Dirk held up the handgun and checked to see if it was still in working order. It had been a long time since he held a gun in his hand, legally.

“Say Mister Parker, what are we supposed to do with these?” Billy waved his gun around like a fourth of July sparkler. Dirk grabbed the young man’s hand, snatched the gun and checked to be sure the safety got engaged.

“You are to leave the safety on at all times, no matter what.” He pointed to the lever.

“No matter what.” Billy echoed what he heard, nodded, and stopped moving when he got the gun back in his hands. He stared at the weapon like it might be something strange and alien.

“Listen up!” Maggie called and waved her arms to bring the group together.

“I wonder how she got permission for these,” Dirk mumbled. He stuck his weapon in his jacket pocket and walked to the near side of the parking lot where everybody started to gather. Maggie stood part-way up some steps so she could be seen and heard by all.

Billy dutifully stared at his gun while he walked, but he looked up briefly to speak. “Permit, you think. Government don’t let anyone have guns anymore.”

“Union.” Dirk suggested. Maggie remained boss of the local, not that they had an election in a while, or any jobs for that matter.

“Listen up!” Maggie yelled at the stragglers. “Now, he slipped by us at LaGuardia, but we followed hot on his butt to this old factory. His vehicle crashed on the other side where Pete and Charley have the doors covered. He may be hurt, so when you go in, be careful because he might fight back like some wounded animal, you hear me?” People nodded. “The guns are only a precaution, for self-defense.”

“My ass,” one man hollered and a few of the people around him laughed.

“Damn it, Barry. I mean it!” Maggie looked like she meant it. “I want his ass alive and hauled into court where it belongs.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Barry nodded and pretended to be properly humble.

Maggie frowned before she started to divide the group into pairs. “Call out if you find him.” Maggie said it over and over. She handed Dirk an old cell phone and assigned him and Billy to the second floor, west wing. “Call if you find him.”

Dirk nodded, and shoved Billy up the outside steps.

“What do you think our chances are?” Billy asked when they stopped on the platform just outside the door.

Dirk paused. “Not bad, actually. I used to work in this factory before it got shut down some thirty years ago.” He looked back and forth to get his bearings. “Offices were on the second floor, west wing.”

“I thought you were a social studies teacher.” Some surprise could be heard in Billy’s voice.

“I went back to school.” Dirk focused again on his companion. “Something you should think about doing.” He opened the door and shoved the young man to get him inside. He followed and waited for the heavy metal fire door to clunk shut behind him. Of course, he got tossed out of the school system after twenty years because he insisted on teaching real, undistorted history instead of the social agenda crap the government insisted on.

“Propaganda,” Dirk mumbled the word.

“What?” Billy asked. Dirk looked at the young man and shook his head at the spin and lies that must fill that poor oatmeal in his noggin.

“Quiet.” He placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Remember, we are going to capture the man, not hurt him.” Cordell Thomas had been a good man, even if he shut down the factory and moved the jobs overseas. Dirk remembered how the man used to walk the factory floor all those years ago, and he remembered Mister Thomas going out of his way, on several occasions, when some poor schlump employee got faced with a sudden difficulty, like a medical emergency. Dirk might have been mad about the shutdown. Hell, he still got mad about giving his job to some poor underpaid Asian, but he understood it had been a business decision, and the blame belonged on the heads of the board and the stockholders as much as on the man. It didn’t make Cordell Thomas a bad man.

“Mister Parker?” Billy looked impatient

“Hush.” Dirk took his hand back from Billy’s shoulder to put a finger to his lips. He waved and Billy followed.

Dirk led his companion carefully through the dim light that came in through the few dirty windows in that part of the factory, while his mind recalled the days of his youth. He always saw himself as a line foreman when he got older. On good days, he considered going into sales and working his way up the ladder. Sometimes he dreamed of managing the whole factory. He planned to have a good life; but people could still dream back then. Nowadays, it didn’t matter what job a man worked, or even if he worked at all. Everyone got the same basic pay and public benefits. They called it fair that way.

Dirk heard a sound in the corner of the conference room. Billy whipped out his gun and pulled the trigger. “Click, click, click.” Dirk saw by the light that came in through the open door that it was only a rat scurrying around the corner. Dirk frowned at the young man beside him and ripped the gun from the youngster’s hands.

“Dipstick,” he mumbled.

“I was startled. I got scared.” Dirk could see that in Billy’s eyes.

“Cordell Thomas won’t hurt you.” Dirk attempted to reassure his companion. “He isn’t that kind of man.” He checked to make sure the safety stayed on and handed the gun back to Billy with instructions. “Stick this in your jacket pocket and leave it there.”

Billy nodded as they left the conference room.

They searched the long room where all the secretaries and bookkeepers used to work and got all the way to the receptionist’s desk before they saw anything. They found a union thug at the bottom of the stairs where the door opened out on to the executive parking lot, but the man merely waved.

“I guess he’s not up here,” Billy said. His voice sounded a bit loud. Then Billy’s stomach grumbled, and he checked the time. “Gov-lunch doesn’t open for two hours,” he complained. “I could go home for some noodle soup, but I don’t like using up my allotment like that, you know what I mean?” He looked up at Dirk and stopped babbling when it became clear that Dirk had something in mind.

Dirk turned slowly and waved for Billy to follow him back along the row of desks. They had one more door, one more hall, and one more office to check. Dirk left it for last because it had been the manager’s office, and in the back of his mind, he still respected the place. He also suspected if Cordell Thomas would be found anywhere in the building, it would be in that office.

Sure enough, the big old office safe behind the desk stood wide open and Mister Thomas sat at the desk, staring at the greenbacks in his hands. He had stacks of them, mostly hundreds, and while they were not worth nearly as much as they were back in the day when the American dollar had been the world standard, they were still worth something.

“Hello?” Mister Thomas looked up like he had been expecting them.

“Hold it right there,” Billy hollered. He dropped to one knee, placed his hands on the desk, held his weapon firmly like he had seen on the detective shows. He pointed it at the man by the safe. For the third time that morning, Dirk took the gun from Billy’s hands, and this time he stuck it in his own pocket. He also slapped Billy on the back of the head, hard.

Mister Thomas turned toward his captors and Dirk got a good look at the old man. He still had most of his hair, but it had turned stark white, and stuck up in every direction, like a man who removed a hat and then pulled a sweater over his head without taking the time to find a brush. The man’s eyebrows looked grown out as well and sat heavily over sad looking eyes. The rest of the man’s face just looked old and wrinkled, but Dirk recognized the man and he acknowledged in his heart the time they had shared together.

“Dirk.” Mister Thomas recognized his captor as well. He held up a hand to forestall interruptions until he came out with the name. “Dirk Parker. I remember you.”

“Yes sir, Mister Thomas.”

“Look at all of this.” Mister Thomas showed a few stacks of money and looked at it like he might be remembering an old friend. “There is more than enough here,” he said. “We could share it.”

“Nomph!” Billy found Dirk’s hand clamped across his mouth.

Dirk took out the phone and spoke slowly. “He’s here, second floor, manager’s office in the west wing.” He put the phone down while the old man stood still. His sweaty palms held tight to several bundles of money and he continued to smile, and hope. The responses came in on the phone.

“Good work. On the way.” That was Maggie.

“Is he still alive?” Pete asked.

“Dirk, old buddy. I knew it was smart to get you to help, you having worked here and all.” Charley praised him. Charley and Maggie were Dirk’s neighbors, union people who still had some special privileges in the world of fairness, even if they didn’t have jobs. Dirk looked at his gun and set it with Billy’s gun on the edge of the desk.

When he looked up, he saw Cordell Thomas once again. The man still held out the money, but he no longer smiled. Dirk betrayed no emotion. He knew money would never be the answer to life, but he understood that it had been a better life when everyone had at least some of their own.

“Why did you come back. Mister Thomas?” Dirk asked.

Cordell Thomas withdrew his hands and the money. He looked offended. He straightened his old body until he was as tall as he could be, and he put on his best “boss” face.

“This is my country, too,” he said.

Dirk just shook his head. “I’m not even sure this is my country anymore.” Mister Thomas deflated like a hot air balloon and the two men stood in silence, waiting for the inevitable, until Billy spoke up. The young man’s voice sounded softer than it had all day, and it sounded more respectful, now having seen the sad, old man behind the myth.

“What is he wanted for, anyway?”

“Tax evasion.” Dirk answered just as softly. “Even if he paid all his taxes, they would still convict him of evasion in order take whatever money the man has left.”

Cordell Thomas merely nodded his agreement with that assessment as they heard people in the outer hall. Maggie and two union thugs came in and the thugs grabbed the old man far more roughly than necessary. The poor man limped and appeared to be in pain. Dirk noticed the man’s suit pants were torn at the knee and the jacket had a big gash on the right elbow. It looked like Mister Thomas’ knee might be bleeding, and Dirk guessed it happened when the man crashed his vehicle into the front gate.

“Hey, Charley.” Maggie got on her phone. “There’s a bunch of old money up here. You better get a couple of boys to make sure it all gets picked up for evidence.” Maggie remained a true believer.

Dirk set his phone on the desk beside the guns, and he had a comment. “The last free market capitalist. The last rich man in America.”

“Damn right.” Maggie swore. “Now we are all equal.” She stomped off after Mister Thomas and her goons, and Dirk followed to the secretary’s room and thought that Maggie appeared a little more equal than some. He revised his thinking and mumbled while he walked.

“Yeah, all equally destitute.”

“Hey, Mister Parker.” Billy touched Dirk’s arm. He followed right on Dirk’s tail. “Is that true? Did you really mean that? Was he the last rich guy in the country?”

Dirk just nodded and watched as Billy sat heavily in a chair and put his hands to his head. This would be hard for the young man to process and square with everything he had learned growing up. Dirk waited patiently until Billy became able to speak.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Poor Billy looked as sad and defeated as Mister Thomas. He had spent his whole life hating the rich and wanting to get even and make everything fair. No wonder he looked lost, but Dirk could not let it go at that. He had to correct his young comrade’s words.

“You mean, who do we hate and blame now, and who is going to pay for it all?” Dirk pulled out a contraband cigar and contrary to all laws, he lit it in the office room. He did not care. He felt very alone, like a stranger in his own back yard.

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MONDAY: Kairos Medieval book 6 Before Sunrise

Happy Reading

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