The Lovely Chocolate Mob (33 page)

It got quiet. I needed to tell the truth in a convincing manner here; these people would be able to tell if I was lying or not. “The truth is, gentlemen… many years ago I was in love with Dr. Burke’s wife, before they married. When I heard that she was in trouble, I set about to help. I did what I could and failed with most of it, but I’ve learned that I cared about the plight of their children and … since then, I’ve become friends with Dr. Franklin Burke as well. I came here because he is my friend.”

It remained quiet. I could hear the deep-voiced woman sob. Heinrich finally spoke. “Very admirable, Herr Owen. I’m not sure many of us would have done the same.”

“We’re here to make good,” I said. “To make peace. To try to set straight all we’ve done. To ask for mercy.”

I heard the computer beep again, and ‘Agent Belken’ said, “All funds have been restored to the Susan Lovely account.”

I heard the sighs of relief. I sighed as well. I think some of the voices had seen things my way.

“Step outside of the stall, Herr Owen,” said the east German.

“Yes. I will. It’s a little dark; give me a moment.”

Someone turned the lights on. I came out of the stall, with my eyes shut and face toward the floor. I didn’t want to see any faces in case my eyes opened.

“Come mitt us, Herr Owen.”

I felt myself being led out of the men’s restroom. I supposed that they were going to turn me over to the police, since now I was a liability to them and the Lovely Chocolate Company. At least I hoped that’s what they’d do!

We all filed out of the men’s room and back onto the workroom floor, where the sounds of rushing feet were heard. “You can look up, Mr. Owen,” said ‘Agent Huebner.’ “You need to see where you’re going.” I looked up to see the workers all exiting towards the front of the building, creating a running sea of people pouring out the doors. They were carrying equipment, like hammers, tools, buckets, anything that would take up room and space and cause noise and confusion. Then someone pulled an alarm, and the confusion only got louder, and more workers poured toward the exit and to the hallway and reception room area, which was packed with people pushing and yelling at each other.

There I was, surrounded by men whom I didn’t know, and they were taking me in that same general direction, out of the workroom and into the hallway which connected to the reception room. The men weren’t allowing me to walk freely by myself; I was hemmed in on all sides by them. “Keep your head down, Mr. Owen,” said ‘Agent Huebner.’ “You might be seen by the police, and we wouldn’t want that.” I ducked low so as to not be seen by the blue sea of policemen who had poured into the reception area. I heard voices yelling at each other, and one was a voice I recognized, chairman of the board Hal Ostrander, who was saying, “I don’t care if you were sent here by the mayor. This is private property, and unless you can produce a search warrant, you have no right to be here. Look at what this is going to cost us!” I guessed he was referring to the workers leaving their posts. I heard the voice of Lieutenant Bond saying something about finding the murderer of Cornelius Lovely, but by that time I was in the stairwell being hustled up the stairs, probably heading to the executive offices. Since I wasn’t being turned over to the police, I began to wonder what exactly was going to be done with me. Maybe I’d be murdered and shipped out as little pieces in boxes of chocolate. Oh well, it had been a good life, and I had resigned myself to my punishment. Everybody dies, and I began to hope for a quick and painless death.

We kept going up the stairs, and by the time we got to the fifth floor, I thought, “This is it!” All I could hear was my own breathing and felt my heartbeat pounding, and I looked hard into my own life. Maybe they’ll kill me and stick my body in a janitor’s closet with a mop over my head until the cops left; even so, Lord Jesus, here I come! Then I saw that we had bypassed the fifth floor, and were headed up to the ceiling, where I’d be thrown to my death. On the other hand, five floors wasn’t really that high; if I landed in a tree or a bush, maybe I’d survive. Hopefully they wouldn’t shoot me on my way down.

We reached the top of the building, and all of us poured out onto the ceiling top, all the feet who were in the men’s room meeting, including the purple lady from the board of directors. Someone had evidently called a fire alarm in the building, or called in a bomb scare, which was all I could figure at the moment since there were all kinds of emergency vehicles down in the parking lot. Maybe I would be blown up or set on fire and be given an ambulance ride with a police escort to the morgue. But there were too many suits standing around me for a bomb, and so far no one had come forth to do me in.

I finally spoke up, “Is this where it happens? Is this where I get it?”

The lady from the board of directors looked at me, now speaking in her normal voice and saying, “Nothing is happening, Mr. Owen. You’re not going to get it. We’re trying to get you out of here. We don’t want you caught by the authorities.”

I was puzzled at this and said “Why? Don’t you want to punish me for all I’ve done, for what I’ve cost you and the company?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Owen,” she said. “You’ve done nothing to hurt us. You’ve only helped us.”

I stopped looking around and said, “How so?”

“You see,” she started, “After our first meeting with you, we took a vote and decided that killing wasn’t the way to solve business practices anymore.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Nein, Herr Owen,” said Heinrich. That’s against our by-laws now. We’re a reformed cartel and haff turned over the new leaf, thanks to you!”

“What did I do?”

“It was your belief in God, His rules, His laws, and you said to ‘Get creative!’ is how you put it,” said the Russian ‘Agent Carter.’ “Saying that forced us to face ourselves, and we did not like what we saw! Nyet!”

“Obviously our ways were the old ways; we no longer murder, or kill, as a means to solve problems. Enough of us decided that there had to be a better way,” said the British voice, a dapper-looking man with a trim haircut, pencil mustache and pin-striped suit.

“Good thing our organization, it is the Democratic model. We took the vote!” said the Spanish voice, a man in workpants and white shirt and tie, complete with hardhat. He looked like a floor room supervisor.

I couldn’t take it all in; it was happening too fast. “I’m not going to die? I’m going to live?”

“Yes!” “Si!” “Jah!” “Da!” came all at once. “Keeling you would be like keeling Cornelius Lovely, our founder! We owe you; you’ve reformed our organization!”

“Then what are we doing up here, if you’re not going to throw me off the building?” Everyone laughed at this, then turned at the sound of a helicopter approaching, bringing with it lots of noise, dust, and wind. We backed up to give it room to land, and I thought it was all over for me again.

“Thanks for the effort, fellows, but it looks like the FBI has me after all.”

“That’s not the bureau, Senior Owen; that’s
our
helicopter!” said the Spanish member.

“Lovely Chocolate has a helicopter?” I asked.

“Let’s just say… an unnamed Lovely Chocolate subsidiary has a helicopter,” said the Brit, with a grin. “When we have to make ‘special deliveries… sometimes it’s best to bypass the railroads and highways, and border checks. It’s more efficient, old boy.”

“You’re still into smuggling?” I said. “But what about the reform movement?”

“One vice at a time, good man. These things take time.”

“Then what are you delivering today?”

“We are delivering you, Mr. Owen, delivering you to freedom, and back to a normal life, we hope.”

Things were still moving too fast, but not too fast for me to say, “Thanks!”

“You are welcome, Senior Owen,” said the Italian member. “But don’t get the idea we’re doing this out of pure motives. We still have need of you.”

“You have need of me? Still? How?” I didn’t get it, and wanted answers before I disappeared.

The Caribbean member stepped forward, saying, “Your drains, Mr. Owen. How do you think we move our special products in and out of the Lovely Factory? When we start modernizing the plant next year, we’ll have even more need for a good drainage system, in and out of our factories. You design the best drains in the east Texas area. Thanks, Mon.” And with that, the Caribbean gave a knowing grin.

I was being led and guided towards and into the helicopter, with the realization that I’d already been an unknowing accessory to a multinational smuggling operation. Along with me came ”Agent Huebner,” “Agent Belken,” “Agent Carter,” Heinrich, and the purple lady, which made seven of us, including the pilot. We piled in, buckled-up and lifted off; as we went up, I could see perhaps over a hundred workers, businessmen, and executives waving at us from the top of the building, or were they waving goodbye to me?

We flew over the parking lot and away from the two dozen police cars below and three firetrucks and two ambulances and the one S.W.A.T. van, leaving behind some frustrated snipers, probably. I also thought I spotted the KDBC news van down below, but couldn’t be absolutely sure.

“That’s a lot of police hardware,” I said, pointing to the squad cars below. “What if they decide to open fire on us?”

“Let’s hope for our sake they don’t,” said “Agent Belken,” “It’s a long way down.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

The Russian answered, “We are headed to your friend, Walter Dale. We have business with him.”

“You’re not mad at him, are you?”

“Da, we are mad at him, but do not worry. Remember, we no kill no more.” He turned to me, smiling, “Mebbe we just bust him up.” I think he was joking.

“How do you know where he is?” I asked.

“We planted bugging device on him, in jail. Then we tip off police, let them find to bring you in.”

“Who tipped me off?”

“We no tip you off. You have friend at station?” said the Russian, giving me a curious look.

I remained quiet, hoping I hadn’t compromised anyone.

“I guess Walter will be surprised by us,” I said.

The pilot took a circuitous route, in case we were being observed from the ground. We went north from the Lovely Chocolate Factory and were soon over the country until we lost sight of the tallest buildings in Lovely. Then we turned west and, after a few minutes, turned south, circling the east side of Lovely, without being seen by anyone in the city. Then the helicopter veered east and into territory I was vaguely familiar with but hadn’t seen very much in the daytime.

Down below was Estella’s bar and grill, along with many motorcycles parked outside, with a few cars, and one brightly colored convertible… or was that a convertible? We got closer and passed over the building and could see that the convertible looked two-dimensional, as though it were flat.

“That’s our target,” said Heinrich, looking at instruments and pointing below.

“The convertible?” I asked.

“No, look again,” said Heinrich. “If it were night, we might be fooled, but in daylight we can see better.” I took another look, and as we neared the bright red convertible, I could see it really was a picture, pasted or taped on top of a larger, flat-topped vehicle, an RV.

“We need for you to call your friend so he doesn’t shoot us out of the sky again,” said “Agent Belken.”

Things were coming into focus, but I was still a bit confused when I asked, “That was you?”

“Agent Belken” grinned and said, “The FBI aren’t the only ones with air power. I thought I recognized you from some place.”

Taking my cell phone from my belt, I called Walter’s number, but it was too late. We saw the bright red convertible with the RV base take off from the parking area and onto the road, throwing dust up behind it, with the helicopter giving chase. The RV picked up speed going through the country and headed north towards the city where Walter might have better luck losing us. Little squares of the red convertible were flying off the top of the RV, pieces about the size of 8” by 11”; now I knew why Walter needed my printer.

“We’ve got to stop him before he does something desperate," said “Agent Huebner.” “We’ll use the megaphone; can you reason with him?”

He handed me a megaphone, and the pilot opened the door next to him. I leaned out the door as far as I could, held the megaphone to my mouth, and said, “Walter! Walter! Stop! This is Randall, Randall Owen, your friend! It’s all over! Stop so we can talk!”

The RV came to a screeching halt. We watched it for a moment, and I tried calling Walter again on the cell phone. This time he picked up.

“Fancy way to make an entrance!” said Walter. “What’s going on? Why are you with the feds?”

“No,” I said, “It’s just me and the chocolate employees. They’re not dangerous; we’ve become allies. They just want information.”

We landed the helicopter in a field near the RV, which had moved over to the side of the road. Walter got out and walked towards the helicopter. All of us, except the pilot, left the helicopter to walk towards Walter.

“Agent Huebner” asked, “Where’s Dr. Burke?”

Walter said, “I don’t know. He left in Kim’s van in the other direction after I took off in the RV. We thought you bureaucrats were going to shoot first and ask questions later, so I was the decoy.”

“Agent Belken” looked back in the direction of the bar and grill, then smiled. “Pretty slick, Mr. Dale.”

“What did you need him for, anyway?” asked Walter.

“We really don’t need him at all anymore,” said “Agent Huebner.” “We just wanted to get Mr. Owen here out of a jam and deliver him back to you. Also, we’d like to talk to you about how you managed to tap into Susan Lovely’s account. We may be able to use a man like you…. in chocolate.”

Walter’s eyes lit up. “You mean a
job?
Employment? A nine to five?” He looked at me. “Randall! Now I can be like everybody else, a working stiff, a normal person, a man with a mission, a chocolateer!”

”Agents Carter and Belken” laughed between themselves, but not in a derisive way.

“Agent Huebner” said, “We have need of men with technical skills, as well as special skills, making sure we get our products to well-paying clients on time. Think you’d be interested?”