The Protocol of Ahab Ch. 03

"I don't know why, but I immediately reset my trip meter. As I passed the trooper, I noticed the third car pull off on the right shoulder to join the other two. When the trip meter registered almost 2 miles, I came upon an emergency access shunt across the median between the north and southbound lanes. I took it and eased into the southbound traffic. When I traveled another 2 miles, I reset the meter again and continued. When I approached the next crossover, I noted the mileage, reset the meter, and crossed into the northbound lanes. I calculated the distance to where the arm flung the package. The trooper's lights still flashed on the right shoulder. As I neared it, I pulled over on the shoulder, set my blinkers and slowed to a crawl. My eyes furiously scanned the margin of the shoulder. There it was. Ahead of me, directly in my headlights, damaged by the toss but not split open, was the bakery box. I stopped as near as I could to the package, opened the car door and picked it up. It was heavy; lots heavier than I expected. I wrestled it onto the floor by my feet."

"The trooper was still dealing with the cars as I passed, but I only noticed two cars, not the third. I suddenly became very paranoid. If that driver did the same thing I did, he could be immediately behind me. He may even have seen me pick up the box. He may even be watching me now as I drive. I stuck to the slow lane, constantly scanning the cars in my rear-view mirror and those that passed me for any suspicious looks. With the darkness I could not identify the models or see the driver's faces and that fueled my uneasiness."

"Five, ten miles ahead, a couple exits at most, I knew there was a turn off which would take me to the old highway. It was slower, more traffic lights, but I thought it would calm me down. I took the exit and turned onto a large, well-lit gas and go. I pulled next to the pump and waited. A car left another arrived. Nothing seemed suspicious but every car was a threat. I walked into the mini-mart to pay for the gas -- pay before pumping -- and I left the car unlocked. My logic was, if someone was following me, they would seize the opportunity to grab the box from my car and speed off. I watched as I paid; nobody did."

"After forcing as much gas into the tank as I could, I went back for my change. Again, I watched apprehensively; nothing. I started the car and pulled into a parking space under a light. My small Swiss Army knife easily slit the packing tape along the seams of the box. Another glance about and then I tussled the top apart. A towel was forced into the box to dampen any vibration. I pulled that out. Beneath it was an object about the size of a brick in a plastic bag, a brown envelope, and an oil-soaked rag. I peered under the rag first. To my shock there were two handguns and a box containing twenty-five 38 caliber bullets. I did not examine them further and wedged the rag wrapped guns behind the passenger seat. The envelope contained cash; assorted bills totaling about twenty-two hundred dollars. The object in the plastic bag was wrapped tightly in tin foil. That too, I wedged behind the driver seat."

"At least I knew what I stumbled on. I also felt I could assess my risks better and I did not like the odds. I now feared being caught by the owner, who must have been really pissed, and stopped by the cops for a minor traffic violation which could lead to a search of the car. I never considered just tossing them in the trash bin. Instead, I took a deep breath, said a prayer as best I could, and turned left to continue up the old highway."

"Either by luck, guardian angels or just stupidity, I ended up in my apartment before midnight trying to figure out what to do next. The guns were both 38s; one a snub nose, the other had a 4-inch barrel. I figured the brick was drugs of some sort and did not investigate further. After locking the booty in my secure hiding place, I went to bed but did not sleep well."

"By morning I made a decision. I knew the local pot distributor and would approach him about the brick. I found him on the street, and we walked to the coffee shop in the left-wing bookstore. I broached the subject in vague terms, but he got the picture. He asked how I got it and I made up a story. I said I had a friend in New Jersey who was keeping it for someone. Before it could pick it up, he was arrested and held without bail. My friend panicked and asked me to get rid of it before her apartment was searched."

"It must have sounded plausible, or maybe everything sounds plausible to a drug dealer; but he seemed to accept my story. He said I had three options; process it myself and sell it on the street, be the middleman and get street dealers to pedal it or sell it to someone who will do all the work. That would yield the least money but was the easiest. He named a price; $1,500 sight unseen. I agreed. The next day I rode my bike to the farmer's market. As I purchased a bag of potatoes, I exchanged the parcel for a manila envelope."

"That's it. I regret that I did it. I only hope I didn't cause a great deal of hurt by enabling those drugs to get on the street. I don't think I can ever be forgiven if I did."

Rachel finished her story and lay catatonically on the bed. I cautiously placed my hand on her shoulder, expecting her to flinch or pull away, but she didn't. Encouraged by her response, or lack of response, I move close and wrapped my arm around her and rocked her to me. "I understand. Do you still take calls? That sounds exciting." I murmured under my breath, "I forgive you."

She rolled to face me. "Will you leave me?" she pleaded.

"No. No! Never!"

I felt her tears wet my shoulder. I was suddenly very aroused. Making every effort to not disturb her, I reached for the intersection of her legs and gently eased my finger between her moist lips. Rachel eased her legs apart to accommodate my fingers. Emotionlessly, I masturbated her to absolution.