The empty beer bottles slipped from Linda’s fingers and crashed to the floor as her hands went to her mouth. This seemed to attract the attention of the bearded man behind the glass. His look was one of being startled. He waved his beefy hand at the glass, indicating that Bob and Linda should not be in there. Bob’s eyes widened as the image slowly faded and then the music did also. The lights flickered, went out for the briefest of moments, and then brightened once again.
Bob quickly returned to the thick door of the studio and pushed it open. He looked around inside but saw nothing but the spinning vinyl disc on the DJ’s podium. He reached out and flipped on the light switch, and the overhead fluorescents came to full life. The booth was empty. There was no boom microphone and no Dion and the Belmonts. After a quick search, he turned the light off and then closed the door to the booth. He faced Linda, who slowly lowered her hands from her mouth.
“What did Harvey mean when he said things around here are changing?” Linda asked as she finally broke through her paralysis and made her way over to the ponytailed Bob as he continued to look through the triple-paned glass of the DJ booth.
“I don’t know and really don’t care. But he is right; this place in the past four weeks or so is getting downright weird. November first cannot come fast enough for me.”
For Bob and Linda, one week now seemed a year off, and Halloween was right around the corner.
4
LOS ANGELES COUNTY SUPERIOR COURT
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
In chairs behind the defense counsel table, Gabriel Kennedy, John Lonetree, Damian Jackson, George Cordero, and Leonard Sickles watched the proceedings and all felt their insides relax when they saw the three women escorted in from the Sybil Brand Institute, where they had been incarcerated for the past week. Gabriel nodded at each as they were escorted to the chairs where they would sit at the end of the long line of defendants. John leaned over and smiled at Jennifer.
The judge rapped her gavel, and the court became silent.
“Well, it looks as if the gang’s finally all here.” She moved some paperwork around on the stand and then fixed her stern gaze at the counsel for the plaintiff. “I believe we have a brief statement and evidence declaration from the plaintiff’s counsel before we get into the much-anticipated deposing of witnesses. Mr. Giles, please.”
Giles stood.
“Your Honor, it seems very clear through our conversations with the defendants’ counsel that their attitude in not supplying truthful information to this court will continue, so at this time, I would like to introduce the words of one of them while giving evidentiary testimony to the FBI and the FCC immediately after the highly viewed incident at the vacation retreat known as Summer Place. This testimony was recovered just recently.”
“Objection! Defense was not afforded a chance to review said evidence. This should be inadmissible, Your Honor.”
Giles smiled.
“Since your clients refuse to make statements outside of the testimony already offered by Professor Kennedy, I have no choice but to use my discretion on what evidence to allow. You will have full cross-examination on any testimony given here today. I understand it is only a brief video clip of the questioning conducted by the FCC and the FBI.”
“Video?” the defense counsel said as he stood once more from his chair. “Your Honor, I would find it very difficult indeed to depose a video on behalf of my clients. This is just too much.”
The judge was opening her mouth to respond when her bailiff stepped to the bench and handed her a note. She read it as the courtroom went silent and the defense team was left standing after the interruption. They saw the judge look up, and Gabriel and the others saw the men standing in the back of the courtroom. Dressed in suits, they were accompanied by four sheriff’s deputies.
The judge banged her gavel. “It seems the United States government has withdrawn its testimony regarding this case. The video of Ms. Delaphoy is hereby disallowed. This court will take a fifteen-minute recess.” Bang. The gavel came down angrily as the judge quickly stood and left.
* * *
Everyone in the courtroom started talking at once. The sheriff allowed Gabriel to stand, and he briefly conferred with counsel and then turned away and faced his team as they tried in vain to console Kelly, who felt as if she had betrayed them all. Kennedy parted the ways and then took the small woman into his arms and hugged her.
“Don’t worry about what we would have seen on that tape. We don’t need to see a tape to know you told them nothing but the truth. I’m just glad those suits over there didn’t get a chance to spin it in their direction.”
The others nodded their agreement.
“All rise,” came the booming voice of the large black bailiff.
“Will both counsels approach the bench, please.”
Kennedy and the others sat down and saw the animated way the attorney for the networks waved his hands around in anger. Gabriel’s lawyer had a shocked look on his face. Gabe turned in his seat when he was nudged by John Lonetree. He nodded to the back of the court. There were five men standing there they had not noticed during the break. Gabriel shrugged, not knowing anything more than John about the newcomers. The meeting at the bench finished, and the attorneys returned to their respective tables.
“This court is hereby in adjournment. Date to resume will be specified at a later time through respective counsel. I hereby order the defendants to be released immediately. This court is adjourned.”
The judge angrily left the courtroom. The attention of the Supernaturals naturally went to the face of George Cordero. He shrugged, saying he had nothing to do with this sudden development.
“You’ll be taken back to the jail and released after you are processed,” the young attorney said. “The same for the women.”
“I think we need to know what just happened.”
The attorney turned and faced Gabriel. “For reasons beyond my understanding, I believe the networks and production companies are in the process of dropping all charges and complaints against you and your people.”
“Why?”
The attorney turned away and finished placing his paperwork into his briefcase. “It seems you have very highly placed friends out there.” He stopped and faced Kennedy. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Professor; take it and run like hell.” The attorney smiled and picked up his briefcase, and with a kind nod to the others of Gabriel’s group, he left with his legal team.
“What in the hell just happened?” John asked as the others gathered around Kennedy as the sheriff’s deputies approached to take them back to jail for their release.
“I don’t know yet, but I think those salty-looking fellas back there do.”
All heads turned and saw the five men in black suits with their sheriff’s escort. They began filing from the courtroom as the crowd did, but then one of them stopped and nodded at Kennedy. Then he and his companions abruptly left.
George and John were getting a strange sensation that affected them simultaneously.
“What are you two picking up?” Gabe asked as he saw the looks on their faces as they spied the men in black suits.
George looked up at the much larger Lonetree and then both faced Gabriel.
“Fear.”
MORENO, CALIFORNIA
The stretch limousine was accompanied by three San Bernardino County work trucks. As the grouping of four vehicles rounded the corner of Main Street across the cattle guard that stretched from one side of the road to the other, they made a sudden turn and went right before entering Moreno and climbed the hill that was once known to the locals as Drunk Monk’s Hill. In actuality, it was Pleasant Street, and the only buildings on Pleasant Street were at the top of the climb—the mission and winery ruins. The caravan of vehicles stopped just short of the chain-link fence as one of the two security guards stepped to the sliding gate and unlocked it. The limo was the first through, followed by the orange work trucks. The gravel drive made a lot o
f dust and crunching noises as the vehicles pulled to a stop in front of the Santa Maria Delarosa mission.
“Well, does it look like a place vampires would hide out?” a man asked as he peered through the window.
“It does that,” the slim woman next to him said as she jotted notes down on an electronic pad. Her attention went from the adobe mission ruins to turn and look down the hill to the town of Moreno. “What about the town? How much interference do we expect from the locals when and if we are allowed to shoot here?”
The chubby man in the thousand-dollar suit laughed as he lit a large cigar. He blew smoke and then faced the woman as the third man from the limo joined them. “Interference from Moreno?”
“Yes.”
“Moreno has been dying for many years, darlin.’ The damn place just isn’t smart enough to lie down and die.” The man puffed on his cigar and then shook his head. “Besides, if you have all the residents of that town coming to watch filming, you’ll have about eight people to deal with.” He faced the woman, who was feeling angry over the “darlin’” comment he made earlier. “Think the studio can handle that onrush of spectators?”
“Look, Mr. Freeman, I represent the studio’s sizable investment here. If the county allows us to shoot here on location, they will want to make sure our liability is at minimum risk. This is a state-sponsored historical site.”
“It’s still just a bunch of mud bricks, if you ask me.”
“Per my research, it was quite a bit more than that back in the day. Some historians still say if it weren’t for the earthquake in 1821, this would have been one of the more important missions in California, and if you grew up here, you would know how important that is to a lot of people. That’s why we have county engineers here to protect the site and to ensure that we do no further damage. If this inspection reveals the areas we wish to shoot in are unstable, the county will rescind their support.”
“Well, that’s why we have these fine gentlemen,” Freeman said as the film producer placed his arm around the smaller man and then brought him close. “Isn’t that right, Mr. County Engineer?”
The man said nothing but waved the group of inspectors from the county trucks to commence with the flooring inspection.
“Mr. Freeman, this arrangement was made against my specific recommendation about molesting this site. The structures are just too unsafe. Why do you think we have security here?” He gestured around the one-hundred-acre site. “Why all the fencing? Why don’t you see tourists here? Because this whole thing could collapse at any moment. And if you don’t get those points, maybe you have heard about the instability of the ground in California? Well, they’re called earthquakes, Mr. Freeman, and they tend to knock unstable structures down. Then we can go into the chemical spill in ’62. Oh, there are dangers here, and if you don’t heed warnings about how much danger, you can get people killed.”
“Come on, Mr. Garvey. Your boss seemed very unconcerned. When it was explained to him through our artist’s renderings of the shoot, he was more than satisfied we won’t be molesting your historical site. Exterior shots of the mission, a few of the winery. The rest of the interiors will be shot in Burbank.”
The county engineer exchanged wary looks with the studio executive in charge of finance and then waved his men forward. “Check out the old stone foundation and wooden flooring. Estimate its maximum weight allowance.”
* * *
The group toured the winery. It was clean and still much intact. The county had kept the ruin clean over the years and the walls shored up. They stepped out into the sunshine of the dying day. The engineer conferred with his men and then joined the two people from Los Angeles.
“They are going to approve the weight standards at three and a half tons. That’s your equipment weight limit.”
“Should be plenty,” Freeman mumbled. As he lit another cigar, his eyes were on the old winery a hundred feet away from the mission. He turned and faced Garvey.
“Man, those doors would make for a great shot.” He smiled. “Just how unsafe is the winery?”
“Over half of the upper structure has collapsed into the basement and subbasement. No roof remains, everything inside is water damaged, and let’s see, it’s only two hundred and thirty-two years old,” Garvey said, shaking his head and chuckling.
The cigar was removed. “Give us a look-see.”
“Are you insane?” Garvey said, looking at the woman to see if Freeman was joking. She raised her brow, as confused as himself. He turned back to the film producer. “I said two-hundred-plus years old, collapsed, dangerous—you understand those words, Mr. Freeman?”
“You’re the engineer; I trust your judgment. You know what’s safe and what’s not.”
“You’re right. I am the engineer, and I say you’re insane. The only place that is even remotely safe where you get a sense of history is in the subbasement where the old wine casks used for long-term fermentation were stored. That’s only because the area of the basement it’s located in is the conjuncture of two walls. That’s the only reason it survived the initial earthquake in the day and the factory explosion in ’62.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Freeman stared at the man. “Come on. Any real danger and we’ll forget about it.”
The county crew waited nearby as the three talked. Garvey turned to his men. “We’re all done here. You guys go ahead and take off; it’s a long drive back.”
The men were more than happy to oblige their boss.
Garvey turned back to Freeman and Ms. Deerling as the trucks left. “Don’t make me regret this. As far as anyone is concerned, we never went in there.”
Freeman crossed his heart with his cigar hand. “What winery?” he joked.
“We go through the double doors, and straight to your left is the basement stairs. It’s the only egress point anywhere in the ruins.” Garvey turned and waved the second security guard over. “Can I borrow that radio?” he asked.
The security guard handed him the radio. “It’s set to the right channel. May I ask just what you are doing, sir?” the man asked with concern on his face. “No one ever goes in there.” The tall and very thin black man looked around and then straight at the three people. “We call it the bad place.” Again, the nervous look. “It’s also getting dark.”
“Well, then, we had better take this just in case,” Freeman said as he reached out and unclipped the flashlight from the man’s belt.
* * *
The doors were one foot thick and made of solid redwood. Garvey pushed open the left side and stepped in. The dying sunlight illuminated the complete and utter devastation of the ruin. The ceiling, gone for two hundred years, lay in heaps on the stone flooring. The old windows and their leaded glass had vanished right around the time of the War of 1812, and bushes and trees had started to take root and had grown as far as the absence of sunlight would allow. Grapevines coursed in and out of the old adobe walls like mythical snakes from a Greek tragedy.
“Maybe we ought to rethink this,” Ms. Deerling said as Garvey moved to the far left of the main floor. There was a dark space there that gave both Freeman and Deerling cold chills as they gazed beyond into the blackness.
The two movie people became confused. Instead of turning on the powerful mag flashlight, Garvey shoved the long device into his coat pocket and then reached out and turned on a light. He gestured that his guests should join him.
“The winery actually has power to certain spots in the building. We never knew why, as it all took place before the tragedy of ’62.”
Freeman saw that Garvey was going down the stairs at a brisk pace. He tentatively placed a foot on the first riser and then gently placed his full weight down upon it. Garvey stopped and looked back.
“It’s safe; these stairs are only about seventy years old.”
“Why would the previous owner place new stairs in a building deemed unsafe?” the woman asked as she put her notepad closely to her chest and hung on for dear life to the st
eel railing lining the staircase.
“Possibly checking on the groundwater. The factory, at least before it blew itself sky-high, used to make gauges, meters, and triggering devices for the U.S. government. They used a lot of mercury in their designs, and the groundwater had to be checked on a constant basis for contaminants.”
Their confidence in the reinforced stairs grew. They did notice that in the middle of each stair there was a major depression, as if a great weight had been placed upon each.
They came to a landing, but Garvey kept going down, making the woman more apprehensive about continuing the tour.
“That’s the basement. Grape crushing, things like that. The subbasement is right down here.”
As they continued, they noticed that this lighting was industrial in make and design. Each powerful bulb was encased in a steel mesh cocoon.
“Oh, we have to get a camera down here. This would be ideal for the vampire nesting place,” Freeman said as he stepped into the subbasement.
The twenty-four wooden casks were huge. At one time, they each had the capacity to hold five hundred gallons of locally produced wine. Many of them were crushed and broken, but most were still intact and at least recognizable for what they were. The subbasement was in considerably better shape than even the mission above their heads. They could see steel reinforcement beams had been installed and a new floor put in. This one was smooth and shiny and made of hardened concrete. They saw old consoles and even older-looking electronic equipment. Wires and cables were strung throughout the basement.
“Doesn’t look like the monks that made the wine here were that far behind us in technology,” Freeman joked as he ran a finger through the dust that had accumulated over the years.
“We think this equipment may have been used to monitor earth movement. After all, an earthquake may have damaging consequences for any trapped heavy metals in the ground.”
“Wow, look at this,” Ms. Deerling said as she lifted the lid on a small box. Her smile grew as she looked the item over.
In the Still of the Night--The Supernaturals II Page 9