A Dangerous Breed

by Glen Erik Hamilton

  “Think they’re waiting for Colt?” Davey said, echoing my thoughts.

  “Or hunting for him.”

  “Hey, where you goin’?”

  Across the field. If these dipshits were looking for Colten, we had at least one thing in common.

  The outfield had been mown just before the last rain. By the time I jumped the fence, my sneakers were covered in wet green clumps of grass.

  Singer Boeman sat on the hood of his car, which was discernible from the other white GTO because of the large rust-speckled dent in the driver’s door.

  “Hey,” I said. “You seen Colten?”

  “What the fuck you want?”

  Which I’d just told him. “Colten. Where is he?”

  “You seen him?”

  Jesus. I was starting to think Singer hadn’t graduated at all, just frustrated the school to the point where they handed him a paper with writing on it and told him it was a diploma.

  “I owe him money,” I said.

  “Shit, he owes us.” Singer’s guys had noticed our conversation and begun to walk from each end of the short block toward us. Whatever we were doing had to be more interesting than watching the crowd. Burn Burkley was one of their gang. The only one of the four still enrolled at Watson. He saw Yvette Friel off and on, and it was a toss-up which of the two of them was less appealing. Good faces and rotten insides.

  “Dudes,” Singer said to the bunch. “He’s looking for Coltie, too. Paying his debts like a man.” He pounded the car hood in mock glee. Singer had been a running back for Watson’s football team, and he still had the compact muscularity that seemed to extend all the way to his close-cropped brown curls.

  “Give us the money,” Burn said. “Cut out the middleman.”

  “What about Candace? You seen her?” one of the others asked.

  “No,” I said. Candace was a friend of Colten’s; they hung out behind the portables smoking. Which was probably also where Davey got most of his news. It made sense that Singer’s boys would look for one to find the other.

  That might work for me, too. I knew another crowd Candace hung out with.

  “Forget it,” I said, walking away.

  “Hey,” Burn said, moving to intercept. “The money.”

  Singer stayed on his car, but the two others instinctively edged closer with Burn. Pack mentality. Younger or not, I was sure I could take any one of them. Singer was strong but smaller than me, and Burn tall but not much else. And I knew I was meaner. But four on one, forget it. They’d pound me like bread dough. I coiled, ready to hurt the first idiot who got close and then run like hell.

  A whistle sounded from nearby on the baseball field. The guys surrounding me flinched back at the signal of authority. Grennon had gathered the team in the outfield for wind sprints. Davey was watching our little drama, a look of concern on his face.

  I ambled away before Burn got his courage back. Davey looped near the fence after his first sprint. Not breathing hard yet; he could run like a rabbit.

  “Anything?” he said.

  “Maybe. We saw Candace on Broadway last week, right? Hanging with the street kids by the Rite Aid?”

  “Yeah. Oh, Candy and Colten. They’ve been hooking up. You think she knows where he is?”

  “Where he’s hiding. Singer and the others are looking to get paid. Money or blood. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I want my shot first.”

  “I’ll come with you—shit, I can’t. Ma and Michael have this thing at the church tonight, I gotta go, too. And dinner after.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Candace and Colten might not even be around.”

  And besides, this was something I wanted to do alone. Family business.

  Twenty-Three

  Ceres Biotech’s chunk of man-made land extended out from the natural shore about thirty yards. The lake side of the building blazed with another of their slanting silver logos at the very top, big and bright enough to be seen from the opposite shore of Lake Union. Environmentally friendly LED lamps on the corners of the roof cast wide cones of light over the face of Ceres. And created equally broad contrasting shadows. At the building’s north side, the dilapidated marina looked like a rotting stump in a polished smile.

  Hollis guided the speedboat past the remnants of docks and pilings as I tightened the chest straps on my rucksack. We’d placed black electrical tape over the running lights. Sailing low and dark and quieter than a car engine, thanks to Dono’s muffled outboard. Water traffic was heavy tonight farther out on the lake. Boaters readying to watch the fireworks display at midnight at the south end.

  Ceres Biotech had constructed a patio area made of all-weather planks spanning the rear of the building, for employees to lunch outside and indulge in the view when weather permitted. The patio extended out over the water. Hollis nodded to me and slowed the boat to a drift.

  I jumped from the bow to the composite slats of the deck and sprinted toward the side of the building opposite the abandoned marina. The south side, the one facing the houseboat community next door, was out of the question. It wouldn’t do to have some host or his holiday guests step out on the balcony for a toke and see a guy scaling the building next door.

  Four corporate stories and related sublevels made at least ninety feet from ground to roof ledge. It looked even taller from where I was standing, looking straight up.

  Given a rope and a little training, climbing a sheer surface isn’t that hard. The Army had given me all the practice I could want and more on hard terrain, including but not limited to inching up and rappelling down icy mountains in Georgia during Ranger School.

  A black 9.9 mm rope made a thick bundle at the top of my ruck. I couldn’t use pitons and a hammer on the building wall. But the thick lampposts extending a yard from the roof offered another method.

  I had packed a cable string launcher under the rope. Cable installers used launchers to shoot pull lines through tight spaces in ceilings and under floors, or across wide gaps. The launcher looked almost identical to a paintball gun, up to and including the laser sight and the thick cylinder under its barrel. But instead of paint capsules, the cylinder held a spool of coiled filament. The end of the filament was fixed to a plastic dart like a crossbow quarrel. The launcher could shoot the dart half the length of a football field. Shoot the filament, tie its line to the heavy cable, and pull the cable through from the other side.

  The launcher would work equally well for my needs. I hoped.

  No doors on this side of the Ceres building meant no need for cameras. I turned on the cable launcher’s laser sight, aimed it at a spot just above the horizontal lamppost four tall stories above me, and pulled the trigger. The launcher made a sound like a partly deflated balloon popping, and the red filament flashed into the air with a descending whistle.

  It took me a moment to spot the dart in the shadows, now dangling twenty feet below the lamppost. I fed it more filament, and the dart gradually lowered to meet me on the grass.

  It was a quick task to attach my climbing rope and pull the rope up and over the thick pipe of the lamppost and down to the ground again. I held the two ends and yanked hard, then leaned with all my weight. The lamppost didn’t waver.

  I checked my watch. Eight-forty. Twenty minutes wasn’t enough time to scale the roof and complete my preparations up top. I’d have to meet Bilal first.

  Without my rucksack. I didn’t want Nath or his devoted retinue getting the idea to examine its contents. I tied the loop of climbing rope to the ruck and hauled it skyward. Its bulk created a dark lump under the lamppost, like a shy gargoyle.

  Somewhere just out of reach of the lights from shore, Hollis waited in the speedboat, idling while he watched my progress through binoculars. If there was any sign of police presence, he would signal me. Willard was watching the other side of the building from a hiding place along the lakefront paths. That was as much backup as I would have. If trouble erupted inside, I would be on my own.

  The phone in my chest pocket buzzed. B
ilal. He was early. Maybe edgy.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “Two blocks south.” Saleem’s voice, sounding as usual like speaking to me was beneath him. “Opposite a place called Zoo. Now.”

  I knew the Zoo Tavern. I’d boosted a Harley Shovelhead on consignment for one of their regulars when I was a teenager, working side gigs without Dono’s knowledge. That job had gone smoothly. Maybe this was a good omen.

  I walked the two blocks on Fairview, just another Seattle dude in a fitted black jacket, gray jeans, and black jungle boots. Half the people in the city dressed like they were about to go for an extended hike. Tactical wear for burglary fit right in.

  Bilal’s Mercedes SUV waited at the lot’s accordion fence. Juwad hoisted his heavy frame from the driver’s seat and gestured for me to raise my arms. He removed items from my pockets as Aura and Bilal stepped from the rear of the car.

  Saleem was already out. He’d been watching me from the opposite side of the road for the past hundred yards.

  “You are ready, I trust?” Bilal said. Juwad handed him the short lengths of climbing cord and the large steel carabiners he’d taken from my jacket. “What are these?”

  “That’s how I’m getting inside. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do once I’m in there,” I said, taking the cords back. “Time to level with me. What is it you’re after?”

  “We’re changing the plan,” said Aura. She motioned to Saleem, who approached. “Saleem will go with you. He knows what we need.”

  I stopped. “That’s not possible. This is a one-person job.”

  “Make it possible,” Bilal said.

  Saleem had a small rucksack of his own. Its rounded contours told me he was carrying the CXS-3001 cold-storage bottle I’d seen in their hotel room. The bulge under his coat was evidence that his machine pistol would be along for the ride, too.

  “Look,” I said, “if you want this job to go right, I can’t be dragging your man through the whole building like some fucking toddler.”

  “You think I’m a child?” Saleem said. “Say that again and I will see you dead.”

  “Stop,” said Bilal. “There is no question: Saleem will accompany you. Once you have given him entrance to the fourth floor, he will take over.”

  “We can’t trust you,” Aura said. “But you will have to trust us. Get Saleem inside, and once you’re done, you and your friends will be safe. I swear.”

  She was either a damned good actress or telling me what she thought was the truth. Maybe her husband had convinced her I’d be allowed to skip merrily away once the job was done.

  Shit. My plan had been to grab Bilal’s prize from the cryo chamber and make a very hasty exit out the other side of the building, to Hollis and the speedboat. Leaving Aura and Bilal and his thugs literally staring up a rope, waiting in vain for me to climb back down. I had bet the farm that what Bilal and his wife wanted was so valuable to them, so irreplaceable, they would be desperate to make a deal once I had it in my hands.

  Adapt, Shaw. You know more than they do. Use that.

  I looked at Saleem. “I hope to hell you can climb.” His lip curled in contempt.

  “We will be nearby,” Bilal said. “Do not disappoint me.”

  Disappointment was the least of my intentions. I repocketed the cords and carabiners.

  “Come on,” I said to Saleem. We retraced my path up Fairview. I paused before approaching the building.

  “Do not stall,” Saleem warned.

  “Shut up.” I watched the lobby of Ceres Biotech, and the floors above. New Year’s Eve meant no regular employees were around, and the cleaning crews had completed their jobs earlier that night. Only the pair of guards held the fort. I checked the time. Twelve minutes past nine o’clock.

  “Why are we waiting?” said Saleem, shifting his weight from side to side.

  “That,” I said. One of the guards passed in front of the windows on the third floor.

  Hollis’s surveillance yesterday and today had confirmed the guards made their rounds once every hour on the hour, taking the north stairwell all the way up to the fourth floor, making a loop, and going down the south stairwell to the next floor and continuing that pattern to the ground level. The other guard would be stationed at the front desk, so that someone was on the monitors at all times.

  The fourth floor should be clear for most of the next hour.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  He followed me around by the old marina and onto Ceres property, to the shadows of the back corner. I had the momentary urge to bounce his skull off the building wall and carry on by my lonesome, but only Saleem knew exactly what Bilal wanted. And what Bilal wanted, I needed.

  I tied two of the cords from my pocket into Prusik knots around the climbing rope, one cord with a loop for my foot.

  “This is not—” Saleem began. He was staring with wide eyes at the sheer face of the building.

  “I told you to shut up. Pay attention.” I made him stand with legs apart as I used the last and longest length of rope to tie a rappel seat around Saleem’s waist and thighs. It was undignified as hell for him, made worse by the thought of what he was about to attempt. I clicked the carabiners at his waist, then grabbed the lower cord on the climbing rope to show Saleem.

  “Like this,” I whispered, putting my boot in the loop and pushing down until it was tight. Holding the climbing rope and top cord with my hands, I used the loop like a step to climb off the ground. I showed Saleem how to alternate between the two cords, shifting weight from hands to feet to move each cord a foot or two at a time and climb the rope.

  It was steady progress if you knew what to do and stayed calm. Otherwise it was exhausting as well as treacherous. Saleem would at least have the rappel seat to keep him from plummeting to the ground. I jumped down and slid the two knots down to knee level and held them out to him.

  “There must be another way,” he said.

  “You wanted to join the party,” I said, threading the rope through the carabiners at his waist. “We go in through the roof.”

  “But if I have this”—Saleem shook the rappel seat—“how will you climb?”

  Nice of the shithead to worry. He might have considered the question before now.

  “The hard way,” I said. I tied another Prusik above the two already around the rope. Better to have the stronger climber up top, to lend help if needed. Assuming I made it to the top.

  I put on my climbing gloves, half-fingered gauntlets with thickly padded palms and edges that would save my skin if not my neck. With the nitrile gloves to prevent fingerprints making a second layer underneath, at least there was no risk of my hands getting cold.

  The ninety feet above me looked like nine hundred in the dark. Damn it. I could do this. One vertical step at a time.

  I put my boot in the new loop, pulled it tight, and lifted myself two feet off the ground. Winding the loose rope below around my other leg let me take some weight off the loop and shift it higher. Not much higher. Maybe six inches. This would be a tough go.

  When I was ten feet off the ground, I motioned to Saleem to get moving. With a moment’s fumbling he got his foot into the loop and began to make upward progress. I left him to it and concentrated on my own climb.

  Ten more feet. Twenty. The guards would both be back in the lobby now, passing the time, so there was little chance they might look out an upper window and see two figures spidering up the side of the building. But we were slow. Slow enough that it would be a race to see if Saleem and I would make it to the roof before the guard began his next round.

  From blocks away, zippering pops from a string of firecrackers rent the air. Harbingers of the bigger show to come. As long as no one was looking our way, I’d take it.

  I heard a whispered exclamation from Saleem below me and smiled. I had tied the rappel seat loose enough that it would creep up and squeeze his balls like a vise. A dick move, but I was feeling ungenerous.

  At the third story I spare
d a glance at my watch. Nine-forty-six. Shit. I moved faster, risking holding more weight with my arms to get an extra few inches with every move of the loop. A gust off the lake, honed by cold to a knife edge, made the rope sway. My breath was fast and rasping in my throat. After another few minutes of back-straining effort I pushed the hanging rucksack aside to touch the thick bar of the horizontal lamppost.

  Now for the really dangerous part. I shook the corded loop loose from my foot and hauled myself up, hooking a knee over the post. The roof ledge with its silvery alloy weatherproofing was within reach. I grabbed it with one hand and with a grunt heaved my upper body onto the ledge.

  Mostly. I began to slide backward, scrabbling at the ledge for a solid grip, finally finding it and rolling my body onto the roof’s gritty surface.

  No time to celebrate. I stood and looked over the edge. Saleem was still back at the start of the third floor.

  Too slow. I clutched the climbing rope with my gloved hands and pushed at the roof ledge with my foot, hauling Saleem upward three feet in one yank. I heard his faint gasp of alarm. I pulled again, moving fast before my arms had a chance to give up in angry protest. In another minute Saleem’s head appeared at the edge, his hands reaching frantically for the ledge. I grabbed his shoulders and almost threw him onto the roof.

  We were still for a moment, me standing, Saleem on his ass, both of us breathing too hard to speak.

  “You are—” Saleem attempted, then let his malevolent stare finish the thought. I leaned over the ledge to untie the rucksack.

  At the center of the roof, a steel shed with its large satellite dish looked like a square head wearing an especially wide-brimmed hat at a rakish angle. The shed housed telecom and transmission equipment for the dish and its nearby cellular tower. I carried the ruck to the shed.

  Saleem watched as I picked the lock. “The way in is over there.”

  “With cameras on the other side. Be my guest.”

  I opened the door. A series of hinged metal housings like large fuse boxes lined the walls of the shed. I searched for one specific box and opened it to reveal a forest of cables inside, each with a tag denoting its purpose. At least the Ceres engineers knew their jobs. I began unloading my gear from the rucksack.