Episode #5 Under Pressure! : Trapped between a scheming murderer and unyielding Inspector Pascal... Who's going to crack first? Inspector Pascal Mysteries 4000 Classic-style, short -story, mystery detective adventure fiction for all ages! à TIPTOPduTOP blog ©2018 INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 4000
#5 Under Pressure! ©2018 by T.K. Naliaka Dr. Gladwell, balding with wire-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat over his shirt and trousers paused his nervous hand-wringing to gesture around the laboratory, a large room well-equipped with assay machines along one wall, and in the center, two long work counters with sinks and gas outlets for burners. “Inspector Durant, I’ve been so rushed and overwhelmed this past month, that first I thought it was me just being absent-minded. I’ve developed a new product, but I’m just not a businessman and I’ve had trouble securing financing, so I’m undercapitalized. My associate, Radcliff, has been in Switzerland for the past two weeks negotiating an exclusive contract; it’ll be worth millions.” Gladwell resumed his agitated hand-wringing. “It’s a horrible time to be having problems. Since Radcliff left, I’m usually here alone, and now I’m scared!” Inspector Durant*, with neat, greying hair, dressed in a navy blue suit, and accompanied by three uniformed policemen, opened his notepad. “Can you give me the name of this Swiss company?” “I can,” Gladwell fished out his wallet, selected out a small business card and went over to offer it to him. Durant frowned as he checked both sides, one side printed in French, the other in German. Durant held it up to a brown-haired, hazel-eyed lean younger man in a dark grey suit paired with a big, broad-shouldered uniformed police sergeant standing apart from Durant’s entourage of three uniformed officers. “Inspector Pascal, can you confirm?” Pascal came over to Durant, took the card and read it. “Yes, I can, sir.” Pascal glanced at his watch as he pulled out his phone. “I believe that they are closed right now.” He entered the number, then called. After several moments of listening, he hung up. “It’s a recording. We can’t speak with anyone until their regular business hours.” Durant indicated to him with his pen. “Follow up when they’re available.” Pascal slipped the card into his suit jacket pocket, “Yes sir.” He added, addressing Gladwell. “Permit me to ask if you have dealt with this company yourself, Dr. Gladwell?” Gladwell looked to him and then shook his head. “Me? No… I-I can’t speak the language so Radcliff has been handling all of it.” Durant glanced up, noticing that Pascal was considering Gladwell thoughtfully for a longer moment than Durant would have expected for such a simple question. Gladwell waited on Pascal, expecting some follow-up question from him. Getting none, Gladwell then looked uncertainly at Durant. Durant asked. “Is there anything else, Inspector?” Pascal glanced back at him, “No, sir.” Durant added an oblique notation on his pad to remind himself to ask Pascal later. Gladwell continued. “Radcliff said that they’re asking for a lot more documentation and samples than we expected, so ten days ago, I hired one of my former graduate students, Casper here, to assist me to send Radcliff what he needs to help close the deal by Friday.” Gladwell held out his hand to a gangly young man wearing a white lab coat over his jeans and t-shirt with him. “Casper can tell you.” Casper nodded eagerly. “Last week, when I opened, I found the lock to the supplies stockroom had been broken.” Durant gestured to one of the three uniformed officers with him. Sergeant Heller went to where Casper was pointing, crossing the room to closely examine the damaged locking mechanism of the door. Durant asked. “Was there anything stolen?” Gladwell shook his head. “That’s what’s so peculiar! We inventoried everything – nothing’s missing. But that’s not all!” Casper nodded. “On Thursday, after we closed and were leaving, I noticed that Dr. Gladwell’s car had a puddle of oil underneath it.” Gladwell spoke up. “It wasn’t oil, but brake fluid! If Casper hadn’t spotted it, I could have crashed on the way home!” Durant glanced up from his notes. “There’s a green sedan parked out back… you mean that one?” “Yes! The mechanics said there was a puncture in the line!” “Is it still damaged?” “Of course not; they replaced it! I have to have transportation!” “But you have the service record from the garage which attests to that?” “Well… yes, I-I can get that for you… if you need it.” “I will.” Durant nodded as he jotted on his notepad. “I take it that you have security video?” Gladwell exclaimed. “That’s why I called the police! It’s been disconnected! There’s no possible way to do that by accident!” Casper pointed up to the camera in the west corner. “I checked inside and outside for Dr. Gladwell. Judging from what’s recorded, they’ve been off for about four weeks.” Durant gestured to the warning stickers on the windows. “Why hasn’t your security company fixed it?” Gladwell flushed. He lowered his voice, embarrassed. “In order to reduce our monthly expenses, Radcliff and I discussed it and we decided not to renew the contract. It’s been just our own video feed since March. You can appreciate this, can’t you, that we don’t want anyone to know that?” He rubbed his palms together nervously. “I’m so stressed! It’s been three years of work on a shoestring, racking up debt and I’ve finally made a breakthrough formulation and it’ll be the deal of a lifetime! If I can’t deliver now, they might walk away! I’ll have to declare bankruptcy! That’s why I asked that you would park your vehicles at the shopping park across the street. I don’t want people to think there’s something wrong here! That’s the last thing I need right now!” Durant paced slowly around the perimeter of the lab room, then stopped by the only other door. He turned to Gladwell. “Where does this go?” “It’s for the rear access.” Gladwell went to him and pushed the buttons on the keypad to type in the code. He opened the door. “There’s just a small loading dock, plus the rubbish bin where we take out the trash.” Durant looked out as Gladwell explained. Durant stepped aside so Gladwell could close and lock the door, then he walked to the lab tables. After a few moments while he jotted notes on his pad, Durant spoke up. “How many keys and key codes are there and who has them?” He pointed with his pen. “Consider that the storeroom door was forced… but not the main entry door or that rear door?” Everyone’s eyes followed the same, from Durant, to the exit doors, then to the storeroom, then back to… Hearing a click and feeling a swash of cooler outside air against his back, Dr. Gladwell turned around to look behind him. He blurted, surprised, “Radcliff!” What are you doing here?” A stocky man dressed in a long black overcoat with a hood pulled over his head sauntered in through the loading dock doorway into the laboratory, dropped his gloved hand hard on Gladwell’s shoulder and gave him a disdainful sneer. He chuckled coldly. “I’m here to finalize the last part of my luxury early-retirement plan with the proprietary formula for your revolutionary new solvent and a bullet in your head so I can file for sole ownership on the patent applica...” His voice trailed off as he suddenly realized he had an audience. He shoved Gladwell away to send him sprawling on the floor, yanked up a semi-automatic rifle that he’d slung under his coat and pointed it at the police, “Hands up!!” Radcliff frantically jerked the rifle barrel back and forth to cover the police in the room. “Nobody move!!” They all read the panic on his face as he realized they’d all heard what he’d said, then shift to deadly decision and as one they recognized that it was too late; out-gunned with pistols against a semi-automatic rifle and with no time to react to pull their handguns from their holsters as Radcliff’s finger tightened on the trigger. “ATTENDEZ!! MONSIEUR! Monsieur Radcliff!” The unexpected tone and sound of a foreign language and accent snagged Radcliff’s attention, just enough. Despite himself, he glanced over. “The gas! The GAS!” Radcliff kept his rifle aimed squarely at Durant and his men in the center of the room as he focused beyond them to a lean man in a dark grey suit, with his arms raised, standing at the far end of the lab bench, but pointing oddly with both hands down towards the table. Everyone’s eyes turned to him so the entire group was staring uncomprehending at Inspector Pascal. He continued firm and insistent. “I opened the gas! You pull that trigger and you explode this room sky-high!” Radcliff glanced at all of the police, the four uniformed officers and the two plainclothes detectives, his bewildered business partner kneeling on the floor staring at him and the wide-eyed temporary employee, Casper, all who Radcliff had been about - just a moment before - to slaughter to clear his path to flee. They were all frozen in place, staring at Pascal, then their eyes shifted to Radcliff to see his reaction. Because they were still all holding their breaths from the helpless second before Radcliff was about to open fire on them, they all could plainly hear the phhisssssss of the pressurized gas escaping into the room, then as the brittle moment passed and Radcliff hadn’t yet began firing, they all began breathing again, only to smell the strengthening odor. They didn’t dare move - held captive on two fronts; Radcliff with the rifle versus Pascal with the gas. Radcliff kept his aim decisively to cover the entire group as he glared at Pascal to emphasis his fury and snarled. “Shut it off!” Pascal raised one finger in warning. “Think! You don’t want to die! So, you schemed for the exclusive rights to Dr. Gladwell’s formula and how you planned to spend the wealth from it! You pull that trigger now even just once and there’s nothing left of your grand plans - just a few blobs of your charred flesh sprinkled with the ashes of the burnt files! And if you don’t remove your finger off that trigger, you might do it by accident!” Over the sights on the barrel of his rifle, Radcliff glanced at the others. Everyone was frozen in place – indeed, no one had any pose that hinted at any desire to grab for the pistols in their holsters. Pascal was nonchalant. “You don’t have to worry; you’re the only one with a ready weapon - if you were suicidal enough to use it!” After a long, tense moment, they saw Radcliff’s finger straighten off the trigger, but he kept the rifle aimed at them. Pascal watched him glance consideringly to the exit door, “Just a moment, Monsieur Radcliff!” Radcliff glanced back at him. Pascal turned his raised fist to show him the lighter in his hand with his thumb on the strike tab. “Perhaps you are thinking right now to rush outside and then shoot in to kill us? With this, I guarantee you won’t make two steps from where you are standing now!” The entire group gasped. Radcliff snorted disbelievingly. “You’ll kill everyone?” Pascal nodded. “What’s the difference? You’re killing everyone, too! Except this way, you die, also!” Pascal gestured to the others. “Perhaps you run for the door and we run after you, because no one else can shoot inside this room without blowing it up, and we all want to get out. So, we crowd into the hallway with you. But, if we exchange fire with you out there, the shots will still blow up the building… and all of us, together… again… same outcome!” Everyone was staring at Pascal. He continued, holding up the lighter to emphasize his point – to make sure Radcliff could not forget he had it. “Perhaps we all run outside into parking and then we have a big shooting match – hiding behind, running aller and retour between the vehicles. Maybe you get away, maybe you don’t, but in the excitement, we forget that the entire building is still filling with gas, and plenty of stray bullets go through it. It explodes even more enormous and we all die anyway! But maybe it doesn’t explode for a while. Yet, there are more of us than you, so the odds have become much, much, improved that one of us will succeed in killing you in your attempt to escape!” Pascal shrugged. “Everyone here, including you, knows that pity or compassion for us isn’t what’s staying your hand, but my lighter and all this gas. Do you think anyone here will feel generous when they have a good, unconstrained shot at you? So, any permutation of shoot-out inside or out is not in your best interests, is it? Avoiding all that is highly desirable, ne c’est pas?” There was a muffled moan. Casper pleaded. “I’m not part of this! I only started last week! I’m only being paid minimum wage! Let me go!” Radcliff yelled. “No one goes!” Casper leaned over, retched and vomited. He straightened, looking around for a cloth or towel in easy reach, but there weren’t any so he finally pulled his white lab coat hem up with trembling hands to wipe his mouth and tearing eyes. Radcliff swore then, hard and profusely. Gladwell, who’d been on his knees with his hands raised, awkwardly stood up, but he was shaking so hard he had to grab for his glasses to keep them from falling off his nose, “Inspector Durant! This is insanity! Tell him to stop!” Durant shot back angrily. “Tell who to stop?” Gladwell pointed frantically at Pascal, “Him! He’s subordinate to you, isn’t he?” Durant scowled back. “He didn’t come here today to murder you, your partner did! Why don’t you tell Radcliff to stop?” Before Gladstone could utter a syllable, Radcliff yelled at him. “Shut up!” Radcliff growled at Durant. “You turn it off!” Pascal shook his head harshly. “That only helps Radcliff kill us all, so I won’t allow it!” Gladwell begged Durant, “Order him!” Pascal was disdainfully dismissive. “I don’t have to obey anything he says or anyone else here! I’m seconded to this department from France! I can protest! C’est mon droit!” Durant watched Radcliffe, gauging his indecision. Durant spoke up, “Inspector Pascal! The longer that gas keeps filling this room, the higher the odds it’ll ignite with any spark!” Pascal kept the lighter up with his thumb on it and retorted. “He’s going to murder us all, what’s the difference? Bullets or Boom?” The entire group of civilians and police turned a paler shade of grey. Durant persisted. “Pascal, do you understand the mortal danger you’ve put us all in now? He could surrender, but one wrong move, a random spark and we’re all done-for anyway!” Pascal retorted stubbornly. “It’d be more humane than being shot!” He gazed about fatalistically. “You know, it’s very French this scene… like… like… Maupassant. He died very well-known, his literary works are required reading in every school. His name is preserved because of his profound thoughts on humanity such as the time he regretted letting his house burn down with everyone locked inside it! Everyone knows the world adores to weep over a tragedy. A horrific death here could make us all famous; imagine that in the society’s search for meaning they’ll make it into art… a film.” Dr. Gladwell’s jaw sagged open as he stared aghast at Pascal. Durant glanced at Radcliff who hadn’t budged, “Radcliff! If we stand here too long there’s another problem!” Radcliff snarled, “What?” Durant pointed to the open gas cocks. “You… me… we’re all going to pass out from gas asphyxiation! We can’t keep this up for much longer!” Radcliff stared at Durant, then at the two open valves in front of Pascal. He roared. “Shut them off!” Pascal shook his head. “Even if I shut them now, there’s plenty enough of gas to explode!” Radcliff was furious, but he was trapped. “Put your guns on the table and everyone out of the room!” Pascal raised the lighter higher in warning as everyone looked ready to bolt. “What? That we are disarmed so you can shoot us all out there in the fresh air? And who wants to risk a static spark with those metal pistols and these tables?” Pascal stared hard and unswerving at Radcliff. “We STAY!” After another long moment; stymied again, Radcliff suddenly appealed to Durant. “He’s a complete lunatic! You talk sense into him!” Durant watched him, then he looked back at Pascal. “Inspector Pascal, you’re making everything worse! Be reasonable!” He retorted. “Radcliff has not given us anything reasonable! He is here now only because it is his scheme to murder Dr. Gladwell! He is determined to kill you and everyone to eliminate us as witnesses to his intentions! I do have one final action left in my power – to make sure he pays for it!” After another few seconds of phissssing went by, there was a plaintive voice by the window. Dr. Gladwell gasped. “Inspector Durant, I’m very dizzy.” On the other side of the table, a few feet from Pascal, Sergeant Braque spoke up cautiously. “Sir, I’m feeling lightheaded, too.” Inspector Durant’s team of officers looked uncomfortably at Braque, then at Pascal and back to Durant, but they said nothing. Sweat was pouring off Radcliff’s face; his eyes were wide and bulging and he was pale, but he hadn’t moved. Pascal eased around the table with his lighter ready, “Monsieur Radcliff. You don’t fear me! None of us can use our guns now.” He walked over and held out his badge to Radcliff. “You surrender, and you get your day in court. You employ a clever lawyer, who knows many obscure precedents, and you have a big chance.” Pascal shrugged. “We here have no control over that part! Just because we arrest anyone doesn’t mean it’s signed and sealed. You’re a highly intelligent person; you’ll have to time to figure out what to do! But if you shoot now, your life is over, now! We’ll all be gone too, but at least we’ll know you didn’t get away!” Pascal shrugged fatalistically. “Who knows, you might survive – maimed and in pain to rue your mistake for the rest of your agonizing, miserable, greatly-shortened lifespan! Which is the better option for you right now?” Everyone’s pale green-grey pallor shifted a deeper shade of green, after hearing that. Pascal had reached the end of the table and was hardly an arm’s reach from Radcliff. Radcliff was blinking rapidly; his face was tight and pale. He suddenly started to rush past Pascal, but Pascal quickly stepped in his way to block him. “You have to go through me first to shut those off! But I can’t shoot and you can’t shoot!” Radcliff flushed and jammed the muzzle of the rifle hard against Pascal’s chest. “I will!” Pascal stood firm and held Radcliff’s gaze. “You shoot me now and the explosion will blow the roof off this building! Your right hand will be found in the gutter with one of your ejected eyeballs, your left hand will land in the basement! What’s left of your broiled torso will be run over in traffic right out there!” There was an appalled wail from Casper. Dr. Gladwell’s eyes rolled up and he dropped senseless in a heap on the floor. Radcliff looked desperately at the swooning chemist, the shaking and weeping Casper trying to keep from retching again, then at the others, every one of the uniformed police officers there were holding themselves upright by the closest table or chair, increasingly unsteady on their feet, then at the two opened cocks. He colored red, roared in rage and turned the gun in his hands to smash Pascal with the butt. Pascal parried and grabbed the rifle. He folded his body over it and Radcliff’s right arm, pulling him down to the floor. Durant jumped to the lab table and quickly closed both open cocks. “EVACUATE!” Durant’s men didn’t need to be told; they had already seized Dr. Gladwell by his arms and legs and were porting his unconscious body out the doorway. Sergeant Heller grabbed the whimpering and disoriented Casper and pulled him outside. Radcliff swore and cursed furiously as he yanked at his trapped arm and pummeled Pascal on the back with his free hand. Pascal gasped to Durant and Braque. “Get out of here!” Sergeant Braque ignored the order, knocked Radcliff flat with one hard blow of his nightstick and dragged him away from Pascal. Durant ordered Braque. “Go out and stay out! I’ll get him!” He rushed to Pascal, “Inspector!” Still curled up on the floor clutching the rifle, Pascal nodded and pushed himself up unsteadily as Durant insistently tugged at him. Durant helped him stand and then with an arm around him, quickly guided him out to the corridor, then out through the main exit into the daylight and fresh air. Not until they had all stumbled to the farthest edge of the parking lot by the trees did Pascal stop to gingerly work his finger out from where he’d jammed it behind the trigger. Feeling dizzy and ill, he sat down, then extracted the full magazine, pulled back the rifle bolt to disengage the chambered round, and set all of it beside him on the grass. He lay down to stare dully at the strangely rotating sky overhead, rolled to his side and vomited. With his head resting on his left arm, Pascal blinked wanly and glanced over. Two of Durant’s men were on their hands and knees, also vomiting into the lawn. Sergeant Braque was a few meters away, slowly pacing along the curb with Radcliff handcuffed and slumped by his feet. Braque’s face was tipped to the sky as he walked unsteadily with his hands on his hips, forcing himself to inhale and exhale deeply to fill and clear his lungs. After a few moments, Braque sat down, with his hands to his head. Durant forced himself to cross the street to their parked vehicles. With Sergeant Heller’s help, he unlocked his vehicle and opened the trunk. It took longer to assemble the kit than usual as they were both nauseous and clumsy, but within a few minutes, Heller was fitting a mask over Dr. Gladwell’s face and turning on a flow of pure oxygen, then Heller sat beside Gladwell to give himself turns with the reviving oxygen. Durant took a second bottle and with the mask pressed to his face to breathe to help him recover, he quickly went to the men suffering the most and gave them each a chance to breathe oxygen before going to the next. Pascal opened his eyes as he felt something pressing over his face. Durant’s voice was in his ear, insistent, “Breathe in!” After a several deep inhalations of pure oxygen, Pascal’s headache and nausea began to subside. He waved Durant off, but grateful, “Merci.” They heard the sirens of the approaching fire trucks. Durant checked his watch. “The cavalry’s here.” He lay back on the grass and ran his hands over his face with huge relief. Finally Durant, staring up at the blue sky far overhead, asked. “What bothered you about the Swiss company?” Pascal rubbed his eyes. “I thought Gladwell was lying when he said he wasn’t able to talk with the company. It’s Switzerland; they speak English, French, German, Italian and Latin. But, now it’s obvious that Gladwell didn’t know enough about Switzerland to catch Radcliff’s lies.” Durant grimaced. “Is it a real company?” Pascal shrugged as he rubbed his reddened eyes. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out if Radcliff faked everything to create his alibi. Perhaps he did contact and negotiate with a company, but for himself alone.” Durant wasn’t done. “Pascal, just exactly who is Mo... Mopass?” Pascal frowned, puzzled. He pushed himself up to sit. Finally he replied, “Maupassant?” “Yes!” Pascal rolled his eyes disdainfully. “He was a complete idiot.” Durant, shook his head disbelievingly. “Inspector Pascal, remind me to never play poker with you!” *Inspector Pascal Mysteries 1000 #12 Harmless ©2018 by T.K. Naliaka
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January 2019
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