What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (best books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

to ask him what happened with the security guards.”

“More likely he wanted to know McKenzie’s exact intentions,” Schroeder said.

“Or buy him off,” Shipman said.

“Or threaten him with bodily harm if he doesn’t keep his big mouth shut,” Bobby said. “Like someone did with Nina Truhler.”

“So now what?” Schroeder asked.

“I’d love to question him myself, but a man like that would lawyer up in a heartbeat.”

“I agree.”

“Let me think about it,” Bobby said.

“What should I do next?” Schroeder asked.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“Why don’t I run out to KTech and see if anyone in security will answer my questions; find out where they took McKenzie and why.”

“You might need some leverage. I’m going to reach out to a friend of mine to see if he’ll help supply it.”

“Does he owe you a favor?”

“No, but he owes McKenzie.”

Shipman laughed.

“Who doesn’t owe McKenzie a favor?” she asked.

Neither Bobby nor Schroeder answered.

“What are your plans, Detective?” Bobby asked.

“More phone numbers,” Shipman said.

“Good.”

Everyone said good-bye and hung up and Shipman muttered so no one but her could hear, “When this is over you are so going to owe me, McKenzie.”

Chopper liked his geek-in-chief’s blue T-shirt printed with the words:

YOU MATTER

UNLESS YOU MULTIPLY YOURSELF

BY THE SPEED OF LIGHT SQUARED

… THEN YOU ENERGY

He didn’t say anything, though, for fear that he would be subjected to a lecture about Einstein’s theory of relativity or how African-American nerds are marginalized in geek culture—he had heard them both before. Instead, he rolled his chair back and forth behind the geek’s computer terminal.

“That didn’t take long,” the geek said.

“What?”

“The ticket site; they’ve already countered the software we installed yesterday.”

“What does that mean?”

“Their bots are battling our bots for supremacy. Their bots are winning.”

“What does that mean?” Chopper repeated.

“It means we’re no longer able to circumvent their security measures. We’re no longer able to buy bundles of seats. We’re back down to a maximum of four.”

“What about the other ticket sites?”

“They’re still open for business.”

“Then buy.”

“I know. Vuhroom, vuhroom…”

“Have you ever been to Monster Jam?” Chopper asked.

“Giant trucks making lots of noise, isn’t it?”

“I don’t get it, either.”

The geek went back to buying, Chopper returned to his desk, and Herzog entered the office. Chopper looked at his watch.

“Tryin’ to run a business, here,” he said. “Kinda hard when your employees come and go as they please.”

“I wanted to check on a few things.”

“What things?”

“Talked to RT. He said his tenant be happy to sit down with you.”

“Happy?”

“What the man said.”

“Where?”

“Como Pavilion,” Herzog said.

“In St. Paul? That’s crazy.”

“Just repeating what was said.”

Chopper leaned back in his chair.

“Am I the only one who thinks this is fucked?” he asked.

“Oh, it is. Totally. That’s why I was checking it out.”

“What do you think?”

“If you still want to go through with it…”

“I do.”

“Against my advice…”

“It’s a public place; plenty of people about.”

“So?”

“So, maybe he’s as afraid of us fucking with him as we are of him fucking with us.”

“Whatever, man. There are some tables set way in the back of the pavilion overlooking the lake. Time comes, we’re gonna get there early so we can pick the one we sit at.”

There were plenty of places to park when Schroeder reached KTech Tower. He selected a slot with a sign that read Visitor Parking Only and waited. Apparently, he waited long enough that the guards monitoring him on their security camera became anxious. Two of them exited the building and approached Schroeder’s vehicle, one on each side. Schroeder watched them in his rear- and side-view mirrors, two very large, very well-dressed men and he immediately thought of the two guards that, according to Justus Reinfeld, had escorted McKenzie from the auditorium. He waited until one of them used his knuckle on the driver’s side window.

Schroeder powered down the window.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like to see some identification,” the guard asked.

“Who are you?”

The guard sighed dramatically.

“I work the security desk for KTech Tower,” he said.

“Proprietary or contract?” Schroeder asked, enjoying the moment.

“Excuse me?” the guard said.

“Do you work for the owners of the building or do you work for a private security firm that has a contract to secure the building?”

“What difference does it make?”

“My experience, private security firms are more professional, more likely to adhere to the rules set down by the board of Private Detective and Protective Agent Services. Guys working for the building have been known to bend the rules to please the owners of the building. Do you guys ever bend the rules to please your employers?”

“Let me see some ID.”

Schroeder decided the guard was about to lose his temper, so he handed him his wallet. The guard took one look and tossed it over the roof of the car to his partner.

“Fuckin’ shamus,” he said.

“Most people don’t use that word anymore,” Schroeder said, “unless they watch a lot of old movies on TCM.”

The second guard tossed the wallet back. The first guard pretended to accidently drop it on the asphalt and then accidently step on it.

“Oh, sorry,” he said.

He ground the wallet under his heel some more before picking it off the ground and tossing it inside the vehicle.

“Don’t worry about it,” Schroeder said. “I have plenty more.”

“What do you want?” the guard asked.

“Is that an existential question?”

“Why are you here, asshole?”

“I’m waiting for a friend. When my friend arrives, I’ll step inside and all will be revealed.”

The guard took a step backward and grabbed at Schroeder’s door handle.

“Step out of the vehicle,” he said.

The door didn’t open. Schroeder had locked it when he saw the two guards approaching.

“No, no, it’ll be safer if I stay right here,” he said. “If I step out of the car you might provoke a confrontation that would result in me kicking your ass all over the parking lot. You wouldn’t want your friends to see that.”

The guard took another step backward and Schroeder realized that he had pushed his luck as far as it would go, especially when the guard unbuttoned his coat and swept it back to reveal his piece. Schroeder was