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I walked down the street the way I had a thousand times before. The class had been...uninspiring today.
Maybe it was me, but the students had just sounded plain...dumb; dull of wit and demeanor. The casual, low- class insult "Mooks", would have served, were I of low enough class to use that epithet.
I felt a tremor, as of premonition, run up my spine. I could not attribute it to anything in the environment. But I had learned to trust that feeling, whenever it came upon me-too often I'd disregarded it, to my sorrow.
As I approached my apartment, I saw a young kid, Hispanic- looking, holding a package, and a sign that said "RBB".
Never one to shrink from a confrontation, I walked straight up to him.
"Who the Hell are you and what the goddamned hell are you doing here?"
"My name's Critico, sir, are you Richard B Bernstein?" He was extremely polite. I suddenly felt ashamed for my outburst, but went on;
"What if I am?"
"The gentleman asked me to give this to you. He said it was important. Critico proffered the brown-paper wrapped box, bound up with cotton twine.
"How do I know this isn't some sort of scam, kid?" There could be anything in there."
"Hey, Mister, all I know is that the Canuck said that you'll need this, where you're going. The kid shrugged. "It's no diff to me; I already got paid."
-WTF?- I thought- "OK, kid, what's this "Canuck" look like?"
"He looked like a big Q-tip, except he was wearing a grey suit."
With a sinking heart, I realized who he meant.
"I'll take it, kid. G'wan, scram."
He looked relieved to no longer have the burden, and took off without a backward glance. I tucked it under my arm and went in to my apartment.
With much trepidation, I untied the strings and undid the wrapping-paper. The box purported to be "life-like Casey and Finnegan puppets" I opened it, and amidst the excelsior lay...my old, weather-beaten Glock, Mehitabel and the campion piece, my knife, Archy. They'd been confiscated from me by campus security when I'd inadvertently brought them with me to work at the law school. I'd thought them destroyed. The shoulder-rig and wrist-sheath that went with them were there as well.
Taped to the butt of Mehitabel was a note. I opened it, my hands shaking with anger. The writing was all-too familiar....
"Hello, Richard; I'll bet that you're pissed as hell. Too bad, and , I'm not going to tell you how I got hold of these. It would only further reinforce your cynical view of your fellow-man. Just know that you'll be needing these, and very soon."
Hugs,
HH
"You BASTARD" I cursed and made as if to strangle the not- present Canuck madman. "If I could lay hands on you..."
The door allowed itself to be knocked in...
(TBC)
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