Ghost of a Chance

Time to take another gamble.

Alex picked up his phone and gave the operator Barton’s number.

“Yes,” Gary Bickman’s voice answered.

“This is Alex Lockerby. I need to talk to your boss.”

“One moment.”

If Bickman was glad to hear Alex’s voice, he hid it well. Of course he was a professional valet, dispassion was probably in the job description.

“Lockerby!” Barton’s voice rolled down the line like thunder. “I was beginning to lose faith in you. What’s the good word?”

“I found your truck,” he said. “It was part of a group of vehicles that have been stolen in recent weeks.”

“Is the motor intact?” Barton’s voice was eager, almost desperate. Alex guessed that the new one wasn’t coming along as quickly as Barton had hoped.

“The motor was missing,” Alex said.

“I’m not paying you to find trucks, Lockerby,” he growled. “I need that motor.”

“Take it easy,” Alex said. “I know why the thieves took your motor.”

“I don’t care why they took it, I just need it back.”

Barton’s voice was angry now. Absently, Alex wondered if the Lightning Lord could electrocute him through the telephone line.

“And the police are looking for it right now,” Alex said in as soothing a voice as he dared. “The people who took it want to use it to help them rob a bank.”

There was a long pause.

“How would my motor help anyone rob a bank?” he asked, his voice now intrigued.

Alex told him about the thefts and the kidnapping of Leroy Cunningham, and how that added up to a robbery.

“I never thought about using my motor in mines,” Barton said. “That might be a whole new industry. You say the cops are searching for these kidnappers right now?”

“There are a lot of buildings they’ll have to search, but they’ll find your motor sooner or later.”

“I appreciate the update, Lockerby, well done.”

“I was hoping I could get some consideration for that well done work,” Alex said, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

“Like what?”

“One more day on our bet,” he said. “The cops will find your motor by then and it’s a cinch the thieves didn’t take it apart, so it’ll be ready to show off to the railroad. Based on what we thought at the start, it’s the best possible outcome.”

“You’ve got brass,” Barton said, amusement in his voice. “All right, one more day, double or nothing. But only because I like you.”

With that, Barton hung up.

Alex slumped back in his chair, letting out an explosive breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Now all he needed was for the cops to find the bank robbers. They wouldn’t want to release the motor, since it was evidence, but Alex had no doubt that once Andrew Barton got involved, that wouldn’t be a problem.

He opened the desk drawer where he kept his liquor bottle and found it empty. He’d forgotten that he’d emptied it when Hannah Cunningham had come to see him. That seemed so long ago.

Tossing the empty bourbon bottle into his waste basket, Alex got up and moved to the wall where his vault door had been painted in neat lines on the otherwise blank sheet rock. Taking a vault rune from his book, he activated it to reveal the heavy door, then opened it with the ornate skeleton key on his key ring.

Inside, he had another bottle of bourbon on the file cabinet next to his writing table. This one was almost empty too.

He poured himself a shot and downed it.

Looking at his angled writing table, Alex decided that he might as well start writing the runes he needed. He’d done all he could for Leroy and Barton, and it was up to the cops to catch the ghost.

He set the bottle aside and turned to make his way back to his office where the list of runes awaited him, but paused as a thought struck him. He walked to the secretary cabinet where he kept his important papers and a duplicate investigation kit. Opening the writing table, he rummaged through the drawers until he found an ornate paper card with a red border and gold Chinese dragons in the corners. The name, Lucky Dragon, had been printed in the same gold lettering across the top over a single line of handwritten text.

Mister Lockerby and party are my guests.

It was signed, Chow Duk Sum, though Alex knew there was no such person. The name was an alias for Shiro Takahashi, Danny Pak’s father — leader of the Japanese Mafia in New York.

Alex had gotten Danny in some trouble about a year back and had to appeal to Shiro for help getting Danny out of it. Apparently Alex’s work met with the man’s approval, because that card arrived in the mail a week or so after the fact. It was inside a folded sheet of paper with a single word written on it.

Impressive.

Alex had worried that the obvious invitation was some kind of set up, but in the year that passed, no further communication had been received. It was probably safe. Besides, the Lucky Dragon was swanky, located in the inner-ring. Jessica should be suitably impressed.