“Rosán you crafty snake, if you’re not stealing it then you want to destroy it, right?” Joe continued tracing the entrances into the Scar. “If you wanted to destroy Boy-Scout how would you do it? A frontal attack would work with a large-scale force. You definitely have the high ground, but let’s assume you don’t have your own army, at best you have a handful of men, so you need to be crafty. I’m not even sure you know where in the plant Boy-Scout is located… would you attack the whole place…pretty big place Rosán…what kind of bat do you have to swing at a place that large?”
Starring intensely at the outlined area of the mill, Joe had to rub his eyes to focus them again at the map. As he did though, his eyes instead focused on the dark black line crossing over the mill. The bold line stretched from one end of the Scar to the other to connect both edges of the crevasse. Across the middle in black lettering was the label Trumbull Memorial Bridge. Looking at that black line representing the thoroughfare that Joe and Patsy traveled daily, Joe suddenly remembered the folder his partner had found in the overturned office. The folder full of countless photos and articles of the wreckage and destruction rained down on the valley below that bridge as it had collapsed.
“There’s no way he could pull that off…could he?” Joe said out loud to himself still looking down at the bridge.
“Pull what off?” Kate asked popping her head out of the car passenger window. She had been trying to help Patsy fix the two-way when she heard Joe talking to himself.
Surprised at her sudden appearance, Joe took a second to remember what he had been going over before replying, “Kate, that bridge in Washington, Tacoomco . . .”
“The Tacoma Narrows,” Kate corrected him.
“Yes that one. Kate how did you say that one collapsed again?” Joe asked.
Kate proceeded to explain the events as best as she understood them. She explained how the Tacoma Narrows Bridge had experienced a periodic frequency motion caused by the high-speed prevailing winds of the canyon, which in turn caused it to reach a residence motion, leading to its utter collapse. As expected, most of Kate’s explanation flew straight over Joe’s head so as soon as she finished Joe asked the question he really was trying to get at with the young engineer.
“Hon, is it possible for someone to replicate that?”
“Replicate what part of it?” Kate asked back confused about what Joe was referring to.
“All of it!” Joe exclaimed pushing the question. “Is it possible that someone with an engineering background like Rosán could replicate those conditions to destroy another bridge?
“No…that was a natural phenomenon… there’s no way…” Kate answered slightly unsure of her own words.
“Are you sure?”
“Well…” Kate tried to wrap the idea around her head shaking it multiple times until finally answering, “Well…I guess it’s possible, only if someone could somehow change the environment of that bridge enough to tune it to its resonant frequency, but that is a huge and extremely difficult if Joe.”
“What are you two going on about?” Patsy asked walking around the car to them, apparently deciding the two-way was a lost cause.
“OK, just hear me out first because yes I know this sounds crazy,” Joe said raising his palms at the two indicating the need for their patience. “I’ve been thinking about this and I don’t think Rosán and his crew are after Boy-Scout. I think their goal is to destroy it and I have an idea of how they are planning to do it.”
“OK Sherlock, how?” Patsy asked sarcastically.
“They are planning on dropping the Trumbull Memorial Bridge on it,” Joe stated with a stern finality.
“Oh come on Joe, there’s no way in the world they could knock down that old bridge,” Patsy replied. “It’s been there for years and is as strong as a rock!”
“I know, I know, but just think about it for a second,” Joe replied trying to calm his loud friend. “We find a map of that area in his office and a file of articles and reports detailing how a bridge that is the SAME type as the Trumbull was brought down on the other side of the country. I’m going on the assumption they want to destroy this Boy-Scout of the Army’s and this is the only possible way I can think of that fits and is large enough to get the job done. If the bridge goes then the whole Mill would be destroyed along with Boy-Scout in it.”
Joe could immediately see from Patsy and Kate’s faces that he had not convinced them with his explanation.
“OK, think of it this way,” Joe continued. “Kate you said the high speed winds from the oceans over there in Washington were at fault for that bridge. Either of you remember what it was like on the Trumbull on our way over here? Whatever happened to the wall of the Scar is now allowing winds to hit that bridge like never before. I mean it even blew away the Curtain!”
Waiting a few moments, Patsy finally responded trying to choose his words carefully, “OK Joe, say you’re right. Why would they go to all of this trouble? I mean even if this Boy-Scout project is important enough to go after, why wouldn’t they just dynamite the bridge or the Mill even? I mean there has to be easier ways of attacking it than trusting the wind to knock down the bridge on top of it.”
“I see what you are saying buddy,” Joe replied hopeful that he was starting to reel them into his line of thinking. “But…an actual attack at the Mill or an explosion on the bridge, those are events that could eventually be traced back to the guys who did it. Think of how they have approached everything in this case, whoever they are. They have always gone to great lengths to cover their tracks. They covered up the robbery at City Hall with the attack and Bishop, and then they had Bishop kill Wiggy and torch the station. They even had guys go after Kate just in case she had the journal. These guys don’t want to be known for their actions, they want to be shadows in the dark simply watching their misdeeds unfold. But if thousands of mill workers and Army personnel are killed in an apparent attack on the mill, they know the department and maybe even the Army wouldn’t stop looking until we had them by their necks, right? But if the Trumbull just happens to collapse by natural causes like the Tacoma Narrows, well who are we supposed to arrest then, the wind?”
“I don’t know partner, this still sounds far-fetched,” Patsy said shaking his head.
“Buddy, lately I’ve lived a far-fetched life,” Joe responded smiling. “Let’s at least go to the bridge and make sure I’m wrong. If this attack is going to happen it is going to happen today while the plates are being made for this Boy-Scout.”
“Fine, but it is going to take forever to get all the way across town with traffic at this time of day,” Patsy said starting to come over to help Joe get his chair into the trunk.
As he did a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky lighting the scene around them. A few seconds later a loud rumble of thunder echoed in the suddenly darkening sky.
“Well that’s going to be ugly,” Kate commented looking at the incoming storm clouds before she dashed into the backseat.
Following Kate’s lead, Joe looked to the darkening skies only now noticing the speed of the incoming storm clouds. Covering his eyes from the blare of another blinding flash of lighting, a cold chill shot down Joe’s back as a realization dawned on him.
“We are running out of time…”
Hopping out of his chair, Joe quickly got into the driver’s side of the car using the vehicle for support.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Patsy asked as Joe passed by him.
“Just get in the car!” Joe yelled back quickly making his way to the driver’s seat. “No just forget the chair, and get into the car!”
“Joe what are you doing? Get out of there!” Patsy hollered looking in the passenger window.
“Just get into the stupid car Patsy!” Joe yelled back as he settled into the driver’s seat slamming the door shut.
Pushing the wheelchair away in frustration, Patsy flung open the passenger side door dropping into the seat. Looking at Joe, he silently waited for an
explanation.
“Think about it, if I’m right, what would be the best time to pull this bridge act?” Joe asked pointing to the front window at the darkening skies being filled with flashes of lightning.
“During a storm,” Kate answered from the back catching onto what Joe was getting at.
“Exactly,” Joe answered pulling his belt around him locking it into its latch. “But like Patsy said it will take at least half an hour or more to get through town at this time of day and that storm doesn’t look like it is going to wait for us.”
“But Joe, what do you think you’re doing?” Kate asked.
“Kate, what is that saying you always use, the quickest way from a problem to a solution is what?”
“A straight path,” Kate finished the saying for him.
Reaching down to his watch, Joe looked back at his friends with a determined look accompanied with a small, fox-like grin.
“Buckle up guys, I have a terrible idea.”.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Miles away from the intrepid heroes, a large dark form slowly stalked the lone maintenance tunnel running parallel underneath the expanse of the Trumbull Memorial Bridge. The horse grunts of the man as he strained under the massive weights upon his back echoed in the half-enclosed passageway.
“You better not be wasting my time with this Doc,” Vega growled a sinister warning to the man far ahead of him. “These blasted things are heavy.”
“Its weight is essential Mr. Vega,” Doctor Rosán replied off handily, never once looking away from his work to acknowledge Vega’s return. “Archimedes may have boosted to be able to move the world with his lever but he never once mentioned how heavy that lever would have to be!”
“I’d like to see how fancy talking you would be if you had to lug all of this junk up here yourself,” Vega grumbled.
“Silence Mr. Vega! I have no time for perpetuate prattling while crucial adjustments must be made to this masterpiece before its operation,” Rosán boasted pompously.
So engrossed in his task, the doctor was not aware of the murderous stare shot his way or the slow closing of a massive hand around one of the plates he was carrying as Vega seethed at the doctor’s arrogance. A few seconds later the monster released the plate frowning at the outline of his grip now indented into the solid steel plate.
“It would seem that luck is on our side this day Mr. Vega,” Rosán announced looking out through one of the maintenance tunnel’s sectioned walls. “That approaching storm will be a perfect catalyst for the operation and pose a brilliant cover for it as well.”
Looking down over the edge of the tunnel, Rosán smiled fiendishly at the unsuspecting workers at the Ole Barnes Mill. Never could they expect or hope to stop the carnage that was soon to rain down upon them.
“If the storm’s so great why in the world do you need all of this stuff?” Vega replied as he lifted one of the large plates onto Rosán’s machine.
“Because my brute, Mother Nature has a mind of her own; I dare say that she is quite the fickle mistress that we cannot trust to complete our endeavors for us,” Rosán laughed in reply.
“English Doc,” Vega growled at Rosán, the doctor’s apparent humor lost on him.
“We…my good man, cannot trust that even with the high winds now being allowed into the Scar because of the explosions to the hillside and the added winds that will accompany the incoming storm that this bridge will hit the proper residence for our needs,” Rosán answered, irritably annoyed with having to explain himself. “That is why we are using this engineering marvel to guarantee this exact thing precisely happens during our timetable.”
Reaching over the railing of the sectioned wall, Rosán attached a black box to the exterior of the maintenance tunnel wall.
“Now with our receiver in place this machine will be able to properly tune itself to the random wind speeds buffeting the bridge causing a coupled vibration to the structure,” he needlessly explained.
“Forget the long talk Doc, is it ready?” Vega barked reaching the end of his patience with the doctor’s bravado.
“Yes Mr. Vega, it is finished,” Rosán moaned, most of the air being knocked from his sails. “All I have to do is turn the hydraulics on and the process will commence automatically.”
Moving to the control box on his machine, Rosán looked again over the side at the mill below and softly recited as if in a perverse prayer, “I release my wickedness upon you all.”
And with that, the switch was thrown releasing the hydraulics in the maniacal machine to begin their operation. Vega watched as the large pile of steel he had dragged here now attached to a castered table slowly began to oscillate back and forth against the braces the crazed engineer had rigged to one of the bridge’s main support columns. As the speed of the table slightly increased, Vega smiled sadistically as the floor beneath his feet started to move.
A strong cross breeze caught the hem of Kim’s dress as she exited the glass doors of the Sears Roebucks Department Store back in Capstone City. Nearly dropping her bag to quickly pat the skirt down before the situation could get embarrassing, the beauty lost her grip on the large door she had been holding only to watch it be pushed by the same mischievous wind straight into her friend behind her.
“Oh Jeez!” the woman behind her cried out as the door smacked into her arm, causing her numerous large boxes to topple onto the floor.
“Oh I’m sorry Christa!” Kim cried out wincing at the impact to her sister-in-law before reaching down to help with the scattered boxes.
“It’s OK, I think I might have overdone it in there,” the smaller, light-haired brunette sheepishly grinned as she collected her packages. “But it’s not like any of these are made of glass.”
Laughing at her friend as she picked a few of the packages off the ground, Kim shook her head saying, “I still can’t believe you bought all of these …”
A loud roar of car cut Kim’s thought off spinning her head around just in time to witness the amazing sight about to unfold before her eyes. Directly across the street from her, appearing straight through the brick wall of the Strouss’ Department store was a sleek black muscle car. As if caught in a nightmare, Kim couldn’t believe her eyes as the roaring monster appeared to pass out of the building and then astonishingly through a street parked car untouched as it continued its impossible journey now heading straight for her!
Hearing her friend scream a warning behind her, Kim had no time to react before the car was upon her. Yet, just as amazingly as it had passed through the brick wall and the parked car in front of her, the expected deadly impact never came. The dark chromed front swam through her form never making physical contact. Never losing speed, the car roared forward until the hood, blackened compartment, and finally the trunk passed completely through her.
Spinning as she tracked the apparition continuing on its way, Kim couldn’t believe her own eyes as she watched the tail lights of the car disappear from sight through the front of the Sears Roebuck they had left just minutes ago, leaving in its wake the sounds of the two girl’s terrified screams.
The ghostly black speeder continued on its amazing straight-lined path through the city. Never veering or turning from his course, the Grey Ghost floored the accelerator pushing the automobile to its limits.
“Pour it on Bevine,” the Grey Ghost urged himself on, straining under the added pressure of ghosting the entire car along with its three occupants. “If you let up for an instant you’ll lose it here.”
The exertion this trip was causing to the Grey Ghost was easily apparent to Kate. Never before had the Grey Ghost tried to extend his powers to this amount of mass, and she could tell even through his disguise that keeping this power extended for this duration was tasking him beyond what even she had thought him capable of doing. She was thankful this impossible trek through Capstone City was nearing its end. From speeding either past or through the storefronts, Kate could only guess they had reached the Bridge Street Shopping Arcade,
which ran parallel to the Scar. Only a few more minutes and they should reach the entrance to the Trumbull Memorial Bridge.
Kate’s level of concern for the strain the Grey Ghost was putting himself through was not shared by the car’s equally occupied passenger. Patsy, eyes bulging out in fear and gripping the side door handle and the front dash with ashen white knuckles, was quickly starting to give Joe’s alter-ego a run for his money in in the color of skin tone. If her attention hadn’t been directed solely at the Grey Ghost, Kate might have started to be more concerned for the strain Patsy was under to simply not throw up in the front seat.
Traveling through a bus stop and the elderly man asleep on its bench, Kate heard the magical gears of the car tear against each other as the Grey Ghost down shifted pouring on even more speed as he raced toward the front entrance of a Stambaugh Thompson’s hardware store. Hitting, or more importantly not hitting the glass windows of the front displays, the car soundlessly started to pass through the store. Kate stifled a laugh as she noticed employees and shoppers screaming as they lunged themselves out the way of the suddenly appearing car in their department.
Not finding any humor in the situation, Patsy finally lost his nerve, hollering in fear and throwing his hands over his head as the passenger side of the car ran through a large display of yard tools, phasing shovels, picks and axes, though never disturbed, ran straight through his face. Thankfully for the big man, the trip through the hardware store was a brief one as the black speeder exited through a back wall. As they passed through the wall, Kate was rocked to the side as the Grey Ghost cut the wheel sharply to the left veering onto Glenwood Avenue, which ran parallel to the deadly edge of the Scar.
Speeding along the road toward the entrance of the Trumbull Memorial Bridge, Kate was relieved to see that Joe’s crazy idea had apparently worked. They had made it through the entire city to the bridge before the storm hit the area.
The Grey Ghost Page 21