“It works, but no matter what I do to that radio it seems to always be a static mess,” Patsy exhausted loudly.
“Well it will have to make due; we don’t have time to head back there right now,” Joe finished. “Our conversation with the good Doctor Rosán is really overdue by now.”
“He is connected in all of this somehow Joe,” Kate added walking behind him as they exited the alley with their new evidence. “All of the white lab coats in the world cannot cover up the dirt on the hands of that man.”
As they made their way back to the cruiser, neither of the three were aware of the curtain on an upper floor of City Hall being drawn closed, as the darkened skies in the distance slowly drew ever closer.
The trio made their way to the emptied office of Dr. Mark Rosán. Scanning the room, Joe was left with the distinct feeling that the egocentric doctor was not planning to return to his shambled office anytime soon. Looking back to the main desk in the lobby of the large office, Joe took notice of the cleanliness of the table. While the back room was in disarray, the front desk and lobby stood out completely organized and untouched. It almost felt as a decoration to Joe, masking the chaos littering the main office from the outside world, perfectly matching Joe’s opinion of the office’s missing occupant.
Looking back from the decoration, Joe made his way through the boxes and rolls of paper scattered on the floor to a door at the back wall of the main room. Partially open, Joe slowly pushed the door farther, cautiously peeking inside the room and finding it in even more disarray than the main office. Wheeling into the smaller back office, Joe found a large drawing desk and two empty bookshelves as the room’s only furniture. Matching its preceding brother, this back room was littered with rolls of paper, scraps, newspapers, broken wood, and pieces of metal piping scattered along the floor leaving both rooms looking as if they had been ransacked and emptied of all their treasures.
“Kate, what do you make of this place?” Joe asked back in the main office where both Patsy and Kate had remained behind.
“It’s not like I visited Rosán here if I could help it,” Kate replied entering the back room behind Joe. “But when I did have the displeasure of having to come here, I do remember this place being completely organized. I’ve never seen it like this.”
“Well, whatever made the Doc take off, he sure did it in a hurry,” Patsy called out.
“What makes you say that?” Joe asked.
Walking into the back room to join them, Patsy explained, “Look at the walls. Rosán was in such a hurry to get out of here that he didn’t even take the pins out of whatever was on the wall. He simply tore them down.”
All along the brown stucco walls, the scrap remains of the paper corners that had been hanging where still pinned to the wall. Reaching up to pull one of the push pins out, Joe noticed the paper was a clear waxy paper, the same type that he had seen Kate use for drafting numerous times.
“Why in such a hurry Doctor?” Joe thought to himself looking at the paper.
Looking back at the wall Joe noticed an odd colored piece of scrap and released it from its pin. Studying the scrap Joe couldn’t help but notice the purple edging of the corner and the partial image left on the paper. Along with the small page number still legible on the scrap, Joe was confident he had seen the design on this paper before.
“Hey you two, take a look at this!” Patsy called out interrupting Joe’s thought on the paper. Looking over, Joe saw that Patsy waiving a manila envelope in the air.
“I found it stuck between the wall and the desk,” Patsy explained as he opened the envelope peaking in. “The Doc had quite a morbid hobby, look at all of these.”
Pouring the contents out on the empty drafting table, Joe saw a collection of destruction and devastation hallmarked in newspaper clippings and photography. Every clipping detailed the destruction of a bridge somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Additional photos highlighted the carnage of the scene along with small, hand-drawn diagrams and sketches of the bridge and supporting structures. Passing the papers to Kate, Joe was surprised at her calmness in the face of images of such a disaster along with her apparent familiarity to the subject.
“Rosán, why the sudden interest in Tacoma Narrows?” Kate questioned as she studied the folder’s contents.
“Tackompa?” Joe asked trying to correctly repeat the unfamiliar word back to Kate.
“Tacoma Narrows. It’s the name of a bridge in Washington State dear,” Kate explained. “Or it was at least. Last year when you were gone, the Tacoma Narrows Bridge failed sending it crashing violently into the canyon below. Pictures of it were in almost every national paper.”
"Sabotaged?" Joe asked intrigued that he had never heard of the disaster.
"No, it wasn't like that," Kate answered. "The bridge was open to the public for over four months before it failed, but before that it was evident the design of the bridge was flawed leading to its collapse. Early on the bridge started to lose its structural integrity causing it to actually twist in midair as cars passed over it. The newsboys started nicknaming it “Galloping Gertie” because of the crazy motion. The department has since received a roll of film taken by the bridge before it collapsed. Joe, I can tell you it would turn your stomach to see the way cars were bounced up and down on that bridge like they were on a trampoline."
"So what you're saying is the bridge just wasn't designed correctly?" Joe asked losing interest in the story. As exciting as Kate’s tale sounded, if it didn't lead him to Rosán or Vega he didn't have time for it right now.
"Not originally, but from what has been released since it seemed the designers didn't factor in the high speeds of the wind in the Tacoma Narrows, which seemed to have been the catalyst of the collapse and once that bridge started moving the wrong way, poor Gertie didn't stand much of a chance," Kate finished explaining.
"OK, is there anything in here that might tell us where Rosán is?" Joe asked ready to move on.
"No, not unless he moved to Washington," Kate replied. "It is quite surprising though that he made so many notes of the Tacoma Narrows. I remember back when the University had tried to start a lecture series on it earlier this year. He had deliberately gone out of his way to show his disdain for the idea."
"Alright, just hold onto that for now," Joe said looking over at Patsy. "Anything else down there? It seems like the place is pretty cleaned out."
"Yeah, I've got bupkis over here now," Patsy replied standing up from his kneeling position. Rising, he started brushing at the knee of his trousers smearing into them what he had thought was a dirt mark.
"Oh man what is this stuff?" Patsy complained grabbing for a paper towel on the desk, trying to wipe at the mark. Having no luck, Patsy looked at the now soiled towel and frowned thinking he recognized both the color and smell of the stain. "Blast it, this is motor oil… shoot, this stuff will never come off now."
Looking at the towel, Kate bent down to see the large pool of the viscous liquid that had spread out over the office's floor. Rubbing it between her fingers, Kate studied the fluid before saying, "Well Patsy you are right that won't come off, but I don't think this is motor oil. I think this is hydraulic fluid. We were using something like it downstairs in the lab on a student-designed lift system a few weeks ago. What is this stuff doing all the way up here?"
Leaving the emptied office, the trio started to make their way across the campus quad to where they parked the cruiser. Nearly half of the sullen trek was made in silence as each member of the team was lost in their own head mulling over all of the recently unearthed events.
“So we apparently have two completely different sets of crimes that somehow connect,” Patsy rambled out loud. “The Professor and the kid’s murders both were committed by Wiggy and this Vega character. Then we have the bombing at the Mayor’s presentation that seems to have been all a show to cover up the theft of whatever is missing from the City Records Department, again carried out at least partially by Wiggy and Vega. Mix in Bishop
killing Wiggy, trying to kill the Captain and burning the precinct down to try and cover up everything because of that journal, which mentioned Rosán who himself has pulled a vanishing act now…”
“Leaving us with nothing now…” Kate finished the thought gratingly.
“The thing I keep coming back to is how the expedition comes into this. Both Kate’s father and his student were killed because they were on the expedition. You don’t think it was because of this do you?” Joe said reaching over and tapping his watch. “Kate, your father took a huge risk to hide this in that blanket to keep it away from those two. Do you think any of them knew what this little fabric really was?”
“Dad might have, I can’t think of any other reason he would hide it like that,” Kate replied, a sullen look crossing her face thinking of her father. “But I’m not too sure whoever attacked him and Jason did, I mean you would think they would’ve come back by now for something like that once they figured out they didn’t have it.”
“Neither of those two mooks at your house whispered a word about anything but the journal when we questioned them,” Patsy added.
“Do you think they were holding back on us?” Joe asked.
“Those two?” Patsy scoffed. “Joe, you scared the wits out of them. The one that was still crying at the station when I left him probably is going to have nightmares about you for years. If he knew anything when we asked, he would’ve spilled, I can guarantee that.”
Finally reaching the car, Joe reached into the open passenger side window and retrieved the handset for the two-way police radio. Pressing the side button on the microphone, Joe hoped that Judy was at her desk back at the makeshift station.
“This is car 21 calling in, Judy do you copy?”
Releasing the microphone trigger to await the station’s reply, Joe’s transmission was initially met with only static over the radio’s speaker until:
“Car 21… *crackle* … Judy… *buzzzzz*…you… copy?”
Joe frowned, looked over at Patsy who had made his way to the driver’s seat. “I thought you said you fixed this thing?”
“I did… stupid thing seemed to work fine on the way here,” Patsy grumbled looking down at the radio.
“Judy, this is Bevine. I can barely make you out. There is a lot of static over this channel. Has the Captain had any luck with the Records Department?” Joe asked hoping Judy could at least hear him clearly on her end.
A few moments later, the deeper voice of Captain Robinson echoed statically over the speaker:
“Bevine this… *crackle*… Robinson.... *pop*…”
Patsy smacked the side of the two-way a few times surprisingly clearing up the signal.
“… *buzz* I persuaded the boys in the Records Department to at least let on what were in the missing files, over.”
“Great Captain, we read you clearly now, over” Joe replied in the handset.
“All they would let on was that the files were transportation requests from the Military. Apparently, the Army is bringing some sort of secret project into town and had to clear the routes through local channels first. Everything was hush-hush on what the project is, the only name marked on the paperwork was a codename titled BOY-SCOUT,” Robinson explained before adding, “the only other thing they mentioned was since the files were possibly compromised the military would be using an alternate route inbound, over,”
“Boy-Scout?” Joe thought to himself before asking over the radio. “Captain, did any of the paperwork mention the arrival date of Boy-Scout, over?”
“They…*crackle*… never… *buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*…”
The Captain’s response was completely drowned out by an ear piercing feedback signal that caused the trio to cover their ears in pain. Smacking the side the radio in frustration and slightly hopeful of lightning striking twice, Patsy jerked back as sparks started to fly out of the radio. The sparks quickly resided only to be followed by a thin line of smoke that started to rise out of the radio’s console.
“Well that’s not good…” Patsy whistled rubbing his chin as he peered down at the now completely dead radio.
“Is it dead?” Joe asked looking in the car.
“Yep.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Probably not,” Patsy admitted, shaking the radio a little. “Pass me the tools in the glove box. I’ll see what I can do.”
Opening the compartment with his left hand, Joe pulled out the small leather pouch containing a set of tools. Passing it over to his tinkering friend, Joe looked down again to close the glove box. As he did, he noticed a familiar colored paper in the glove box. Pulling it out Joe recognized it as a Metropolitan Capstone City Map. What had caught Joe’s eye was the purple-colored front page and scrolling border around the edge of the page.
“That’s a very familiar design…” Joe thought looking at the scrolling border.
“Kate, can you please pass me the evidence bag,” Joe asked Kate, who was sitting in the backseat.
“I think I know where and maybe when this Boy-Scout is scheduled to make it into the city,” Kate announced as she passed the evidence bag full of whatever they had found in Rosán’s office out the back window to Joe.
“How do you know that?” Joe asked accepting the bag from over his shoulder.
“Because your dad told us before you left today, remember?” Kate replied coming closer to Joe’s chair.
“What are you talking about?” Joe asked completely lost.
“Was I the only one listening to him today?” Kate said rolling her eyes at him. “Remember he had to leave because the Mill was starting a new line of plates for that Army doohickey as he put it, today? What are the odds there are TWO secret Army projects coming to Capstone City so soon?”
“Holy cow, how could I have forgotten that?” Joe exclaimed smacking his forehead. “Here hon, you hold my badge for now; I’m just missing the most obvious things anymore.”
“You hold onto your badge big guy. I like my decorations to be a little smaller with a little sparkle to them,” Kate smiled back winking at Joe.
“OK, so we know possibly when and where this Boy-Scout will be today. But so do Vega and Rosán, assuming they were the ones involved in the theft of the files at the Records Department,” Joe started listing.
“I think we can make that assumption. Jason’s journal pretty much pins Rosán into this mess,” Kate added.
“Assuming they are the ones with the files, what would their end game be in this?” Joe asked conceding Kate’s point.
“Do you think they want to steal it?” Kate asked. “Theft has been their favorite hobby lately.”
Joe pushed his wheelchair away from the car, rolling the chair in small circles as he racked his brain over the question. Kate had told him a few weeks ago this had become his new habit while he pondered over problems, replacing his usually rug destroying pacing back and forth.
“No, I don’t think that’s their angle,” Joe replied. “By stealing the files like they did, they tipped their hand way too early. They would have known the Army would increase security around Boy-Scout even just on the chance their mission had been compromised.”
“Then what is their angle?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know…” Joe replied dolefully.
Remembering the folded map still in his hand, Joe started to rifle through the evidence bag Kate had passed to him. After a few seconds, Joe found what he was looking for -- the torn page corner he had taken down from Rosán’s office wall. Looking at the scrap piece of paper, Joe knew he had been right when thinking he’s seen this pattern before. It was the same scrolling purple border as the folded map in his left hand.
Giving the evidence bag to Kate, Joe rolled over to the front of the car and unfolded the map on the hood. It was easily apparent that the scrap from the office wall was from a copy of the map lying on the car. The left corner of the scrap matched the color, page number, and designs of the map on both the front and back of the paper.
“OK so Rosán had a city map on his wall, so what?” Joe thought looking down at the paper scrap he had just identified.
Looking back to the map, Joe started to notice the marked familiar places of his hometown. Roads, buildings, parks and landmarks; all the sights a visitor to Capstone City could ever need to know about on a visit to the fair metropolis were all clearly marked. Joe slightly chuckle as he noticed even smaller sights such as Paden Park and the Mastramico Statue near the stadium marked on the paper. As a lifelong resident of the area, he couldn’t remember the last time he needed a map to get anywhere around Capstone City, or the reason Patsy had a glove box full of them. To Joe, the streets of Capstone had never been that complicated. If you could count to a hundred you could follow the streets from one end of the city to the other. Even a young child could eventually make it out.
“So why did a professor of engineering need one?” Joe thought still reasoning out the map on Rosán’s wall. “Or did he? Rosán has been living here longer than I’ve been alive. What in the world would he need a map for?”
Looking back at the map, Joe started to view it from a different angle, one he had tried to hide from ever since his return from the front. Even against his own wishes, hoping to have left that part of his life in the past, Joe started to look at the map the city where he grew up as an arena of interest. Slightly hating himself for thinking of the familiar areas as simply strategic locations, the soldier long thought buried in him internally categorized and arranged the map’s markings in order of tactical significance. Zeroing in on the area near the Ole Barnes Mill, Joe located all of the entrances by both road and land, and used a small pencil he had found in the glove box to sketch out all possible attack points Rosán and cohorts could use if they wanted entrance to the Mill and Boy-Scout.
“Is this what you had the map for old man?” Joe thought of Rosán as he worked. “Did you lay out all your plans here too? How about the Mayor and City Hall? Did you work that out here?”
Running his fingers over the map, Joe traced the marked access points to the Ole Barnes Mill. There weren’t many ways of sneaking into the facility Joe could see unless the security was compromised, but Joe wasn’t ready to suggest that route yet.
The Grey Ghost Page 20