to my house for a short business meeting at the same time as my cousins would be there that evening. I felt that the ranch was their home too and I didn't want them to be taken by surprise if that oddball suddenly showed up and started to do something weird. Joe agreed at once, but he suggested that he and Maria should come early and bring up the fixings for a barbeque, suggesting that we could make an evening of it. When I mentioned why I was having the meeting and that my two cousins were coming out later, he suggested that we included them, so I called Fred again and extended the invitation to come out earlier. He called back shortly and agreed that he and Bert would come out right after work, so they'd be there by about six in the evening.
I didn't go far from the house for the rest of the day, since I just didn't want that dang attaché case left unattended for long. In fact I even laid the dang thing down flat, opened it up and made a more accurate count of how many Krugerrands were there and my earlier estimate had been wrong. First off the coins were stacked in an offset pattern on a diagonal – one row against the edge of the case and the second row stacked so the curve of that stack fit into the space left by the curves of the first set. That meant there were 9 rows of stacked coins, not 8, but each row was still 13 stacks long, which meant that instead of 104 stacks of coins, there were 117. I wasn't about to try lifting a stack to count them, but I did take a ruler and measured the height of each stack and I had been almost exactly right with that estimate. The ruler measured the inside height at just over 3 inches, so allowing some space for the little lid which flipped down to cover the coins, the depth of the space was 3 inches - right on the money. If I was right in my estimation that there were 25 coins in each stack, then that little case held more than my original estimation though. Actually when I grabbed a calculator and worked it out, I came up with a figure of $4,387,500.00. No damn wonder it was heavy.
It was about then that I realized that the case had probably been purposely made to hold those coins because the stacks resting against each other prevented the coins from shifting around. I looked over that case closely and saw it was welded up out of quarter inch aluminum sheet, so it was certainly strong enough to carry the weight of the gold. Only there was one small mystery left that I didn't understand, the upper part of the lid seemed to be about an inch thick and looked like a solid piece. That didn't make much sense until I thought about it a bit and considered how the attaché case I owned was laid out. Mine had a little pocket in the lid which I used for loose papers, pens, pencils and things of that sort, but that space on the oddball's attaché case seemed to be tightly enclosed and I couldn't open it, at least not easily.
The idea that there might be papers in there stirred my curiosity though and the guy had just walked away and left the case standing wide open, as if it wasn't important that he'd left it behind. So I looked that lid over closely and I noticed that there were two slightly polished spots in the inside upper corners of the lid and a couple of slightly polished spots opposite those on the outside of the lid. I'd seen kitchen cabinet locks that worked by pressing inward, then releasing the pressure and I wondered if the case lid might be similar. Just in case it was I didn't want to leave any marks or fingerprints behind, so I went to the kitchen and got the rubber gloves I used for washing the dishes.
Yeah, you could probably say I was 'cheating' – so what? I was dealing with an associate of Charlie Mullins – one of the biggest cheaters in all of North America. I could explain away my fingerprints on the outside of that case and even on the top few Krugerrands, but I didn't want to leave fingerprints on anything that had been 'hidden' from a casual observer. You could call me overly cautious, or perhaps even slightly paranoid, if you want to, but I prefer to think that I'm 'once bit – twice shy.' I simply insist on being extremely cautious of anyone who associates with Charlie or any of the Mullins clan. Right then I intended to take advantage of any slight edge that might put me in the driver's seat concerning that clan of reprobates.
My suspicions were correct and by squeezing those two spots, then instantly releasing them, the cover of the upper lid area popped open and I could see that there were some papers inside. Still wearing my rubber gloves I carefully pulled those papers out and glanced through them, then as I read the fine print on the bottom of those contracts I began to grow angry. Although I was soon seething with rage, I carefully held my temper under control and dialled my cousin Bert, the lawyer.
"Bert, you know the big hill we call 'The Dome?'" I growled.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"The guy had a contract in a hidden compartment of this attaché case that looks like a simple rental agreement – until you read the fine print. From what I can understand by reading that part it seems to imply that if he stays there for thirty days, he can virtually stay as long as he wants and do whatever he wants while he's here. Now there is no way I'm going along with that, but what pisses me off is that there are two versions of the contract, one with that fine print on it and one without and two copies of each version. Only the two copies that have the fine print included have already been signed by both parties, so someone has already forged my name, almost perfectly too. I suspect Helen was involved."
"Well, the first thing I have to assume then is that the money is fake as well, but Fred can check that in a hurry. If the money is fake, I can have a couple of RCMP officers there when the guy comes back and they can arrest him for forgery, attempted robbery and so on.
"However after some thought, I have an idea that the money must be real, since the guy has to live there for thirty days. In that case you have two choices to make and the choices aren't that hard to explain either. You have the choice of turning him down and chasing him off in front of witnesses, or you have the second choice of accepting the money and allowing me to help you turn the tables on him. You see with a xerox machine and a computer I can duplicate that second contract, but change the fine print to make him 'personna non gratta' if he remains on the property after thirty days. Done correctly, the computer can fake his signature so well that no one would ever suspect it was forged while yours could be your actual signature. Come to think of it though, it would be better to forge both signatures."
"Umm, I don't have a xerox machine." I snorted. "Can you buy one on the way out here and I'll pay you for it when you get here?"
"Well, have you got a full page scanner and a decent printer for your computer?"
"You know darn well I do. You bought them for me when Fred gave me the new computer with all the fancy accounting software already installed in it for Christmas."
"Then we're in business," he snorted out a laugh. "Now one last thing, have you got a couple of decent beds in that old house so a couple of your cousins can spend the night?"
"Yeah, you know how big this house is and I'm sure you know I don't have any crappy beds in the whole place, why?"
"Because both Fred and I are going to be working late and we're going to want to be there in the morning so we can be witnesses to whatever happens."
"Why will you two be working late?"
"Because Fred is going to want to test each and every one of those coins, Dave, and don't be surprised if you're working at our side, after all, that gold is your money, not ours. Besides, it's going to take a while for me to rework that contract so it still closely resembles the fake, but has the exact opposite meaning."
"Okay, I'll make up a couple of beds. Do you have a preference of rooms?"
"Yeah, a room with a view," he laughed, then hung up the phone.
"Asshole!" I growled to the dead phone, but only because when Grandad built the house he decided to build it on a knoll, so there wasn't a room in the place that doesn't have a decent view.
Before I'd even hung up the phone, I had a sudden thought and dialled Bert again.
"Yes, Dave."
"Do me a favour and pick up a dozen pairs of surgical gloves on your way out here, would you? I'm tired of using my dish washing gloves to handle these papers."
"Oh, good thought, Davey me lad! Fingerprints!" he chuckled. "Dammit, with a little training I could turn you into a decent crook."
"Hah, I had six months of involuntary training at being a crook from Helen, and she was a professional, not some middle-aged lawyer wannabe!" I snapped, then I hung up on him for a change.
I wasn't really annoyed with Bert, or not much, but there are times I wished that he'd forget that he's five years older than I am. In all honesty if he hadn't owned almost 17 % of the shares in the ranch, I would probably have been using a different lawyer, but he did and I owed him at least that much deference. Besides, blood is thicker than water even if a relative can get under your skin faster than anyone else, simply because he knows all of your tender spots.
So I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, then slipped those annoying contracts back into the hidey-hole in the attaché case and closed the upper lid again. Then I closed the main lid to hide the gold and I even draped an old horse blanket and a winter coat over the case, letting them fall as if they were simply abandoned there. There wasn't much chance that anyone would walk into my office, but if they did that aluminum case was out of sight now, if not out of mind.
I didn't want to leave the house to go do any work around my personal mini-ranch because of that damn gold, but I didn't really have anything to do around the house either. My cleaning lady had just been there a couple of days before so the house was still spotless. All I had to do was make up a couple of beds, which took about twenty minutes. After that I perked myself some coffee and sat on the front porch, contemplating what I'd really like to do to Charlie and Helen Mullins.
I know that wasn't really constructive, but it gave me something else to think about other than that weird bovine looking character that they'd sicced on me. He looked just plain creepy and made my skin crawl. The more I thought about him, the stranger he seemed to be and I realized that instead of keeping my mind off of him, my thoughts of the Mullins clan were now tied to him as well.
Okay, just what did I know about that shmuck? He looked strange, he acted strange and come to think of it my dog didn't like him. Hmm, I wasn't a science fiction fan, but dammit, the guy was a prime fit for an alien or a spaceman if I'd even seen one, but come on, did I really want to start believing in little green men? Just the thought of that made me laugh, but although I tried to put it out of my mind, it kept creeping back again and again. I finally decided that tomorrow morning I was going to get an answer, one way or the other. I was going to have Fred and Bert there as well and I'd ask the weirdo just where he was from. Then I was going to ask him for proof that he was on Canadian soil legally. If I was going to be renting some land to the man, I definitely had the right to know that much about him and while I was at it, I wanted to know something about his background.
I was trying to think of a series of questions and realized it might be an idea if I made some notes so I wouldn't forget and stood to go get a notepad, then I paused. I heard the sound of rapid hoof beats from a racing horse approaching from the direction of the main ranch. I moved to the edge of the porch nearest the sound and saw young Joe Cabrera, José and Maria's oldest son, racing toward me. I stepped down off the porch and grabbed the reins of his horse as he dove out of the saddle.
"Patrón, my papa he says we have el ladrón, I mean the bad men come to the ranch. He saw them drive to the big hill, the dome you call it. They 'ave cut off el lock to el gate de la camino . . . the trail and went in with their funny car and un remolque de aspecto extraño . . . uh, uh . . . un estranges looking trailer. Mi Madre she call the policemen and they will come, but your teléfono does not work no more."
"These crooks, what did they look like?"
"Uno es . . . uh, uh – tall, dark eskin, with big ears an' fonny face. Other is bad man you chase off el rancho las week. Maybe there is a woman too."
"Alright, Joe, now I'd like you to calm down, because if you are calm I know you speak much better English, don't you? I know who we're dealing with and if your mom has already called the police we've got things half way under control. Okay?"
"Si jefe. I mean yes, Boss."
"That's the way, take a little time to think and things will be fine. Now, since the phone doesn't work, I'll try the CB and see if I can talk to your mom and dad.
"Mi Madre, she say you probably got the CB turn off again."
"Maria is right, but I'll turn it on now and I'll talk to her, then I have to go out, but I'd like you to stay here with the dog. You know how to sic her on strangers, don't you?"
"Umm hmm." Joe nodded.
"The police might come here first, if they do send them to your mom, cause I'll make sure she knows what's going on. If my cousins, Bert and Fred show up, do the same thing, okay?" I waited for his nod, then carried on, "If it's anyone else, send them down to the lake, but if they don't want to leave, there's a little shotgun by the door. That shotgun is loaded with salt, not bullets, but anyone coming to the door won't know that. If they try to come in the house, then sic the dog on them. As a last resort, if the dog can't drive them off, fire the shotgun over their heads, then lock the door and run. Or, if you think they're really dangerous, like if they have a gun or a weapon, don't use the shotgun. Just lock the front door, then run through the house and out the back door, get on your horse and ride away. Okay? Can you remember all that?"
"Si Patrón."
"Okay, now we'll see if your mom is listening to the CB."
I picked up the mic. and said five words, "Dome home, circus and heaven," then I changed channels
I'd given a pre-arranged signal to change the channels – the code was simple – circus referred to a three ring circus and heaven was for seventh heaven and adding the two totalled ten. We'd used the system before to chase down kids who seemed to think they could come on the ranch and raise hell by chasing the animals or by being vandals. The kids often carried portable CB walkie-talkies, but we still managed to catch most of them before they'd done much damage since we had used a code and spoke Spanish. This time I thought the situation was more serious, but our code might still be useful because I didn't think Charlie spoke Spanish and I doubted if his wierd buddy did.
"Yo."
"Mi casa," (Maria spoke first from the ranch house.)
"Capataz, Jengibre," (José chimed in, riding on Ginger.)
"Rango de jefe, Cohete," (Diego came on next, riding on Rocket.)
"Enroute?"
"Si, el sur." (José indicated he was heading for the dome from the south.)
"Yo también, el norte." (Diego was heading for the north face.)
"Me, el este, and pelusa de la puerta." (I'd take the east and let the fuzz take the gate.)
"Buena suerte. Pelusa tal vez treinta." (Maria wished us good luck and said the cops would be about thirty minutes.)
"Bueno. Colarse y mirar, añadir triente más para el viaje. Pásalo pelusa." (Sneak and peek, add thirty for travel. Pass it on to the fuzz.)
"Si, Patrón" Maria acknowledged.
I glanced over at young Joe and winked at him, then lifted the mic. "Little boy blue y el lobo están vigilando el castillo." (Little boy blue and the wolf are guarding the castle.)
"Ah, bueno."
I could hear the smile in Maria's voice as she answered, since she was reassured that her son was safe. I knew that she'd remember the colour of Joe's shirt and a few extra words in plain English at this point wouldn't mean much to anyone who did happen to listen in, in fact it might confuse them. I left the CB turned on, but put the mic. down, then picked up one of the portables to take with me.
Finally I turned back to young Joe. "Look. I don't want you to get hurt. If you can, I'd like you to stay here and send any help down to your mom, but that's only the police, or Bert and Fred. You're more important to me than anything in this house, so if you think you're in danger, just get on your horse and ride for home, okay?"
"Si jefe. I understan.'"
I just nodded and as I hurried out the door I paused to grab my saddle gun, then ran to the barn and saddled my fastest horse, a Thoroughbred/Arabian cross. Actually he was the very best of my breeding stallions, but he was also my favourite horse for riding when I wanted to get somewhere in a hurry. His gait was smooth, steady and very fast, almost like riding a boat in light waves. In fact one time I'd referred to his as 'my captain of the range' and from then on his name became 'El Capitán' to my whole crew. I'm not sure if he caught my mood or was just in a mood to run, but instead of his normal bit of crow hopping when I first mounted his saddle, he just opened out and ran.
He'd pretty well run off his first burst of energy by the time we were approaching the foot of the dome though and I was able to dismount and tie him off to a handy aspen. Then I grabbed my rifle and went forward on foot.
I suppose I should describe the dome, so you can understand where I was and what was happening. It's really just a hill, but a rather strange looking hill. Imagine the top third of a huge ball, then drop that dome shape in the center of a small grassy plain, that pretty well describes the dome. Since it must be close to a mile across and about a quarter mile high, it would be a dang big ball though. While I call it the dome, others have described it as an oversized monk's tonsure, with trees and bushes around the lower levels in place of hair, and an upper area which is almost bald, only covered by thin grass. The grade of the hill is steepest near the bottom, then gradually lessens as you climb upward, but in the very center of the top of the dome there is a small dip which drops perhaps ten or fifteen feet below the surrounding grade.
The dome isn't a small hill and besides that the whole lower section is covered with poplar and aspen trees, as well as masses of snowberry and other small scrubby bushes. Since that portion is quite steep, it isn't the easiest climb and that is made even tougher by that bloody scrub brush. You're constantly working your way around stunted trees or scrambling through intertwined bushes. We've cleared one road to the top, more of a rough trail really, and it winds its way up the hill on the west side, but I was coming in from the east and having difficulty with the climb. By the time I got close to the top I was almost winded, so just short of the grassy part of the dome, I paused to take a short break.
A glance at my watch relieved my worries though. I had a few minutes to catch my breath before the ball got rolling, but I didn't know what we were going to do. I crept forward through the thinner, lower brush near the edge of the clearing until I was virtually on the edge of the grass, but I couldn't see hide nor hair of anyone, neither the crooks, nor my two men. Well, if they were down low enough, those crooks could be down in that dip in the center of the grassy section. Then against the dusty grey-green bushes to the north I saw a black hat for a second and heard José's voice on my little CB as he barked the word 'sombrero.' Instantly, the black hat disappeared and I knew both of my guys were there, but they didn't know I was, so I lifted the little CB transceiver to my mouth and whispered "Jefe aqui." (The boss is here.)
"Bueno, Pelusa que viene" (good, the fuzz are close.) José whispered.
"Pelusa íntamo." a woman's voice snapped shortly.
I couldn't help grinning at the tone of her voice, guessing that she didn't like being called fuzz. Only I didn't want them to drive up with the car, instead I wanted them to block the trail with their car.
"Venido a pie, por favor." I whispered, asking the cops to please, come on foot.
"Si, colarse y mirar," she snapped reminding me that Maria would have warned her to 'sneak and peek.'
A moment later I saw her and she wasn't sneaking, she was striding into the clearing as if she owned the place and she was alone.
"Is this some sort of joke? Where the hell is everyone?" she said loudly, then dove for the ground as a shot came from somewhere in the dip in the middle of the open area.
"That's why I wanted you to sneak up." I snapped over the CB. "José, see if the cop is okay and cover her. I'm heading over near Diego, then we won't be shooting toward each other."
"Right boss." Jose snapped.
"I'm not injured, just feeling estúpido." the cop snapped out loud then.
"Forget it." Diego answered. "You got any cover?"
"Big rock. You?" the cop responded.
I didn't hear Diego answer and I didn't say anything either, I was running and damn if I didn't hear another shot, then there was a strange whirring sound just as I dove behind a rock. I scrambled around to get a look toward the dip and saw a weird looking pole rising upward – weird because the pole was very thin, but there was a roughly spherical apparatus of some sort on the top. That part looked like a ball of extra heavy grade barbed wire perched on top of a fishing rod or something just as thin.
I should have been looking near ground level instead of staring at the ball though, because suddenly there was another shot and a bullet ricocheting off the rock I was trying to hide behind. I was ducking as I heard a third shot, then a yelp that sounded like it came from a woman.
"I winged one, a blonde and it was a woman, I think," the cop said quietly. "She was shooting another direction though, so was anyone hurt?"
"Nope, I think that was my ex-wife and she never could shoot straight." I called out loudly.
I had managed to keep the quaver out of my voice, although that shot had been close, but in case Helen was listening I wanted to piss her off. When she was mad she couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, even if she used a shotgun. I succeeded, there were suddenly three quick pistol shots and ricochets off the rock I was hiding behind, then I heard the sound of a rifle.
"You okay, Patrón?" José called out loudly.
"Yeah, I'm fine, but watch out for her little pipsqueak brother. He's a sneaky little prick." I called back.
"Okay boss, but they've got one less gun now. I hit her pistolla and it won't shoot no more, 'cause it is now in pieces. Her hand too, maybe."
Just then there was a screeching scream of sound and that damn ball of barbed wire lit up like a thousand watt light bulb. I closed my eyes against the glare, but when I looked again I saw something that looked like a cloud or a ring of smoke form around the ball as it dimmed so the brightness faded away. Only that cloud began to expand outward and all I could do was watch as it expanded. It grew outward, as well as up and down, expanding enough to touch the grass just outside the edge of the dip where those crooked bastards were hiding. Strangely, although it didn't look solid wherever it touched it seemed to flatten the grass.
I couldn't do anything except watch as it roll toward me, then when it passed over my body I could feel it, a weird sort of pressure that seemed to sap my energy. Suddenly I felt tired, worn out and ready to fall asleep, then the pressure eased slightly and I was able to move slowly. Although I didn't turn to look I thought the cloud must have rolled past me, but at the same time I saw that the sphere was glowing again, gradually becoming brighter once more.
I fought off the weakness and had a struggle, but I manage to haul my rifle around and shift my body until I could almost aim toward the dip, but I didn't make it in time. That ball lit up again and another cloud formed, then rolled toward me before I could get the rifle pointed anywhere near a target. Only I really didn't know what I could use for a target, even if I did manage to aim the rifle. Then I was being robbed of energy by that damn cloud again and there was nothing I could seem to do to fight off the feeling of utter lethargy as it hit and sucked energy from my whole body.
When that cloud did roll past I could scarcely move, but I had to do something. I just couldn't let that bastard Charlie and his bitch sister win. I refused to let those two kill me and take what was mine, no matter if they had brought in a fucking alien to help them.
Somewhere deep inside me anger grew and I managed to move again. I was able to lift the rifle and just as that ball of barbed wire began to glow, I put a 30-30 slug into the damn thing.
I remember a bright flare, a flash of heat, a loud noise and then nothing. I was sure I was still alive, but I couldn't seem to use any of my five senses. I felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing, saw nothing and heard nothing, but somehow I remained certain that I was alive, just in some unknown and unknowable limbo.
It was a strange sensation, very, very strange, but at the same time very restful. So, since I couldn't think of any way to change the situation, I relaxed and went with the flow. What else could I do?