To the Whitehouse: A Jefferson Dime thriller PART 1
Amy Fuchs fiddled with her long blond hair. When on TACOPS she wore it in a severe French Braid but today it flowed luxuriantly over her freckled yet muscular shoulders.
A gentle onshore breeze blew down from the Santa Monica hills out to sea, bringing the balmy scent of oranges and citrus fruit to Amy's powerful nostrils.
A hundred yards away the Pacific Ocean rubbed gently against the greatest country in the world.
Young men with flat stomachs and crew cuts paraded up and down the beachfront area known as Truckles. Some of them would disappear for a few minutes into the dense azalea bushes back of the boardwalk.
A familiar voice called from inside the large clapboard beach house. Amy wondered who it could be.
"Fuchs get your patootie here this instant !"
Jefferson Dime was unable to join Amy on the verandah. He was confined to a wicker basket on wheels following an incident in DC. Whilst looking for trace evidence in the Monument following a notorious abduction three years previously he had stumbled upon an illicit bukkake party in a hidden chamber.
He had never revealed exactly what happened next, not even to Amy when she slid inside the basket on their occasional nights together.
"Gizza shot o' rye sweetcheeks" the basket-bound forensic wizard ordered.
"Well that ain't happening any time soon" boomed a rich deep voice. It was Wilson Carrera, Dime's carer and nemesis. Carrera was a huge Brazilian from the outskirts of San Miguel. He knew that too much whisky could prove fatal to his basket-bound boss. Instead he handed him a glass of sasparilla with a plastic bendy straw.
Dime slurped the soft drink noisily, pretending to dislike it, then belched loudly.
The nondescript man sat on a bench by the bus station. He watched as the sleek Greyhounds eased in and out carrying passengers to a dozen states. Soon he would be a passenger too. But first he had a task to carry out. A very important task
Dime and Fuchs looked at the fullscreen document viewer. The ransom note taunted them silently. "Jefferson, what do you think this note is telling us ?" asked Fuchs, nervously sucking one of her ginger pigtails.
"No first names remember... it is unlucky." "Sorry Dime"
"Well the note appears similar to many of hundreds we have processed over the years. It is if you will a contract; in exchange for a certain sum of money a certain act will not be carried out."
"The handwriting seems a little shaky Dime"
"Yes. Perhaps the writer was on a hoverboard at the time. But that is only supposition"
"Okaaay. Let's check out the hoverboard owners within 12 blocks of the kidnap site."
"Anything else Dime ? i notice that the writer has given his name and address at the end... is there anything we can do with that ?"
"It is best if we do not rush to conclusions Fuchs. Now let's look at the trace from the letter and envelope."
Fuchs wheeled her basket-bound boss and lover across the uneven wooden floor to the other room where state of the art analytical equipment was randomly scattered around in addition to a 1954 Seeburg Selectomatic jukebox and parts of a candy yellow Chevelle SS 454 which Fuchs was gradually rebuilding.
Fuchs had spent many hours with her Mom in Pittsburgh tweaking the engines of musclecars and bashing out the dents after a weekend racing guys up and down the levees. Sheriff Waylon Cummings and his deputies were frequent visitors to the dilapidated ironstone back of main street Frenchtown. A final ultimatum was issued to the feisty brunette... two years in juvie or move out of Indiana. Fuchs chose option b) and departed for the Sunshine State to live with her Mom's younger sister Aunt Ellen.
Ellen Chastaigne ran a network of hydroponic weed farms out of La Jolla. She taught her wayward niece all about the business. Fuchs was able to make some important improvements in the lighting and watering systems.
"The trace Fuchs"
"Sorry Dime... just thinking about Aunt Ellen. She would have been forty tomorrow."
Dime sighed deeply. He knew all about Ellen Chastaigne and her drug farms. He had persuaded her neice to leave the business and work with the good guys.
Fuchs pressed buttons on a sleek black console and an HD image flickered to life on the viewer. "OK this is from the flap of the envelope. Several black animal hairs and unknown vegetable matter. Strong trace of monosodium glutatamate. Also garlic, ginger and salt."
"Dime what do you think ?"
"These are all commonly found in Chinese take away food. My guess is sweet and sour pork with seafood noodle."
"And the black animal hair ?"
"Lets GC it"
Fuchs placed one of the hairs into the Agilent 7890B state-of-the-art gas chromatograph.
The machine burnt the hairs and analyzed the vapor.
"Canis familiaris... what is that Dime ? A Chinese Water Deer ?"
"No Fuchs it is Fido"
"So we know that the perp, or whoever sealed the envelope had recently eaten a Chinese takeaway."
"And owned a dog right ?"
"Possibly"
The nondescript man walked out of the station concourse. He picked up a Washington Post from a newsstand. In the distance the Monument was framed by the setting sun. He headed for the subway and the poorer part of town. None of the other passengers gave him a second glance.
"Rub down time Dime" boomed Carrera's silky voice. He wheeled Dime to the wet room and gave him a thorough massage and hosedown before replacing him in the basket.
When they returned to the lab area Fuchs was reading the text of the note again, paying especial attention to the spelling and punctuation.
FBI you must pay me $30 000 003 before 9pm Thursday or Wookie is toast.
Jacob R Henschelmeyer III
1211 Pacific Heights
Santa Monica
90403
Only a handful of people apart from the President of the United States knew that his adored bichon frise bitch Wookie had been kidnapped from the White House lawn during a barbecue two days previously.
A gentle onshore breeze blew down from the Santa Monica hills out to sea, bringing the balmy scent of oranges and citrus fruit to Amy's powerful nostrils.
A hundred yards away the Pacific Ocean rubbed gently against the greatest country in the world.
Young men with flat stomachs and crew cuts paraded up and down the beachfront area known as Truckles. Some of them would disappear for a few minutes into the dense azalea bushes back of the boardwalk.
A familiar voice called from inside the large clapboard beach house. Amy wondered who it could be.
"Fuchs get your patootie here this instant !"
Jefferson Dime was unable to join Amy on the verandah. He was confined to a wicker basket on wheels following an incident in DC. Whilst looking for trace evidence in the Monument following a notorious abduction three years previously he had stumbled upon an illicit bukkake party in a hidden chamber.
He had never revealed exactly what happened next, not even to Amy when she slid inside the basket on their occasional nights together.
"Gizza shot o' rye sweetcheeks" the basket-bound forensic wizard ordered.
"Well that ain't happening any time soon" boomed a rich deep voice. It was Wilson Carrera, Dime's carer and nemesis. Carrera was a huge Brazilian from the outskirts of San Miguel. He knew that too much whisky could prove fatal to his basket-bound boss. Instead he handed him a glass of sasparilla with a plastic bendy straw.
Dime slurped the soft drink noisily, pretending to dislike it, then belched loudly.
The nondescript man sat on a bench by the bus station. He watched as the sleek Greyhounds eased in and out carrying passengers to a dozen states. Soon he would be a passenger too. But first he had a task to carry out. A very important task
Dime and Fuchs looked at the fullscreen document viewer. The ransom note taunted them silently. "Jefferson, what do you think this note is telling us ?" asked Fuchs, nervously sucking one of her ginger pigtails.
"No first names remember... it is unlucky." "Sorry Dime"
"Well the note appears similar to many of hundreds we have processed over the years. It is if you will a contract; in exchange for a certain sum of money a certain act will not be carried out."
"The handwriting seems a little shaky Dime"
"Yes. Perhaps the writer was on a hoverboard at the time. But that is only supposition"
"Okaaay. Let's check out the hoverboard owners within 12 blocks of the kidnap site."
"Anything else Dime ? i notice that the writer has given his name and address at the end... is there anything we can do with that ?"
"It is best if we do not rush to conclusions Fuchs. Now let's look at the trace from the letter and envelope."
Fuchs wheeled her basket-bound boss and lover across the uneven wooden floor to the other room where state of the art analytical equipment was randomly scattered around in addition to a 1954 Seeburg Selectomatic jukebox and parts of a candy yellow Chevelle SS 454 which Fuchs was gradually rebuilding.
Fuchs had spent many hours with her Mom in Pittsburgh tweaking the engines of musclecars and bashing out the dents after a weekend racing guys up and down the levees. Sheriff Waylon Cummings and his deputies were frequent visitors to the dilapidated ironstone back of main street Frenchtown. A final ultimatum was issued to the feisty brunette... two years in juvie or move out of Indiana. Fuchs chose option b) and departed for the Sunshine State to live with her Mom's younger sister Aunt Ellen.
Ellen Chastaigne ran a network of hydroponic weed farms out of La Jolla. She taught her wayward niece all about the business. Fuchs was able to make some important improvements in the lighting and watering systems.
"The trace Fuchs"
"Sorry Dime... just thinking about Aunt Ellen. She would have been forty tomorrow."
Dime sighed deeply. He knew all about Ellen Chastaigne and her drug farms. He had persuaded her neice to leave the business and work with the good guys.
Fuchs pressed buttons on a sleek black console and an HD image flickered to life on the viewer. "OK this is from the flap of the envelope. Several black animal hairs and unknown vegetable matter. Strong trace of monosodium glutatamate. Also garlic, ginger and salt."
"Dime what do you think ?"
"These are all commonly found in Chinese take away food. My guess is sweet and sour pork with seafood noodle."
"And the black animal hair ?"
"Lets GC it"
Fuchs placed one of the hairs into the Agilent 7890B state-of-the-art gas chromatograph.
The machine burnt the hairs and analyzed the vapor.
"Canis familiaris... what is that Dime ? A Chinese Water Deer ?"
"No Fuchs it is Fido"
"So we know that the perp, or whoever sealed the envelope had recently eaten a Chinese takeaway."
"And owned a dog right ?"
"Possibly"
The nondescript man walked out of the station concourse. He picked up a Washington Post from a newsstand. In the distance the Monument was framed by the setting sun. He headed for the subway and the poorer part of town. None of the other passengers gave him a second glance.
"Rub down time Dime" boomed Carrera's silky voice. He wheeled Dime to the wet room and gave him a thorough massage and hosedown before replacing him in the basket.
When they returned to the lab area Fuchs was reading the text of the note again, paying especial attention to the spelling and punctuation.
FBI you must pay me $30 000 003 before 9pm Thursday or Wookie is toast.
Jacob R Henschelmeyer III
1211 Pacific Heights
Santa Monica
90403
Only a handful of people apart from the President of the United States knew that his adored bichon frise bitch Wookie had been kidnapped from the White House lawn during a barbecue two days previously.
(edited 8 years ago)
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