Running
With No Feet
Jemmie Adams
Copyright © 2011 Jemmie Adams
Published by Midnight Publishing LLC at Smashwords
P.O. Box 4434, Jersey City, NJ 07304
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-0-615-21913-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2009907636
Cover Design: Cory Clubb
This book is dedicated to my friend Two Scoops. If it hadn’t been for you this book would never be. Enjoy.
And to Hard Work, I would like to say thank you. You made the dream achievable.
“Either destroy a man
or leave him alone entirely.”
Niccolo Machiavelli
1469–1527
Table of Contents
Chapter 3 - Victor Diamond, Mr. Diamond, V.D
Chapter 7 - Inside Steve Birdoff
Chapter10 - Victor Vicious Diamond
Chapter15 - Setting Up The Pieces
Chapter19 - A Call From Morestrick
Chapter20 - A Little Boy And His Kite
1
OGLING
Bite jogged along, watching the woman, and not seeing the hole in the street he was approaching. Her beauty deserved an admiral’s salute and he knew that he could not give her some old bus driver’s pick-up line. As she approached, Bite slowed his marathon pace. His eyes remained steadily on her. He thought hard about how to introduce himself. The way the curve of her hips teased his eyes, he could not wait for her to pass so he could rubberneck. Soon, he would have to rely on his memory to recall her image unless he did something fast. As she drew nearer, Bite observed her bone-colored mini skirt and matching halter-top accented with stilettos. Her well-developed legs and thighs told him she probably hit the treadmill once in the morning and again before she went to bed. She swayed down the sidewalk. Without having to say a word, her presence parted the crowd as she glided along. The sun was shining brightly.
Just then, Bite built up enough confidence to speak, but his decision was too late. He had already jogged past the red cones and into the open manhole. The last thing he saw was her backside; it seized his mind like a drug. The only good thing about Bite falling through the open manhole was that he didn’t hit his head on the metal siding.
He lay at the bottom of the manhole looking up at the morning sky envisioning what he had just seen and what he would like to have done with it.
The smell of spoiled meat intruded on his fantasy. At least that was what he hoped it was. Bite squinted. The only light that the tunnel provided was the daylight that shone from the hole in the entrance above and a dimly lit bulb attached to the wall.
His clothes were still dry. In every movie he had ever seen, manholes had water on the ground but this one did not. Instead, his nose filled with the stench of something rotten. He tried to stand, but the fall had affected him more than he had thought. The pain now hit him like a wild baseball pitch to his leg. His body became limp and brought him to the ground. “I got to get the hell out of this hole,” he said aloud.
He thought for sure he would be able to get play from the girl now that he had expressed his admiration by breaking his leg. He laughed and tried to get on his feet again. When he placed his hand on the ground for extra support, his hand touched something. “What the hell is this?” Bite asked.
As he leaned over into the sunlight, he saw it was a stack of one hundred dollar bills. It had to be about 30,000 dollars here, he guessed. Bite wouldn’t know that it was actually 20,000 dollars until he went to the police station later that afternoon.
He gave his attention to the ground and found six more stacks. He also noticed a gym bag about two feet away from the ladder. He crawled to the gym bag. Inside the gym bag, he found stacks and stacks of one hundred dollar bills.
A sharp pain made Bite forget about his new fortune for a few seconds. He looked at the ground to see where the sun didn’t illuminate, and that’s where he put the gym bag. I’ll come back later for this, just in case somebody sees me coming out of this vault with a broken leg and wants to play doctor. With my luck, they would look down, see the loot and there goes my new car and a trip around the world.
As he crawled to the corner, he noticed another gym bag but this one was bigger. He opened it and jerked his hands back. Inside the bag were two heads.
The first head was a woman’s, and she wore a veil. As Bite lifted the veil, blood dripped from the bottom. From the way her head was severed, the butcher must have known a great deal about anatomy. The bodiless lady had black pearl eyes and long eyelashes. Blood trickled down her face and her beauty could still be seen, just as a pretty woman’s face shows through the rain. Someone had carved something into her forehead, but it was hard to make out through the streaks of blood.
Bite also found the head of a man in the bag. A photograph was taped to his forehead. He looked at the picture in the sunlight. Both of the heads were in the picture; the only difference was that in the photograph they had their bodies with them. The picture had today’s date on the bottom of it, with a time stamped 12:07 P.M. Bite’s watch read 2:03 P.M. The killers had just dropped this off. They must still be in the tunnel.
2
THE ERROR REPORT
His right hand was worth 150 million dollars. His fingers displayed diamonds depicting renowned skylines on the planet. On his pinky, he wore the skyline of Chicago, home of the first modern skyscraper. The pointer highlighted New York City. On his middle finger, he wore the outline of the White House. Wrapped around his wrist, dressed in diamonds, was Hong Kong, the tallest city in the world. Usually the only thing that adorned his attire, in the privacy of his own home, was a Blancpain timepiece. A lover for the flair, he seldom took a break. In a crowded room or behind closed doors, no one demanded more attention.
“Listen, we’ve been on this phone for over two hours talking about what to do. Now it’s time to vote,” Victor Diamond slammed his hand on the conference table and the speakerphone jumped. Victor was one of the most powerful members of C2.
The Captains of Time, also known as C2, was an elite group of executives who controlled a large portion of the planet’s wealth. They were ruthless individuals who were capable of poisoning a nation’s irrigation system to cripple the interior structure just to acquire land, killing babies and maiming livestock in the process.
The organization started out as a social club in Arlington Virginia, which attracted the most influential people in society. No one knew exactly when or where they adopted procrustean (barbaric) acts but every member took the blood oath to remain in power and to rule the world.
They launched their campaign on foreign soil, focusing on natural resources and later moved stateside. Captains of Time lured native executives to sign over the controlling interests of their companies by unspoken means; once the ink was dry, families were eliminated, cars pushed off cliffs, and bloody murders were written up and filed as natural causes. Captains of Time did all of this in the name of profit. The motive had no color, no gender and no heart, just one mission—more profit. It was nothing for C2 to relocate a wealthy executive to the bottom of a well.
The money in your pocket belongs to them. Your hard-earned sweat money, called a paycheck, is also theirs. When you cut out the politics and break it down, you only work to pay bills. Whether you are buying groceries, clothes, paying rent or paying daycare to work in the first place, the money you earn must be spent to assist in daily survival. Only fools think their earnings belong to them.
The Captains of Time had their hands in all financial processes from production to consumption. If you buy a pair of jeans, chances are that they own the plant where the cloth is manufactured. Don’t be surprised if they own the raw material, too. If you are paying your phone bill on time or a little late, C2 counts that as profit. You want to buy your little child an ice cream cone? They own the dairy farms. And you want sprinkles! If elders require medicine, that’s profit. They use old folks like credit cards.
The Captains of Time will lose no sleep suppressing the knowledge of technical advancement if it interferes with their profits. Some old folk have to take fourteen different pills. The prescriptions must be refilled every month. One bottle costs $92, and that’s the generic brand.
Are you starting to get the picture? The Captains of Time would not like it any other way. Victor Diamond would not let that happen; neither would his secret Delete Troop.
Victor leaned over the speakerphone. “Well.” He dropped his elbow on the table and brought his hand to his beard to massage it. “Listen, I know what I just asked. You need some time to think about it. So I’ll give you till tomorrow morning, say after I eat my breakfast?”
No one said a word.
Under different circumstances, at least one of the members would have told him to kick rocks. They had just as much power as Victor but because of Victor’s latest underhanded operation, he was the one willing to show it at any cost. The latest plans gave them a lot to think about. Victor hung up the phone. He thought about his plans and the private conversations that they would create. He figured that Johnny Well and Pike Manner would try to convince the other members of C2 to reject his proposition but they couldn’t reject Victor’s offer. How do you reject Marilyn Monroe, lying on the bed, singing happy birthday to you? You don’t. Victor knew this and that is why he walked to his room with confidence.
The next morning, Victor performed his daily routine. He ate two eggs with the eyes looking at him, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and wheat toast spread with old ranch butter. With a flip of a switch, he reviewed all calls made out of his office the previous day. He was not concerned about the content. His main goal was to see if any calls were intercepted. He usually performed this procedure the night before, but sometimes he would perform it in the morning.
Victor’s computer system was the best. The man who built his system was a two-time winner of the Riksbank Prize in Economics. Victor Diamond called it The Big Brain Award. Steve Birdoff worked for Victor at one of his computer companies in Detroit. He was a good man and extremely smart. Victor had never met Steve but knew everything about him. He made sure to learn everything about his key players.
While Victor was reading over his reports, he noticed that a block of time had been deleted. This same time block was put on a secured line to have his meeting with C2, so he ran another program to make sure that no one tapped into it. All conversations that C2 held first ran through a special program Steve Birdoff designed. This line was impenetrable. In all the years that he had this program, there never was a problem with anyone tapping into the C2 connection line. The program Victor ran usually took three minutes, but this time it ran for over fifteen minutes. The line was designed to make sure it was secure. If it was secure, a report would print out. If it wasn’t secure, then the report would read “grey-running trace.” Then it would print the location of the party that had tapped into the line. The report that printed out from yesterday’s meeting was printing out several locations and stating that the line was secure. At the bottom, Victor noticed that the report read LINE NOT SECURE, GREY-RUNNING TRACE.
“What the hell is going on?” Victor said in a voice that shook the blinds on the windows.
One of his assistants, Savanna, ran into the room to see what happened. She was tall as a tree with a body like a Porsche. Victor made sure to surround himself with fine women. I want to take my condom off, and trap you fine. Savanna had on a coral sports bra with a black tank top and black biker shorts that revealed her long legs. You would think she just slid down a pole to run get a tip. But don’t sleep, Savanna could spit a razor blade out of her mouth and make it stick into a piece of plywood.
“V.D.,” she said in a voice that usually received a smile back.
“I don’t want to hear that S#!t Savanna. Call Paul down in Detroit and tell him to fly Steve Birdoff to my house now.”
“No problem, V.D.,” Savanna said, backing out of the door.
“Tell him to hurry.”
“No problem, V.D.,” Savanna said, as she closed the door.
“And bring me a drink.”
I wonder what’s wrong with V.D. Savanna asked herself, hanging up the phone. Savanna phoned Detroit and proceeded to make Victor Diamond a drink. She walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a triple shot of Bombay Sapphire. She put two ice cubes in it and made her way back to Victor’s room hoping that she had not taken too long. When she opened the door, Victor Diamond was sitting in his adjustable seat. She handed him his drink.
“V.D. what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Not now, Savanna.”
Savanna left the room and decided to send someone in to calm V.D. down. V.D. swallowed the hammer and took in some fresh air as he mumbled, “Aw s#!t, I might as well enjoy myself.” The woman nodded her head in agreement and Victor smiled. He sipped his drink and laid his head back. Savanna gently closed the door and walked back into the kitchen.
3
VICTOR DIAMOND,
Mr. Diamond, V.D.
“No problem, give me five minutes Paul,” Steve replied.
“I need you in here right now.” Paul boomed back.
Steve was left with a dial tone in his ear wondering what got into Paul. Then he remembered, “I can give two s#!ts. I’m on vacation tomorrow.” He walked out of his office thinking he was two weeks ahead of his work schedule. Paul must be trying to dump some of his work on me and I am not going for it this time, he thought. He had just built enough energy to confront the anger he felt when Paul hung the phone up in his ear.
Steve had a wide nose and chipmunk cheeks. He worked out three times a week and tried to squeeze in more when he could. By the time he opened the door, he was ready for Paul.
“What’s up?” Steve asked, opening Paul’s office door with an attitude and flopping in the chair. “Don’t pull this s#!t on me, I’m on vacation tomorrow.” Steve’s voice was pitched, “I don’t need this, I don’t need you, and I don’t need the got damn job. I’m out of here.” Steve rose from the chair he was sitting in. “Whatever you have to say, you can keep it. I’m out of. . . . ”
“Hold up, Steve. What the hell crawled up your pants and bit your nuts?” Paul said.
“I’m just tired of trying to go on vacation and at the last minute you always come and convince me to do this, do that, run this program, encrypt these data files, and, s#!t, my vacation is gone. You’re happy and I’m screwed. But oh no,” Steve said, shaking his head like a dog ornament on the dashboard of a car. “I’m out the door before you wiggle that tongue in your mouth.”
By the time Steve made his last demand, Paul was walking toward his office window. The sun found all the places where hair used to be on his head. It appeared that all the weight on Paul’s body gathered around his mid section, and his legs looked like they were on a diet. He looked back at Steve. “It’s not me this time. It’s Victor Diamond.”
“S#!t, he’s your boss—not mine.”
Paul was trying to recall a scene in Managing Dummies for Dummies that had a similar exchange but Steve had not read the book. He was not saying the right lines. Paul began to panic.
“He’s boss of both of us, Steve. He cuts the checks around here.”
“It is always some new s#!t to make me change my mind.”
“Well,” Paul began, looking through his blinds. As a manager, it was Paul’s job to get Steve to work. There were many ways for management to get workers to comply, and Paul used all of them. “I don’t think it’s even Victor Diamond this time. I mean he wants me to fly you to his house in Canada. I can’t think for what. S#!t, I’ve never been to his house in Canada.”
“Well, what does he want me out there for, Paul?”
“God damn it, I don’t know what for,” Paul said, raising his voice. “But it must be important because he wants me to fly you out there now.”
Steve replied to Paul in the same tone to remind him that he was not his child. With his credentials, he could find a job anywhere. He was a smart man and generally a humble one. Nevertheless, if you back anything into a corner, man or beast, you will have a fight on your hands. “Well, if you’re going to fire me for not going, so be it. If all my work is reduced to this appointment that was set up by you without my knowledge then that’s it. Nice knowing you, Paul.”
Paul walked to the edge of his desk, sat down, and looked at Steve. Steve’s head was not a normal size. It was large, but not large enough to throw off his balance when he walked. He always wore a military haircut and Steve’s barber made no mistakes. His goatee was perfect. Knowing that Steve meant every word that he said, Paul adjusted his tone. And it came to him—the one thing that Steve would be curious about.
“What if it’s about your baby?” Paul said looking Steve right in his eyes. “What if something’s gone wrong with your baby? Then what?”
“My baby,” Steve responded, clearly taking the bait. “That’s my best work. There can’t be anything wrong with it.”
“But what if it is?” Paul insisted. “Don’t you think it’s worth looking into? I know it is because I can’t think of any other reason to have you flown out to his house like that.”
“You may be right,” Steve said and relief passed across Paul’s face. Steve was a true brain who loved a challenge. He started walking toward Paul’s door thinking of a million things at once. “I’m going to go out there and check it out. If it’s anything else besides my baby then I’m out of there. I want Mike Hall to fly me out there, too.”
“Why Mike?” Paul’s expression was as if he just smelled something sour.
Mike had flown Steve to a couple of sites in the past. Steve had witnessed Mike and Paul having arguments on various occasions. Mike always seemed to have a cocky, insubordinate attitude, always walking the line but never crossing it. Mike once told Steve “Don’t let Paul ride you. He will stress you out and leave your head looking worse than a dog with mange.” Mike was never at a loss for words. “We are some of the top guys in our professions. We do our jobs too damn well to be micromanaged.”
So Paul knew why he wanted Mike to fly him out there. Steve leaned his head back into Paul’s office with a smile and said, “Because, Paul, Mike is one of the few people that are left in this company that still practices free will. He’s not trained, and like I said if it’s not about my baby, I’m leaving.”
Steve went back to his office, picked up his jacket, and headed for the elevator. When he reached the elevator, Olivia was there waiting. As he looked at her from behind, he knew that men had to cry when she slid off her Capris. Her legs were built as if she could outrun a horse.
“Hey, Steve,” she said without turning around.
“Hi, Olivia,” Steve said responding to Olivia’s reflection captured in the elevator’s frame. She was five feet three with plum-sized breasts and a shape that most women must envy.
“You look nice, too, that shirt fits you well,” Olivia said with a smile.
“Nice enough for you and me to finally go out on that date?” Steve said trying to take control of the situation.
“Nice enough for me to think about it. How’s that? I need a brain like yours to keep me on my toes.” Olivia started flirting. She was batting her eyes as if she just dropped Visine in them. Steve smiled because a body like hers could turn a brain like his into silly putty.
“Well, Olivia, one day we will have to get past this flirtation and sit down to a meal. I cook a mean salmon steak.”
“Who said I was coming to your house?”
“Who said I was cooking at mine?”
Olivia laughed. “Stop playing” she said.
“You’re right. I have business to take care. I’m off to see my man Mike.”
“That’s where I’m going too,” Olivia said turning around. “So share some of your thoughts on our ride up,” she spoke softly.
They stepped into the elevator. Olivia’s hair was parted and curls lay on both sides of her face. Her sunken cheeks made her lips appear more alluring. When she walked, people stopped. Steve remembered his mother’s instructions on how to conduct himself like a gentleman as the elevator doors closed.
“So what’s up, Steve, what are you going to see crazy Mike about?”
Olivia switched the conversation and Steve smiled. “Mike is flying me to Victor Diamond’s home.”
“So you don’t know what you’re going for?”
“Victor Diamond just called Paul and told him to fly me out there.”
“No Steve, I received the message and gave it to Paul. Maybe it’s some new project.”
“Well, if that’s it,” Steve said with a smile, “then I’ll be back before you get off and we can work on that dinner date.”
“What are you going to tell the big boss, Steve? She joked. “Wait, I got this date with this lady in Detroit.” Olivia laughed.
Steve said flexing his muscle. “Well maybe not like that, but I’m going to let him know that I have an overdue vacation scheduled and I plan on taking it.”
“So you got it all, Steve? The brains, the brawn. . . . ”
“Not everything, baby.” Steve massaged her with his eyes. “Not everything,” he repeated.
The elevator doors opened. Mike was sitting in his helicopter with the side hatch pushed back, one leg hanging out and a frozen drink in his hand. He wore a long white T-shirt with eagle wings on the back. His worn cargo pants matched his army green cap that read ‘Life Sucks’.
“I hope there’s no liquor in there,” Steve said.
“So, I hear you’re going to see the man,” Mike said, cutting his eyes toward Olivia.
“Well, it must be pretty big Steve.” Mike sipped his frozen drink. “Because I can count on one hand how many people I flew to his home in Canada. That’s his home, man. That’s where Victor s#!ts!”
Olivia burst with laughter.
“All jokes aside,” Mike said laughing. “It’s got to be big, man.”
“Yea, that’s why I’m going I guess,” Steve said, thinking that it might just be about his baby.
“And looka here . . . looka here, look at Miss Gordon,” Mike said rolling his eyes up and down Olivia’s legs. “The Queen of the company. . . . What? Are you going too? Mr. Diamond would like you . . . ”
“You crazy,” Olivia said. “I just came up to get your flight schedule hours.”
Mike took another sip. “You could have called me on the jack for that. What you really want?”
Olivia said, “Since I saw Steve by the elevator, I decided to ride up.”
Mike reached into his helicopter, came out with his flight schedule, and handed it to Olivia. “Please don’t jerk me on my overtime again. I’m throwing a party next week.” Olivia took the schedule. “Whatever.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Gordon, you’re invited.” Olivia looked at Steve then turned around and walked toward the elevator. Steve and Mike watched Olivia throw her hips left to right.