The Kaleidoscope (32 page)

Porn? “What are they going to do with it?” He kept an eye on the remote. Morrie had almost dropped it twice.

“You’re an idiot, Harold. Don’t you know that pornography runs the world? It’s the very reason why we have the Internet!”

Harold searched his brain for arguments against that claim, but recalled a brief paragraph in a college intro class about how the web was intended for distribution of military information, but when the porn industry got involved, it really took off. Which explained at least part of Morrie’s fascination with it. “What does the porn industry want with it, to make robot girlfriends? Even you can do better than that, Morrie.”

“The porn industry economy will triple when we have the ability to make, not just preprogrammed robots, but thinking, sentient beings who will do our every wish, follow our every command.” Morrie’s quiet cackle churned Harold’s stomach. “It’s better than investing in the stock market, Harold.”

“And my dad’s the only one who can make all your sick dreams come true.”

“Eh. There’s others, but they’re behind layers of security. Ever since
the accident,
he’s been a lone ranger. Unprotected.”

Harold wondered something Morrie had never told him. “Did you really see something in the Kaleidoscope? Or was that an act as well?”

Morrie jerked his chin sideways, eyelids at half-mast. “It can’t know everything.”

“You saw this going down all wrong for you, didn’t you?” Everyone else had seen images that turned out as positive omens.

“None of your business what I saw.”

That confirmed Harold’s suspicions, but he needed to know more. “So your bosses had my mother killed, framed my father for the crash, and you’ve been following him, and me, ever since?” The truth of who he was up against, and what his dad’s life had been like, began a slow boil in Harold’s gut. Morrie paced, trying to find a spot where he could get service.

Harold formed an idea. Morrie wouldn’t be hard to take down; that nervous trigger finger would be the only concern. Who knew where the bomb was placed and how much of the building it would destroy when it exploded.

“You and I both know they’ve turned off cell phone service.” Harold pointed at the phone. “They can’t reach you. You’re an island now, Morrie, and I’m your only life raft.”

Morrie ran a thumb through his chops, and then perched on the edge of the sofa.

“What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” A pawn in a much bigger game, Morrie was probably dispensable. And when they realized they’d been given a decoy, someone could remotely detonate the bomb anyway.

“Are you wearing the bomb?”

Morrie patted his stomach. “No, it’s…nice try.”

“So what were you supposed to do if something went wrong?” Harold pulled out a chair from his kitchen table and sat down. “What if they didn’t get what they wanted?”

Morrie wagged a finger at him. “Don’t try to confuse me. I know you replaced the diamond and computer chip into the Kaleidoscope. I even heard you speaking—”

“You had my phone bugged? Did you also have my mail…” That explained the undelivered letter. “That’s why you needed Joseph working in the building. So he could intercept my mail? Did you infect Rhashan so he’d miss work?”

Morrie shrugged. “You tried to get him fired. We’re all just out for our own best interest, are we not?”

That struck too close to home. “And I played right into your scheme. Who else is on your payroll?” Then it dawned on him. “Gordon?”

Morrie’s smirk confirmed his suspicion.

“He’s got a lot of power inside that building.”

Harold considered the implications of Gordon’s involvement. Did he have no scruples?

“We knew your dad hid the chip in the Kaleidoscope.”

“And so that’s why you turned over my apartment. You knew I usually carried the ’scope with me, why didn’t you just take it from me before, why all this? Gordon was going to help you take the crime to the next level of embezzlement.”

“Like you, I only thought it was a toy until I realized who Walter was. The letter confirmed where he put the chip. I was instructed to relieve you of it.”

“While we were in Yosemite. You never had any cousin. You were just following me to see—”

“Careful, Harold. I have a lot of power now that I have delivered this very valuable software to—” He stopped himself. “Let’s just say, the coffee cart was a temporary diversion. If you would like to join me, my associates are always looking for people such as yourself who are good with computer technology. As you yourself know, Gordon’s skills are nowhere near as advanced as yours.”

“Nice try.”

Morrie wasn’t giving up. He swung his arm wide, gesturing with the remote around the room. “You could exchange this boring place for a better lifestyle, all the women you want, a private jet—”

“Stop right there, skippy.” Harold willed his heart to slow its rapid beats. “If you think all this flattery, all the money in the world—”

“You said yourself the job you’re in is going nowhere, that’s why your wife left you, and let’s face it, your dad knew where you were all these years and never revealed himself to you.” Morrie affected a grin that came off as more of a sneer. “I can promise you Georgia will beg you to take her back, you can drip her lovely neck with diamonds, and you will live in the finest penthouse.”

The money held no allure. Making Georgia eat her own words was tempting, but Morrie’s remark about his dad jolted him to the core. “Tell your cronies what they’re planning on doing—and I assume they will someday, with or without my dad’s technology—is disgusting.”

“Time’s up!” The bull-horned command interrupted Harold’s refusal to join the dark side. “Give yourself up now!”

“It’ll only take them a minute or two to find us in here. They’re probably sending in an EOD.” Harold was aware the robot seeking the bomb would consider him and Morrie collateral damage if too much time passed. “Come on, give me the remote and I’ll—”

“You’re the one who is just a pawn, Harold. You’ll never accomplish anything important in life. Just like your grandma predicted and your ex-wife found out for herself.” Morrie tried one last time to shame Harold into joining him.

But Harold was finished being a chump. “Would it change your mind if I showed you this?” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the real Kaleidoscope. “That’s right. The other one
was
a dummy, embedded with a GPS.” He got a lot of satisfaction watching Morrie’s expression change from bold to bewildered. “A GPS that has probably already led the police to your handlers.
Now
who’s the pawn?”

Morrie’s jaw opened and closed.

“And the chip is in safe hands.” Harold admired the beautiful piece of art his father had crafted. “I think this is still beautiful—”

“You forget I hold the key to your life or death!” Outraged he’d been fooled, Morrie jumped up, striking his shin against the coffee table.

Harold took his opportunity, and while Morrie clutched his leg, swearing in pain, he sprang. “Give me that!” He reached for the remote, but he’d momentarily forgotten about his own bruised ribs, and as Morrie’s free arm made contact, he screamed, clutching his side.

Dizzy, Harold fell onto Morrie. The table skittered away, they crashed against the sofa, Harold on top. Morrie fought back, but Harold’s adrenaline and anger at the guy he’d once thought was his friend, spilled out through his fists. He was pummeling his face when they heard a mechanical burring, and the door jammed back against the wall, rattling all the Ansel Adams photos, and a robot wheeled toward them.

A terse command issued through a speaker in the robot. “Freeze…or you will be overcome with tear gas!”

Harold rolled off Morrie and pulled himself up. Morrie, hand to muttonchop sideburn, scrambled up and clutched at his hawkbeak nose, blood dripping down his chin.

From down the hall they heard “Let’s go!” Boots trotted toward them, and the apartment filled with a SWAT team in thick black uniforms, guns drawn. One of them threw a bulletproof vest to Harold, and motioned to him to put it on. An officer took the remote device from him while he stuck his arms through the holes, and several others swarmed Morrie, unceremoniously escorting him from the building.

“Fasten it!” another man ordered Harold, pointing to the vest, and he wondered who they thought might shoot at him. Then he realized the bomb could still go off.

Pulling the Velcro closures tight across his chest, Harold allowed himself to be bustled along until they emerged onto the street. Pepper burst past the police line and into his arms when she saw him in the phalanx.

“Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh! I was sure you were dead, and he was going to blow up the building!”

They watched as Morrie was splayed out on the tarmac, surrounded by police, patted down, and cuffed. Stan was in the middle of the action, walkie-talkie to his ear.

“When can we go in? My dog…?” Pepper reached out to one of the officers who’d escorted Harold out.

“Not until the squad clears the building,” he held up a hand. “Could be hours.”

“Sorry I didn’t get her.” Harold searched her brimming eyes.

Pepper clutched him. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Around them, the police communicators, walkie-talkies and patrol unit radios, all went off at once, and the people standing around a bank of monitors gestured, pointing at something on the screens. The officer guarding them turned.

Pepper’s tear-stained face upturned to him, she clutched his vest to steady herself. Harold made a decision. Still pumped on adrenaline, he dashed toward the doors before the officers ordering him back could stop him.

In the instant he entered the lobby, an explosion rocked the ground, but Harold didn’t slow down. He sprinted faster than he’d ever moved. Arriving at Pepper’s door, he dug the key out and slid it in the lock. It was dark inside, and he whistled, but didn’t see the dog anywhere. Another explosion sounded, this one even closer. “Glenda, come!”

Remembering what Pepper had told him, he dashed to her bedroom closet, and dropped, crawling in on hands and knees. Groping in the dark past a pile of shoes, he breathed a sigh of relief when he touched fur. He scooped the dog to him, but in her fright, Glenda panicked, nipped at him, and shot past him.

“Glenda! Please, for both our sakes, girl, it’s me!” He found her cowering under the kitchen table, snarling at him. The smoke was thickening, his lungs fought to extract enough oxygen. He coughed, and for the second time that evening, began to lose his temper as she scooted out of his reach.

“Glenda! Sit!” He delivered the command with every ounce of whatever energy he had left. Then to his surprise, she licked her lips and sat, allowing him to grab her.

Alarms blaring again, cinder-laden air hugging the ceiling, Harold tucked the shivering dog into a football carry and ran headlong, hunched over, his side and back screaming in pain, dizzy from lack of oxygen. He burst outside and set Glenda down to run into Pepper’s widespread arms. Hands to knees, Harold gulped in swallows of clean, fresh air.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Harold woke up the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever had, and considering the past few weeks, that said a lot. The pipe bombs’ exploding had echoed down the halls and dulled his hearing, but he didn’t know by how much until he couldn’t hear the water running while he brushed his teeth. Forbidden to reenter the building until the engineers had a chance to inspect the infrastructure, he and Pepper had accepted Stan’s offer to stay with him. He fell back onto Keith’s twin bed, and rolled over to try and sleep again.

A long, wet tongue swept across his face. Without opening his eyes, Harold pushed away. “Pepper, stop!”

“Hey!” She stood in the doorway holding a cup of coffee. “Rise and shine, mister, the hearing is this afternoon, and it’s already almost noon.”

Glenda snuffled him again. Harold ran a hand out and scruffed the dog’s neck. “Sit!” She did, tail dragging back and forth across the rug.

Pepper raised the venetian blinds and sunrays pierced into his skull. “Need aspirin.” He pulled the sheets up. His recent head wound, the cracked ribs, and sliced thigh were encouraging him to stay in bed as long as possible.

“I’ll start the shower and ask Stan for lots of medication.”

He peeked out, watching her skirts swishing around her bare legs as she bent over him. The ties from her peasant blouse tickled his neck. “And thanks once again for saving Glenda. You’re my hero. My knight.” She pecked him on the lips, and any discomfort, from his ribs to his head, vanished, replaced by unfettered desire. He reached up for her and got a bed full of woman and dog for his trouble.

****

An impromptu celebratory meal after the hearing included Walter, Harold, Pepper, Stan, Keith, Frank, and Father Tucker in a Chinese restaurant near the courthouse. The district attorney, when presented with the evidence, had dropped the charges against Walter, and filed charges against Morris Moore, et al, giving Stan the credit for solving the oldest cold case in Los Angeles’ homicide history.

Stan told them that Morrie had already turned states’ evidence against the “associates” he’d been working with.

“Thanks to the GPS device placed in the dummy kaleidoscope, we have been able to arrest the principles responsible for your wife’s death, but this is far from being completely finished,” Stan cautioned Walter. “Don’t plan any trips out of town until we have everything we need. I’ll keep you apprised as we move forward.” Stan’s official tone evoked the days when he was an active detective on the force.

The food arrived, and Father Tucker offered the blessing over the Kung Pao and General Tso chicken, and then the celebrants dug in.

Pepper hoisted a spring roll. “Now that we have all you brilliant minds together…As much as you want to deny it, there is something magical going on in there.” She pointed at Harold.

The real Kaleidoscope peeked from his pocket, and Walter reached over, then lifted it high, the baby lion raised for the valley of onlookers to admire. “I tried dozens of variations.” Walter sighted down the shaft.

The waiter approached. “Two more for the party.”