In the last episode of Special Delivery, Rocky had cornered James Wong and a mystery woman in an old warehouse, where he found an open crate and Il Pollice Nero, the missing statue. We join the story as Rocky confronts James:
All eyes were on me as I stood high above them on a platform. Only the redhead James brought with him had the good graces to look shocked and dismayed. James himself shook his head as if he might have known I would figure it out. “Rocky, what are you doing here?” he asked in a tone far from his usual good nature.
There were a million reasons why I was there but I could only pick one. “I'm here to stop you. You need to box up that statue and get as far as you can away from it. I have it on good authority that The Black Thumb is radioactive. That's how Sid Hoffman died and it's how you'll die, too, if you touch it.”
He sniffed. I was afraid he would. “And who is this 'good authority' of yours?”
If I told him the truth, that I heard it from Jesse Weller, the conversation would go south real quick and my chance of getting to Wong before he did something foolish was slim. He stood three paces away and a set of fire stairs and twenty yards separated me from him. I tore my gun out of its holster and the dame squeaked when she saw it. James twitched just slightly, as if he would reach for his, but thought better of it. He raised his hands to shoulder level and glared at me.
“I don't like this any better than you do,” I said, quietly. “But I can't let you do it.” I motioned my free hand in the direction of the dame. “Who's she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. Just curious why you chose to bring her along.”
His eyes rolled up a touch. Of all the people in the world, he would be the one to know when something added up and when it didn't. “She's a former client of mine and a friend.” She glared at him as if the term 'friend' didn't suit her. “Dorothy Edwards,” he continued, “this is Rocky Stone, a colleague, and, it appears, a competitor.”
Dorothy Edwards wasn't used to all this attention and she certainly wasn't used to guns. As she looked at me from my perch above, she began to wobble on her heels. I knew that look and knew what was coming next: she twisted down to the ground, landing in a dead faint. James twitched a bit as if he thought about making a move to catch her, but he was more concerned about my gun.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Not very kind of you to scare her like that. You may have destroyed a very nice arrangement with me and Miss Edwards.”
“Never mind your love life,” I growled. “What are you doing with that statue?”
“Surely that's obvious,” grinned James Wong, sweetly. “For a long time I've felt I needed to get out of the detective game. Oh, it was all right at first, but it doesn't bring in the real money. The real power. When I heard the stories about what this old girl could do by a simple touch of a thumb, I knew I had to get in on it. My Nationalist friends, as well-meaning as they are, never realized the possibilities. So I had them bring the statue here, to store overnight, and in the morning they took away a crate on, if you'll pardon the expression, a slow boat to China. Coincidentally, their crate has a statue in it,” he waved at Il Pollice Nero with his raised left hand, “just like this one. A perfect replica.
“So now that they're gone, it's very simple. I touch the thumb of the statue, fall ill, and Miss Edwards takes me back to her house and nurses me back to health. In turn, she receives some benefits of my new-found prosperity, as well as the pleasure of my company. This statue is my ticket to freedom.”
“It's your toe-tag to the morgue. The statue's radioactive, old friend.” I laughed. “You don't honestly believe those old stories?”
James didn't seem to think it was all that funny. “I do,” he said. Maybe it was just coincidence, but when he said those words the shapely legs of Dorothy Edwards began to move just slightly. She moaned. James sighed and looked at me. “Do you mind if I help her to her feet?” he asked.
“Suit yourself.”
I suppose I should have thought it over. It wasn't until he bent over to lift her off the ground that I realized my mistake. She was shielding him, and that was never more clear than when Dorothy was finally upright. I couldn't shoot him even if I wanted to because I might have hit an innocent bystander. In a flash, James Wong ducked behind her, and when he reappeared on the other side he had ripped his gun out from under his arm. The moment I saw it was the moment he shot, and the moment he shot was the moment I felt a burning sensation slice into my shoulder. The pain of it twisted me backwards and threw me down on the floor of the platform as the gun flipped out of my hand, landing a few feet away.
No time left. By the time I had scooped up my gun and rolled to the top of the fire stairs it was already too late to do anything. James Wong was already shaking hands with the statue and there was no undoing it. He formed a smile for just a moment, his quest finally over, but that smile disappeared as he understood. Finally he understood. He had placed his trust in the hands of a piece of rock, just like those old men in those old stories who carved an image one minute and bowed down to worship it the next. Maybe it was what he was thinking as his eyes slowly glazed over and the power drained from his body. Maybe he was dead already. When he fell, his hands never rose to protect him. His head crashed against the hard warehouse floor directly.
The fiery pain in my shoulder became too much to ignore. I threw down the gun in disgust and clutched my wound. A good amount of blood but not as much as I thought.
All poor Dorothy Edwards could do was sit on the bare concrete and scream with all her might.
Now that the statue is there for the taking, will Rocky return the statue to the Nationalist Chinese, or to Jesse Weller? Find out in the next episode of The Adventures of Rocky Stone!
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