The Green Rising

Chapter Thirteen

In the weeks ahead, I took pictures and measurements of the packages and made the necessary phone calls to obtain what I sought, a way to peek inside the boxes. By the start of April, the tools had arrived and all I needed was the perfect opportunity.

“Are you able to deliver a package to Dr. Osborn this afternoon?” Father Xavier asked. His voice was laden with stress.

Dr. Osborne was an obstetrician with an office on the south side of Indianapolis. I had met him on a couple of occasions and he was generally more consumed by my chest than the reason for my visit.

I looked at the time, 4:15, and bit the corner of my lip. This was going to affect my plans for the evening, but I could make it work. “I’ll need to put gas in my car and dress to go out with my friends tonight, but I should be able to pick it up in forty-five minutes. Will that work for you?” 

He was silent. “Yes, it will have to. Thanks.” The call ended abruptly and my plan was set in motion.

Another phone call later, and wearing a ridiculously short little black dress that hugged my every curve, I was out the door and filling the gas tank in record time. Tonight, my penchant for allowing the gas to run close to empty was working in my favor; it was buying time on another end, one that would  discover exactly what I was delivering.

The priest met me at my car and thrust the box into my hands, giving me my standard time window of seventy-five minutes and telling me not to be late. Friday night’s rush hour was going to complicate matters, but the clear weather was in my favor.

Red-lighted at the intersection of Third Street and US 46, the back passenger door opened and Jack slid into the back seat. I smiled at his business casual attire.

“Start unwrapping,” I ordered before he was completely inside.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it in time.” He tore the brown paper off the package, unconcerned about damaging the seal.

I peeled my eyes away from the mirror. My curiosity was getting the better of me, and I needed to concentrate on the road. I settled on the occasional glance backward as Jack gently pried open the cardboard. He pulled out what looked to be a pop bottle.

Was this a joke on his part? Had I left a soda in the back?

“This is what you’ve been taking to these offices?” His bewilderment matched my own.

I nodded, but it couldn't be right. The Church wasn’t delivering soda to these people. Doctors. Water Works. Factories. That was stupid, and Father Xavier struck me as intelligent, calculating even, but stupid, never. There was a link aside from their church membership. But what was it?

“It has to have a secret compartment,” I said after a few minutes in deep thought. “I’ve seen enough spy movies to know something isn’t right with this picture.”

Jack laughed at my assertion. “I guess it’s possible.” He gripped the bottle and made several tries at twisting it, but it wouldn’t budge. The only way to open it would be from the cap. I deflated as I realized that nothing was going to come from tonight’s excursions.

He placed the bottle back in the box and grabbed scissors to cut new wrapping paper. When it was wrapped, he flicked a lighter over a hunter green candle, waiting until a stoplight before he dipped my mail-order insignia into the melted wax. He pressed the new seal onto the seam and admired his handiwork.

“It’s not quite the same size, and the color is a little darker than the church's, but I don’t think you’ll arouse their suspicion today.”

“Thanks. I thought the color was pretty close, and I don’t think Dr. Osborn will notice it like some of the others would.” I paused as Jack set the package into the front seat.  “I should have taken a look at the bottle.” We were about fifteen minutes from the doctor’s office; there wouldn’t be enough time.