Safe Money

By Gene Campbell

When a retired police captain and a retired Master Engineer are recruited by the city's Police Chief to booby-trap a large safe it leads to unimagined consequences. In their search for explosives they find a safe loaded with money. Ahh the temptation. The safe doesn't belong there much less full of all those stacks of lovely money. Well, go ahead. Take just a few dollars. But then someone else is unexpectedly accused of the theft and the mayhem begins. While all of the players are aware of each other, none of them realizes just how much the activities of one affects the action of the other. Bombs, assassins, and murder. Just who is doing what to whom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Campbell
• Release date: Apr 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463245439

Book preview

Safe Money

By Gene Campbell, assisted by LaReta Forson. Art work by Mike Wilson.

Copyright October, 2017 Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support

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What’s happening!

Saturday, May 14. Good bye meth lab.

Wednesday, May 18. The plot thickens.

Friday, May 20. Who’s the weird kid?

Saturday, May 21. Let’s go exploring.

Saturday night. What’s that safe doing there?

Tuesday, May 24. John’s a busy dealer.

Wednesday, May 25. She’s too beautiful to be a murderess.

Thursday, June 2. It’s that safe again.

Saturday, June 4. Down the coal chute? You’re kidding!

Thursday, June 23. House burglary anyone?

Thursday, June 30. Who is Minh and what does he want?

Tuesday, July 5. A new target.

Saturday, July 9. A narrow escape.

Wednesday, July 13. That cock-eyed safe.

Thursday, July 14. Not happy to meet you.

Monday, July 18. That safe again?

Sunday, July 24. Big trouble at home.

Tuesday, August 9. A new alliance.

Friday, August 12. Cinderella at the ball.

Tuesday, August 16. Where did it go?

Friday, August 19. Sweet Revenge.

Saturday, May 14.

It was always the same dream. He was naked as the day he was born, shoveling money as fast as he could into a pit in which a laughing woman stood. It was over in seconds and it always occurred just before he awoke. Only this time it was different. As he threw the money into the pit, a bell would ring. Otherwise it was the same. It finally penetrated his sleep-addled brain that the phone was ringing. He popped open one eye and looked at his red lit digital clock. 5:10 A.M. Who called anyone at 5:10 A.M.? Who was even alive at 5:10 A.M.? He was going to ignore it but then changed his mind, threw his blanket back and stepped out of bed onto a beer can. Saying unkind things to himself he staggered across the room kicking another beer can as he went. He grabbed the phone and mumbled, Hello.

Time for all good boys who like fires and bombs to be up and about, the voice on the other end said.

Gabe was instantly awake. What and where? he asked.

Get your tail down to the old docks. You can’t miss it if you get within a mile with all the smoke this thing is producing. And bring your badge or you won’t get through.

He walked to the bathroom as fast as he was able considering the early hour and his slightly hungover head. He washed his face, and looking in the mirror, decided he wouldn’t take the time to shave. He dressed quickly wishing he had a cup of coffee and trying to decide if he could stop somewhere on the way to get a cup to go. He shoved the usual things into his pockets, grabbed the little leather wallet that contained his police badge and ID and headed out the door.

As the voice on the phone had stated, it was not difficult to find the fire. He parked four blocks away hoping the distance would keep his car safe from the fire fallout. He had an old Subaru but it was still in good condition and he took good care of it. It was one of the few things he had left after the divorce and he could not afford to replace it.

A uniformed policeman saw him coming and recognizing him, pointed to the Police Captain’s car where several men were standing. He recognized District Police Captain Jones; Lt. Holden, head of the police bomb squad; and Lt. Finnagan, head of a drug abatement unit. There was also a Fire Captain with them whom Gabe had a nodding acquaintance.

I haven’t seen this much official muscle in one place since the last presidential visit. All we need is a few city councilmen, Gabe said as a greeting.

God save us from the politicians, Captain Jones replied. Glad to see you Gabe. Holden, tell him what’s going on.

It’s like this, Gabe. That is, or was, a very old warehouse probably going back before WWI and it’s a tinderbox. All wood construction. Fortunately it was empty. Or supposed to be empty but there is something in there; we just don’t yet know what. There have been three small explosions and one bigger one so far and we don’t know for sure what we are dealing with. We’ve decided to just keep everyone back, watch it, and make sure it doesn’t ignite something else in the area.

Sounds like a good plan, Gabe said.

Come on Gabe; let’s go take a closer look, Lt. Finnagan invited.

They walked away from the others and as they approached the area where they could feel the heat Finnagan said We are pretty sure this is a meth lab. The place was empty and in a deserted area so what better place. It’s big enough for several labs. We have known for the past three months that there has been a bigger supply than usual on the street. The explosions are chemicals going up and of course we have no idea how much is in there. I told the Fire Chief to keep his men well back in case the whole place goes up in a mighty blast.

And as if on cue, a sudden blast sent half the building skyward. Debris rained down on them as everyone ran for cover. One of the police cars had not pulled back far enough and was being peppered with debris. A uniformed officer ran to move it before it too caught on fire.

The fire trucks moved in and began pouring water into the blast area.

You were right about the meth lab. Smell the chlorine? Gabe asked.

Finnagan didn’t hear him; he was running back to the Fire Captain yelling Get those men away from there. There could be another blast.

Before they could respond there was another explosion sending burning debris in all directions. Firemen were knocked down and their trucks blasted. The fire hoses without the constraint of being held were lethal weapons as they flared about. A fireman limped to one of the trucks and began shutting down the pump as others made their way to the other trucks to do the same. Quickly chaos became order, the hoses were manned again and the water resumed. There were only scattered fires now as the explosion had turned all the burning walls and floor into nothing but little piles of burning wood. There was little left of the warehouse.

Gabe picked himself up off the ground and checked to make sure there was nothing broken or otherwise damaged and was pleased to find that he was in one piece but he would be bruised. He looked for Finnagan and was relieved to see him coming toward him.

I think it’s safe now. At least as far as explosions are concerned. Let’s have a look around.

Being careful of the powerful water being shot from the hoses, they stamped around the perimeter of the building.

Not much left; little bits and pieces. But look down there, he said pointing to a blackened area on the basement floor.

Ten or more high-pressure compressed gas containers were very visible scattered around the floor.

Those must be empty but we had better let the bomb boys know they are there just in case. Full ones on the upper level would account for some of the explosions, Finnagan remarked as he turned and seeing a uniformed patrolman out on the street, called him over and instructed him to get someone from the bomb squad over here right away.

I’ll get a fire hose trained on them, Gabe said as he headed for a fire truck.

They were both back where they had parted in a very short time to continue their look through the remains.

Do you have an evidence bag with you? Gabe asked Finnagan.

Sure do, he said pulling one out of his pants pocket. What did you find?

There is a pistol here and I’m pretty sure that’s part of a shotgun over there. Gabe moved to where he could get a better look without disturbing anything. And I think you had better call the coroner. That could be a body or the remains of one over there, he said pointing.

They both approached the body carefully although they both knew they could not possibly disturb any evidence now. It was surprisingly still in one piece and not badly burned. Gabe stooped down beside it and pointed to the face.

One bullet hole in the head and no fire or explosion caused that.

I should have hooked on my communicator, Lt. Finnagan stated. He called the police officer over again and had him tell Captain Jones that there was a body. He then instructed the officer to stay with them.

Gabe had moved on while Finnagan talked with the officer. Lieutenant! Looks like another one in the basement. And here are several weapons. Part of a rifle, here’s part of a pistol, and over here a shotgun. And over here, he said moving on into the burned area, is another body.

They both moved to the body and Lt. Finnagan leaned over it.

Another shot in the head, he said. Looks like we may have a bit of gang rivalry here. Get rid of the competition. Shoot the cooks and blow up the kitchen. Wonder how long it will be before we see the retaliation? Well, as long as they kill each other and leave the civilians out of it, I just may look the other direction.

I couldn’t agree more.

Gabe Lawson was what would be called a ruggedly handsome man. He had put on too much weight since he had started drinking rather heavily but at 5’ 10" and 185 lbs. he was still not considered fat. He still had most of his hair even though it was a bit thin but it had retained its dark brown color. He had a squarish face and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Gabe was a gun, munitions, explosives expert in that order of gained expertise. He had worked for the police department for 42 years and had been forced to take retirement at age 67. That was 2 years ago. He had hired on as a rookie patrolman, then worked his way up to Detective, and then as Director of the firing range. He had been an eager and determined student of all firearms since his days in the Army. When his expertise became known in the police department he had been assigned to the firing range and over time became its Director. There was not a hand gun, rifle, shotgun or automatic weapon, standard or altered, that he was not familiar with. The classes he taught for the Police Academy and the local university were always full. He began his study of munitions and bomb making while still Asst. Director of the range and by the time he became Director he was an expert there as well. The bomb squad often sought out his input so he had studied and become an expert on explosives, too. Even though he was now retired he was still studying explosives and timing devices. He said he was retired but he was occasionally called upon by the police and he was happy to keep his hand in, and to have the extra income. Like so many of the policemen he knew, he was divorced. His wife of 25 years finally told him that she had stayed with him only because of the children and now that they were out of the house, she wanted a divorce. It had been very unpleasant. She found an attorney that cultivated her vindictive and vicious nature and took him for just about everything. He now lived in a small one bedroom apartment, had most of his meals out despite having a small but efficient kitchen, and drank alone and too much. His ex had finally remarried so the alimony had at least come to an end and that had helped a lot. He was still on good terms with his children. Ben was the eldest, and Susie 2 years younger, but they both lived on the other side of the country so he seldom saw them or his grandkids. They corresponded and exchanged pictures over the computer. He was more or less satisfied with that. But Gabe was not a happy man. He missed the day-to-day excitement and comradery of being in command of the firing range. And he missed providing the weapon expertise that sent criminals to prison. There were too many really bad people out there taking advantage of and, in one way or another, killing innocents. But some friends in the police department had been making some very interesting comments during their semi-monthly poker games and on his frequent visits to the firing range and he had the feeling that they were trying to determine if he should be involved in some activity they were planning. Anything would be fine with him as it would sure beat sitting at home staring at a bottle.

Wednesday, May 18.

Sam Everest loved poker and their twice monthly game was not enough for him but win or lose, he just loved to play. Not that any of them ever lost much. They played for the fun of the game and the comradery and no one ever lost more than $15.00. They frequently played at Sam’s house as Sam’s wife Etta liked to fill in if one of the five other regular players did not show up. The guys didn't mind; she was fun and a sharp player. One bad thing was that she gave Sam a hard time about drinking beer. She did not say a word to the others but Sam could stand to lose some weight. As the Chief of Police, he had a strenuous and stressful job, overweight and at 63 years old,he was ripe for a heart attack. Etta did not want to be a policeman’s widow. She knew far too many of them. But at 6’3" Sam was a big man and he carried his weight well and was in excellent health.

Marvin Wilkins would not be playing with them tonight as his son’s family, that would be grandkids, was visiting, so Etta was happy she would get to fill in. Sam was pleased. He liked Marvin, but his absence provided a better opportunity to talk privately with Gabe. Their friendship went back a long way and he was sure he could convince Gabe to join their little group of conspirators. He knew that Gabe was a good friend of Del Monroe, so the best way to get Del involved as well, was though Gabe. Being poker buddies was one thing, but what he was planning would require a bit more. He did not really think there would be a problem.

Etta refilled Gabe's coffee mug. That's the last of this pot. I can make more if you'll be wanting another cup.

No, this'll be fine. Thanks, Etta.

They could hear Sam saying goodnight to the last of the poker players at the front door. Etta started picking up the dirty glasses, cups, and remains of the snacks as Sam come back into the room.

Etta! You are a devil. How much did you take us for tonight?

She went right on with her cleaning up but stopped long enough to pat her apron pocket and say None of your business. Don't worry. All the aces and kings will be back in the deck before the next poker night.

They all laughed as Etta made her way to the kitchen to continue her cleanup. Sam and Etta had no secrets between them, but Sam wanted to approach Gabe on his own. He felt that Gabe would be more receptive in a one- on-one setting. He would relate the details to Etta later.

Thanks for waiting around, Gabe. We have been friends for more years than either of us cares to count and I trust you or I would not have asked you to stay. But what we say here tonight must stay in this room. I’m about to propose something highly illegal. If caught it could mean the loss of everything we have and probably a time in prison as well. Our success won't make us any richer. I’m being very mysterious, I know. That’s all I can tell you until I know if you will join a small group of people, men and women, who want to see a miserable situation - - I started to say eliminated but I don’t think we can be that successful. Let's say we're attempting to curtail a miserable situation. But we need your expertise, Gabe.

Gabe looked at his old friend and saw the concern in his tired, lined face.

Have I made you curious enough? I cannot tell you more. You have to make your decision based on three things - the plan is illegal, it is just, and there's no turning back once you're in. If you are out , then you can just leave now and we will never mention it again. Want some time to think about it?

The two men stared at each other for several seconds, the silence broken only by the distant clank of dishes as Etta cleaned in the kitchen. Then, a smile slowly materialized across Gabe's face. Time to think about it? Maybe all of ten seconds. Let’s talk about what kind of adventure you are offering me. I’m so bored sitting at home most nights I’m ready to do about anything. I do draw the line at murdering children although there seems to be a great number of teenagers I would like to strangle. I’m being flippant. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

I’m sure you are aware of the tremendous drug problem our city suffers, Sam replied. The city police and the Feds have been pretty good at catching drug dealers but we have a couple of extremely liberal judges that seem to feel that with a little help, these hard core dealers can be rehabilitated back into the law abiding society. That plan has failed miserably but they do not seem to see it that way and continue to release the dealers to go on just as they did before. So far none of the big dealers have been brought before the court: only the street dealers and a few of their lower level suppliers. The big guys are a cagey lot and stay pretty much hidden. But in the last few months one of the biggest dealers has become known to us. Unfortunately we can find nothing to charge this guy with. He is very, very careful. Even if we could find a charge, those two liberal judges would not hold him and they certainly would not sign off on a search warrant. Sam paced as he talked making Gabe think he was going to wear a path in the carpet. So we are stuck unless a ‘citizens group’ was to take matters under advisement. That ‘citizens group’ is what I’m asking you to join. It is a very select group of people and Etta and I are the only ones who know the full roster of participants. That’s a safety factor for all of us. Etta and I will coordinate the proposed tasks and select the people who will be asked to take part. It could be highly dangerous, and as I said before, very, very illegal. The project at hand is to remove a very high placed drug dealer. And yes! I know someone else will jump right up to take his place but when he does, we hope to know who that person is and maybe have a chance to bring him down in a legal fashion. Also a disruption in drug delivery to the smaller dealers could bring all kinds of cockroaches from under the carpet.If in doing this we can also find how the stuff gets to him and where it is stored maybe we can also destroy the delivery system and a large stash of drugs. I keep saying drugs but with this ass-hole it’s also pills and meth. Ingest it or shoot it, he covers the whole she-bang. AND, since we know who this one guy is, we would like to follow the money trail and find out where he is stashing his cash. Maybe we could even do something there. Sam turned and looked at Gabe. I’ve talked for half an hour now and not given you a chance to get a word in edgewise. So, what do you think? He sat and reached for a beer that wasn't on the table. He put both hands in his lap, looked down at them and sighed.

Gabe stood and walked to the window looking out at the peaceful neighborhood. You have a beautiful home, Sam, and you and Etta have a wonderful life here. If the head of our city’s police department was to be caught involved in something illegal it would be a scandal of national proportions. Why do you want to risk all you have to bring down one drug dealer? He turned and looked at Sam as he leaned back against the window sill.

It’s not just one drug dealer, Gabe. I’m talking about the whole rotten system of smuggling and murder; of destroyed lives, not just of the drug users but of their families as well. Many innocent people desperately hurt by the greed of dealers who care about one person only – themselves. Can we at least make an effort to get some of that stuff and some of those people off the streets? The police have had their hands very effectively tied by the liberal courts and all the do-gooder agencies. Something must be done before they make even greater inroads into the safety of our city. Bringing down this one dealer is the start of a very extensive plan. And, yes, I’m ready to risk it all.

Sam walked back and forth across the room, pacing again, intent on what he was saying. But with the team I’m putting together I’m feeling more and more positive about not getting caught. And besides, there is even a plus side to getting caught believe it or not. As you said, the scandal would be pretty wide- spread and maybe, just maybe, create enough pressure on city and state officials to finally get off their fat, self-important asses and do something about the drug trade. Especially if we could in some way link it to terrorists. That would just be icing. Right now we don’t believe that link exists but we could hint at it for greater coverage. He sat at the table again and looked at Gabe.

Gabe moved away from the window and sat across from Sam. You know my history, Sam. You may remember that my son nearly died from drug use. Do you know how I saved him? I found him in an alley one night, near death, not from an over dose but from bad drugs. I scheduled him into a rehab facility but he wouldn’t go. I kept a close watch on him which wasn’t difficult he was so sick, so when he snuck out, I followed. He went looking for his dealer. I caught him making a drug buy. I grabbed them both. Ben said he was off drugs but he wanted to get hold of this scumbag dealer who was selling really bad stuff and beat the crap out of him. The seller was a scab covered, skin and bones druggie with a pocket full of packets of death. Right there in the alley I forced him to inject himself with a large amount of whatever he was selling. And then we watched him die. Ben went into rehab after that and we never spoke of it again. I'm not going to make excuses for murder, Sam. I know what I did and I’d do it again without hesitation so if you need a murderer on your team, I’m ready.

Sam looked across the table and broke into a big smile. Welcome aboard old friend. We don’t need a murder committed quite yet, but you never know. At the moment I need your expertise in keeping our rear-ends safe. Some time ago there was the case of a small branch bank with surprising amounts of money going through it. It was laundering of course and the bank was closed, the officials going to jail. The bank had a big old safe on display by one wall with photos of Bonnie and Clyde standing by one just like it. Could have been the same one, I don’t know. Anyhow I bought the big old beast and it now resides in the basement. What I would like for you to do is to rig it so that the contents would be totally destroyed if it was not opened in a certain way? Damage to the unauthorized person opening it is up to you but I would prefer that no one get seriously hurt. It might be a cop. Sam looked at Gabe, eyebrows raised, expectantly.

Gabe moved toward the door. Well, let’s go have a look at this beast of yours and see what can be arranged.

Etta heard them moving off toward the basement door and went back into the dining room where they had been playing poker to finish her cleanup.She was grateful that the only smoker in the group smoked a pipe. She didn’t mind pipe smoke. Stale cigarette smoke just plain old stank and seemed to linger forever.She assumed Gabe's acceptance of the challenge or Sam would not be taking him down to look at that old safe. She knew what Sam had in mind. Every written word, name, plan, anything to do with what they were doing would go into the safe. Gabe was being asked to rig the safe so that opening it without the complete and total combination would destroy all that was in it. No evidence, no conviction, and no exposure of those involved. She hoped they would not plan a system that would seriously harm any would be safe cracker. It could be an innocent policeman doing his duty and she wanted no innocents hurt. Murdering the drug dealers was fine with her. Sometimes she wondered if murdering drug dealers put her on the same level as that bunch of murdering scum. But she knew what they were going to do was right, illegal or not. Taking the law into their own hands? Vigilantes? Still, if legal means did not work, what was left? But vigilantisms had never worked that she could think of. She turned the radio on to get her mind to something else.

Thursday, May 19

Del answered the telephone on the second ring. He wasn’t expecting any calls but even if it was someone finagling for money for THEIR favorite cause it was a chance to at least break up the boredom by talking to someone. One of these days, he told himself, he was going to get one of those machines that would tell him who was calling, then he wouldn’t have to deal with aggressive money chasers.

Good morning! This is Del and if you were expecting someone else you got the wrong number.

Good morning you miserable old fart. Meet me for coffee. It’s important.

Del knew who it was as the caller broke the connection. For whatever reason, Gabe was summoning him to their weekly hangout. They usually met for breakfast, or sometimes lunch. Something was up. Hope it’s not bad news, he mumbled to himself as he went to get shaved and dressed. Gabe sounded pretty up beat so no telling what he was up to. Stuffing his wallet, keys, handkerchief, and some change into the pockets of his jeans, he headed for the door.

Del Monroe lived alone now. His first wife had packed up and left after a little over 5 years of less-than-blissful marriage. Their divorce was quick and easy. He was pleased about that aspect of their parting as he certainly didn’t need the emotional trauma of a big nasty divorce. Fortunately his wife had been an accomplished writer of professional books and didn’t need anything from him so he retained his house and his income. Losing those would have been difficult to take. Fortunately they had no children. His second wife had the same complaint as wife number one. When he wasn’t off on a job halfway around the world, he would withdraw into himself for hours, often even days at a time.He had tried to compromise by offering to take her with him on his frequent trips to exotic countries but she wasn’t interested. She seemed to think that his middle name was Midas and she liked to be at home trying to live up to those standards. They had been two very lonely people when he met her. They married quickly only to discover that they had nothing in common. So wife number two had found a rich boyfriend and run off with him. That had been over 20 years ago. He had no idea where she was, nor did he care.He had had a few dalliances since then but nothing important. The women he became friendly with all seemed to have what Del considered insurmountable faults. They either had been married before, (acceptable)and had children at home, (definitely not acceptable), or they looked upon him as a limitless bank account and spent their time devising inventive ways of spending his money quicker than he could accumulate it. So now he lived alone and appreciated every minute of it.

At sixty eight years he was six foot two, with broad shoulders and a small waist weighing in at just under two hundred pounds. He felt fortunate that he still had his hair even if it had turned silver. He was a bit large for his favorite room which he called his den but it contained all of his little odds and ends from his travels all over the world; reminders of the adventures he had had as Chief Engineer or Chief Investigative Engineer with big construction companies. They had been good jobs with lots of good people. He still heard from many of them occasionally, although they, like himself, had retired.

He looked fondly at the 20 inch by 10 inch solid oak frame with an opening door and the standard door knob with lock. That had been a gift from an elderly gentleman in Istanbul. The company he worked for at the time was having trouble with a local politician and had been locked out of its work site. He needed into his office to remove papers, designs, blueprints, and most importantly, the handguns kept in desk drawers throughout the offices. They were a necessary precaution at the time but severely frowned upon by the police. So Del had wandered the back streets of Istanbul until he found a dark little shop that sold clocks and locks. A discussion with the elderly owner revealed how badly he needed money and getting American dollars would be a premium. So he went with Del to the work site on a night when there was no moon to reveal their presence and the little gentleman had quickly and easily given him access to the places he needed.A week later they were back in their offices, bribes paid.But the little old gentleman had become a friend and Del had become a student. His engineer’s mind found graceful simplicity in all the locks. You turn this gear, push that tumbler and it all worked so smoothly. Locks had never presented a problem to him after that. His friend was