Boomtown by Baer Charlton

Author:Baer Charlton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mordant Media

19

Coffee Run

Chet placed the three thermoses on the counter. The man in the rumpled white shirt, pants, and apron didn’t even blink. As Chet looked over the early morning offering of donuts, the man refilled the thermoses.

“Do you want me to leave room for cream in any of these?”

Chet looked up. “No, thanks… black all around.”

The man placed the thermoses on the counter. He reached behind him to a large stack of already made-up boxes. His hand paused, “One dozen or two?”

Chet held up his index finger, and the man swung around with a box. “Are you out at the train or the bank?”

Chet looked up at the man with a frown. “Bank?”

The man rolled one eye at him. Chet realized the weepy eye was glass.

The man tossed his head toward the left. “The feds have been through here all morning. I thought cops ate a lot of donuts and coffee, but you guys can’t hold a candle to the feds. They’ve been grabbing the two-packs and a large thermos load. They tend to go for the fluffy with high sugar while you guys down at the train have been sucking up all of my old-fashioned and cakes.”

“What bank?” Chet pursued.

“Actually, it’s the transfer station for the Federal Reserve. It’s where they take all the money they have to destroy, but also where they deliver out to the banks in the East Bay and maybe down south.”

Chet was getting a bit exasperated with the guy’s lack of information. “So, what happened over there?”

“Oh, it’s been all over the news… “

“I don’t have a TV in my cruiser—but I do have handcuffs, a nightstick, and if I need it later, a shotgun, and shovel to bury you.” He glowered at the man. “Now what the hell happened?”

The man blinked. “Someone robbed one of the armored trucks. Blew up the floor under it and then blew the back door of the truck. I overheard a couple of the Feds talking, and one guy said it was three pallets of new hundreds. Millions.”

Chet wasn’t a banker, but he knew the man could only guess at what Federal Reserve pallets looked like. Chet had firsthand knowledge—there was an extra zero stuck in there. He threw a ten on the counter and grabbed the coffee. “I’ll be back for the donuts. You know what we’re eating.”

He strapped the thermoses into the passenger seat then turned the selector on his radio to one of the tactical bands.

“C-C-1-4.”

“1-4?” The voice was the day shift. Chet swore silently.

“Karen, is Dolly still there?”

“No, hun… but there is a large blob doing a mountain of paperwork over there in the dark. What can we do for you?”

“This is going to sound strange, but… how many explosions have you guys heard about in the last couple of years?

“Explosions?” Dolly’s voice sounded tired and harried.

“Morning, sunshine… yes, explosions. Ones like… what was it… um, Frontier Village. I’m talking about businesses that went out of business—because they had some mysterious freak explosion.”

There was silence.

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