last visit.
“Has it been a year, Ben? Year-and-a-half?”
“Three. After promising we’d get together at least twice a year.”
“My bad.”
“OK,” Ben grinned, “I’ve hugged you ’cus I love you, smacked you because you’re a prick, now introduce me to Harry Nautilus and let’s get down to business.”
Harry frowned at the mention of his name.
“Have we met before?”
Ben held his finger up in the hang on motion, went to a computer, tapped a few keys. He waved us over to look at the screen. I saw Harry and me in a crowd in Mobile’s Bienville Square, a prominent civil rights leader at a podium a dozen feet beyond. The event had been two years ago.
“Here’s another,” Ben said, pulling up a secondphoto from the same day. Both shots were slightly unfocused. “And I think there’s one more…”
Harry didn’t look happy, but kept his counsel and watched Ben select from a sheet of tiny photos, making an enlargement that fit the screen.
“Voila!” Ben said. Harry and I leaned forward to see a shot of the two of us standing outside the front door of a local hotel. I was on the radio, Harry looking to his side at a crowd of sign-holding protestors. I remembered the day: a liberal Massachusetts senator had been visiting Mobile and Harry and I were put on guard duty along with half the force.
“I know there’s an explanation I’m going to accept.” Harry’s tone said it would be a challenge. Harry wasn’t big on unauthorized surveillance of himself.
“We weren’t specifically taking surreptitious photos of you, Detective,” Ben explained. “This guy here, ten feet away, is who we were tracking. Arnold Meltzer. He’s the head honcho of the Aryan Revolutionary Army, a pivotal white power splinter group attractive to a lot of biker gangs. You just happened to be there.”
Harry took a second to let it sink in, nodded acceptance. He studied the photo of a wisp of a man in his fifties, dressed in a light seersucker suit, his face almost totally hidden behind sunglasses. His mouth was a tight pucker, like he was about to lift a clarinet to his lips. He looked as threatening as a canary.
“This guy’s a Klan type, you mean? A real baddie?”
“These days, the danger is a lot bigger than the Klan. Thanks to the internet, white supremacist types are more organized than ever.”
“Obama’s presidency doesn’t change things?”
“People this broken just feel more threatened. It’s made them even crazier, full-blown paranoiac. The movement used to weed out the worst psychotics, but now it gives them leadership positions.”
Harry re-studied the photo of Arnold Meltzer. “And this little fella’s a leader?” He sounded dubious.
“Don’t be fooled by Meltzer’s stature. His ideas make him dangerous. As well as his influence and money.”
“Where’s the money come from?”
“Outlaw bikers are big in the drug-running biz. Mules. It’s whispered Meltzer’s into that big-time, like a contractor. He’s also the figurehead for the White Power movement in the South, revered by supremacists.”
Harry scowled at the photo. “I was nearly rubbing shoulders with the scumbucket and didn’t know.”
Ben said, “He’s not in any police files. I was scanning through the photos when I saw Carson. From his descriptions, I figured that was you next to him. I blew the photos up and saved them.” Ben grinned at me, a loopy Cheshire cat. “Somethingto remember Carson by since he never writes, never calls, never…”
I put my hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m here now, Ben. With another photo for you to consider.” I pulled three death photos of our baby abductor, handed them over. He stared, shook his head.
“Never seen him before. What’d he do?”
“Tried to steal a kid from a hospital.”
“I saw that bit of weirdness on the news,” Ben said. “I should have figured you’d be in the middle of it.”
He picked up a magnifying glass from his desk and studied closer.
“Has it been a year, Ben? Year-and-a-half?”
“Three. After promising we’d get together at least twice a year.”
“My bad.”
“OK,” Ben grinned, “I’ve hugged you ’cus I love you, smacked you because you’re a prick, now introduce me to Harry Nautilus and let’s get down to business.”
Harry frowned at the mention of his name.
“Have we met before?”
Ben held his finger up in the hang on motion, went to a computer, tapped a few keys. He waved us over to look at the screen. I saw Harry and me in a crowd in Mobile’s Bienville Square, a prominent civil rights leader at a podium a dozen feet beyond. The event had been two years ago.
“Here’s another,” Ben said, pulling up a secondphoto from the same day. Both shots were slightly unfocused. “And I think there’s one more…”
Harry didn’t look happy, but kept his counsel and watched Ben select from a sheet of tiny photos, making an enlargement that fit the screen.
“Voila!” Ben said. Harry and I leaned forward to see a shot of the two of us standing outside the front door of a local hotel. I was on the radio, Harry looking to his side at a crowd of sign-holding protestors. I remembered the day: a liberal Massachusetts senator had been visiting Mobile and Harry and I were put on guard duty along with half the force.
“I know there’s an explanation I’m going to accept.” Harry’s tone said it would be a challenge. Harry wasn’t big on unauthorized surveillance of himself.
“We weren’t specifically taking surreptitious photos of you, Detective,” Ben explained. “This guy here, ten feet away, is who we were tracking. Arnold Meltzer. He’s the head honcho of the Aryan Revolutionary Army, a pivotal white power splinter group attractive to a lot of biker gangs. You just happened to be there.”
Harry took a second to let it sink in, nodded acceptance. He studied the photo of a wisp of a man in his fifties, dressed in a light seersucker suit, his face almost totally hidden behind sunglasses. His mouth was a tight pucker, like he was about to lift a clarinet to his lips. He looked as threatening as a canary.
“This guy’s a Klan type, you mean? A real baddie?”
“These days, the danger is a lot bigger than the Klan. Thanks to the internet, white supremacist types are more organized than ever.”
“Obama’s presidency doesn’t change things?”
“People this broken just feel more threatened. It’s made them even crazier, full-blown paranoiac. The movement used to weed out the worst psychotics, but now it gives them leadership positions.”
Harry re-studied the photo of Arnold Meltzer. “And this little fella’s a leader?” He sounded dubious.
“Don’t be fooled by Meltzer’s stature. His ideas make him dangerous. As well as his influence and money.”
“Where’s the money come from?”
“Outlaw bikers are big in the drug-running biz. Mules. It’s whispered Meltzer’s into that big-time, like a contractor. He’s also the figurehead for the White Power movement in the South, revered by supremacists.”
Harry scowled at the photo. “I was nearly rubbing shoulders with the scumbucket and didn’t know.”
Ben said, “He’s not in any police files. I was scanning through the photos when I saw Carson. From his descriptions, I figured that was you next to him. I blew the photos up and saved them.” Ben grinned at me, a loopy Cheshire cat. “Somethingto remember Carson by since he never writes, never calls, never…”
I put my hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m here now, Ben. With another photo for you to consider.” I pulled three death photos of our baby abductor, handed them over. He stared, shook his head.
“Never seen him before. What’d he do?”
“Tried to steal a kid from a hospital.”
“I saw that bit of weirdness on the news,” Ben said. “I should have figured you’d be in the middle of it.”
He picked up a magnifying glass from his desk and studied closer.
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