URBAN SENTINEL: Parallels

Lake City - 1937

                                          A turn of the small knob on the partly wooden radio was all that was needed to start playing the soft sounds of music, filling the room with a calm atmosphere as the singer's voice replaced the orchestral interlude. "Out of the darkness you suddenly appeared, you smiled and I was taken by surprise...I guess I should have seen right through you, but the moon got in my eyes....." Samuel Severn started to hum along with the words as leaned back in his chair a bit, having had enough of the documents on his desk for a bit. He put his long legs up on the desk's surface and grinned, happy to have some time to himself until his partner and fellow personal investigator, Gordon, returned.
                                          Samuel took his fedora off his lap and put it on his head, covering his jet black hair as he tilted it forward to cover his eyes. "Ahhhh." he murmured, enjoying every little bit of this midday rest. Minutes went by peacefully, the music continuing on as Samuel closed his eyes and absorbed all of it happily. "I was so thrilled by the love you volunteered,
I gave my heart without a compromise. I guess you don't remember, do you? When the moon got in my eyes...." The sound of the singer's falsetto seemed to bounce off the wood panelling in the room, the spartan space occupied by only a couple of desks and matching cabinets, a couple of end chairs, and a small table near the door.
                                          That door suddenly creaked open, as a man wearing a beige trenchcoat and fedora walked in, before removing the garments and placing them on a wooden coat rack on the other side of the door. He was of average height, his light brown hair and eyebrows almost matching the color of his suit vest. He stopped upon recognizing the music playing on the radio and pondered for a moment. "I thought a kingdom was in sight, that I would have the right to claim. But with the morning's early light, I didn't have a dream to my name....." He grinned to himself, before walking over to his desk and taking a seat behind it, laying down a yellow sheet of torn paper on it. He looked to his left, towards the windows where Sam's desk sat, the other private eye seemingly asleep.
                                           "Sam." he said, before clearing his throat as well. Sam smiled and took his fedora off, his feet coming back off the desk as well. "Well hello there, Gordon." he started. "Was working hard on the missing gold case, and decided to take a break." he said with a grin. Gordon Neville chuckled. "You mean a nap?" he ashed rhetorically, grinning. Sam nodded. "That works too." he replied. Just then, he noticed the yellow piece of torn paper that Gordon was picking up. "What might that be?" he queried, his curiosity now peaked. Gordon got up to hand Sam the paper. "A telegram I intercepted today." he answered, handing Sam the paper. "It could lead us to the cache of gold we've been after on this case....."

Lake City - 2017 (Present Day)

                                             'He's not getting away this time, not if I have anything to do with it.' thought Blitzkrieg, also known as Jared Ross, a simple man who's alter-ego was a crime fighting vigilante by night. He was in foot pursuit of a petty criminal who had upped his repetoir recently, embarking on a string on thefts from electronic stores in the downtown core. The police always seemed to be a few seconds late with this crook, always slipping away in the nick of time. "But not tonight....." Blitzkrieg muttered to himself, as his quarry turned a corner towards an older part of downtown. Several old buildings in this area were vacant and dilapidated somewhat, awaiting redevelopement or refubishment.
                                             Blitzkrieg also turned the corner, in time to see the thief jump through an old glass window at street level, gaining entry to the old structure. With little choice, Blitz jumped in after him, the night's darkness getting considerable worse in a building with no working lighting. Taking a small LED flashlight of his belt, he came to a halt and played the beam back and forth around the room he had entered. From the looks of it, he was in a small reception area of an old office, the walls falling apart around the secretary's desk, a heavy layer of dust blanketing just about everything. Pieces of rubble that looked like they belonged in the ceiling lay strewn about the floor, with one having fallen onto the desk.
                                             Noticing a door to the right of the desk, Blitzkrieg lowered the bright beam and skulked over, carefully trying the door knob first. The door was not locked, and easily opened, albeit with a bit of a creak. Just as he was entering the room, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled to his left to see someone dart across the room, followed by a loud crash as well as the sound of something heavy falling over. Blitzkrieg focused his flashlight beam into the far corner of the room and walked up, seeing the fallen form of his quarry with an old wooden cabinet on top of him. He knelt down carefully and checked the man's pulse. "He's fine." said Blitzkrieg to himself. "Stupid fool tried to run in a room full of rubble and crashed into the cabinet." he finished, chuckling.
                                              Getting back up, he played the beam around the room, before something caught his eye on the far desk. He walked over to it and shone the light down on the desk's dirty and scarred surface, pushing aside some rubble and a broken light fixture to reveal an old piece of yellow paper. Blitz looked at it for a moment. "An old telegram from yesteryear." he mumbled, reading the message written by a typewriter. 'Percy, I stashed the consignment downtown. Stop. I hid the directions in a box under the lion. Stop. Get the stuff, then take it to that place I told you of, out of town. Stop.' it read. 
                                             Blitzkrieg was going to ponder this a little longer, until he heard sirens from police cars that were closing in. He quickly pocketed the old telegram, and headed back out into the reception area to leave the way he entered. Suddenly, something cracked down the hall, sounding like a piece of debris was being stepped on. He halted and whirled towards the far end of the wide corridor, lighting it up with his flashlight. There were several large pieces of wall and old equipment laying about, but nothing moved. "Getting jumpy, are we?" he asked himself softly, before snapping off the bright beam and turning towards the exit, jumping through and back onto the street before disappearing into the night, unaware that he had been watched by another the whole time inside the old office building.

Lake City - 1937

                                              "Any idea who 'Percy' is?" asked Samuel, wondering who the mystery man was and how he was connected to the consignment. Gordon shook his head before going through a few more papers on his desk. "I'm not too sure, Sam." he started. "This fella may or may not be an accomplice of some sort." he finished, trying to figure it out himself. Sam read the telegram one more time, then snapped his fingers suddenly. "Gordon, what do think he means by 'a box under the lion'?" he queried, not making sense of  the connection with a wild animal. The other private detective laughed out loud. "Maybe we should go to the zoo and see if there's some cat sitting on a box...." he said, chuckling.
                                              Samuel grinned uncontrollably for a moment, surpressing the urge to laugh hard and possibly fall off his chair. "I'll......I'll head out in a little while and check around town." he started, regaining his composure. "There has to be some link to this 'lion' clue. If we figure out the 'lion', we can find the consignment." he stated, already running through anything related to a lion in his head, trying to come up with something quick before he set out about town on his quest for information and/or further clues. 
                                               "Sure thing, Sam." mentioned Gordon, who was making some notations on a piece of paper with his fountain pen. "Say," he started, looking up at his friend and colleague. "Maybe I'll head down to the city archives and dig up some dirt there. Who knows, I might get lucky and find something historical related to this 'lion' clue." he finished, pondering his plan of action. Samuel nodded accordingly as he got up and headed for the door, pulling his navy blue trenchcoat off the rack. "Good idea, Gordon. We'll meet up back here later and compare notes. We'll have this case cracked in no time." he replied, before doffing his hat and opening the door, heading out into the reception area. Gordon smiled to himself. "We'll crack this case, for sure." he said to himself, before going back to his notations.
                                               Stopping at the reception desk, Samuel smiled at his pretty secretary, Callie. An attractive brunette in her early 30's, she had worked for the private investigators for several years, and was treated fairly by them, often helping them out on cases. She looked up from behind her glasses and smiled, her red lipstick quite bright. "Going out again, Sam?" she asked. Samuel smiled and tried not to blush too much. He was very fond of her at times. "Yes, darlin'. If anyone asks for me, take messages." he stated. Gordon will be on his way out in a little while as well, so hold the fort." he said, before tipping his hat and slowly walking off with a smile. Callie grinned. "I always do." she said, before getting back to her newspaper, hoping to finish reading the latest stories if things stayed quiet.

Lake City - 2017

                                                "A missing gold consignment from eighty years ago?" started a familiar feminine voice. "How interesting!" finished Serena, looking over the little yellow telegram, her long blonde hair tucked neatly behind her in a ponytail. "So," she began. "Did the bad guy leave this behind?" she wondered aloud, looking to Jared, who was seated behind a workbench-type table in the lair, trying to get a microscope working. He chuckled for a moment, stopping his work to look up at his wife and partner, her soft cheeks and bright eyes always captivating him. "The 'bad guy' ran into a wall and knocked himself out." he said with a grin. "I had just found that old telegram when the police started to show up." he finished, going back to the microscope, as he inserted it's eyepiece into place.
                                                Serena walked around the table and stopped behind Jared's chair, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his right shoulder. She kissed him softly on the cheek, then withdrew her arms and stood back up. "I'm going to go get a snack. Would you like something?" she asked, happy to take care of her husband. Jared stopped and looked to her, feeling content in her presence. "I could go for a milkshake right about now, darling." he replied, wanting something cold and sweet. Serena smiled. "You and your milkshakes!" she said, giggling. Jared just smiled, and watched as she turned and headed off for the small elevator at the side of the lair. It had been three months since they moved their operations in here, following the destruction of the old lair in the subway station.
                                                A few minutes ticked by as Jared focused on examining the old telegram under the microscope for a watermark, before he heard footsteps coming towards him. "Back so soon, darling?" he mused, not looking up right away. The unmistakeable voice of a man replied to his query with a chuckle, a voice he knew quite well. "I know we're close, but 'darling'? I dunno....." said Greg Redmond, Jared's best friend and long time ally, also known as 'Gears' to his friends. He had been sporting a beard for the last little while, and it seemed to compliment his glasses well. Jared looked away from the microscope and laughed. "I promise I won't try to hug you!" he said, grinning. Greg walked over to see what Jared was up to. "A microscope even?" he said. "You have a new hobby, eh?" finished Greg, chuckling.
                                                Jared shook his head. "Not exactly. Trying to find a watermark in this old telegram I found last night." he replied, pointing to the piece of yellow paper. Greg walked around the table and looked for himself, reading the telegram. "Gold haul? What decade is this telegram from?" he queried, a bell going off in his head. Jared replied quickly. "Nineteen thirties or fourties, methinks. Found it in an old abandoned building downtown. Place should be condemned." he explained. Greg raised an eyebrow, then looked back to his friend. "My grandpa once told me a story about a gold heist from around that time period." he offered. "Said that the gold was never found, to his knowledge." he recollected. Jared looked to his friend. "Indeed. Perhaps it's time to find it, then." he replied, having an idea. 
                                                 "I could use your help, if you're not too busy." he remarked. Greg smiled. "Not at all. Quiet day up in the shop. Besides, I already told my assistant manager I'd be taking the rest of the ay off." he said, referring to the speed shop and dealership he owned and operated, known as the High Octane Motorcycle Shop. He had helped construct a new lair for Jared/Blitzkrieg under his shop, and periodically came down to visit his friend and see if he could be of service. "So.....what did you have in mind?" asked Greg, wondering what they were going to do. Jared smiled. "As soon as Serena gets back, you and I are going to search the city archives for information. It's the logical place to start." he finished. Greg nodded his acknowledgement, happy to help his friend with this mystery.

Lake City - 1937

                                                 Sliding onto a bar stool next to his friend and colleague, Gordon Neville had somewhat of a long face, having hit a wall in his search of the archives. "What'll you have?" asked the gruff but friendly bartender, having seen the private eye enter the bar, the estalishment not that busy on this night. "Oh, gin and tonic, please." replied Gordon, as the bartender nodded and hurried off to get the beverage. Sam turned to his partner and took a sip of his own drink, a whiskey sour in a highball glass. "Find out anything?" he asked, curious as to what Gordon might have uncovered at the archives. Gordon shook his head. "Nada. No evidence of any gold goin' missing in this city." he finished.
                                                  Sam took a gulp of his drink as the bartender arrived to deliver Gordon's gin and tonic. Taking a sip himself, Gordon shrugged. "I dunno about this whole case, Sam." he started. "I mean, we've been working on this case for months now, and what have we got to show for it? A telegram that I only heard about because I'm friends with the courier. And where's the old coot that's bankrolling this case? Where the hell has he gone?" he said angrily, taking another sip of his drink before laying his arms on the bar, his head on top. "I'm sorry Sam. This one's breaking me." he mentioned, stressed out.
                                                  Sam patted his partner on the shoulder. "Easy there, Gordon. We'll figure this out somehow. And besides, we can always put it aside and work on another case. God knows we have several." he said with a sigh. Gordon raised his head and nodded, before taking a gulp of his drink. "Besides, I know how you feel. I was all over town today pounding the pavement, and came up with nothing." he mentioned. "I dunno some days, y'know? We might just have to put this one on the back burner for now and work on some of that other stuff. No point getting all crazy with one case." he finished, also taking a gulp of his own drink as well. Gordon looked to his partner and grinned. "You're right, you know." he replied. "Tomorrow I'm gonna go back to the McAllister case." he stated.
                                                  Pointing at his friend out of affection, Sam smiled. "That's the spirit! There's a lot of dough at stake in that McAllister case anyhow." he reminded. "We should be able to get a nice payout once we crack it!" he said happily, as the bartender took the time to come over and check on the two men. "You guys feelin' better now?" he said with a grin. Gordon nodded. "Yeah." he replied, as Sam chuckled. "Yeah Mackie, we're good. Just some business gettin' to us, but you know how it is." he added. Mackie nodded and smiled, his large black moustache a fixture on his stout face. "Good times then! Lemme know if you want another, both of you." he said happily, before wandering off to attend to another customer at the far end of the bar. Gordon looked to Sam again. "So.....do you think that gold will ever turn up?" he queried, the case still bugging him somewhat. 
                                                  The other private eye shrugged as he took a quick gulpof his drink first. "Not too sure, Gord. Not too sure." he replied. "One day, we'll crack it." he finished, before letting his attention wander to the sounds of the radio in the far corner, the melodies from the music helping lighten his mood a bit more. Gordon stared at his highball glass on the bar's smooth surface, almost empty now save for one last swallow. "Here's hoping." he said, picking up the glass and downing the last gulp of the alcoholic beverage. 

Lake City - 2017

                                                  "This might be something, but I'm not too sure." said Greg Redmond, looking over an old set of printed photographs from the late thirties in a preserved newspaper scan on the computer screen. Jared walked over from the bookshelves he was searching to see what Greg had found. "The Garden Arch?" he asked upon seeing the images. "Really? I don't follow you at the moment." he mentioned, feeling confused. Greg grinned. "I thought so. Listen." he started. "What we call the 'Garden Arch' started being built back in 1936, and was finished in 1938. Built of stone, it was intended to be a gateway of sorts leading out of the city." he continued. "The gate stands in what is now uptown Lake City, surrounded by a large park." he said. Jared knew of the park and had been there many a time.
                                                  "Yeah," he started. "Garden Park, because the whole greenspace has flowers on top of flowers there. I've taken Serena to the arbouretum a few times." he explained. Greg nodded his acknowledgement. "Yes, but it wasn't always called 'Garden Arch'. My granddad used to always call it by it's old name, which was Stanton Gate, named after the street it faces." he mentioned. Jared looked even more confused. "So?" he replied, not understanding where this was going. Greg brought up another picture on the computer, one that showed the arch as completed in 1938, but with the statue of a lion sitting next to it. "A lion!" exclaimed Jared, before he looked to Greg for an explanation.
                                                  Greg grinned. "The original name for the arch was supposed to be 'Lion's Gate', except that there was a backlash because those in town that were polled wanted it to be named 'Stanton Gate', not just because of the street, but for a soldier from Lake City who died in the First World War." he finished. Jared finally had the light bulb moment he needed. "Gotcha. So the lion was removed as fast as it had been put up, with no one the wiser, except for those who built it." he said quietly, before suddenly staring at and grinning at his best friend. Greg glanced over again and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he wondered. "What's with that look?" he asked out of curosity, pondering Jared, who looked wholly amused at this time. Jared responded, still grinning. "When did you become a history buff, oh motorcycle man?" he asked in jest, impressed at what Greg knew about all of this.
                                                  His best friend laughed. "Some of us have odd hobbies." he said. "Mine just happens to be history!" he explained jubilantly. Jared patted his friend's shoulder, before checking his watch. "Still a little while before night fall." he mentioned. "I'll suit up and go check out the arch after dark. You've been a great help, Greg. It's much appreciated." he finished, praising his friend. Greg nodded in acknowledgement. "Happy to help. You heading back to your lair?" he asked quietly. Jared shook his head, then responded in kind. "Not yet. Heading home to relax for a little while and eat some dinner." he responded. Greg got up and started heading out of the archive. "C'mon. I'll drop you off on my way home." be stated. Jared agreed, and went with his friend, happy how the day was going.

                                                  Barely through the front door of his house, Jared suddenly detected the smell of pepperoni and cheese wafting through the hallway. He kicked off his shoes and shut the door behind him, entering the townhouse and wandering into the kitchen to see Serena opening a box of pizza that was on the kitchen counter, a couple of plates out on either side of it. "Mmmm....." she mumbled, voice trailing off before noticing Jared standing there with a grin on his face. Her gaze caught his, as she sauntered over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I hope you're in the mood for pizza." she said, smiling. "I've been thinking about pizza since I woke up this morning!" she exclaimed happily, before skipping back over to the box and taking a slice out and onto her plate, before sitting down at the kitchen table.
                                                  Jared smiled. "Not a bad idea." he replied. "I haven't had pizza in a while." he finished, before going to the box and taking a couple of slices on his own plate, before sitting down at the table and joining his wife. Biting into some pepperoni and green pepper, he chewed happily as he stared at his woman lovingly, as she stared at him with a smile as well. After one slice was completely downed, he spoke to her. "Greg might have just cracked that gold consignment thing." he mentioned. "Apparently, he's a history buff." he said. Serena raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. "Really?" she said, before taking a sip from her glass of ice water next to her. Jared nodded. "Yup. All these years I've known him, and this one got past me." he finished, still amazed at what he had learned about his best friend.
                                                  Serena giggled before nibbling on a fresh slice of the pie. After swallowing the few bites, she took a napkin off the table and wiped some tomato sauce from her mouth. "Are you going to go look for it?" she asked, taking another sip of water. Jared nodded as he finished chewing. "Yup. Going to suit up later tonight and head to where we think it is." he replied, pondering another slice of pizza. Serena smiled. "Okay. I'll come with you to the lair then." she said in response. Jared nodded. "Call Greg after I suit up and leave and have him meet me there. I might need him along for this, now that I think about it." he explained, deciding it would be beneficial to have his friend with him on this mission. Serena gave a thumbs up before poking a pepperoni on a new slice of pizza, wondering if she wanted it or not.

                                                   The stone and mortar arch towered over the walkway into it's namesake's park, almost acting like a sentinel of sorts. An autumn wind blew leaves and sticks from nearby trees through and around it, the arch immune to the assault. The night was quiet save for the wind, until a whine of a decellerating motorcycle broke the silence, the sleek black two-wheeler with it's lone occupant coming to a halt just past the gateway. Blitzkrieg dismounted his vehicle, and tapped the mini-headset in his right ear with a finger. "I'm at the Arch." he murmured, keeping his voice low. "Copy that." replied Greg. "I'm at the corner of the intersection." he said. "I can see you from here." he finished, as another voice broke in over the headsets. "Tracking both of you." said Serena's soft voice. "You boys be careful out there tonight." she warned, always worrying about her love and his friend.
                                                    Blitzkrieg chuckled softly. "You worry too much." he stated, before skulking around the archway, looking for anything that could lead him to the gold cache. After fifteen minutes of searching, Greg spoke up over the headset. "Good thing it's a slow night. Not much on the police scanner." he finished, referring to the hand-held frequency scanner he kept in his delivery van. Greg had helped Blitzkrieg before, and found the motorcycle shop's delivery vehicle to be perfect for this sort of thing, as no one suspected it whatsoever. "Yeah." replied Blitzkrieg. "Been quiet for almost a week now. Scary." he said, having only had to stop a couple of petty crooks as of late, and not much else. Even though he enjoyed the action of fighting crime, he was also glad it seemed to be receeding at any rate.
                                                    "Checking the arch now." said Blitzkrieg carefully, as he checked the stones of the arch, and the ground it stood on. It took him a little while to go over the arch, easily three times as tall as he was, and a metre thick as well. A search of the grass and trees surrounding the structure turned up nothing as well. He had just finished searching the last bunch of shrubs to the left of the arch, when his foot caught on something, sending him tumbling to the ground in a heap. "Ow." he said, looking back to see what the culprit was. He trained his flashlight on the ground to see a brown tree root bending in and out of the grass. Blitzkrieg got to his feet and was about to leave, when the light started reflecting off a small patch on the root. "Gotcha." he said, as he reached down and put his hand on it.
                                                      The root turned out to be a heavily rusted handle, no bigger than what would be found on cabinetry. Kneeling down, he lifted the handle, pulling a carefully hidden trap door up, complete with it's own sod and dirt. The door covered a small pit less than a metre square, and deep enough to conceal two dirty and slightly battered steel boxes. He lifted out of the hole carefully, and put it on the grass. The simple latch was rusted but still functioned as he lifted the lid to reveal a smal fortune of gold coins. Smiling, he lifted the second box out of the hole, and found that it too held a large quantity of gold coins, as well as some tattered documents. "I've found the cache!" said Blitzkrieg into the headset triumphantly. "Greg, get over here and--" he never got to finish his sentence as something solid connected with his head, sending him tumbling into the bushes and into unconciousness.

Lake City - 1937

                                                        Months had passed since the clue on the telegram had been seen by the two private eyes. Little had been found of the consignment of gold pieces, nor had they found out any more about this 'Percy' individual mentioned in said telegram. The two gumshoes had heard a rumour of the gold being held in a warehouse down in the new industrial sector of town. Sam had personally gone to the warehouse, and had gotten in after hours to looks around, having known the night watchman since he was a kid. A couple of hours had gone by, but even with the watchman's help, he had found nothing of consequence in the warehouse. Just another false lead in the case that Sam had gone after.
                                                       "Thanks for letting me through here, Johnny." he said towards his night watch friend. Johnny nodded and tipped his patrol cap. "Any time, Sammy. Have a good one!" he said with a smile, as Samuel walked away from the large structure and down to the edge of the road, where a car had just pulled up to pick him up. He got in and closed the door behind him, before turning to the driver. "Nothing doing in there. Nada." he said to his partner Gordon, who shook his head and scowled, not happy with the end result of the warehouse search. "Long shot anyways." he started. "Glad one of us came down here to check it out." he added, glancing over only once, as he was paying attention to the dark streets as he drove on, the car plodding along on the way back to the main part of town.
                                                        Samuel shook his head. "Gordo, we gotta stop chasing these phantom leads. Time to focus on another case." he stated, not wanting to spend any more time on leads and clues that ended up amounting to nothing. "For all we know, this gold thing is all a story." he finished, tired and wanting to go home. Gordon nodded. "I hear ya, Sam. I hear ya. Well, maybe we got taken this time. Let's sleep on it, and figure it out in the morning." he explained, intending to drop Sam off at home then go to his own place to get some rest. "Sure thing, Gordo." replied Sam, content with that course of action. Both men knew the case wasn't worth it anymore, and resigned themselves to that fact as the car kept driving into the night, with morning and a new day several hours a way at best.

Lake City - 2017

                                                        It was almost midnight now, and nothing was stirring in this part of town. Almost nothing. Greg Redmond skulked around the side of an old warehouse in the industrial district, having followed Jared's attackers here in his van at a distance after checking to see if his best friend was all right. He had Serena rush down to take care of Jared, but wanted to go after the assailants himself to even the score. Not only had they surprised him and his friend, but stole the gold consignment as well before screeching off into a waiting dark coloured sedan with no licence plates. The trail led Greg to the industrial sector, to this dilapidated old warehouse who's days were long behind it now.
                                                        "Nasty." he whispered to himself after stepping on some crumbled rubble from the wall of the old building. The structure had been built in the early nineteen thirties during the depression, and was used to store goods from rail cars. All this time later, the tracks were mostly overgrown and missing in some spots, with the warehouse itself ready to be condemned. For the time being however, Greg kept his mind on the criminals and tried to find a window that wasn't boarded over so he could see what was going on inside. He did hear faint voices, but was unable to hear what they were saying. After a few more minutes of skulking, he found a wall in an alcove that was missing some chunks of brick, with light streaming through. He crouched down to see inside and get an idea of who was in there.
                                                         Three men were sitting on top of old crates in a circle around a couple of bright lights, and bags of the gold coins from the consignment. The one in the middle had a large black mustache and an olive skin tone. The two other men wore masks and hats that covered their faces, making identification impossible. Just then, the man with the mustache started speaking. Greg focused and listened in. "You see my friends," the man started, with a slight spanish accent. "Good things come to those who wait. My family waited decades to get this gold back where it belongs, going all the way back to my grandfather, who made a deal with a man who had no intention of splitting the consignment down the middle." he explained, as the other two men leaned in a bit to listen.
                                                         "My grandfather did most of the work in finding the lost gold, and that partner of his, a snake named Percival, cheated him out of all of it. My grandfather died broke and depressed. My father passed down the information to me, having not wanted to try to get it back. Well, I have succeeded where others have failed. And for helping me with this, you will be compensated accordingly." he finished, as the two other men nodded and made fist gestures, happy to know they were getting their due for services rendered. "We move in the morning. The truck will be loaded with the gold, and we will leave town. I will pay you gentlemen when we are safely out of the area." he stated, as the two men nodded again and got up off the crates, wandering out of sight, while the man doing the talking picked up a bottle from beside his crate and took a gulp. Greg carefully stepped away from the hole in the bricks and pondered, knowing there wasn't much time.

                                                          Jumping in the van and closing the door behind him, Greg tapped the button on his headset. "Serena. Serena can you hear me??" he asked, not sure if there was still an open channel. Three long seconds ticked by before the response came. "Greg, yes I'm here!" replied the familiar feminine voice of Serena. "Just got to the scene, and am helping Jared up off the ground." she explained. "How is he?" asked Greg, concerned about his friend and feeling bad for taking off after the assailants so fast. Serena was upbeat in her reply. "He's fine. Bump on the head but he'll live. Where are you?" she wondered aloud. Greg looked out the windows of the van first. "Industrial sector. Followed the creeps here. They've got the gold in a warehouse and it's going to be moved as soon as--"
                                                         He was cut off as a black-gloved fist smashed through his driver's side window and grabbed the back of his head, quickly snapping it forward into the steering wheel, the impact knocking him unconcious. Another man jumped into the van from the passenger side and produced a roll of duct tape, using it to quickly bind Greg before slapping a large piece over his mouth. His lifeless body was pulled out of the cab, and dragged to the back of the van, the rear doors being opened by the first accomplice. The two assailants tossed him inside and closed the doors shut and locked them in the process. Within ten minutes, they had rolled the van into the lot across the street, putting it under an old truck overhang attached to another abandoned warehouse, and left it there, heading back to see their boss.
                                                          Upon entering their hideout, the mustache-wearing ringleader was there to greet them. "Well, what happened out there?" he asked, wanting answers. "We got the snooper, boss. He'll be no trouble now." he said, the other man nodding in agreement. "Very well. Good work. Now let's try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be most busy, and most profitable for you two." he said, heading off to an area past the crates where air matresses and sleeping bags had been set up. "Who's gonna take first watch?" asked one of the goons, thinking about the gold coins. The other goon spoke up before theit leader could. "I told you before, don't question Carlos. He's got it all under control." he stated, before lying down on an air mattress. Carlos stroked his mustache before speaking.
                                                          "I do, but it was still a valid question." he started. "I had been here a couple days before we set up. I have motion sensors and cameras watching over. No need to worry. All exists are covered." he finished. "Now, get some sleep." he ordered, alos laying down on an air matress. In less than ten hours, they would be on their way out of the city. He would pay off his two goons, then drop them off elsewhere before continuing south. The gold consignment was all his after that, and he intended to retire from heists and such and live off what he got for the gold, estimating there was at least twenty million worth of coins in the lot. "Long time coming." he murmured to himself before falling asleep on his sleeping bag.

                                                            Still shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Blitzkrieg arrived on the industrial area and very slowly drove his motorcycle along, looking at all the old warehouses to see if he could figure out which one the trouble was at. He brought his bike to a halt when he saw the two decrepit warehouses opposite from each other. One was all dark, and he could barely make out an old van parked under an overhang, while the other one seemed dark and boarded up. After engaging his bike's kick stand, he walked up to the boarded up warehouse's driveway, long torn up and overgrown but wish traces of fresh foot marks in the gravel. "Hmm." he mumbled, before skulking over to the front wall and holding position for a moment, pondering his next move. "If they're in there, the place might be rigged with something to alert them to a presence." he said softly, considering his options.
                                                            Blitzkrieg knew that if the entrances were all rigged, it only left him one option - the roof. Carefully he skulked around back of the structure, and saw that an escape ladder was still fastened to the wall there. He scrambled up it quickly and quietly, and tiptoed over to a part of the roof that had a large skylight on it. The glass had long given way, but upon inspection, the frame was intact, and there was a landing only a few metres below it, easy for him to land on without injuring himself. After letting his eyes adjust a little better to the darkness, he peered over the edge of the skylight again, and saw three forms lying prone on what looked to be beds below the landing. "Payback time." he muttered.
                                                            He stood up next to the frame and readied himself for the drop. His quarterstaff now in hand, Blitzkrieg was ready to kick some criminal butt. He leapt into the open rectangle where the skylight once was, and dropped onto the landing with a loud thud. He could see two of the three men waking up, and didn't give them a chance to reach for weapons. He leapt down from the landing and swung the quartestaff at the first assailant, knocking him out with a blow to the head before whirling around and catching the other one in the gut with the weapon, taking the air out of him before he too fell over, unconcious. By then, the third man, with a mullet and a mustache, got up and pointed a large knife at him. 
                                                             "So." he started with a spanish accent. "My men didn't do as good a job on you as I thought. No matter, I will handle you.....myself!" he exclaimed, lunging forward with the knife. Because he was throwing all his weight forward from on top of what looked like an air mattress, Blitzkrieg easily sidestepped the man and brought his quarterstaff down on the arm with the knife, breaking it with a crack as the knife fell to the floor, and the man yelped in pain. Using this to his advantage, Blitzkrieg delivered a right cross to the man's face and kayoed him instantly while he was holding his broken arm, sending him to the floor in a heap. "Almost too easy." said Blitzkrieg, happy for once that this ended quickly. He walked over to a door behind where the criminals were sleeping and found a small storage room containing the gold coins. He picked one up and examined it. "Greed has turned this little shiny mystery into a catalyst for crime." he said, hearing sirens off in the distance. 
                                                              He walked out of the warehouse, purposely tripping the alarms the crooks had set up. "Cops will know where the fun's at." he said, leaving the warehouse and heading across the street to gather his bike. It was then he heard a banging sound from inside the van parked at the other building. He jogged up to the van and saw it was Greg's. "Damn!" he remarked, finding the doors locked. Producing the quarterstaff, he smashed the rear doors open and saw Greg tied up and gagged with duct tape. Pulling the tape off Greg's mouth, he went to work freeing his friend quickly. "Whew. Thanks. I was wondering when you'd show up!" exclaimed Redmond. Blitzkrieg smiled. "Glad you're okay. Let's get out of here." he said, pointing to his motorcycle. Soon after, the bike peeled off into the night, with Greg holding onto the back as best he could, given the circumstances.

                                                   *          *          *          *

                                                              Jared stood in the derelict office with Greg and Serena, looking down at the dusty and damaged desk, before laying the yellow telegram down on it, and putting a piece of debris over of it. "Hard to believe that this mystery lasted eighty years, and ended the way it did." he remarked, still looking at the telegram. Greg smiled looked about the office himself, happy the whole adventure had been brought to it's conclusion. "That Carlos fellow gave a full confession to the police, and the gold consignment is headed to the federal mint for the time being. What an ending indeed." he finished, before walking over to the toppled bookcase and pondering it carefully, thinking about the books it may have held.
                                                              "I'm just glad neither of you guys were seriously injured." stated Serena, before she leaned in and gave Jared a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be outside. It's a little too dusty out here." she said, before stepping over some rubble and out the door into the reception area on her way outside. Jared looked to his best friend and grinned. "You did really well last week. Charging after the criminals like you did." he mentioned, grateful for the help. Greg turned and frowned. "I got careless and they beat me up in my own van." he replied. Jared laughed. "All part of the job. Besides, if you didn;t go after them, the gold may have been lost forever. The effort in ninteteen thirty-seven and here today would have been for nothing." he explained, praising his friend. Greg smiled and looked to Jared.
                                                               "What are friends for?" he said with a chuckle, as both men turned and headed out of the old building, leaving the dusty remains of a forgotten time in their eternal slumber. Two private eyes of days past and two best friends spanned eighty years, but solved the mystery of the lost gold. One could amost say it was just another chapter in the ongoing saga that was Lake City......

                                                               THE END