Simon Says: Case of the Deadly Diamond Dupe (standard:mystery, 3950 words)
Author: pjlawton	Added: Jan 19 2004	Views/Reads: 3562/2447	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A hard-boiled private investigator reluctantly gets involved in a terrorist plot.

Simon Says: Case of the Deadly Diamond Dupe 

By 

P.J. Lawton 

Simon says - - The one who makes no mistakes does none of the work - -
well, not much anyway. 

I was grabbed up just as I was leaving my favorite watering hole.  They
threw me in an unmarked windowless van and in about 15 minutes had me 
situated in an old abandoned warehouse down by the docks. Initially 
they didn't rough me up just forced me to sit in a hard wooden kitchen 
chair under a bright spotlight. There wasn't anything particularly 
remarkable about the ones that snatched me, just big guys in suits and 
topcoats. After about 10 minutes a third guy came in and walked to the 
old desk situated a few feet in front of me. 

"Say pal," I said, "you want to tell me what's going on here?" 

"Shut your mouth!" 

Leaning forward I replied, "No need to get nasty buster, I just. . ." 

Two sets of big meaty hands grabbed me and slammed me back into the
chair. Now, that really began to tick me off. My name is Winston Simon 
and I'm a private detective. I was already mad because I was picked up 
as easily as some two- bit hustler. And anyway, I'm the one that 
usually handed out the rough stuff. 

"Now look you. . ." 

"I told you to shut your mouth. Don't speak until you're told to do so."


Steam was coming out of my ears by then. I watched him take my Russian
Varjag semi-automatic pistol out of his briefcase. They had pulled it 
out of my shoulder rig when they grabbed me. The Russian MR-445 Varjag 
Heavy Pistol was chambered for .40 caliber S&W cartridges.  The 
SPETSNAZ Special Forces had developed the MR-445 for their use. Unlike 
most of the other .40 caliber handguns with their ten round magazines, 
my Varjag carried fifteen rounds. Five extra rounds without having to 
change magazines could sometimes make a big difference. That's one of 
the reasons I was so fond of it. 

"We know all about you Simon, with your big Russian handgun and your
smart mouth. Believe me, we're not impressed." 

I was beginning to take a major dislike for Mister Bigshot over there. 
I sat there and gave him my dirtiest look and no, he didn't appear to 
be too impressed. 

"If you know what's good for you you'll tell us everything you know
about Isaac Wallman, or Walinsky whichever way you know him. 

The silence stretched for a few seconds, finally I said. "Oh, you were
waiting for me to talk? Well pal, I have nothing to say." 

One of the goons behind me slapped me on the back of the head snapping
my head forward. Oh we want to play do we, I thought? Now, I was really 
pissed. Sensing my hesitation, Mister Bigshot motioned for one of the 
goons. 

"Go get the file on Sam Spade here. After he sees what we have it might
just open his smart mouth." 

The one that hadn't hit me went out the door. I figured it was time to
make my play. Pretending a cough I brought my hand to my lips. I felt 
the head slapping fool loosen his grip a little. Standing to my left 
and a little behind put him in the perfect spot. Swinging with all the 
force I could muster, I elbowed him in the groin.  He made a sound 
somewhere between a grunt and a howl as he quickly dropped to the floor 
in a fetal position. Mister Bigshot stood there in shock with my Varjag 
halfway pointed in my direction.  That stupid move almost got him 
killed! 


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