Lady Justice and the Quirky Arlo Quimby Page 5

  As soon as we were in the car, I dialed Ox, my partner during my five years on the force.

  “Ox, Walt here. I need a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “I’d like you to run a name. Arthur Podolak. He lives in Independence.”

  “Hang on a minute. Here he is. A few dings on his record. Nothing serious. He lives on Cedar Street just north of Highway 24. I’ll text you the address. Another dude cheating on his wife?”

  “Not this time. Something pretty serious. Podolak may be involved in a plot to blow up the Lake City Ammunition Plant, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Jesus, Walt! How did you get mixed up in something like that?”

  “It’s a long story. Podolak’s brother lives at the Three Trails. My brother, Mark, is in town. Homeland Security is all over this thing. I’m not supposed to be involved, but ---.”

  “Say no more. I understand. Is Kevin knee-deep in this too?”

  “Of course. He couldn’t let me get in trouble all by myself.”

  “Well, watch your back and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “Thanks, partner. I will.”

  “Where to?” Kevin asked.

  “Cedar Street in Independence. Ox is texting me the address.”

  Thirty minutes later, we pulled up across the street from a modest bungalow a few houses north of 24 Highway.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think Podolak is a good bet. Undoubtedly, Mark and his men will be on top of all four names Vera gave him, but this one just smells right. I say we split up and keep an eye on the place 24/7. If Fletcher and the North Korean are in town, something’s bound to happen soon.”

  “Sounds good to me. You’re the night owl, so I’ll take the day shift. That way I won’t have so much to explain to your sister.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The next morning at seven o’clock, I found Kevin parked in a vacant lot on the highway with a good view of Podolak’s house.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Not much. Arthur got home about six last night. Never left the house. I’ll tell you one thing though. Mrs. Podolak is something else. A regular ball-breaker. She’s got arms on her like a pro wrestler. Last evening, the neighbor’s dog was barking up a storm. The Mrs. came out, picked up a rock, and clobbered the poor mutt. I can see old Arthur taking a bribe just so he can pocket the money and get as far away from the wife as possible. Well, have a good day. See you at seven.”

  I settled in with my thermos of coffee and trail mix, my standard accoutrements for a long stretch of surveillance. I had also packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Yummmm!

  At seven-thirty, Arthur left his house, lunch box in hand. I followed him east on Highway 24, then south on 7 Highway to Lake City. He turned into the main entrance and past the guard shack. I, of course, couldn’t follow any further, so I found an unobtrusive spot along the highway where I could wait until his shift ended.

  Knowing this would be a long, boring day, I brought the iPad, tablet thingy Maggie had given me for my last birthday. About the only thing I do with it is play games when I’m bored. I particularly like one game, Gems Journey. I can kill an hour or two with that one.

  Today, I brought it because Arlo had given me some YouTube videos to watch.

  The first one was called, Gall-Peters Projection. It was an outtake from the TV series, The West Wing. It featured Allison Janney and Bradley Whitford, advisors to the president, being schooled on the differences between the Mercator Map and the Peters Projection Map. The scene from the show depicted exactly what Earl Simpson had told me about the maps. Of course, there was no mention of a flat earth.

  Then I watched two other videos, Flat Earth – The Biggest Lie of all, Parts 1 & 2. It took over two hours to watch all three. Much like my experience in the Elvis café, by the time I finished, I was almost ready to believe that the earth is really flat.

  On YouTube, as you watch one video, other related videos show up in the margin. I noticed several of them were videos debunking the flat earth theory. After watching a couple of hours of those, I was back to believing the whole flat earth thing was poppycock.

  More than anything else, my head was swimming with contradictory information. Which was fact and which was fancy?

  Finally, I reached the point where I just couldn’t watch anymore, so I booted up Gems Journey and spent the last few hours blasting jewels to smithereens.

  At four-thirty, I saw cars begin to exit the arsenal, which was a good thing because my thermos was empty, as was my trail mix and sandwich bag. Conversely, my pee jar was full.

  I spotted Arthur’s car, but instead of turning north which would take him home, he turned south on Highway 7 toward Blue Springs.

  I pulled onto the highway a few cars behind him, and dialed Kevin’s cell phone.

  “Kevin, Podolak’s on the move and he isn’t heading home. He’s heading to Blue Springs.”

  “I’ll stay on the line until you see where he’s going.”

  Just north of Blue Springs, Podolak turned west on Hunter Street and pulled into the parking lot of the Mid-Continent Public Library.

  I hadn’t pegged Arthur as the studious type and I was right. He wasn’t there to check out a book. He was there to meet his co-conspirators. I watched him pull up beside a black Cadillac. Two men got out to meet him. I recognized them from Arlo’s photos.

  “Kevin, he’s meeting Martin Fletcher and Yong-Sun Kim. Fletcher just took a suitcase from the trunk of his car and handed it to Podolak.”

  “It’s probably the C-4,” Kevin said.

  “They’re getting back in their cars. I can’t follow them both.”

  “Follow Podolak,” Kevin said. “If that’s really the explosive, we have to keep an eye on it.”

  Regrettably, I watched Fletcher and Kim turn south and head to the freeway, but Kevin was right. I couldn’t let Podolak get away with the C-4.

  “He’s turning north,” I said. “Probably heading home.”

  “Stay with him,” Kevin said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  As soon as I hung up from Kevin, I called Mark.

  “Mark, Walt here. I hope you’ve been working on that list of names Vera gave you.”

  “We have. My team has been running background on all of them. We’re going to put surveillance teams on all of them starting tomorrow.”

  As usual, Homeland Security was a day late and a dollar short.

  “Forget about the other three. Podolak is your man.”

  I could hear the irritation in his voice. “How did you get that list and how do you know Podolak’s our guy?”

  “How I got it is not important. Kevin and I have been following him since yesterday. I just saw him with Fletcher and Kim. They gave him a suitcase. I think it’s the C-4.”

  “Jesus! Where are you now?”

  “I’m following Podolak. I’m pretty sure he’s heading home. His address is ---.”

  “I know his address. What do you think we’ve been doing these past two days?”

  I had a witty comeback, but I suppressed it.

  “Listen closely. Follow him, but do not --- I repeat --- do not engage him. We’ll meet you at his house.”

  “Got it.”

  I looked at my watch. We were about ten minutes from Podolak’s house. I knew that coming from Kansas City during rush hour traffic, Kevin and Mark were at least thirty minutes away.

  I watched Podolak pull into his driveway, get the suitcase from his trunk, and head inside. I pulled to the curb, and like a good little boy, waited for Mark and his men to show up.

  About five minutes later, I heard a tap on my window.

  I turned, and found myself staring into the business end of a .38. Holding it was my tenant, Albert.

  I rolled down my window.

  “Well, well,” Albert said. “What a coincidence, finding my landlord parked across the street from my brother’s house.”


  He waved the gun in my face. “Out of the car and hands on the roof.”

  He frisked me and finding nothing, shoved me across the street. “Into the house. Let’s go.”

  Albert banged on the door. Arthur was shocked seeing his brother holding a stranger at gunpoint.

  “Albert! What the hell?”

  “Arthur, I know this guy. He’s my landlord and a private investigator. I found him sitting in his car across the street. I think he’s been following you. I think maybe he knows.”

  Arthur stepped aside and Albert shoved me through the door.

  “What should we do with him?” Albert asked.

  “Tie him up for starters,” Arthur replied. “I need time to think.”

  At that moment, Arthur’s wife entered the room, wiping her hands on her apron. She spotted Albert’s gun.

  “Who’s this old fart, and what’s with the gun?” she bellowed.

  She turned to her husband. “What dumb-ass thing have you and your half-wit brother gotten into now?”

  “This is none of your concern, Bertha. Go back in the kitchen.”

  Bertha the Ballbreaker was having none of it.

  “None of my business, my ass! You bring some stranger and a gun into my house! You better believe it’s my business. Now what gives?”

  It was obvious that Bertha knew nothing about her husband’s plan, confirming my suspicion that old Arthur was planning to grab the cash and head to greener pastures.

  Arthur grimaced, and covered his face with his hands. “Shut up! I need to think.”

  I saw a big vein pop out on Bertha’s neck. “You don’t tell me to shut up!”

  Arthur lashed out and slapped her across the face. “I do now,” he hissed. “Now get in the kitchen, both of you.”

  Albert waved his gun and we moved into the kitchen.

  Arthur pulled out two chairs. “Sit!” he ordered.

  Albert covered us with his gun while Arthur bound our hands and feet with plastic ties.

  “What now?” Albert asked.

  “I have to figure out a way to warn Fletcher and let him know someone’s on to us.”

  I looked at the clock on the wall. It had been twenty minutes since I had spoken with Mark. I had to stall him for at least ten minutes. If he made that call, Fletcher and Kim would probably take off for parts unknown.

  Arthur got in my face. “Who are you working with, old man?”

  I had to think fast. “Uhhh, my name is Walt. You’re Arthur, right?”

  “I don’t give a damn what your name is. What were you doing outside my house?”

  “Okay, you got me. Albert is late with his rent again. Someone told me you slip him some cash when he’s late. I figured I’d find him here.”

  Arthur looked at his brother. “You’re late again?”

  Albert nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  Evidently Bertha didn’t know her husband had been bankrolling his lazy brother.

  “Arthur! Please don’t tell me you’ve been giving our hard-earned money to this worthless piece of crap!”

  “Woman! I told you to shut up!”

  I thought he was going to smack her again, but just as he raised his hand, there was a ‘CRASH’ as the front door splintered open.

  In minutes, Mark and his men had the doofus brothers in cuffs.

  “How come you get to have all the fun?” Kevin asked, cutting the plastic ties.

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Mark gave me a disgusted look. “I thought I told you not to engage.”

  “I assure you it wasn’t my idea,” I replied, rubbing my wrists. “I was waiting patiently outside when Albert found me. He lives at the Three Trails, by the way.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “I’m not a bit surprised.”

  “Also, I want you to know that Mrs. Podolak knows nothing about her husband’s scheme.”

  Mark turned to Bertha. “I’m sorry, but it looks like your husband won’t be coming home for a very long time.”

  “I’m not a bit sorry,” she replied, rubbing the welt on her cheek. “Good riddance!”

  At that moment, one of Mark’s men came into the kitchen carrying the suitcase.

  “It’s all here,” he said. “Three bricks and three timers.”

  Mark turned to Arthur. “What was the plan? So far, no one’s been hurt. Play ball with us and I’ll see if I can get you a break. It’s Fletcher and Kim we want.”

  Arthur hung his head. “I was supposed to smuggle one bomb a day into the arsenal for three days. Then, on the third day, blow the place straight to hell.”

  “Where are Fletcher and Kim? How do you get in touch with them?”

  “I have no idea where they are. They always contact me with a burner phone. I don’t even know their number. They were going to contact me on the third day to make sure everything was a go.”

  Mark grimaced. “That gives us three days to find those two and hopefully prevent the other four arsenals from being bombed.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Martin Fletcher and Yong-Sun Kim were having a drink in the Main Street Grill at the Plaza Marriott Hotel.

  “Do you think Podolak will have any trouble getting the material inside the arsenal?” Kim asked.

  “He shouldn’t,” Fletcher replied. “One brick each day in his lunch box. Then boom!”

  “It will be a glorious day,” Kim said, smiling. “Five arsenals with over half of America’s munitions up in smoke.”

  “It will be indeed,” Fletcher replied, “and a very lucrative day for us.” Then he frowned. “Kim, that man seated at the table by the door. We’ve seen him before.”

  Kim looked where Fletcher had indicated. “Yes, he looks familiar, and he seems to watching us.”

  Fletcher snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. He waited on us several times at the President Hotel downtown.”

  “That’s it!” Kim replied. “Could it be a coincidence that he’s here?”

  “Not likely. He must have overheard bits of our conversation. We have to see what he knows. We’re so close. We can’t let anything get in our way.”

  “Look! He’s talking to someone on the phone!”

  Fletcher tossed a twenty on the table. “Let’s get him!”

  I had just finished paying some bills when the phone rang. It was Arlo.

  “Walt! I found them!”

  “Found who?”

  “Fletcher and Kim. They’re at the Plaza Marriott having a drink right now.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “I have friends at several of the other hotels. We hang out together sometimes and commiserate about the creeps we have to serve. I sent photos of the two guys and asked my friends to keep an eye out. I received a call this morning. They’re here.”

  “Okay, I’ll give Mark a call. Just keep your eye on them and let me know if they leave.”

  “Oh my God! They’re looking right at me! I think they’ve figured out who I am! Walt! They’re coming my way. Walt! Help!”

  “Arlo! Arlo!”

  No answer. The last thing I heard was his cry for help.

  I dialed Mark immediately.

  “Mark, Walt here. I just heard from Arlo. He found Fletcher and Kim at the Plaza Marriott Hotel.”

  “How ---?”

  “It doesn’t matter how. They made him and I’m pretty sure they’ve taken him hostage.”

  “Damn! Now they’ll know we’re on to them. If they get away, we’ll never find out who’s taking down the other four munitions plants. I’ll get my team together and head to the hotel. Let me know if you hear from Arlo again.”

  “Will do.”

  I grabbed my gun and headed out the door.

  It was just a ten-minute drive from my building to the Plaza Marriott at 4445 Main. I had just turned onto Main when I saw a car pull out of the parking garage. It was the same car I had seen in the Mid-Continent Library parking lot meeting with Arthur Podolak.

  I could make out three figure
s in the car. That was good news. It meant that Arlo was still alive. I gave Mark a call.

  “Mark, they just left the hotel and they’re heading north on Main.”

  “Stay with them and let me know where they’re headed. Maybe we can cut them off.”

  I followed the car through downtown Kansas City. They got onto I-29 heading north. Once they passed the I-35 exit, I knew where they were going --- the airport.

  “Mark, they’re heading to the airport.”

  “Good work! They can’t be going on a commercial flight. They must have a private plane waiting. I’ll call ahead and get road blocks set up.”

  I followed them into the maze of streets surrounding the Kansas City International Airport. At the intersection where they should have turned to go to where the private aircraft were hangered, I could see flashing lights.

  They made an abrupt u-turn and sped past me heading to the three main terminals. The first, Terminal C, had been shut down for several years. They sped past it and turned into Terminal B. Dozens of cars were loading and unloading passengers.

  They found an open spot, pulled to the curb, and ran for the crowded concourse. I figured they were going to try to blend into the crowd and stay hidden until they saw a chance to escape.

  I parked behind them. As I ran to the concourse door, I noticed that they had left Arlo in the car. At least he was safe.

  I ran into the concourse and looked both ways. Hundreds of people were either checking baggage or hurrying to their gates.

  Then I spotted them, pushing through the crowd in the direction of the Delta gates. I passed by one of those stores where they sell magazines, candy bars, and souvenirs of Kansas City.

  At the next souvenir store, I was surprised to see author Robert Thornhill standing behind a table full of his books.

  I met Thornhill several years ago at the Raspberry Meadows Craft Festival. It was a venue at the John Knox Pavilion which drew hundreds of shoppers. A terrorist group had planted explosives in three of the crafter’s displays. Bomb-sniffing dogs located the explosives and all the terrorists were caught but one who was fleeing to a back entrance.