"The Golden Calf Obligation" - Chapter 16

[seymoure]

Looming Showdowns (Always Get Me Down)

 

“The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.”

                                   -Albert Camus

 

We were both up and ready at an ungodly early hour. Though we had few concrete plans, we were ready to make them and put them into action as soon as breakfast was out of the way.

Both of us mentioned that we had to do something to track down Terry Mahoney. Chester also said that we ought to track down “RV” W. Simonson, to which I added that I wanted to do some background on Simon Churchill and find out what the NTSB had to say about him.

We went to our new favorite diner and ordered the kind of meal you get when you almost died the day before.

Pancakes, hash browns, sausage links and ham, eggs and juice (he had orange and I had pineapple.) Plus lots of toast and jam.

We discussed as we shoveled food as if it were our last meal. We had very little idea just how close to true that was.

When there is any kind of threat, the first thing you should know is to vary your schedule. Don’t eat at the same places; in fact change the way you get around. You must make it harder to find you.

I used my cell to try and call Ahmed. I knew we were going to need to travel a lot today, and I wanted someone at the wheel that I trusted. Unfortunately the man who answered his business number said that Ahmed had not come in to work today. We spoke a moment longer and I found that our friend had not missed a day of work in the last three years, from the time he had fled Iran and come to America. I gave them my number and said that they should have him call me the second he got there. They agreed that he would and that was the end of the conversation.

I called the hotel to see if he might have come there, in a way of taking the day off and being available for us should we need him.

The answer I got was startling. They didn’t know anything about a cab driver, but they wanted to know if we had been carrying any explosives among our things, and if we were we were in violation of the strict anti-dangerous items policy. I told them that I had carried two guns and ammunition, but the firearms were with me and what the hell was the problem?

It seems that at 8 am there were large explosions in each of our rooms that nearly wiped out the floor. No one else was hurt, but we were to return immediately and talk to the police.

I said we would be right there.

Chester was finishing up his food when I returned and filled him in on the news. His face mirrored a child staring into an aquarium in wonder. He didn’t even blink. The threat loomed up in front of his face big and dark.

“We’ve got to go and meet with the local cops,” I told him, and he agreed. He begged a moment to hit the head, while I walked to the counter to pay our bill.

It had been a minute since we stopped talking that it happened.

A 1980’s Cadillac (one of those tanks) came crashing through the picture windows at the front of the diner and smashed everything in its path. I was knocked to the floor and the atmosphere of the restaurant was filled with dust and screams.

There were more than a dozen people broken and bleeding on the floor. Screaming and moaning mixed with the sound of metal and wood and glass falling to the ground.

My injuries amounted to nothing more than a few scrapes.

The first thing I could make out was the carcass of the car pushed through the door of the men’s restroom.

The restroom that Chester had just entered.

 

 

© C. Wayne Owens

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