CHAPTER 33 - CIGARETTS AND SWEET TALK

Thermite, thought Mallory. Clean job. Cut right through the floors and the cases fell to the basement and shattered. Nine cases. They used a lot of the deadly stuff. The heist was professional and well organized. Not a single jewel remained among the shards of glass in the basement storage below the rotunda. The thieves had left the quartz crystals from the chandelier which had crashed to the floor above, and the shards of glass, but they had not missed a single diamond, emerald, or ruby.

Mallory drew out another cigarette and lit it from the embers of the dying one she had been dragging on moments before. She squeezed her long fingers and released. A pale blue crumpled empty package fell to the floor to join the melted concrete, twisted rebar, broken glass, and bloody remains of four basement guards.

The guards were dead. Mallory grimaced as the cigarette smoke stung her eyes. She had seen lots of stiffs in her line of work. Lots of ‘em. Shot, stabbed, drown, burned, hung. Mallory knew there were lots of ways to die but the result was always the same – dead. Some mother’s kid, a father perhaps, a loving or careless husband, sober or drunk, but the end was always the same on some slab at the morgue. But this killing was different. It was a ritual thing.

Mallory glanced up and saw her former boss Chief of Detectives Flossy Ilocast. Flossy had put on weight, a lot of weight. Too much booze and cheap food thought Mallory. Flossy saw Mallory and her eyes closed to thin slits and her already hard mouth became stone. Mallory laughed to herself. Same old Flossy. Goodword had eaten her too. Flossy turned and ordered a young officer to dig deeper into the smashed concrete and glass. She was yelling. She was not smart enough for her job. Flossy was out classed by these professional crooks and now murderers.

Mallory had seen enough of the basement. She turned and climbed the concrete steps to the exhibition hall. The skeletal remnants of the chandelier lay bent and twisted on a floor cleanly punctuated by nine square holes. Mallory flicked the dying cig from her hand and ground it into the floor. Her knock off Gicchi’s were showing signs of wear and were covered in concrete dust. She needed to go to the shoe stadium soon. She paused for a moment to examine the four inch steel cable that had held the chandler to the roof trusses of the dome. Explosive guillotine. Probably military or paramilitary she concluded.

She had seen enough and left the Museo. Only one man in the capital could move stones like these. They were too well documented. Too easy to spot. No fence would touch these stones, now that a death sentence would be attached to each stone like a little paper tag.

The sun was out. Mallory squeezed her eyes and shielded the glare with her left hand. She hated the sun, like she hated noise and death itself. Her head still hurt from last night when she had decked the fat rent a cop for stiffing one of the twins. She rubbed her chin where it hurt and where the fat man had landed one – a sucker punch. But he won’t be working today, she laughed to herself. Probably won’t work for a month or two. He had had an unfortunate accident with a counter top and a bottle of gin.

Snow was piled three or four feet high onto the sidewalks from the snow removal efforts. Snow removal, what a joke thought Mallory. To make room for vehicles they always blocked the paths and made them impassable. She would have to take a pedi cab. Anyway she was on the meter plus expenses.

Mallory had the pedi-cab driver drop her off at the corner of the Avenue of the Sims and Au Street. She walked to the Ted’s Tobacco Shoppe, grasped the grimy door handle, and stepped in. Mallory was hit by a wall of tobacco smell. She loved that smell. It reminded her of Mallory’s always absent father. Behind the counter a young girl in a belted green crepe rayon skirt was snoozing. Mallory noticed her shapely legs and a big run in her hose. The Times lay on the counter. ‘Huge Heist – Monforte Jewels Stolen – Four Dead’ screamed the headline. A picture on page one displayed two guards splayed out dead upon the basement floor. Obviously killed in some kind of ritual. That will sell papers thought Mallory.

The girl stirred.

“Hi Trixi,” said Mallory.

Trixi smiled and said nothing. She turned and reached for a blue pack of cigs from the rack behind the counter. She placed the Galois on the counter and Mallory placed her hand on top of Trixi's. Trixi let it linger there and then pulled it back.

Mallory pulled a fiver from her purse and Trixi rang up the charge on an ancient cash register. She shoved two ones back in Mallory’s direction.

Mallory turned and looked at Mobile’s across the street. She spotted two goons watching the door. Security.

“Any action today at Sydney’s,” she asked, her back turned to Trixi.

“No,” said Trixi. “A lot of action last night about 1:00 am. Bastards woke me up.”

Mallory knew Trixi and her father Ted lived above the tobacco shop.

Mallory raised the cig pack to her lips and ripped loose the tax stamp and cellophane. Her thumb move swiftly and expertly to scrape away the thin paper and faux foil. She shook the pack and a stick popped up. Mallory took it between her pouty lips and reached for a match.

Trixi held up a burning fire brand, and Mallory touched the tip of the cig to the flame and puffed. Trixi shook out the flame, smiled wanly, and turned back to the counter. Mallory inhaled deeply and held it a moment before exhaling in a cloud of grey smoke. She watched Mobile’s for about an hour. The only sound was Trixi doing her nails.

Mobile’s was quiet. A few nobs came and went. Mallory was tired. It had been a long night.

“Thanks Trixi,” Mallory said as she stepped out into the cold air, stepped into the dirty curbside slush and walked across the street to Mobile’s. She paused to drop her dying cig into the slush in front of Sydney Mobile’s store. The burning embers hissed briefly and then died.

Long years of practice compelled Mallory to look carefully up the street and then down. A hot possum dog vendor was stomping his cold feet near his cart at the end of the block. An old woman was shaking a rug from the third story window of a brownstone across the street. A pedi-cab stood silently waiting in front of a Bitter’s hotel, The Capital City Bitters. The chain hotel was a cheap tourist hotel. Rooms on the ground floor were available by the hour. Au Street was quiet, just the way she liked it.

Sydney was standing in the lobby and when he spotted Mallory. He noticeably winched. He’s got nothing to do with this thought Mallory. Sidney’s face was always a cipher, but he was clearly annoyed by Mallory’s appearance. And his face said everything Mallory needed to know.

“Hi Sydney, how’s your daughter?” said Mallory. Sydney winced again. Mallory had been the first cop to nab Mobiles older daughter. The older daughter had gotten off by fingering Mugwort. Mugwort was a rotten kid and was Sydney’s youngest.

“I’ve been expecting you Mallory,” said Sydney. ‘Yeah, in fact I’ve been waiting about an hour, your late,” he continued.

Mallory fished out another cig and lit it. Sydney started to object and then changed his mind. The sooner he got rid of her better.

“Heard there was some action last night, about 11:00,” she said.

Sydney’s eyes first dilated a bit, and then he blinked twice. Sydney turned and motioned Mallory to follow. They entered a small office. The office contained a small battered desk, a couple worn out chairs, and a wall full of yellowing certificates and awards. Sidney sat down. Mallory remained standing.

“Can I have one of those,” said Sydney. Mallory threw the pack onto Sydney’s desk. He pulled a cig from the pack, opened the desk drawer, fished out an old pack of matches and lit up. The matches were very old Mallory noticed. The match book cover was purple and advertised Madam Sandhose’s Bordello on Au-pair street. They had closed down that place years ago.

“I gave it up for the misses,” said Sydney. He inhaled deeply. He started coughing. He looked up at Mallory. “What you want Mallory? I had nothing to do with this.”

Mallory didn’t reply but stared first at Sydney and then began to read the yellowing certificates on the wall.

“Last night at about 1:00 my goons returned with the jewels we had loaned to that reporter from The Times,” said Sydney. “I owed her some favors, you know my daughters. But when the blow up occurred at the museo, my guys grabbed my merchandise and raced back here. We had it all in the vault by 1:30. Nothing was missing.”

Then with care Sydney said, “It was all there, and nothing more. Just the merchandise we loaned to her.”

Mallory ran her finger across the top of one large certificate. She looked at her finger it was covered in years and years of dust and grime. She knew that while Sydney presented an image of honesty and a high class operation, he was in fact dirty. Real dirty.

“Really Mallory, you got to believe me. I had nothing to do with this,” pleaded Sydney.

“Sure, I know you didn’t,” said Mallory.

Sydney was relieved but still nervous.

“Who could move those stones?” Mallory asked.

“No one, they are impossible to move. Even if your broke them up. Any jeweler this side of Neopet knows there hot. They are so well documented you might as well try to sell the Long White Hall. You’d have to hold them for years, decades, and even then no one could touch them.” Sydney was talking fast. He was nervous and wanted Mallory out of the shop as fast as possible.

“How about Neopet or Zwinky?” Mallory asked.

“No, first you would have to get them there, and the real value lies here in Second Life. They are worthless in Zwinky and as for Neopet that’s a joke. No they have value only here.”

“You will let me know if you learn something wont you Sydney,” she said.

“Mallory I can’t get involved in this. I’ve got a reputation.”

Mallory laughed out loud. An inch long ash fell from her cig onto Sydney’s cluttered desk.

“Really, you got’ta believe me. Yeah, sometimes I bend the law a bit. I mean, sometimes I take merchandise on consignment. But whoever pulled this one off is really big. And bad. What happened to those guards. Something ugly is happening and I’m really afraid. These guys are bad.”

“Thanks Sydney,” said Mallory as she turned to leave.

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Mallory turned and stared Sydney in the eyes. “Who could have done this Sydney, who has the skill and the power and the need for this?”

Sydney started sweating. “I don’t know Mallory, really I don’t know. This is really bad.” He paused and then said, “Perhaps the Governor, or one of the guilds, I don’t know. But they needed disciplined manpower, people who won’t talk, and they wanted those stones for some reason other than money. Its all too confusing Mallory, you gotta believe me.”

Mallory stood a moment and scanned the office again and then looked hard at Sydney.

“How about The Order?” Mallory asked.

Sydney turned white with fear.