Chapter 28

It was a beautiful morning in San Francisco. Harold parked the station wagon just at the corner of Washington and Broderick. He locked the door, then checked it. Can't be too careful, he thought. He walked around to the rear of the car and got out a large box with a Cuckoo Clock in it. As he balanced it on his knee he shut the trunk of the old wagon. He dropped the keys, leaned over, dropped the clock with a loud bong, then leaned further over and picked them both up. Well it's here to get fixed anyway, he thought.

The blue Izuzu Trooper pulled up just across the street. The brown Chevy was close behind. Harold walked up to the door of the shop and again balanced the box on his leg. This time the box only fell part way to the ground, bouncing on his knee it then turned over and dumped the clock face down on the pavement. The clang was similarly impressive. He picked up the clock and then carefully placed it in the box. He entered the tiny clock shop and looked all around. There were literally hundreds of antique clocks on shelves each with a repair tag. French provincials, grandfather, Westminsters, and those clocks with the four little balls that rotate back and forth. Harold just wanted a new hour hand for the Cuckoo clock. Well after dropping it twice maybe a cleaning as well. He walked up to the desk and set the box down.

Across the street the doors of the Izuzu opened and the four guys in blue jumped out. Each held a gun not like any other gun the secret service agents had ever seen. They looked like shotguns with very small scuba tanks under the barrel. The radio in the brown Chevy immediately came alive on a police channel. The four guys in blue ran toward the clock shop.

"I broke the hour hand off last night. Well actually my wife did while setting it. Can it be replaced?" Harold was always a tad bit meek.

The old woman at the counter looked into the box and then looked up at the front door as four guys in blue makeup charged through the front door. Just at that moment the clocks began to chime. Hundreds of clocks in full regalia. "That will be up to the man who repairs, what in the..." Harold couldn't hear anything. The first blue guy aimed his gun at Harold's back. Harold of course turned to see what the commotion was behind him. The first dart missed Harold and hit the shop keeper in the chest. The Ketamine hit her instantly and her next words sounded like something part way between the sound track from Wood Stock and a record being played backwards looking for satanic verse. She dropped to the ground and began staring aimlessly around the room. Harold looked back at her, then at the guys in blue, and jumped over the counter to help her.

At first he thought it was a robbery. Who in their right mind would rob a store with a dart gun? He grabbed the cash drawer and threw it at the first guy in blue. It hit him in the face and stopped the progression. Who in their right mind would rob a store dressed like a frozen door man? He next grabbed a truly ugly clock with cherubs on top and a marble base. Some poor sop had paid a lot of money for that one. The second blue guy took a cherub in the kisser. Darts were flying all over the place. Harold picked up two lathing wrenches. Not as tasteful as a clock, but cheaper. The last two blue guys got wrenches to the heads. In the commotion of the bonging, gongings, and chiming, Harold picked up the shop keeper and ran for the rear door. Just as he exited the rear door, the innocuous guys in dark sports coats entered the front door. They were a bit late but the carnage was obvious.

There were darts everywhere. The clocks were still ringing in the hour with deafening bonging. There were darts in the three deer on top of a wooden clock. There were darts in the face of the cuckoos on the wall. There were four guys in blue on the floor each with a minor head wound. One with a cherub bedecked clock propped up against his head. They looked like the remnants of some drug crazed college party. You know kamikaze, hurricane night. The Feds reholstered their guns and cuffed each in turn. There was little more resistance than Marlon Perkins capturing the ground tortoise of Borneo on Mutual of Omaha. They did have to lift up two grandfather clocks to remove one of the guys in blue as he was trapped under the rubble of an antique.

The Miranda Rights were read and each guy looked at the others and then said nothing. They were in deep doo doo and they knew enough to shut up.

Harold made it to the station wagon before Linda Grange could realize what was happening. He tossed the shop keeper in the passenger seat and then started the big V8. She had seen the secret service agents enter the shop and was begining to panicked. She had carefully parallel parked and now was proceeding to try to get out of her parking space. It took a couple of passes and she smashed both the car in front and in back, twice actually, before she got into the street. It gave new meaning to no fault auto insurance. She then had to do a U turn to head back in the direction Harold was going. She side swiped the brown Chevy in the process.

Harold put his foot down to the floor. The old wagon gasped and then roared to life. It might weigh more than a ton he thought but it handled like crap. He pulled a left onto Pacifica and accelerated. The four barrel carburetor didn't know what to do with all the gas. He was doing about sixty when he slid onto Masonic. The Izuzu was following but couldn't accelerate or corner like the wagon. The call to the police by the secret service had gotten about ten cars in pursuit. Harold skidded onto Fell and accelerated. He did the zig zag into the park at a little over eighty. The Izuzu didn't make the turn. It tipped over on its side on the turn into the park and skidded along on its side until it hit the curb and finally bounced up onto some grass. The crowd of homeless that sleep there didn't even notice. The police quickly surrounded the vehicle with guns drawn. Harold didn't realize the Izuzu was gone until he got to Sixth Avenue. His left at Seventh lost the Police as they went on toward the ocean in hot pursuit of nothing. He slowed and then drove up to Parnassus to drop the shop keeper off at the ER. After checking her in, he drove home only to find his driveway filled with police cars.

Chapter 29

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