The Matter of the Vanishing Greyhound
Golden Gate Disappearing Greyhound Bus Caper
Master of the Impossible Crime
“You’re working kind of late, aren’t you?”
Wu looked up from his computer at the blue uniform in the doorway. “Yeah. I’ve got some work to get done. Helluva thing to have to do, work late.”
“Well, it won’t happen after you get married.”
“Right. Right. Tell me after I get back from my honeymoon! Three fun-filled weeks in Hawaii.” He leered suggestively and then waved haphazardly at the Hawaiian travel poster on his wall. Then he turned his attention back to the computer screen.
“Enjoy! I’ll see you when you get back.”
Wu waited until he was sure he was alone. Then he looked surreptitiously over his shoulder.
He was alone.
With precision he pulled up the homing map. The solitary flashing light at the San Francisco International Airport warmed his heart. He smiled.
But he didn’t smile long.
The phone rang.
“Now,” came the voice over the phone. “Now.”
Wu hung up the phone. His fingers danced over the buttons and he cleared the board and killed the template. RAM swallowed and then he brought the homing screen up again. The flashing light at the airport was gone. Wu ran the mouse to exit and, two seconds later, hit the power button.
In 30 seconds he was on the street outside Police Headquarters.
Moments later he was crawling into the back of a delivery van and scrambling over seven million dollars in $100 bills in crates marked “chili.” The last he saw of Police Headquarters was the red aviation warning light on top of the communications tower overlooking the Civic Center. Then the cargo doors of the of the van closed.