A.J. missed his morning run two days in a row because he had been up well into the early morning hours straightening up the mess the intruders had left behind. He spent good fifteen minutes in a hot shower then padded down to the kitchen to get the coffee maker going. While performing his morning ritual, the phone rang.
"Hello?"
He assumed it was probably his mother worried about him after yesterday's incident.
"Mr. Simon? Mr. Andrew Simon?"
He was surprised to hear an unfamiliar male voice. "Yes, this is he."
"I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I don't know your work schedule and wanted to catch you before you left for work."
"That's all right, sir. I'm used to receiving calls at all hours. It comes with the territory."
"Truth in advertisement—I like that. I'm Carlton Price, President of Secure Guard." The caller paused to let the information sink in. "I understand that you found a portion of the money stolen from our armored vehicle."
"Yes, I believe so."
"You know this is the first break we've ever got in the robbery investigation so far. I'm certain that the police are doing their best to solve this case, but it's been slow-going. To make a long story short, I'd like to hire you to track the rest of the money."
A.J. blinked a few times to clear away the cobwebs. "That's great! We won't disappoint you, Mr. Price. My brother and I can start right away, and it'll be our priority…"
"Excuse me, Mr. Simon." Price interrupted A.J. "The reason I called you this early is that I am leaving for L.A. this morning and would like to see you and discuss our case in person before I go. Could you possibly meet me in my office in half an hour?"
"That wouldn't be a problem at all, sir," A.J. didn't hesitate to answer. "But my brother might not be able to make it. Is it all right if I see you alone?"
"Certainly. I know it's such a short notice." Price sounded relieved. "The office won't be officially open until 9:00, so I'll post one of the guards at the entrance and have him escort you in when you get here. Do you know where our office is, Mr. Simon?"
"I do."
A.J. thanked Price and quickly got off the phone to be ready for an impromptu meeting. On his way out, he was about to take a step toward Rick's boat in the backyard but heard a noise coming from the garage.
He found Rick lying on his back working on the undercarriage of his Power Wagon.
"Rick, I didn't know you were up so early."
Rick slid out from under the truck. "Just wanted to look 'er over so she won't be acting up again before I take this baby to the shop this weekend."
Seeing his brother already in business attire, Rick checked on his wristwatch. "I thought we didn't have to start the surveillance till 10:00 this morning," said he with a puzzled look.
"I just received a call from Carlton Price." A.J. grinned.
"Carlton Price?" Rick cocked his head searching his memory. "Why does it sound so familiar…?"
"He's the head of Secure Guard. He was on the news often after the heist. He wants to hire us to work on the robbery case," announced A.J. all revved up with a new prospect. "He's going to L.A. this morning but wants to have a meeting with me before he leaves in..." He took a quick glance at his watch. "…twenty-five minutes. Thought you were still in bed. If I don't have time to go to the office, I'll see you at the surveillance site. Okay? Bye!"
Before Rick could fully digest what his brother had said, A.J. was in his Camaro, backing out of the driveway.
The building of Secure Guard was located in the industrial section of the city. It had a huge annex to keep its armored vehicles and provide loading areas.
A.J. drove through the security gate that readily opened for him. As he was getting out of his car, he saw a guard approaching.
"Mr. Simon?" asked the guard. His uniform had a name LaRoche sewn on and looked a little snug on his stocky build.
"Yes."
"Mr. Price is in his office, but he asked me to show you the car that got hijacked in the robbery before the meeting."
For a brief moment, A.J. thought it was odd; the police must have searched and found any evidence, if at all, in the vehicle after the robbery, and it had been a month since then. But he was eager to please his big client and, most of all, prove to himself that the heist and the McBride case shared common denominators. He nodded and followed LaRoche to the annex.
There were several armored cars in the building. The guard led A.J. to the one closest to the entrance. He opened the back of the vehicle for A.J. and said, "Here. Take a look." He stepped aside.
When A.J. took a few steps closer to have a better look, LaRoche rammed him from behind into the vehicle and slammed the door shut. He stumbled and fell to the floor, but he picked himself up almost instantly. That was when he saw a man sitting on one of the benches.
It was Craig Larson, the man A.J. had positively ID'd, last seen at Blue Moon the other night. He had a vicious grin on his face and a gun in his hand.
Rick knew it was a bad omen when his brother didn't show up at work on time. A.J. never failed to call when he was running late. Still, Rick had to leave the office to start the new assignment in Chula Vista for Duane Foster. He knew it was overkill, but he left a voice message on each answering machine at work and A.J.'s home, plus a handwritten note on his desk.
Rick usually didn't mind this type of work. Taking turns with his brother, he could do whatever he wanted, even sleep, when he wasn't on the watch. It was easy money in most part, but going solo was another story.
He found a perfect spot to park his truck to keep an eye on the mark. There was a payphone near the target's office as well. During the surveillance, he checked on the two answering machines a few times—still no word from A.J.
He was getting desperate by lunchtime and decided to call his mother praying he'd be able to magically find his brother at her place.
"Hello." Cecilia's bubbly voice came on after a couple of rings.
"Hi, Mom," said Rick, hoping he sounded as cheerful as she so as not to alarm her unnecessarily. "How's my favorite lady?"
"If I'm your favorite, why don't you take me out for lunch more often?"
"I can't right now—I'm on a new case."
There was a slight pause. When she spoke again, Cecilia sounded somber. "Is A.J. all right?"
Rick nearly panicked for a moment thinking somehow she had found out about his brother going MIA, but then he realized she was referring to the break-in the day before.
"You know, he looked real tired this morning. He was up almost all night cleaning up the house, but I'm sure he'll be all right."
"He looked tired?" Cecilia asked suspiciously. "Isn't he with you?"
"Uh, no. He received a call from the president of Secure Guard early this morning. The thing is, Mom, yesterday we went back to Blue Moon and found a part of the money stolen from the company's armored car, and it sounds like they're interested in hiring us to track the rest of it. So, A.J. went to Secure Guard to meet with the big cheese while I'm doing some other work."
"Why didn't you call me when you found the money last night? You said you'd call and fill me in on the new development."
"I didn't know what time you'd come home." It was not untrue. He'd learned from the past experience that the best way to avoid telling the truth was not to lie. "By the way, how was your dinner date? And more importantly, how was your beau? I hope he behaved like a gentleman." Duck, dodge and feint.
"That's none of your damn business, but thanks for asking," said Cecilia with a smile in her voice. "Anyway, thank you for the update. And I do appreciate your being there for A.J. I know he can be difficult to be around when he's under a lot of stress and pressure…"
His mother's kind words had unintentional effects on him, inflaming his gnawing guilt that he'd somehow failed her and A.J.
"Um, Mom? I gotta go back to work." Feeling the tight grip on his emotions loosen, he lied. He could no longer sit on his hands and wait for his brother to come back on his own.
After he finished his call to his mother, Rick called Duane Foster to inform him that he'd have to curtail today's work due to a family emergency.
He returned to his office to regroup. He was able to think more objectively once he was back in his work environment. One of the scenarios for A.J.'s unexplained absence was an accident. So, he called P.J. Howe, another investigator who almost exclusively worked for an ambulance chaser. The guy had a police scanner and screened the police radio communication for a living.
"P.J.? Rick Simon."
"Rick! Long time, no see. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Well, I'm calling to see if you heard about any major accidents in and around town this morning."
"What? You trying to carve a niche in my field?" P.J. asked half jokingly.
"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm trying to track someone who's been a no-show since this morning."
"Oh, okay." P.J. sounded somewhat relieved. "Let's see… There was a three-car accident on I-5 a little after 7:00, a hit-and-run in Balboa Park, a car on fire on the 805. Others are nothing but fender-benders, my friend."
"Any fatality?" Rick tried to sound neutral.
"A woman was killed in the accident on I-5. The hit-and-run victim is in critical condition. Last I heard he was in ICU."
"Who's he?"
"A college kid who was riding his bike. Got hit from behind."
"Got make and model of the burning car?"
"A van, maybe a Ford Econoline, but I'm not sure."
Rick had heard enough to rule out an auto accident as the cause of A.J.'s disappearance. He thanked P.J. and promised to buy him lunch soon.
Next on Rick's checklist was Secure Guard. He looked up the phone number in the yellow pages.
"This is Rick Simon of Simon & Simon Investigations. May I speak with Mr. Price?"
He remembered A.J. telling him that Price would be leaving town, but they might be able to patch him through to the boss, he hoped.
"Please hold while I check with his office," answered the receptionist.
She came back on after a minute or less. "Thank you for holding. I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Simon, that our president left for L.A. for a corporate meeting yesterday and won't be in until next Monday."
After that, Rick could hardly remember what she or he had said before hanging up the phone. The alarm inside his head was now clanging so loud he couldn't think straight. As he struggled to gather his thoughts, the phone began to ring.
Rick picked up the phone receiver hoping against hope to find A.J. on the other end of the line.
"Simon & Simon Investigations. This is…"
"Shut up and listen, Simon."
Rick's heart instantly began racing. He gripped the phone receiver in his hand tighter as though his life—and A.J.'s—depended on it.
"We have your brother."
He had already known that in his gut. Nevertheless, a sensation of dread was rapidly spreading in the pit of his stomach.
"Is… Is he all right?" All of a sudden, he found it difficult to talk, stumbling on some words.
"I said, shut up and listen!" The caller hissed. "Your brother will be safe for the next twenty-four hours while you look for something we need."
"What do you mean? What am I supposed to find?"
"Something that leads us to what we want."
It sounded like a conundrum. "What? You mean, like a key? A map? Come on, if you want something, you gotta give me a better clue than that!"
"You'll know when you see it."
Rick was becoming overwhelmed and frantic. "Let me speak to my brother," he demanded.
The caller's voice became muffled. Rick assumed he had covered the mouthpiece to speak someone else. He heard another man talk. So, there are at least two men holding A.J.
The caller came back on the phone, "Here. Ask him if he's okay but nothing else."
"A.J.?" Rick strained his ears, but A.J. was quiet. "A.J.?" He spoke again with mounting anxiety.
In the background, the kidnapper snapped at A.J., "Say something!"
At the distinct sound of a slap and his brother's yelp, Rick recoiled as if he were the one who had received the blow.
"Damn it, A.J.! Stop being such a stubborn ass! You gotta talk and let me know you're okay!" He yelled into the phone.
"Ri-Ricky?" A.J. finally uttered his brother's name haltingly.
He's trying to tell me something. A.J. hadn't called his big brother Ricky since kindergarten because Rick had repeatedly taught him a painful lesson not to do so. They both knew they had only a moment or two to speak, so A.J. was cueing Rick to pay attention, but it was easier said than done. Rick knew A.J. was mostly acting, but he managed to sound so young and scared like he used to during a thunderstorm or a blackout he had a visceral reaction.
"You okay?" Rick heard a little tremor in his own voice.
Suddenly, a stream of words tumbled out of A.J.'s mouth in a rapid-fire delivery. "I'm sorry, Ricky. I should have listened to you and Brahms when you told me not to meddle with…"
"Enough!" One of the thugs shouted in the background amid the jumble of the noises: some furniture toppling over and a dull thud that sounded like a body hitting a hard-surface floor.
"Don't hurt him!" Rick screamed. "If you so much as harm a hair on his head…"
"Shut up, Simon!" The kidnapper was back on the phone. "You ain't got no bargaining chip, and we got an ace in the hole. Do as I say, or you'll never see your brother alive again, and you and your mama ain't gonna have much of him left to bury. Got that?"
Rick sighed in total capitulation. "Yeah, I hear you."
"As I said, you have exactly twenty-four hours. I'll call you again tomorrow at the same time and give you further instructions. If you miss the call, your brother will die. If you call the cops, he'll die. If you so much as breathe a word about this to anyone, even to your big, mangy mongrel dog…"
"All right! I get the picture!" yelled Rick.
"Good," sneered the kidnapper. "Happy hunting."
Then the line went dead.
Rick held the phone receiver tightly in his hand for a few moments before reluctantly putting it back on the base.
Twenty-four hours—that wasn't enough for some of much simpler cases like missing persons. How was he supposed to save his brother's life when he had no clue what he should be looking for in such a short space of time?
No, not quite. He shook his head. A.J. gave me some clues. He didn't speak on the phone right away because he was formulating a way to sneak certain clues in his message.
He closed his eyes and hit the 'rewind' button on the audio tape player in his head.
I should have listened to you and Brahms when you told me not to meddle with…
There! The subject of Brahms had come up a couple of times in the recent past, but the other clue was much more obvious.
Let the police handle it. The dregs of the society like him will be at the bottom of the priority list at the Homicide anyway.
He had told A.J. not to get involved in the homicide case of Johnny McBride. So, he is onto something in the murder investigation after all, Rick surmised. But who was the culprit? The police had informed the Simon brothers Craig Larson, the man whom A.J. had seen at Blue Moon, had an unshakable alibi. Then who kidnapped A.J.? And what is the link between the murder and this mystery treasure hunt?
Treasure hunt… Those words triggered something else in his brain. A bag of money we found in the dumpster at Blue Moon, a small portion of the loot the thieves had made off with from a Secure Guard armored vehicle. Did McBride steal some or all of a million plus from his gang? But the bills are all sequential and traceable, so they're worthless for the crooks…
Rick seemed to have hit the wall on the first clue, so he decided to move on to the second one for a change of pace. The last time A.J. had mentioned 'Brahms,' he had been watching a classic Bugs Bunny cartoon…
Hmm… this is an interesting coincidence, Rick heard his brother's voice in his head. Remember which composer is paired with 'Brahms' in the rhyming slang I told you about?
Of course he did. He hadn't been that drunk—or pissed—the previous night at the bar. It was List, or something similar with an additional Z tossed in somewhere. Regardless of the spelling, it sounded the same as 'list,' which rhymed…
Rick's eyes flew open as he realized he had stumbled onto something. He could now clearly recall their conversation at the bar.
List? What kind of list are you talking about?
No, not that list. It's L-I-S-Z-T, as in Franz Liszt, a composer like Brahms.
List! Is that what you were trying to tell me, A.J.? A list? But what kind of list is it?
Not surprisingly, A.J.'s voice in his head had no answer for it.
A glimmer of hope Rick had felt only moments ago began to fade. Calling A.J. a well-organized person was like calling Mount Everest just a mountain. He was so über type-A, he made a list for just about anything: shopping list on the side of the fridge, to-do list around the house, work schedule sorted by priorities and deadlines, vendors list at work, social calendar at home…
But he could not afford to give in to despair in this life-and-death situation, Rick reminded himself. And failure was not an option. This list had to be related to the McBride case. But the police were handling it, and A.J. had no file—or list—for the case because he was merely poking around unofficially on his own time.
What list? Rick felt like screaming at his brother. Instead, he closed his eyes again trying to recall every word he had told him in the last couple of days.
