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THE MYSTERY OF MISTER WH 01750
"Hinges must be rusted" Hans said after trying to open the safe's door with a vigorous effort by pulling on the handle.
"You think that you really did open it?" Indio asked, turning toward the safe now with his phone still in his hand.
"I believe I did, sir" Hans nodded.
"Tim, hand me that big screw driver and grab a tire iron." Ricky said, quickly walking toward the safe now.
I picked up a tire iron from off the floor and laid it onto the metal desk. Looking around then, I found the large flat tipped screwdriver that we'd discovered in the old desk a few days prior and handed it to Ricky now. I watched as my little brother flexed his huge arm muscles and began trying to find leverage within the safe's door.
"Here, put these on, you guys" I said handing Hans and Ricky each a pair of safety goggles from atop the old metal desk.
After Ricky and Hans donned the safety goggles, Hans took a step back as Ricky began inserting the screwdriver into the space between the safe's door and jamb again as the rest of us watched him for several more seconds. Ricky then picked up a hammer and began trying to force the edge of the door open slightly with the screwdriver.
"Billy pull on the safe's handle while I try to wedge the screwdriver in-between the door and the jamb" Ricky said, nodding.
"You're sure it's unlocked Billy asked, pulling on the handle.
"Be careful not to lock it again, don't turn the handle, Billy" I cautioned.
"I know the safe's unlocked because I felt the door move, you guys. If I can just... OK, got it wedged in there now - if I can somehow manage to..." Ricky began saying as there was the slight sound of rusted grinding of metal.
"The safe really is unlocked!" Andrea said excitedly.
Ricky and Billy had suddenly opened the door just enough to place a larger wedge, I noticed...
"Hand me the crowbar now, Tim" Ricky suddenly commanded as he dropped the screwdriver onto the metal desk with a clattering sound.
I handed Ricky the crowbar and stood back.
Ricky suddenly seemed to get just enough of the crowbar inserted in-between the door and jamb to give him some leverage, with a mighty pull of the crowbar the door opened a few inches. Taking another bite with the steel bar Ricky tried again and the door opened a foot or so with an ominous grinding sound of rusted hinges, two dull yellow canisters about the size and shape of pizza boxes, with rounded corners, now tumbled onto the floor with a metallic clattering sound. Looking downward I noticed half a pair of handcuffs attached to each of the canisters and there was also an open handle, similar to a suitcase, stamped into the tops of each canister where the handcuff half was fastened. I now noticed some paint-pencil writing on the canisters. I picked up one of the canisters and gently flopped it onto the metal desk like a suitcase; the canister was physically heavy, probably weighing close to thirty pounds. The bizarre canisters were in fact about the size of a pizza box but unlike a pizza box, the strange containers were about three and a half inches in thickness.
"...U.S. Marshall's Office is stamped on the solid bronze lock attached to the canister" I announced.
"What the hell are these things, fuck I hope they're not mines or some weird Army shit" Ricky said, suddenly on-guard.
"Maybe they're part of an exotic aircraft; they look like they could be part of an Air Force plane." Billy suggested.
"They wouldn't be anything Military, with U.S. Marshall's Office locks on them, you guys. The Military uses their own M.P.'s to transport valuables" Vic interjected, looking onward with the rest of us.
"Guess we can put away any hope of the safe being full of money, maybe these yellow things are stuffed with hundred dollar bills, that's why they're so heavy" I jested hopefully.
"I didn't really think the safe would be stuffed full of money, Babe." Andrea said as if speaking to a child.
"You're raining on my parade, lady" I said, sticking my tongue out at Andrea.
"What else is in there, Ricky?" Andrea asked, ignoring me and trying to position herself for a better view of the safe's interior.
"Two more of these weird yellow things with more writing on them, for a total of four - these have locks on them too. What's with the half a hand-cuff?" Ricky asked, reaching back into the safe and removing the third and forth containers by their handles.
"Who the hell is Mister WH?" I asked, looking at the paint-pencil markings on the first canister - what are these things anyway?" I asked.
Ricky and Billy now set the other three canisters onto the metal desk, beside the first one.
"They almost do look like they could have something to do with an aircraft, Billy" Indio said looking downward at the canisters. He then took some photos of them with his phone.
"Tim those are consecutive numbers, look, MR. WH 0175 (-0), MR. WH 0175 (-1), MR. WH 0175 (-2), MR. WH 0175 (-3)" Andrea noticed, reading the numbers out loud.
"Those numbers do almost seem as if they could coincide with aircraft" Hans nodded.
"Who is Mister WH?" Ricky asked, repeating my own question.
I walked over to the large stand-up tool cabinet and grabbed an old hacksaw that had been lying around the Texaco.
"This blade is pretty dull but these are brass locks, I'm going to cut the first one so we can see what's inside these things" I said.
"Tim maybe we should call someone first, they do say U.S. Marshall's Office on them" Andrea cautioned.
"Vic, what do you think?" I asked, looking at the younger man with the hacksaw poised in mid air.
"Go ahead and cut it if you want to, Tim. I'll witness it" Vic replied, looking on with as much intrigue as the rest of us.
"Andrea, that OK with you, Hon?" I asked.
"Yes, let's see what they are, Tim" Andrea nodded.
"I think I can explain the hand-cuffs or half hand-cuffs" Vic suddenly said.
"Do the hand-cuffs have anything to do with a U.S. Marshall transporting something valuable? like an expensive painting, secret code or something where the commodity is actually hand-cuffed to the individual Marshall transporting it, Vic?" Brenda asked Vic.
"Exactly, Brenda, that way no one can take it from the Marshall and those guys are always armed. Large beverage companies sometimes hire the Marshall's Service to transport secret recipes or anything else deemed valuable. Sometimes companies would rather hire someone trustworthy to transport a valuable document or company secrets than use the internet or Postal Service. A friend of mine has literally travelled the entire Country, chained to a briefcase that contains nothing more than a single fuel injector for calibrating Cummins fuel stands. That one fuel injector is calibrated perfectly and used as a company standard throughout all dealerships. Large companies are serious about keeping secrets" Vic replied, nodding.
"Maybe these things are worth money, whatever they are" Ricky pondered as he watched me begin sawing the lock.
"They almost look like they could contain early computer reels or something" Brenda suggested.
"Maybe they're stolen, that would explain why the locks are still on them" Indio speculated.
"If they're so valuable why would someone bury and forget them, then?" Hans asked, looking at the recently cut concrete floor where Indio's orange cones now stood.
"Maybe it had something to do with patents" Andrea said speculatively, watching me saw.
Who is Mister WH, I wonder and why is his stuff here under a Texaco floor hoist?" I asked as I finally cut through the brass lock.
I flipped the brass lock off the canister and then set down the hacksaw and lock onto the old desk. Looking at the canister more closely, I inspected the fastener which the lock had previously secured. The fastener wasn't much different than the kind used on a small toolbox I noticed. Flipping open the fastener, I suddenly realized that the strange container opened like a pizza box. Putting on a pair of safety goggles I carefully opened the container a quarter inch and looked for anything suspicious as I really didn't know what I was looking at. There was now a slight chemical smell associated with the canister as I opened it, I noticed.
"Hope this thing isn't booby-trapped somehow, I can smell some kind of chemical odor" I said a little hesitantly, hoping that I didn't sound too overly dramatic.
"I can smell it from here" Billy acknowledged, a few feet away.
"Let's do this, Tim. Let's rig up a piece of overhead wire to open it. Then we'll all stand behind that wall and yank it open with the wire. We really don't know what the fuck this thing is and I'd feel better doing it that way" Ricky suddenly suggested with a serious face.
Everyone nodded an agreement.
"Good idea Ricky. I think we have some bailing wire around here someplace, we'll just throw it over that pipe up there and then run the wire behind the wall then" I said looking above me.
"There's a roll of insulated car wire in the bottom of the metal cabinet, I think, Tim" Ricky said as he turned toward the cabinet.
Ricky came back a minute later with some red colored wire, he then threw the tangled mass over the upper water pipe and caught it again as it came down.
"I do smell a slight chemical compound, Tim, smells acidic. Maybe you should wipe your hands with a Tough-Towel now" Ricky acknowledged, nodding his head.
"Fuck, what are these things?" I asked a little on guard and reaching for the Tough-Towel bucket.
"We're about to find out, Brother" Ricky said, tying the wire to the upper portion of the handle.
"Let's get behind the parts room wall now, you guys" I said wiping my hands carefully and nodding forward toward the parts room.
Ricky now began unwinding the tangle of wire and slowly making his way toward the parts room doorway. Watching him, it suddenly occurred to me that he almost appeared like a demolition expert at a major gold mine somewhere and preparing to detonate a string of charges.
