The Night Eye (4)

“Thanks, but I should be able to catch the last bus.  David may need a ride, though, unless he plans to spend the night in the lab again.  Good evening, gentlemen.”

“She’s a little young to be your mother hen,” Kezatz teased as the door clicked closed.

“I think she’ll be a fine wife someday, if there’s a man in Chitoki smart enough to keep up with her.  Well, Adam is expecting you.  You know the way?”

Kezatz knew his way.  He followed David down the hall as far as a little laboratory where a furnace for melting glass glowed.  He proceeded to the end of the hall and up the stairs.  This floor was mostly business offices, which were dark and silent at this time in the evening, except the one at the top of the stairs.  This was the office of Adam Medama, president of the enterprise, which was selected more for proximity to the labs than for executive amenities.

“Come in, Chief.”  Adam greeted his visitor with open arms.  They embraced like family.

From appearance, they might have been family.  Both had dark hair, though Kazatz’s was streaked with gray, brown eyes, faces that were still winter-pale in budding of spring.  They were different enough in age to be father in son.  Kezatz’s was the same age the senior Medama would have been; they had walked the same beat together as rooky cops.

“Have you heard from your mother?” Kezatz inquired.

“Yes, we exchange letters almost daily, but you know that.  She tells me she gets letters from you, too, keeping her up on all the Chitoki gossip.”

“It’s not gossip.  I’m just letting her know what is going on with old friends.  She could come back and keep up with it herself.  She’d be warmly welcomed home.”

The Night Eye (3)

Kezatz’s visits to this part of town were more political now that he was chief of police. Some of the local tycoons were politically active and some weren’t, but their confidence in the police, or lack of it, could make or break a chief. He was the first chief to rise up through the ranks of the Chitoki police department and probably the first one that wasn’t crooked since the founders built a little stone jail on the bluff overlooking the Kawatani.

“It’s a bit nippy, Untenshaw. You want to come in with me.”

“No thanks, Chief, I’ll be alright.” Untenshaw was a young cop who served as Kezatz’s driver. He loathed being separated from the car, as if someone would take his seat if he left it empty.

“Greetings, Chief.” David Taseker opened the door before Kezatz could touch the buzzer. “I saw you pull up. Adam let us know you were coming.”

“I thought this place was closed for the day.”

“The work day is over on the production side. Things are a little loser on the research side,” answered David. He grinned like a kid who was getting away with something. He looked like a kid, in Kezatz’s eyes, even with the stubble that was coming in after a long day away from the razor.

“Don’t stay too late, David.” A young woman entered the foyer. She was already in her coat and had her hat on her head. The coat cinched with a belt around a high waist that accentuated her figure. “Adam will be saying, ‘Your extra hours are money in my pocket.’ His pockets are full enough.”

Kezatz searched his memory. His success as a detective was built in part on his excellent recall of faces and names. “Good evening, Ms. Kiri. It’s late. My driver can take you home.”

The Night Eye (2)

He was falling too fast to risk landing on the shore. He might survive the fall if he could hit the water and miss the black rocks. It all looked black from his vantage. The water was rising under him quickly and he sucked in a deep breath.

The tide was high. It was a mixed blessing. A high tide covered the some of the rocks, but a falling tide could sweep Adam into the sea.

He didn’t waste time calculating, but swam with all the energy he could muster. On the dark beach, Adam forced his shivering hands to explore his pockets. I must write down all I can remember. He found a leather-bound notebook, it pages sopping, a dull stub of pencil, and a heavy pair of eyeglasses. “Thank God,” he sighed.

2

THE VISIT TO MEDAMA LABS

Bernard Kezatz could enjoy the good fortune of others, especially a friend. He could still remember many dinners with the Medamas where they bragged on little Adam and his good marks in school.

Little Adam was Dr. Medama now. His plant, modestly called a lab, sat by a rail spur lined with dingier manufactories and warehouses. Kezatz had been out here a lot in his days as a beat cop and detective. Theft from the factories had been common during the war, when resources were scarce. Now things were more prosperous, and Medama was part of the reason. He scratched together a little money of his own and a lot of investor to buy a maker of telegraph and telephone equipment that was nearly done in by wartime shortages. He made production more efficient and put in a line of high-end optics that turned things around.

The Night Eye (1)

THE NIGHT EYE

1

ESCAPE AT THE KAWATANI BRIDGE

Adam Medama woke with a start in unnatural darkness. He was flooded with pain from the throbbing lump on his head to the burning stripe on his thigh. He reeked of smoke and the memory of flames drove him to push and kick against constraints until he was suddenly free under stars and a cold wind.

He had been loosely wrapped in a tarp. He was surrounded by rumbling slats, the bed of a truck. A cautious glance into the passenger compartment revealed two hulking silhoettes and the lights of the Kawatani Bridge ahead.

Adam pushed his aching brain to figure out what was happening. He once served on a commission to evaluate plans to harness the Kawatani River for power. He remember the grim joking of his father’s coworkers at the police department who called the bridge Lover’s Leap and the Bridge to Nowhere because—No.

He returned to the tarp a searched the edges with hurried fingers. Chords ringed the edge at intervals and at each corner. He quickly arranged them, pushing cold fingers to tie knots, before rolling himself back into the tarp.

The truck slowed to a stop. The driver and his companion worked quickly, not even stopping to shut their doors. There wouldn’t be much traffic on the bridge at this time of night, especially with what Adam knew must be happening elsewhere.

They worked with wordless coordination. Adam forced himself to be limp in their grasp. He was briefly very heavy in their arms, followed quickly by a instant of weightlessness. Now.

Thrusting out with every limb, he unfurled the tarp. The chords pulled him back painfully and burned against his wrists and hands. He forced himself to keep his grip and draw his elbows down. The tarp was too small to make an adequate parachute, but Adam trusted himself to the wind. Tides and rock made the mouth of the Kawatani River treacherous, but the wind that roared down the valley gave it its nasty reputation.