Back to School by Brenda Bailey
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Act II
Jim and Blair arrived at the academy in separate vehicles. The less that Dallas saw them together, the better.
Blair checked his pager to make sure it was still secured by the ring attached to his belt loop as he headed into his classroom. At least he could be entertained while they plowed through the rest of the penal code.
Jim went down another hall to the in-service classrooms. At the doorway stood Sergeant Hoffman, checking off the attendees. "Ellison. It's about time you showed up."
Jim knew he wasn't late for the class, which meant that Hoffman must have been keeping track of the pursuit he had been in. The day had now officially started to go downhill. "Sergeant. Nice to see you again." He entered the classroom and took a seat near the back of the room where he could watch the other members of the class.
It only took a few more minutes for the rest of the class to arrive and get seated. Raymond Dallas came in a few minutes after Jim and took a seat in the middle of the classroom. As the class settled down, Sergeant Hoffman stood at the lectern and made his opening remarks. "This is High Speed Pursuit Driving for any of you who are lost. The purpose of the class is to acquaint you with some techniques for handling vehicles during high speeds and dangerous conditions. Some of you are driving patrol cars, cars that are regularly abused by their drivers. Some of you are driving your own personal vehicles while on duty, expecting them to perform like armored personnel carriers." Here he shot a look at Jim.
Wait a minute, he can't know about that one. We didn't even put all that happened in the report when those guys were shooting at us. Besides, the truck started up before we could be pushed over the cliff by the 18-wheeler. Or maybe he's thinking of when Quinn's gang shot up the Expedition. Jim gave up trying to speculate on Hoffman's knowledge of his vehicular mishaps. He was here to watch a possible suspect and that was what he was going to concentrate on.
Hoffman hadn't lost a beat, explaining how the course was set up, what they would do each day, and what he expected from them. As the sergeant set up the VCR for the first demonstration they would watch, Jim heard the test tone of the pager followed by Blair sub-vocalizing from his classroom.
"I checked the outline for the class you're in Jim. The first thing they go over is knowing when to yield right-of-way. You know, like for trains, 18-wheelers, things that are bigger than you are. Be sure to note what happens when impact occurs with things like that. Hope you're enjoying your class, we're going over secret VIN numbers and the number of stolen cars in Cascade last year."
Jim smiled at the update. He remembered just how dull some of the classes at the academy could be. To someone as highly educated and intelligent as Blair, it must have seemed like slow torture. He was sticking with it though, no matter what.
At the first break, Dallas went out to the front steps of the building to make a cell call. Jim monitored the conversation from inside, while keeping an eye on him. The conversation didn't make much sense.
| Voice: | Hello. |
| Dallas: | Report. |
| Voice: | Four. |
| Dallas: | Go ahead. |
| Voice: | Robert, John G., William C., and Elizabeth. |
| Dallas: | Yes. |
| Voice: | 203, 110, 411, 130. |
| Dallas: | Clear. TBA. Options? |
| Voice: | LSVFHFS or QBDLBSE. |
| Dallas: | Second. |
| Voice: | Anything else? |
| Dallas: | Not now. Check 1400. |
He looked again at what he had written in his notepad. Dallas certainly didn't want anybody knowing his business. Jim may not have thought much of the case before, but the coded message convinced him. Nothing to do now but wait for the next break and see if anything else came to light.
After a presentation on braking and handling techniques, Dallas took advantage of the break to go outside again. Hoping that this time the conversation would make more sense, Jim watched and listened as Dallas prepared to make another call.
As the phone on the other end was ringing, Jim was jolted from his concentration as Sergeant Hoffman came up behind him and bellowed his name.
"Ellison! You are taking notes aren't you? I wouldn't want you to have to repeat the class because you weren't paying attention. Pursuit driving doesn't seem to be a skill you've achieved any success at."
Damn. Whatever had been said was lost now, and Jim's head throbbed from Hoffman's assault on his hearing. Dallas put his phone back in his pocket and headed back into the building. Jim turned to give the sergeant his full attention.
"Yes, I have. I've gone from crashing my vehicle to getting the suspects to crash theirs. Excuse me."
Ignoring the confused look on Hoffman's face, Jim turned and walked away. Deciding to give his partner a shot at deciphering Dallas' message, he phoned in an update to Blair's pager.
Blair jumped when the pager began vibrating at his waist. Clicking the receive button quickly, he read the message that Jim had sent.
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D. GOT CODED MESSAGE ON CELL
Coded messages? Why the cloak and dagger routine? Why couldn't the person calling just leave an ordinary message that would only mean something to Dallas?
Blair timed his soft vocalization to coincide with the speaker's closing remarks. "What kind of code, Jim?"
The reply came quickly over the pager.
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NAMES NUMBERS LETTERS
"This is cool. Can you send it?"
Blair looked at the pager screen as the series of numbers, numbers and letters displayed.
"Got it." But now that I have it, what do I do with it?
He belatedly realized the speaker was finished and that the class had been given a ten-minute break. Choosing to remain in his seat and study the information on the pager screen, he mentally reviewed what he knew about codes. This one had to be simple by its very nature. There were substitution codes, one letter substituted for another, but they were hard to do in your head. Besides, the names were given out clearly. Then there were reference codes, referring you to a specific word on a specific page in a book, but those always had two numbers. All he had was a single list of numbers. Could the numbers be times something was supposed to happen? No, that didn't make sense either.
Okay, what was left? Nonsense letters. Even if it was a substitution code, there wasn't enough of it to decipher. What else was simple and easy to use? Blair had a sudden flash of memory, the code Napoleon had used to send messages. Nah. It couldn't be that simple? Could it? He hastily applied his theory to the letters, skipping to the next letter in the alphabet for each letter. That didn't work. Or did it? Altering his theory to fit his new idea, he skipped backward a letter. The first group of letters suddenly became a name, Krueger. The second group revealed another name, Packard. Within minutes Blair had successfully deciphered the scrambled letters. Grinning to himself and wishing he could see Jim's face, he pushed the test signal, then spoke softly.
"The letters were actually two names, Krueger and Packard. I'm still working on the other. Anything else I can do for you?" He couldn't resist adding that last in a helpful whisper. Holding the pager, he watched the answer scroll across the small screen.
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NOT BAD SHERLOCK
Blair turned half his attention to learning all about traffic stops as he continued to study the enigmatic names and numbers.
Jim smiled to himself as he sat through another safety film. Not bad, indeed. True, it wasn't much to go on, but it was more than they'd had ten minutes ago. If only Hoffman hadn't come by just as Dallas was making his second call. Whatever the message was, it had been short. Dallas couldn't have been on the line more than a few seconds. Maybe Blair could help him recall whatever it was that Dallas had said in those few seconds. Maybe they could even get lucky and figure out what was going on before he had to spend another day in this infernal class. Why couldn't Dallas have signed up for Crime Scene Investigation or even Unarmed Defensive Tactics? Anything but Pursuit Driving with Sergeant H. Hoffman.
Jim had been ordered several years ago by Simon to take the course. A high speed car chase, though the middle of downtown, at the height of rush hour, causing three traffic accidents and totaling four cars -- including the suspect's car -- had convinced the new captain of Major Crimes that his detective needed remedial driving training. Unfortunately Sergeant H. Hoffman taught the training then just as now.
Sergeant Hoffman hadn't improved over the first time Jim had met him. He seemed to be more concerned with not damaging the vehicle than catching a suspect. Jim's approach of just doing whatever was necessary to make the collar grated on the sergeant's sensibilities. Hoffman had made Jim run through the course time after time after time. If he went over the sergeant's speed restrictions of 45 M.P.H. the run was disqualified. If he went too slow, he didn't finish on time. It had taken nine and a half-hours before Hoffman had been satisfied. Hoffman hadn't liked his attitude in class any better. Jim had barely managed to pass the class, and had avoided any contact with Hoffman since. He only hoped Dallas did something -- hell, did anything -- which could justify him getting out of this class.
After calling Simon to pass on the two names Blair had deciphered, time moved very slowly. Dallas made a few more innocuous calls -- to his mechanic, a credit card company, and a restaurant to make a dinner reservation.
Blair followed the Walden detective to lunch at a nearby cafÈ. Eating his sandwich out in the Volvo, Blair went over the files of the Walden burglaries Jim had left for him before returning to class.
Four hours later, it seemed the Fates had decided to give him a break. Dallas finally made a call that could be the break they needed. He made an appointment to meet someone at the Galleria mall at 7 p.m. that evening. As Jim contemplated an early end to his sentence with Hoffman, his hearing picked up the high pitched test tone and the unmistakable sound of Blair humming Black Magic Woman under his breath.
"Do I have your attention yet?" Jim could almost see the smile that had to be decorating Blair's face.
"I really hope I do, because I have just cracked your little puzzle for you. Not that it was all that hard mind you. More like it just required a certain touch. You might even say it required a literary touch. Oh, don't worry about me sitting in class talking to myself. We're fixing to do self-defense and everyone is getting changed. Let's see, if I remember the schedule for your class, you should be on the new innovations in police pursuit vehicles. Hey, we had that lecture last week. I never really thought of the Chevrolet Tahoe as a pursuit vehicle, but who knows? I like the Jeep Cherokee the department has now, but it can't match the Tahoe in acceleration."
Jim's jaw twitched. He knew Sandburg was doing this on purpose, knowing he couldn't interrupt because using the voice recognition software required slow, clear enunciation. It wasn't conducive to impatient epithets.
"Jim, quit grinding your teeth man. It's not good for you. I guess you're not too interested in this line of thought just now, are you? Okay, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Besides, I have to go join the class. Remember I wanted to look at those reports of the burglaries? I noticed the street names were literary figures. One of the burglaries occurred on Longfellow, another on Thoreau, and another one on Holmes. Well the names are the first names of poets. Robert is Robert Burns. John G. is John Greenleaf Whittier. William C. is William Cullen Bryant. Elizabeth is Elizabeth Barrett Browning. All the numbers for the addresses are low numbers, apparently they don't have long streets there. If you check I'll bet you find that those are addresses for possible burglaries. Gotta go, man. Time to get physical."
Blair had done it. He had to be right. Yes! If tonight revealed the fence Dallas was using, Jim would be out of the class by tomorrow. Cheered by this possibility of an early reprieve, he actually paid attention to the last lecture of the day.
Joining forces after class, Jim and Blair now followed Dallas as he headed toward the mall. Simon had checked with Chief Walker, who had verified that the street names and house numbers had checked out as legitimate residences. They still needed more to tie Dallas in with the actual burglaries. If they were lucky, the meeting tonight would do that for them.
Jim looked over at his twitching partner. "You ready for this?"
"Yeah. I mean how hard can it be? Just follow him and see where he goes and who he meets. I'll do the Tonto - goes - to - town -- and - gets -- the -- information routine. You're the one who will scare him off if he sees you. You stay out of sight and in the truck, and I do the following. Simple, right? Besides, you'll have your ears on."
"On you, maybe. There's no way I'll be able to listen for Dallas with the lousy acoustics and background noise around here. Just don't get carried away, Tonto. Don't blow your cover. This guy is a cop, and he's going to be real suspicious if something looks funny to him."
"Are you saying I look funny?"
Jim reviewed Blair's attire for the surveillance. He had donned a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt with the name of some band Jim had never heard of, and an Army surplus jacket at least a size too large. His hair, out of the tight braid he wore it in for class, was even curlier than normal. He had even managed to snag Jim's Jags cap to top off his ensemble.
"I'm not quite sure what you look like, but it isn't a cop, and that's what we want. Heads up, we're here."
Dallas looked for a parking spot close in, while Jim headed toward the back of the lot. The variety of items available in the small, eclectic mall was amazing. A custom tobacconist rubbed doorways with an art gallery. A couturier was next to a handmade quilt shop.
"Remember to keep me informed on where..." Jim would have continued with his sentence, but he had lost his audience. He waited as his partner dug through his backpack.
Blair finally emerged triumphant with his sought after prize, his CD player and headphones. "Got it."
"Sandburg, I don't think you're going to have time to get bored in there."
Blair gave Jim his 'Man, you're just not getting it' look. "I need to stay in contact with you right? To do that, I have to talk to you. Now what are people going to think if they see me talking to myself while walking through the mall?"
Jim finally saw where this was going. "They'd think you need professional help." At Blair's glare, he continued. "Okay, okay, it makes sense. If you've got the headphones on, anyone who sees you will think you're singing along with the music."
Blair put the headphones on and tucked the connection into his backpack. Dallas had found a slot near the main entrance while Jim parked the truck beside a conveniently placed van, out of sight.
"Be careful."
"Yes, Kimo Sabe." Blair gave Jim a quick smile, jumped out of the truck, and followed Dallas into the mall.
As Jim watched Blair vanish from sight, he thought about all those times he had told Blair to wait in the truck while he went off alone, never thinking about how it felt to be the one left behind. One of Sandburg's vindictive gods was probably chuckling about turning the tables on him now. As Sandburg would say, it really sucked not being in on the action.
Jim groused as he tuned his hearing into his Guide's heartbeat, a sound so familiar to him, he could pick it out of the crowd and reverberating noise inside the mall. "I really hate waiting in the truck."
Blair maintained a respectful distance behind Dallas as he followed his quarry. Knowing Jim was probably ticked at being left out of the action, he began a monologue.
"Dallas must know where he's going to meet this guy. He's not wasting any time looking around."
Thinking that the bar and restaurant were two good possibilities for a meeting, he angled over to that side. Dallas walked right by without even a pause.
"Scratch the bar and restaurant for locations. He's headed toward the east end." Suddenly unsure of which way was east, he corrected himself. "I mean the end of the mall towards Heritage Street." There he couldn't get that wrong. "And don't smile man. I can hear you smiling."
Looking at the shops that were clustered at that end of the mall, he suddenly realized where Dallas had to be heading. "You're not going to believe this, Jim. He's headed right for Arthur Fitzroy, Estate Jeweler."
Blair watched as Dallas went past the security guard at the door to the young woman behind the counter. Dallas waited impatiently until she left the elderly ladies she was helping and approached him. He spoke with her for a moment before she disappeared around the corner into a private room. A few minutes later, he was greeted by a distinguished looking older man and escorted back to the private room. The young lady returned to the counter.
"He's inside. I'm going in to see if I can pick up anything." Knowing the response this was sure to get out of Jim, Blair checked the pager he was still wearing to make sure it was still in silent mode. Then he opened the door to the shop and went inside.
He gave the young saleswoman a smile as he entered and went to the first display case. She returned the smile, but the security guard surreptitiously edged closer. He felt the pager begin vibrating. Trying to appear nonchalant about it, he glanced down at the pager's screen.
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REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO TONTO WHEN HE GOT CAUGHT
Blair was a little surprised it wasn't a flat prohibition from Jim, so he softly hummed a few bars of the William Tell overture as he edged toward the private room. He could just make out the voices.
"Some of these are very nice. Would you like me to give you individual prices or a price for the lot?" The man that Blair had taken for Fitzroy was saying.
"Both ways. I like to keep my options open. You understand."
"Of course, of course. Well, let's see what you have here."
So intent on eavesdropping he was startled by a presence directly in front of him. "Is there anything in particular I can show you, sir?"
"I was interested in..." Frantically he looked for something in the display case in front of him. His eyes lit on a small selection of carved jade animals. "Yes, those miniature jade carvings."
"Those are very nice. Let me get them out for you." She unlocked the case and withdrew a jade pig, frog and bear.
This was not easy, trying to monitor what was happening in the private room and carrying on an intelligent conversation with the young lady so she wouldn't get suspicious.
Years of study came to his rescue. "You know the ancient Mayan culture revered jade as the sovereign stone of harmony. They used it to bring balance between the spiritual and physical self and to transform negativity into positive energy. It was also known to improve one's memory of dreams and assist in dream healing by releasing suppressed emotions via the dream process."
The saleswoman looked impressed. "You're quite knowledgeable about them. Most people only see a carved stone and want to know how valuable it is. These were part of a private collection of a retired archaeologist. The family sold everything. We only ended up with these carvings because they were included with some uncut precious stones he had. There are several more carvings, but frankly we just haven't had enough interest in them to display the whole lot."
Fitzroy was still examining the stones Dallas had brought, so Blair stalled for time.
"Would it be possible to see the other carvings. Fetishes are a pet interest of mine." That hadn't come out well. He could practically hear Jim's chortle all the way from the truck. Blushing, he turned on the charm. "Carved animals, I mean." He gazed earnestly at her.
"Well... I would have to get them out of the vault."
"Please?"
"All right, it will take a few minutes." She turned and went toward the back of the shop.
Blair glanced over at the security guard, which had apparently accepted his presence as legitimate and returned to his position at the door. Staring at the little jade animals, he focused in on the disembodied voices.
"Altogether, I would say that these stones should bring about $150,000."
"Cutting yourself a big profit there, aren't you, Fitzroy?"
"I'm the buyer. I can afford to. You don't like my offer, you don't have to deal with me."
"I may have some additional merchandise soon. A very special stone. An emerald."
"Emeralds are nice, but not that special."
"This one is. About 15 carats, surrounded by diamonds, in a platinum setting."
"That does make things interesting. Are you still looking for a package deal?"
"I don't like to do things piecemeal."
"Provided the stone is as you say, I will increase my offer for the whole lot to $500,000."
"That's more like it. Why don't we get together...."
The voices dropped too low for him to hear, and Blair glanced toward the room to see the young saleswoman returning with the carvings.
"Here we go. This one is my favorite." She held up a dolphin for him to see.
Blair glanced at the dolphin, but his attention was drawn to two animals by themselves in a corner of the velvet lined tray. There was no mistaking the shapes. A three-inch long wolf stood alongside a four-inch long panther. Forgetting for the moment all about Dallas and burglaries, Blair focused on the two animals.
"What about those two?" His hand was drawn toward the two carved figures. Carefully he picked them up. They felt warm in his hand, not like cold, lifeless stone.
"The wolf is angelite. You don't see much of that. I had to have Mr. Fitzroy identify it for me. I'd never heard of it. It's a beautiful color, isn't it?"
White streaks zigzagged across the deep storm cloud blue color of the carving. It reminded Blair of the night sky during a thunderstorm. "It's a symbol of the communication of light to the world. It is said to polarize and align the physical body with the ethereal or dream body and to enhance the thought process. Psychics have used it as a way of accessing the mind's intuitive abilities."
"Are you a gemologist?" She had a confused look on her face, as if afraid she might have been condescending towards him.
"Not at all, I have an interest in shamanistic studies and the tools they use in their practices."
Picking up the carved panther, she handed it to Blair. "What can you tell me about this one?"
The panther was a glossy black enhanced by flecks of gold within that caught and reflected the lights shining down on the display case. "It looks like what's commonly called 'Apache Gold', a combination of steatite and pyrite. The native Indians in Mexico have used it in shamanistic journeys and ceremonial magic. They believe it can ease and release pain, loss, sadness, anger and help the individual heal. It's used to look within and for protection during a vision quest. It's also supposed to increase the bio-magnetic forces in the body. How am I doing?"
"Much better than I did. I had never heard of 'Apache Gold', just fool's gold. Is there anything else you'd like to see?"
"Could you tell me how much the wolf and panther are? I'm interested in those two."
"I'll have to ask Mr. Fitzroy. Give me just a minute, he's with a client."
Blair cringed inside. He was supposed to be listening to the conversation between Fitzroy and Dallas, not shopping. Jim was going to be so mad. His first solo tailing assignment, and he'd already screwed up. He'd been so distracted by the carvings, he'd lost track of the conversation. Now he had no idea when they were supposed to be meeting again. As she picked up the two carvings, Fitzroy and Dallas came around the corner.
"Monday at 7, then?" Fitzroy was asking.
"All right." Dallas hardly even glanced at Blair as he exited the shop and headed back down the mall.
Blair released the breath he'd been holding. Sometimes, good police work was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.
Fitzroy spoke to him. "I said $125.00 for the two. Do you want them?"
Blair swallowed as he mentally considered the contents of his wallet. There was always his emergency reserve $100.00 bill, but did he have enough to cover the rest? Payday wasn't until Friday. Quickly reviewing his expenditures since he'd last been to the bank, he came to the conclusion that he had enough. Of course, he wouldn't be eating out any more this week, but this was more important.
"Yes, I'll take them. I have a feeling they're going to be a help to me."
Completing his transaction and placing his wrapped purchases carefully in his pocket, Blair left the store and headed for the nearest exit.
"Jim you aren't going to believe this. We got what we need and I'm heading for the truck. Pick me up at the exit on this end."
Blair came out the exit to find the truck practically idling in his face. Apparently, Jim had moved in to be as close as possible in case something went wrong. Guess I should have expected that. Jumping in, he immediately launched into his explanation before Jim could open his mouth.
"Oh man, it was so cool. Everything worked like a charm. I was able to hear everything, well, practically everything, they said, and they never even noticed I was there. I mean they noticed me all right, but they didn't, you know?"
Before Blair could launch his next sentence, Jim interrupted, "Breathe. You're easier to understand when your mouth is running at less than Mach 1."
Taking a breath and letting it out, he tried again. "The next meeting is Monday at 7 p.m. Dallas brought a variety of gemstones here today to get a preliminary appraisal. Fitzroy's first offer was on the low side as far as Dallas was concerned, only 150k. Dallas then got his attention by talking about an emerald he would be acquiring soon. He described the emerald as 15 carats, surrounded by diamonds, in a platinum setting. That got Fitzroy's attention big time. All of a sudden the offer jumps up to half a million. Dallas liked that number better, and they agreed to another meet. How did I do?"
Jim listened to Blair's summary with growing pride. On his own he'd managed to find out everything they'd hoped to learn. "Pretty damn good, Chief. Pretty damn good. We'll check with Chief Walker and see if he knows about this emerald. If it's as flashy as you've described, the odds are he'll remember who's been wearing it. Combine that with the addresses you figured out, and we should know where the next burglary will be. Looks like this one's a slam dunk."
"You wouldn't be saying that because you want to get out of the Pursuit Driving class would you, Jim?" Blair kept a very neutral expression on his face as he looked over at his partner.
"No. I'm not having a problem with the class." Jim knew his jaw was tightening, but there was very little he could do about it. Just the thought of having to put up with Hoffman for another two days was about to send him up a wall. He concentrated on his driving while running though possible answers in his head.
"Since this case was the only reason I was in the class to begin with, with the case over, there's not much reason to stay. It's not like I have to take it or anything." There, that sounded reasonable and calm, if maybe a bit defensive.
Blair wasn't buying any of it. "Don't even try, man. You have absolutely no talent for obfuscation. Haven't you learned anything from me? Admit it, you hate the class and can't wait to get out of it. And you can let up on choking the life out of the steering wheel. What's the big deal anyway?"
Jim consciously released his grip and quit picturing Hoffman as being the wheel as he tried to come up with an answer that didn't sound as stupid as he felt about the whole thing. "Hoffman and I have never seen eye to eye. We didn't like each other when I went through the academy, and we really learned to dislike each other the last time I had to take this same class with him."
"What happened?"
"When I went through the academy, Hoffman wasn't in charge of the driving program. He was simply another one of the instructors. He had designed a driving test that required precise speed changes in order to complete the maneuvers without losing points. The restrictions he had laid out had no purpose except to make it harder to drive the course. I blew off his restrictions and drove the course without a fault. Hoffman was livid. The sergeant in charge at the time ignored him and went ahead and passed me. That was the beginning."
"Doesn't sound like things improved from there."
"No, things went straight downhill. Simon sent me to the specialized Pursuit Driving class after a rather high profile chase I was involved in. Hoffman was the sergeant in charge then, and he never let me forget it. He had designed another one of his ridiculous time and speed courses. He had me go last, and he kept me on that silly road rally course for nine and a half-hours. And now I'm back again." He parked the truck at the loft and headed upstairs without another word.
Blair was quiet as he digested the information. He felt guilty for teasing Jim about the course. From his years in academia, he remembered what it could be like having to take a class from an arrogant jerk. For someone like Jim, who had very little patience with officious idiots, it must have seemed like a form of purgatory. Taking pity on his roommate, Blair hastened to catch up.
"Tell you what, since you did so well at staying in the truck today, I'll make dinner. What ever you want. You take some aspirin for that headache I know you have from monitoring me and lie down."
"Whatever I want?" Jim was definitely perking up a little.
"Within reason. I'm limited by what's in the kitchen."
"Hamburger and French fries."
Blair scowled. "Oh Jim, that isn't good for you. How about some lasagna?"
"You said whatever I want." Jim was not above taking advantage of Blair's offer. Besides, he did have a headache from focusing so tightly this evening.
"You're right. I'll make you a hamburger and French fries." Blair headed directly for the kitchen as Jim headed upstairs. That's right, one garden burger on a whole-wheat bun. Wonder what I can do with French fries.
Twenty minutes later the 'hamburgers and French fries' were ready. Or at least Blair's version was ready.
"It's on the table." He wasted no time sitting down and digging in. Undercover work was good for his appetite.
"This doesn't smell like hamburgers and French fries to me, Sandburg." Jim sniffed the air like a hunting dog looking for a promised bone as he sat down.
"It looks like it though, doesn't it?"
"I want to eat it, not look at it. What is this?" He poked at the food with his finger.
"This is garden burger, 98% fat free, and totally meatless. This is --"
"A hamburger cannot be totally meatless. That's un-American."
"No, it's healthy for you. A delicious whole-wheat bun surrounds your 'hamburger'. High in fiber and no cholesterol. I've also made you garlic baked fries. Garlic is a natural supplement, which aids -- "
"Okay, I don't need a complete history. I'll eat it." Jim reached for one of the fries and chanced a small bite.
Blair concentrated on his own meal while watching Jim out of the corner of his eye. The food seemed to be disappearing in spite of Jim's initial misgivings. He couldn't resist the grin that appeared on his face as he ducked down to peek under the table.
Jim's radar about his moods was working just fine. "Don't even say it."
"I wasn't going to say anything." He tried to sound innocent, but it was impossible. "I was just checking to see if there was a dog under the table you were feeding."
"Ha ha. By the way, are there any of those burgers left?"
"Sure, Jim. I made an extra in case company dropped by."
"No reason to waste food. I guess I'll have to eat it. They probably don't reheat well, not being real meat." Jim got up from the table and headed into the kitchen to glom onto the second burger and the rest of the garlic fries.
"Good thing this is a low-fat, low calorie meal." Blair finished off the beer he had with his meal.
Jim gave him Ellison look #12, the 'I'm-ignoring-what-you-said-and-you-should-be-happy-that-I-am' glare as he continued to eliminate the possibility of any leftovers.
Blair listened to Jim doing the dishes in the kitchen. While channel surfing for something interesting to watch, he pulled the package from his pocket, unwrapped it, and set the two carved figures on the coffee table. He was startled out of his contemplation when Jim sat down on the couch beside him.
"Are those the two carvings I heard you talking about in the shop?"
"Yeah. It felt as if they were there for me to find. I mean, they probably wouldn't have seen the light of day if I hadn't asked to see the rest of the collection. And they were together, separate from the rest. It was kinda spooky." He looked over at Jim to see how he was taking this.
Jim continued to stare at the figures. Wondering why he was making no effort to pick one of the carved stone figures up, Blair nudged the panther closer to him.
The panther appeared to draw Jim's hand closer. The long fingers closed around the glossy surface and lifted it.
"How does it feel, Jim?" Blair kept his voice quiet, not wanting to break the spell.
"It's warm, not cool like you'd think stone should be. It feels like it has an...energy to it." Jim's expression was one of wonder.
Finding out anything else Jim might have felt about the carving would have to wait. He handed the small statute to Blair as he headed for the door, "Simon's coming."
Blair cursed silently. Sometimes, Simon's timing really sucked. He picked up the two figures and headed for his room. I'm not leaving these out here. He'd see them and then I'd probably get a lecture on improper undercover behavior. Wouldn't you know it, just as we were getting somewhere... Placing the carvings carefully on his desk, he gave each a caress before going back into the living room.
Simon was already waiting at the door when Jim opened it. "Early warning system on the fritz?" He walked in and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch.
"No. Preoccupied. Did you find out anything from Walker about the emerald?" Jim shut the door and headed for the kitchen. "Want some coffee?
"Sure. Ben said to tell you he's never seen or heard of anything like that."
Blair settled himself on the couch and picked up the file Simon had brought in. "What about the checks he was running on the people who live at the addresses we figured out. Anything there?"
"All of them had security surveys done on their homes. But then again, almost everybody in Walden has had them. There's no paper trail there. The PD doesn't have a copy of the survey. Supposedly all the paperwork is given to the homeowner. We don't even know who from the PD might have gone into the homes."
"Supposedly?" Jim chimed in from the kitchen where the coffee was finishing.
"Yeah, supposedly. You'd think there would be some kind of records kept, but if they existed, they're gone now."
Blair accepted the cup that Jim offered. "Wouldn't the security survey be like a blueprint for a thief to follow?"
Handing a cup to Simon, Jim sat down. "It would be perfect, Chief. You'd know what kind of alarms and where they were, what kind of safe the place had. There isn't anywhere that can be made secure with inside information like that."
"Which is another reason Ben doesn't want to come right out and ask these folks about emeralds and which officer checked the security of their homes. If a rumor got out that those evaluations are being used by a group of thieves to set up burglaries, there would be a riot."
"A tasteful and socially acceptable riot, no doubt," Blair added.
"Jim, I want you to stay on Dallas. See if you can find out where this burglary is going to take place. Did you turn up anything at the mall meet?"
"I didn't, but Blair did."
"Blair? What's he doing on this, I thought he was in class?"
"I brought him in. Everyone wanted this to be low key and kept saying how smart Dallas was. I needed the help and Blair obliged."
Jim's expression was neutral, but Blair caught the glint in his partner's eye. Oh-ho, so my assistance was a Jim-thing and he didn't approve it with Simon first.
Simon sat forward on the couch and looked at Blair as if the concept of Blair being low key was unimaginable.
Blair tried to sound nonchalant, as if going undercover was no big deal. "It wasn't much. I followed Dallas to an estate jeweler in Galleria Mall. He showed the owner some loose gemstones and received an estimate for them. They are supposed to meet again on Monday at 7 p.m."
After he was finished he resisted the urge to wipe his palms on his jeans as he waited for Simon's reaction.
Simon looked at Blair and then back to Jim, who gave him no reaction.
"Sandburg followed him all on his own?"
Jim nodded and continued to drink his coffee.
"And you weren't right behind him?"
Jim shook his head and took another sip of coffee.
Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere with Jim, he switched to Blair.
"You thought this up all on your own?"
"No, Jim thought it up. I did it."
"Where was Jim all this time?" Thinking he had finally asked the right question, Simon leaned back against the cushions.
Blair managed to keep a straight face. "I told him to stay in the truck."
Simon's reaction was entertaining. He had just taken a sip of his coffee when Blair's words registered. He choked, spewing the coffee all over the place. Blair jumped up to pat him on the back, while Jim went to the kitchen for a dishtowel.
"You (cough) told him (cough) to stay in the truck?" Simon finally managed to get out after accepting the dishtowel from Jim and dabbing at the coffee stains on his shirt.
"Sure. I mean, if Dallas recognized him, it could blow the whole thing. Right?" Blair curled back onto the couch.
Simon didn't even bother with trying to answer. He had a burning question of his own. "Yeah, but did he stay in the truck?"
Blair's expression was guileless. "Of course he did. I told him to."
Simon looked at Jim who had a virtuous expression one might expect to see on an altar boy, not on an ex-covert ops Army Ranger. Throwing in the towel - literally -- he tossed the dishrag down and got up to leave.
"I'm going to leave the Sandburg Zone now. Obviously too much exposure can have a deleterious affect on the mind. I need to go deal with something easily comprehensible, like nuclear physics. Jim, you...and Blair...stay on Dallas. See what else you can turn up about the next burglary." Muttering about Sentinels and Guides that were trying to drive him crazy, Simon let himself out.
As soon as the door closed, they looked at each other and broke into laughter.
"Did you see his face when I told him you stayed in the truck? Now I know what they mean when they say someone's jaw dropped. I think he left out of self-defense. Poor Simon, he's going to need long term therapy if we keep this up."
"We wouldn't want life to get too boring for him now, would we."
"Boring? Around us? Some how I don't think that's going to happen."
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This page last updated 2/2/01.