by G. M. Ford
"George is right. It's got to be tonight," I said finally. "The site will be crawling with cops tomorrow night. They may be crazy, but they're not that stupid."
"You sure?" asked Harold. "They looked pretty stupid to me."
"It's either tonight or it's a kamikaze mission. Tonight there's some chance of walking away. Tomorrow night, they'd be better off going up with the building. No, it's gotta be tonight."
I was talking more for my own benefit than for theirs. It was now ten after five. Whatever we were going to do, it had to be soon.
"What time have they been going out?" I asked.
"Between ten and ten-thirty," George answered quickly.
"Who's watching the building now?"
"Bob and Leroy and the Speaker," George said.
"We gonna take her before they go?" asked Ralph.
"Won't work," I said. "They'd just call it off. We're going to have separate Caroline from the others after they got there. We need to get them into a position where there's no turning back."
"What then?" asked Mary.
"Then we separate Caroline from the others."
"Then?"
"Then we call the cops." A collective groan went up.
The idea held very little appeal for the assembled multitudes. Very few of their own problems had ever been satisfactorily resolved by the powers that be, and they were loath to believe that the system could be of any use here.
Finally, George broke into the discussion, waving everyone to silence.
"Okay, Leo, suppose we go along with the program. Maybe you're right. If we don't call the cops on the little shits they'll just do it some other night. What I still don't see is how in hell are we going to separate Caroline from the others. I'm lost here."
I told them. They listened intently. When I'd finished, the room erupted in a chorus of complaints.
"You mean we're going to wait around for the cops?" demanded Earlene. "We'll all be busted."
"Not busted, heroes."
I'd learned years ago, when I'd first started using street people as operatives, that in spite of their meager circumstances, they were no more immune to the hopes and dreams of our society than anyone else. Nobody aspires to be a bum.
As I'd hoped, they massaged this scenario to death. Before they were finished, Ralph was mayor and the rest of them were inventing new city ordinances when George lost his patience and put a stop to it. "Shut up," he yelled above the din.
"I don't see it, Leo. I just don't see it," he said after they'd quieted.
"What don't you see, George?" I asked patiently.
"I don't see her acting the way you say. People just ain't like that anymore. Ten, twenty years ago maybe, but not anymore. They got that flat look in their eyes these days. They won't even look at you."
A buzz of agreement sailed around the room. "You could fall dead right in front of them on the sidewalk and they'd just step over you. And you're tellin' us that she's gonna - "
"She will," I assured him.
George wasn't ready to quit.
"If she's such a goody-two-shoes, how come she's hangin' out with these Save the Earth assholes? Huh, tell me that?"
"She's not a goody-two-shoes," I said. "She's just incapable of minding her own goddamn business."
Chapter 25
"I wish I still smoked," said Saasha Kennedy, as she nervously fidgeted about in the front seat of the camper. The mercury vapor lights surrounding the buildings across the street reflected off her oversize lenses, making it impossible to see her eyes.
"The waiting is always the hard part."
"I think the police would be a better option."
"The craving for certainty is a vice, Ms. Kennedy. Didn't they teach you that in school?" She ignored the dig.
"What if she refuses to come with me?"
"Then I'll take her back to her grandfather."
She fidgeted some more. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this fools' errand, Waterman," she said disgustedly.
"Guilt," I suggested. "You think you owe me. Your brain is telling you that if it wasn't for me, Thomas Greer would have splattered himself all over Third Avenue. You feel guilty. That dubious emotion combined with your highly cultivated sense of professional duty has brought you here, to the very brink of disaster." She was too nervous to rise to the bait.
"It's the unprofessional nature of this that causes me concern."
"Why?" I asked. "This is what you do, isn't it? I looked you up in the book. It says you specialize in adolescent therapy."
"My patients don't generally come in under this sort of duress."
"Don't kid yourself. Their parents just do it with a tad more subtlety, that's all. None of those kids wakes up one day with an intense desire to see a shrink. Trust me."
Before she could come back at me, I changed the subject.
"You did a nice job on Earlene, by the way. She looks great."
"That's another thing." She wagged a finger at me. "When you asked me to bring a change of clothes and my cosmetics case, I thought it was for the girl. If I'd known - "
"Don't worry, you'll get the clothes back."
"I don't want the clothes back," she snapped.
"Hey, Earlene's good people. A little crusty maybe."
"A little crusty? There was moss growing on that woman."
We were interrupted by a tapping on the window. George was tight-lipped. "Here they come," he said.
"Everybody in place?" I asked.
"For all the good it's gonna do."
I turned to Kennedy. "We'll be back." She responded by frowning and locking the door behind me.
I slipped from the truck and followed George through the parking lot toward the eastern end of Pacific Avenue.
In the space of four hours, it had turned bitter cold. The winter storms that usually kept the Northwest in a perpetual cloud bank had unexpectedly blown to the north.
The night was clear, and a multitude of randomly scattered stars seemed to hover no more than a couple of blocks above us. In the curb-lined beds surrounding the dormitory lot, the rhododendrons provided curled their leaves, hunkering inward against the cold. My breath swirled around my ears, leaving a vapor trail as I walked. George's wing tips scuffed scratches in the rapidly forming sheen on the asphalt.
We stood in the artificial shade of a massive walnut tree as the black van, driving well within the speed limit, rolled slowly by.
"They'll park over by the stadium and walk back."
"Only smart thing they've done," I commented. "Gives them three possible ways out of the area."
We stood in the shadows until the light at the end of the street changed and the van turned left, then we hastily crossed the street, jogging into the driveway of the new lab, all the way to the back of the lot.
Forty yards of the new sod separated the back of the laboratory from Ship Canal. The water slid silently by like a piece of moving black glass. A thin blanket of fog floated inches above the sliding water.
The new laboratory was surrounded by ancient yew hedges, which had somehow managed to survive both the fire and the ensuing construction. The twisted, interlocking bramble, now bare of leaves, formed a solid wall, separating the back of the laboratory from the grass bank leading down to the water.
I was counting on the fact that Caroline would be able to hear, but not see, what was going on in the little park next door.
Covering our faces with our sleeves, George and I pushed our way through the hedge and skied down the icy embankment into the park, angling toward the farthest corner, hard under the bridge. There was no need to look for the crew; their collective breath rose into the air like smoke signals.
Norman, Waldo, and Earlene were huddled around a one-piece metal picnic table, silently rubbing and hugging themselves in an attempt to stave off the cold. I stopped by the table, using a finger to signal for silence.
I watched as George crossed the open area to the farthest edge, parted the top of the he
dge, and forced his body through the tangle. Satisfied that he was in place, I turned to the crew.
"You guys ready?" I asked.
"I'm freezing my ass off, is what I'm doing," whispered Earlene. "No wonder those businesswomen are always in such a shitty mood; I'd be in a bad mood too if I had to walk around with my twat freezing off like this all the time."
I waved her off. "Let's stick with the business at hand." As I continued, Earlene folded her arms over Kennedy's blue wool coat and sulked. "That bitch threw my clothes out, Leo," she muttered.
"George will tell us when they're on the way," I said. "They're going to pass right behind us here, on the bank by the water, so we're going to have to be quiet. Any last-minute questions?"
There were, but the moment had come. From the far side of the little park, George squeezed out a "Sssssst." He pulled himself back through the hedge and, as we'd arranged, hurried diagonally across the park to the front corner, by the street.
Norman, Waldo, Earlene, and I lay down on the brittle grass, listening intently. I crawled over to the hedge, peering out between the twisted stems, looking for feet. Nothing.
I tried to control my breath. I didn't want it to signal my presence. A block away, the overhead lights lit a gray-blue science-fiction moonscape. I breathed down the front of my jacket and listened. Nothing.
The crew was looking anxiously my way. The urban commandos should have been here by now. When we'd run through it earlier this evening, George and Harold, a pair not renowned for great dispatch, had been at the boat shed by now. Something was wrong. Maybe George had been mistaken. I decided to have a look for myself. I was halfway to my feet when Norman slashed the air with his arm. I ducked.
They came silently, only the muted sound of crunching grass announcing their presence. Five pairs of closely grouped feet passed before my vantage point, moving steadily downhill toward the shed. I couldn't identify which feet belonged to Caroline. The squeaking of the door told me that they were inside the shed.
When I heard the scraping of cans, I duckwalked up the length of the hedge to the corner nearest the lab, burrowing into the branches. I squinted up toward George and waved my arm. He pushed his way through the hedge to the front sidewalk and was instantly out of sight.
Save the Earth tiptoed within three feet of my position as they came up the bank to the back of the laboratory. I was well below their level, with an unobstructed view through the twisted trunks.
Three of the guys were carrying a gas can in each hand. One guy hefted a three-foot pry bar. His tall, geometric hair gave him a profile like a felt-tip marker. Must be the Bass kid. Caroline was empty-handed and pissed off. I knew the look well.
Bass wiggled the bar into a crack in the door and heaved. Nothing. He stepped back, then reinserted the bar and leaned his scrawny back against it. Still nothing. For the first time someone spoke. Of course, it was Caroline.
"Let Bob keep watch, I want to come in," she whispered. A smile crossed my lips. Some things don't change.
"Just do it the way we practiced it," Bass grunted, putting his full weight behind his efforts. "Give it five minutes on your watch and then meet us in the basement."
"I don't see why - " Caroline started.
With a sharp sound of snapping metal, the door popped open, swinging slowly, its pneumatic guide hissing softly.
A full minute of silence followed as they held their breaths and waited for the alarm that never came. Satisfied that they were undetected, Bass motioned the other three guys inside. They entered, single file. He turned to Caroline. "Stay here. Do your job," he whispered urgently.
She folded her arms over her chest and turned her back on him, staring out at the canal. I heard him heave a sigh as he followed the others inside, pulling the door shut behind him. Everything was blue and quiet.
I signaled the crew. In unison, they rose from the grass. Earlene began picking at the bits of grass and litter that clung to her coat. As they were about to begin, I heard the door to the lab hiss open again.
Caroline was following the guys in. five minutes, my ass. She hadn't even given it a full minute. So much for the plan. Time to call the cops.
Earlene saved the day, emitting a quavering wail that shattered the freezing air like a plate-glass window. "Nooooo. Noooo, please," she wailed.
Caroline's head popped back out the door. she seemed to be sniffing the air like a retriever, wary but sorely tempted.
"Oh, God pleeese, no - " another scream split the air, followed by a series of horrific grunts and groans.
I looked over my shoulder. Norman and Waldo held Earlene down on the frosty picnic table, the borrowed burgundy dress riding high around her hips, Waldo at the head, working on a full nelson, Norman down by her feet trying vainly to control Earlene's wildly pumping legs.
"Oh. Oh. Oh," she hollered.
Three feet to my left, the hedge parted. I looked down; I could read the label on Caroline's black Reeboks. Her indecision was palpable. I slid deeper into the corner of the hedge. The feet disappeared. I waited, barely breathing. I heard her feet snicking on the asphalt.
The lab door hissed open again. We'd lost her. Son of a bitch. I couldn't believe it. Dejectedly, I got to my knees.
Suddenly, six feet to my right, Caroline Nobel, doing her best Wonder Woman impression, burst through the hedge, landed with both feet on the frosted grass of the hillside, fell directly on her ass, and slid all the way to the bottom. If she hadn't fallen, she'd have seen me for sure. I was behind her now. She came up running. I followed.
I could see now why Caroline had hesitated. The charade was not going as planned. I'd chosen Waldo and Norman because, to the naked eye, they appeared the most menacing. The afternoon rain had left Norman's hair sticking up like Don King's, adding an extra six inches to his already gargantuan stature. Waldo, nearly as wide as he was tall, always looked like a particularly malevolent troll, so he was perfect. Together, I'd figured they'd make the perfect pair of rapist-muggers. The problem was that Earlene was in the process of kicking bother their asses.
Having for some unknown reason regained her feet, she now delivered a roundhouse uppercut to Waldo's groin. Waldo staggered about clutching his privates and groaning pitifully. Norman looked terrified.
"Stop that this instant, you animals," Caroline yelled, as she ran across the clearing toward the fray. I followed at a dead run.
Waldo continued his moaning; Norman backpedaled steadily.
"You fucking pervert. If you ever - " Earlene was screaming now.
Caroline waded in. "What were those pigs doing?" she demanded.
That was as far as she got. Earlene, now in a full rage, brought one up from her knees and planted it flush in Waldo's chin. He went down in a heap. Norman, hemmed in by the hedge, held up both hands in surrender.
I tackled Caroline from behind, rolling her to the ground, clamping my hand over her mouth. As I rolled onto my back, Caroline now struggling frantically on top of me, Earlene hauled off and kicked the prone Waldo, who was trying desperately to scramble out of harm's way.
"The little son of a bitch grabbed my boobs," she snarled, scooting after him, aiming another vicious kick at his head. "I'll kill him." Waldo, perfectly built for the task, rolled just out of reach.
"Stop it, goddammit," I yelled. Everyone stood still.
Caroline was tattooing my shins with her heels. I wrapped my legs around hers and flopped over, using my weight to pin her to the ground. I heard her breath escape as my full weight came down on her.
"Norman," I grunted. "Get over here and take the girl."
He complied, affording Earlene a wide berth. I rolled us back over. Caroline managed only one brief monosyllabic screech before Norman engulfed her in his massive hands and arms. He held her under one arm like a load of books, using his free hand to keep her mouth covered.
I pulled the roll of duct tape out of my jacket pocket and taped Caroline's hands and feet, I gave a couple of wraps around her mouth. She
frothed and mumbled through the tape.
"Take her out to George," I said when I'd finished.
He lumbered off toward the street, seeming to take no notice of the extra weight.
"Earlene," I said, rising. "Help Waldo over to the street."
"I'll help his ass to hell," she said. "That little pervert."
"Then help Norman. I'll take are of Waldo."
Waldo looked like he thought this was a swell idea.
George was waiting with the camper.
"Hurry, Leo," he said. "You guys were slow as shit back there. Cops must be real close by now."
"I don't hear no sirens," muttered Earlene, trying to work her way around me to get at Waldo.
"They'll come in quietly," I said.
Norman deposited Caroline on the floor of the camper and closed the door. through the window, Kennedy's eyes, for once, looked bigger than her glasses.
George could handle the crew. At least, for Waldo's sake, I hoped so.
I hopped into the driver's seat, slipped the truck into gear, and floored it, bouncing out into the street, heading east toward the Montlake bridge.
"What about your friends?" Kennedy inquired.
"They're going to stick around and be witnesses," I said.
"Why would they - "
She stopped, openmouthed, as three police cruisers raced full-bore over the bridge toward us. I watched in the mirror as they slid left through the intersection, screaming down Pacific toward the lab.
I could hear Caroline's muffled sobs from the rear of the camper. She was taking out her frustrations by kicking madly at anything she could reach. I knew the feeling.
"George and the others are going to stick around and claim they saw the breaking and entering. Makes the case stronger. Otherwise, some smart lawyer will have those jerks back out on the street day after tomorrow."
Kennedy sorted this information in silence as we wound up the hill toward Broadway. Caroline kicked harder.
I wheeled all the way to the top of the hill, chicaned through the neighborhood streets, and pulled to a stop on Tenth Avenue, two blocks down from Tim Flood's house, right where this disaster had all begun last week.