04:02
Episode 4: Milk Run Mechanix
Part 2
Laurel drove east along New Robbins Valley road until she saw a stainless-steel sign with a big, blue stylized ‘G’ embossed on it.
“Turn here,” Violet told her.
Laurel turned and Violet watched out the window as the sign passed.
“You know I’ve never been here,” she said with a giggle. “I eat their cereal all the time.” She waved her hands in the air as if she were casting a spell. “Blue wands, green caldrons, pink unicorns, and purple pentagrams.”
Laurel looked puzzled. “What the hell is that?”
Violet turned to her partner. “I thought you looked everything up?”
“I thought that bothered you.”
Violet turned back to the window.
“They made cartoons, too. There was one with a flying groundhog and a reindeer.”
“I think I saw that on You Tube,” said Laurel. “I thought that was a squirrel and a moose.”
“Yeah. The art wasn’t the greatest,” Violet admitted. “I always like the spies — Horace and Broomhilda.”
“I only watched one.” Laurel said. “I didn’t get it.”
Violet stared out at the passing trees.
“Figures,” she said to her reflection.
The top of the hill was a grid of buildings all alike. Each building was a neat block of rough limestone and a sweep of glass divided into severe bronze rectangles They pulled into a visitors spot in front of the largest building and walked to the front door. A fat, balding guard waited for them. He wore a red polo shirt with a target logo over his heart and the words “Minute Men” over that in blocky script. Violet and Laurel both walked past him.
“‘Scuse me ladies, but you aren’t from Skyway Mechanix, are ya?” His voice was like the distilled essence of every VFW in Minnesota. Violet could hear the ducks in the prints on the wall.
“You bet,” Violet answered with her best farm-girl grin.
The guard smiled back.
“You gotta follow me. They’re waiting for ya in the lab.”
The guard lead. Laurel shrugged at Violet and the pair followed after.
The Blue G Research center was a maze of white corridors lined with shelves which, in turn, were filled with unidentifiable chromed tools, jugs of unhealthy-looking liquids, and cages of odd little animals.
They walked on, turning left and right. Violet began to suspect the guard of trying to get them lost.
“Where are we?” she whispered to Laurel.
“Three hundred fifty two feet north-north-west of the entrance.”
Violet sighed. “GPS?” she asked.
Laurel smiled back at her and nodded.
Violet shook her head.
“The Swiss army knife bit is getting a little old,” she complained.
No one heard her.
Finally they came to a pair of doors marked ‘Lab 132C’. The guard pressed an intercom button.
“This is Larry,” he announced. “I got the two girls for ya.”
The doors swung inward revealing a short, fat, brown-haired woman in pink cat-eye glasses and a vivid pink lab coat.
“Thanks, Larry,” she told the guard. “I got ‘em.”
The guard smiled at cat-glasses and walked away.
Cat-glasses smiled at Laurel and then at Violet.
“Well come on,” she said without introducing herself. “We got the package ready.”
Across the room two young men in red polo shirts identical to the guard’s stood on either side of a bench on which sat an aluminum-trimmed case of the type favored by photographers to transport equipment.
“This is what you are to deliver,” cat-glasses told them. She fished a business card from her lab coat and handed it to Violet. “And this is where you are to deliver it.”
“What’s in it?” asked Laurel.
Cat-glasses nodded at the nearer of the two guards. With precision movements her released the clasps and quickly raised the lid.
“A box,” cat-glasses told them. She waved a hand in front of the open case like Vanna White presenting a tacky Wheel-of-Fortune gee-gaw. She nodded at the guard and he snapped the case classed again.
“Interesting box,” said Laurel. “Wood. Late Sumerian. Possibly Eridu.”
Laurel looked up as if trying to remember something. Violet saw on cat-glasses’ face a look of wonder. She had seen that look on people mesmerized by shiny gadgets. Violet rolled her eyes. “Show-off,” she mumbled.
Laurel smirked at her partner and continued: “Although how anything wooden could have survived six thousand years in that condition is….”
“Yes. All right,” cat-glasses cut her off. “It’s an expensive box. We’d like it if you were careful.”
The double doors swung open. A six foot tall man in a dark suit and short graying hair breezed in. The two guards and cat-glasses practically snapped to attention. Violet simply stared.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” the tall man said. “Please continue Miss Barnse.”
“Ah, th-thank you Mr. Rickenbacher,” cat-glasses finally spat out.
“You must not open the case or try to tamper with the lock.” She pointed to the case while the furthest guard snapped a blinking lock through a hasp. Violet ignored this and studied the tall man instead.
“The lock is for your own protection, although we assure you that the box is not inherently dangerous.”
The man emitted a series of ‘tsks’ and cat-glasses jumped.
“Miss Barnes, please don’t insult the intelligence of these ladies,” he told her.
Laurel smiled, surprised. “Yeah,” she said.
“Surely they realize we would not have hired two such determined women unless we had something rare and valuable to deliver.”
“And therefore dangerous,” suggested Violet, her eyes still locked on the man, specifically his broad shoulders.
“Quite,” said the man. He turned to her and matched her look of appraisal, moving is eyes down Violet’s slim body. He resurfaced with a smile and an outstretched hand.
“Henry Rickenbacher. President. Blue G. Food Division. R and D.”
“Violet Capagio. President. S-skyway Mechanix.” The company name caught in her throat.
“Hey!” interjected Laurel.
Violet held up a silencing hand to her partner.
Rickenbacher smiled. Violet noticed it was a smile full of perfectly white, perfectly even teeth. Everything about him from his salt and pepper hair to his carefully dark, plaid suit right down to the tiny white knights parading across his purple tie were all perfect. Violet felt the room warm a little.
“I don’t think we need to tell you this is an inherently dangerous trip. I’ve heard good thing about you from Robert Bitterman.”
“You did?” asked Laurel. She sounded genuinely shocked.
Violet winced.
“He said he was amazed at the lengths you two went to protect his dog. I know how much he loved that dog. That was high praise.”
To her surprise Violet felt herself blush.
“We try,” she told him.
“By all accounts you are dedicated to your clients and their property,” Rickenbacher continued. “In any event the box is of immense value – irreplaceable really. You are transporting it to our secure storage facility in Duluth.”
Cat-glasses cleared her throat. She examined the lock and one of the guards placed the box on a cart. The other guard came around the table and stood nearby.
“Well, this all seems pretty clear,” said Violet. She looked up at Laurel with a smirk. “I’m sure we won’t run into in any problems.”
Violet turned and looked up into Rickenbacher’s dark brown eyes and he down into her’s. Rickenbacher reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a business card that he held out to Violet.
“If you get into any trouble,” he told her, “Please call. Any time, day or night.”
Violet kept her eyes locked with his. She reached up and took the card with looking. Her fingers groped and missed. Rickenbacher took her hand and gently placed the card inside it.
Laurel, miss Barnes and the two guards stared at Violet and Rickenbacher. Laurel looked puzzled while the rest looked flushed and uncomfortable. Laurel cleared her throat and whatever spell drew them together was broken. Rickenbacher dropped Violet’s hand and stepped back.
“We should get on the road,” Violet said.
Laurel giggled. “Yeah. Road. Let’s get on that.”
“Remember – day or night,” Rickenbacher told her.
Violet nodded and walked out the door. Laurel followed and the two guards left pushing the cart. Miss Barnes stayed behind with Rickenbacher. She removed her glasses and shook out her hair which transformed from mousey brown to a deep brunette as it fell. When they were alone she removed her pink lab coat to reveal a tight, red sweater and short grey skirt.
“She didn’t ask….” the woman began
“That’s none of your concern now, Danielle.” Rickenbacher said.
Danielle nodded. She twiddled her fingers and vanished from the room. Rickenbacher smiled to himself.
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