Josephs Winter 3

Winter

Josephs

 3. Library

Walter McVey sat in Leo Kelly’s hometown library pretending to read “The Washington Post.” He had seated himself in a mauve vinyl cushion chair ten minutes ago where he awaited the arrival of his comrade. He glanced up to see Lee Kelly sprint-walk past the periodical section pretending not to see Walter.

Leo kept up the late-for-job-interview pace all the way to the spy fiction section, where he grabbed a Brad Thor novel off the shelf. Barely looking at the title, Leo slowed his tempo as he made his way to the periodicals. Moseying over to the newspapers, Leo scanned the rack for “Wall Street Journal.”  With a hint of disappointment he determined that the only unclaimed newspaper was one of the many copies of the Joseph Family’s “American Morning Paper.”  He grabbed the paper and pretended to peruse the headlines as he ambled over to Walter’s chair.

What are you doing here?  What a coincidence! You impersonating a reader? Doesn’t your two horse town have a library? How’s the wife? Blah blah blah. I got to get back to work. Why don’t I walk you to your car?

Walter McVey stood at a friendly distance as Leo checked out the Thor novel. The blatantly libraryish elderly woman surprised both men with her megaphone voice and her revelation that she had read all but three of this writer’s stories. Leo stated that he had only started reading Thor and liked him so much that he was now reading his work in chronological order. Have a nice day.

Walter studied Leo Kelly as he deliberately placed his library card back into his wallet before leaving the counter. With his charcoal suit, dark gray tie, black-gray Wingtip polish and dull gray overcoat topped off with a thick crop of silvering hair, he reminded Walter of a grounded storm cloud. Thunder? Lightning? Flash flood? Leo Kelly could make it happen.

Walter walked curbside on the leisurely three block stroll to where both men had parked. Walter was rambling on about Brad Thor. His daughter, Mary, had given him a Thor novel last Christmas and he had yet to start reading it. In front of Killa Coffee, Leo interrupted.  “Look. All tracks are covered. So don’t ask me again.”

A surge of cold, wet air slapped their faces and Walter reflexively turned his back to the wind. Leo faced the onslaught with a Rushmore demeanor. He took the Northwest’s best shot without blinking and turned ever so slightly to look his friend in the eye. “So much for global warming,” Leo said flatly.

“How did you get him to change his mind,” Walter inquired with clear mucus creeping from his nostrils.

A rare grin flashed across Leo’s lips and vanished a second later. “He’s a technical genius,” Leo explained. “But he’s as gullible as a college student.”

Walter performed a brief circular motion to prompt Leo to elaborate. A Danish au pair approached the duo pushing a perambulator and seeing her, Leo resumed walking in search of a little more privacy. The Friend-N-Flow tavern would not open till afternoon so Leo crept past the intruder and ducked into the covered doorway. Walter followed closely behind him.

Scouting the area nonchalantly, Leo took on a didactic presence. “It’s folklore. A corollary of the compensating universe. Attractive people are stupid. Poor people are noble. Smart people are miserable” He paused and concluded “And rich people are diddlers.”

Walter McVey erupted. “A man who fathers children with multiple women is probably not fettered with any moral ground wire…” Realizing that his voice was approaching a yell, Walter cut the sermon after one sentence. He took a deliberate breath and changed his approach. “So, how did you do it?”

“It would be nice, if we could stop in for a brandy,” Leo remarked, gazing into the picture window that enclosed a darkened barroom. Leo pivoted and resumed his tale. “He was dead set against taking the assignment. It took graphic evidence to win him over. Fortunately, we have tools that make Photoshop look like an Etch-A-Sketch. “

They resumed the walk to their cars. Walter knew the floodgates had opened. Leo loved to brag and Walter was one of the very few people who he trusted with his war stories. “Most men react stronger to girl rapists than boy rapists. Makes sense. Young girls can get their birth canals permanently damaged. It’s bad for both sexes but men sense that girls are more fragile.

“But our ace is the father of two boys. How do we play this one for maximum impact? Easy. My elves had an actual photograph of a small man on top of a prepubescent girl. Her brother was tied to a chair nearby, forced to watch his sister get raped.

“A little cut and paste by the elves and our superstar was chomping at the bit. Put me in coach!”

Walter stuck his face out of the alcove to test the wind. Sensing a calm between gusts, he stepped onto the sidewalk. Leo followed and the two men continued their stroll. “We have two concerns,” Walter said.

“The method?” Leo asked.

“That and collaterals,” Walter responded.

Leo Kelly nodded. Joe Grieve’s specialty was helping planes fall from the sky. He did a job in Mexico where a Gulfstream crashed in the dessert.  He did another gig in Quebec where a puddle jumper with four Corsicans fell into a wooded area. In each case, Leo had to assure Walter that the pilots were not so innocent, that no family or mistresses tagged along, and that the gravitational climax would take place in a secluded spot.

Yes, Grieve also volunteered for more conventional assignments stateside and had been involved in murkier events in places far removed from his homeland. There were a few don’t ask, don’t tell, scenarios in Central and South America where quality assurance was not assured. But bringing down John Joseph in the US of A might also mean killing a girlfriend, a bodyguard, a pilot and who knows what else?  What if the plane descended onto a private home? Even worse, what if the pilot or bodyguard just happened to be a cousin of someone in the community? The network was not ready to greenlight this project.

Leo looked Walter deep in the eye and paused before speaking. “Our boy has expanded his repertoire.”  Leo feigned a cough but kept his fist in front of his mouth. “His preferred medium is the mini-drone. You might actually be familiar with some of his work. He could hit a midget in a crowd of Watusis.”

Walter looked up and away and paused before uncrossing his arms in an expression of approval.  He turned his attention back to Kelly and extended his ungloved hand. “Hope we have a winning season,” Walter said to the smaller man.

“We have the ace on the mound. Major league heat and pinpoint control. The best season ever.”

With that reassurance, Walter pivoted and pointed his key chain at a parked silver Continental, starting the ignition and warming the driver seat and cockpit.  He abruptly crossed the street, never looking back. “The best season ever.”