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The stretch limo absolutely reeked with the odor of money. The black leather seats were overstuffed and plush, with velour door panels and opera lights over the doors. Luther sat by himself facing the same two silent sentinels he’d met on a previous occasion. Neither man smiled or showed any sign of emotion, but Luther could see no obvious lobotomy scars, so he presumed this was a conditioned response gleaned from years of intimidation. He envisioned these two geeks taking turns torturing each other; yea, because they needed to reinforce their ability to silently withstand any sort of pain, but mostly just because of the pure unadulterated fun of it.
“Look, guys, if we’re going to be pals, I think more formal introductions are in order.” Luther extended his hand. “Luther Shehee’s my name… and yours?”
Neither man reacted at first, then one man pulled a blindfold out of his pocket. “Mr. Shehee, if you’d please put this on, I’d be obliged.”
Luther sighed and placed the blindfold over his eyes. “Yea, well, truthfully, folks, and I mean no offense, the scenery was less than scintillating, anyway.” Luther’s world was now black as night, but he was sure that they were smiling and shaking their heads at each other.
Presently, after a period of time that Luther presumed to be 15 minutes or so (it was at times such as this that he wished he owned a watch), the car stopped and the trio disembarked. Oddly, there had been mainly left turns, as close as Luther could tell from the way his body leaned during the ride… almost as though they’d been driving in circles.
A meaty hand on each of Luther’s arms guided him into an elevator. Luther, trained reporter that he is, counted the dings as the floors ticked off in their journey upwards. Finally, the doors opened and he was led out. Thirteen ticks… that would mean we’re on the fifteenth floor, buildings don’t have a thirteenth.
After a short walk and the sound of fingers punching numbers into a security release door, Luther once again regained his window unto the world, albeit after the shock of the lights had faded and he could get his bearings. Same room… same cold, garish, overstuffed monument to Postmodernism he’d encountered during his first visit.
Luther scanned the room for an ashtray, he was dying for a cigarette. Yea… fat chance. We are still in L.A.
“Mr. Shehee… how nice to see you again! I trust you’re comfortable?”
That same damn computer-altered voice!
“Oh, yea, there’s nothing like a good blindfold to enhance your feelings of security. But, I digress… Oh, and while we’re on the subject, if you’re going to insist on holding our meetings here, how about putting something brown in the room, so I don’t have to keep rubbing occasionally to make sure I still have my nuts!”
The room filled with the voice’s bombastic laugh. “Splendid, Mr. Shehee… absolutely splendid! I think the sudden addition to your bank account has bolstered your spirits as well!”
Luther pointed his finger at the ceiling and shook it as he spoke. “Yea… I wanted to ask you about that. You see, I didn’t do a single thing to Charlie Cantrell… not a word, not an action, not a threat… nothing!”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mr. Shehee. But in any case, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, Charlie Cantrell is of no concern to me. I was testing you… I needed to find out if I could trust you, Mr. Shehee. I had to determine if you were a team player.”
Now it was Luther’s turn to snort. He grinned at nothing in particular as he remarked, “Know something? That’s the second time today the concept of ‘team players’ has been addressed, and both times, the addressee was moved to wonder just exactly what in the hell that term means… How can I be on a team if I don’t know what it is?” Now Luther’s arms were outstretched, imploring someone to answer.
“Yes, well, I see a little demonstration is in order. Number One, please demonstrate the concept for our guest.”
With one lightning-fast karate move, the larger of the two lieutenants delivered the blunt palm of his right hand to the chin of the second, causing the second attendant to fall into an unmoving clump of clothes at his feet. There was no expression of malice or any other emotion as he stared at Luther.
“Mr. Shehee, a team is comprised of members who are willing to strike at a moment’s notice, to take advantage of an opportunity. It also entails acceptance of the sometimes more painful aspects of a cruel world. In either case, they are very well compensated. Really, isn’t that the most important aspect? They perform out of loyalty, yes, but mainly from capitalistic motivation. Take Number One for example… where else could he derive a six-figure yearly income for the services he provides? Number One, please see to your associate… and if and when he wakes up, please remind him that the Lady Luck Saloon in Van Nuys is not the sort of place he should be spending his time.”
This fruitcake is capable of anything… think Luther… where have you heard this voice before?
“Look… whoever you are… I’m very impressed with your goons. I know you have the capability of making me suffer in myriad ways… I get it, okay? And, I’m grateful for the bread you put in my account. But, I still don’t know what you want from me. Surely you can find someone infinitely more capable of doing whatever it is you really have on your agenda. I’m a schlock, over-the-hill sports writer, nothing more. I don’t have any clout, I don’t have any money… hell, I barely have a place to live! Why me, for Chris’sake?”
Luther put his hands down as the pause ran past thirty seconds. He sat down on the couch, but didn’t lean back. He glanced towards the door, but both attendants had disappeared. He was alone.
“Mr. Shehee, I understand that this has been a lot for you to absorb. Please understand further that I mean you no harm. In fact, you may come to find our relationship has greater value than you could have ever known in your wildest dreams. For now, I ask only that you act as my eyes and ears. From time to time, I will ask you to come back and share some information with me. Merely keep an open mind and use your skills… in the long run, they could be our savior. Goodbye for now, Mr. Shehee…”
The ride back to The Dispatch offices was uneventful. The blindfold was removed as the limo stopped at the curb on the opposite side of the street. As Luther slid out of the street, he glanced at the angry purple bruise on the attendant’s chin. Grinning in commiseration, he remarked, “It’s a bitch being Number Two, ain’t it?”
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