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Authors: J.C. Fields
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what I was told last night it shouldn’t take very long.” Thomas Cooper smiled. “Just show me which restroom and I’ll get started.”
“This way.” The manager started walking toward the other side of the pub. “The men’s room overflowed last night about closing time. What a mess. We had to pay a couple of guys overtime to clean it up.” The manger talked like he was speaking to no one in particular, just complaining. Cooper liked that. The less attention the manager paid to him, the less likely he would remember a description. After all, he was just a plumber, and no one remembered what a plumber looked like.
After showing him the offending toilet, the manager said, “Please hurry.”
He quickly left the room to attend to more important problems. After the door to the restroom closed, Cooper took a long wire out of his tool kit. Snaking the wire into the bowl, it only took a few seconds before he felt resistance on the probe. He quickly pulled the object out and deposited it in the trash can. He had clogged the toilet the night before right before closing time with a specially designed sponge. Making sure he was still in the bar when it backed up and overflowed, he handed the night manager a business card for a company called Just In Time Plumbers. It was an actual company; he had taken the business card the previous week from the company after applying for a job.
He said, “I can be here first thing in the morning to fix it. I would right now, but don’t have my tools.”
The night manager said, “Okay, I’ll leave a note for the day manager. What time will you be here?”
With the toilet unclogged, Cooper sat down on the toilet and waited for a phone call.
He didn’t wait long. Less than fifteen minutes later, his cell phone vibrated. He answered it by saying, “Yes.”
“On time, twenty minutes, your position.”
The call ended.
Cooper stood, left his tools in the restroom and strolled to the front door. A young college student was preparing the front of the bar for the lunch time crowd. She smiled at him.
He smiled back. She was cute, blond, petite but well-endowed, and her name badge told him her name was Crystal. “Hi, Crystal, I have to get more tools out of the truck. Be right back.”
He waited as two gentlemen in suits entered the now-open restaurant, then he walked out and turned right toward the van. He stopped in front of it, pulled a cigarette from a box in his shirt pocket, lit it, and continued to walk away from O’Dowd’s.
Five minutes later, he had doubled back. The shirt with Jerry above the breast pocket and the flesh-colored surgical gloves were gone. His chosen position was about a hundred yards due south of O’Dowd’s at the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Ward Parkway with a perfect view of the van. He leaned against the building and waited.
After another six minutes, he saw the limousine turn off of 47th Street onto Pennsylvania Avenue and head toward him. It slowed and turned right onto 48th Street, stopping even with the back of the van. He had calculated correctly. The limo stopped exactly where he needed it to be located. The driver got out and hurried back to the rear passenger side door. Once the door was open, a man about five-and-a-half feet tall with black slicked-back hair exited. He paused to say something to the driver.
Cooper quickly glanced at a photo on his cell phone, smiled, and with his other hand, pressed the button on the converted garage door opener hidden in his pants pocket. He then moved behind the building to avoid the concussion.
The van exploded with a massive force, violently shredding the metal, glass, wiring, and plastic on the right side of the limousine. The driver and passenger died instantly from the concussion and shrapnel. Their bodies were then incinerated as the limousine’s gas tank ignited. In the ensuing chaos, Cooper joined a group of panicked pedestrians rushing to get away from the noise and dust of the explosion.
“This way.” The manager started walking toward the other side of the pub. “The men’s room overflowed last night about closing time. What a mess. We had to pay a couple of guys overtime to clean it up.” The manger talked like he was speaking to no one in particular, just complaining. Cooper liked that. The less attention the manager paid to him, the less likely he would remember a description. After all, he was just a plumber, and no one remembered what a plumber looked like.
After showing him the offending toilet, the manager said, “Please hurry.”
He quickly left the room to attend to more important problems. After the door to the restroom closed, Cooper took a long wire out of his tool kit. Snaking the wire into the bowl, it only took a few seconds before he felt resistance on the probe. He quickly pulled the object out and deposited it in the trash can. He had clogged the toilet the night before right before closing time with a specially designed sponge. Making sure he was still in the bar when it backed up and overflowed, he handed the night manager a business card for a company called Just In Time Plumbers. It was an actual company; he had taken the business card the previous week from the company after applying for a job.
He said, “I can be here first thing in the morning to fix it. I would right now, but don’t have my tools.”
The night manager said, “Okay, I’ll leave a note for the day manager. What time will you be here?”
With the toilet unclogged, Cooper sat down on the toilet and waited for a phone call.
He didn’t wait long. Less than fifteen minutes later, his cell phone vibrated. He answered it by saying, “Yes.”
“On time, twenty minutes, your position.”
The call ended.
Cooper stood, left his tools in the restroom and strolled to the front door. A young college student was preparing the front of the bar for the lunch time crowd. She smiled at him.
He smiled back. She was cute, blond, petite but well-endowed, and her name badge told him her name was Crystal. “Hi, Crystal, I have to get more tools out of the truck. Be right back.”
He waited as two gentlemen in suits entered the now-open restaurant, then he walked out and turned right toward the van. He stopped in front of it, pulled a cigarette from a box in his shirt pocket, lit it, and continued to walk away from O’Dowd’s.
Five minutes later, he had doubled back. The shirt with Jerry above the breast pocket and the flesh-colored surgical gloves were gone. His chosen position was about a hundred yards due south of O’Dowd’s at the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Ward Parkway with a perfect view of the van. He leaned against the building and waited.
After another six minutes, he saw the limousine turn off of 47th Street onto Pennsylvania Avenue and head toward him. It slowed and turned right onto 48th Street, stopping even with the back of the van. He had calculated correctly. The limo stopped exactly where he needed it to be located. The driver got out and hurried back to the rear passenger side door. Once the door was open, a man about five-and-a-half feet tall with black slicked-back hair exited. He paused to say something to the driver.
Cooper quickly glanced at a photo on his cell phone, smiled, and with his other hand, pressed the button on the converted garage door opener hidden in his pants pocket. He then moved behind the building to avoid the concussion.
The van exploded with a massive force, violently shredding the metal, glass, wiring, and plastic on the right side of the limousine. The driver and passenger died instantly from the concussion and shrapnel. Their bodies were then incinerated as the limousine’s gas tank ignited. In the ensuing chaos, Cooper joined a group of panicked pedestrians rushing to get away from the noise and dust of the explosion.
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