by Blair Howard
“No I don’t, Harry. Look at this place.” He waved the print in front of my nose. “It would take us thirty minutes just to walk from one end to the other, much less creep around it, trying to stay out of sight. I think you’re being overly optimistic.”
I nodded. Looking at that massive layout, I had to agree with him. “So how would you do it?”
“That’s just it,” he said. “I don’t know any other way that makes sense. We sure as hell can’t go banging around the place in broad daylight… and that brings up another point. What about inside? The exterior isn’t too difficult, but what the hell are we likely to run into inside?”
There was no answer to that. Getting inside to look around was out of the question. When the time came, we’d just have to play it by ear, and that was what I told him.
He snorted. “If that’s what you think, we might as well play it all by ear. Stay here until dark and then….”
“Now you’re being mulish,” I said. “We leave here at five and get there before first light. That’s it. You and me and your Jeep. They’ll spot the Maxima before we get within a mile of the place.”
He nodded.
“See here,” I said, pointing at the print. “We’ll come off the interstate here at Exit 20. Bear right at the red light here, onto Third Street. That will bring us to the north end of the building. We turn right here, on Church, and cruise the front of the building, turn left on Sixth, then left again on Euclid. That will bring us back to Third Street at the north end of the building. Make sense?”
He nodded.
“Now,” I continued. “Look over here.” Again I pointed. “See? We park right here, in this lot across the street at the corner of Church and Third,” I pointed to the exact spot. “Other than this tiny section at the north end, we’ll be out of sight of the entire building. We leave the Jeep, walk across the road and onto the property here.”
He nodded. “Makes sense.”
“I googled the Old Woolen Mill earlier,” I said. “See these small buildings, the ones with the red and black roofs? They’re all occupied, small businesses. As far as I can tell, those structures are attached to but separate from the main structure; there’s no internal access to the main building, which means we have nothing to worry about until we reach this point here.” I pointed to the spot on the image where the big chimney was located.
“At that time in the morning, the businesses will all be closed, and that means there will be no one inside. We should be able to make our way south along the walls of those two building without any trouble. That will put us at the north end of the first four-story unit, here, and I’m betting that that unit and the one next to it will be vacant too—hell, we know they’re derelict, right?”
“What makes you think there won’t be anyone in them?” Bob asked.
“Well, Shady and his crew are keeping a low profile, right? So they’ll stay as far away from those legitimate businesses as possible.”
“Alright, that makes sense. So then what?”
“I don’t know. That part we’ll have to figure out when we get there. But here”—I pointed to the big triangle-shaped building—“and here”—I pointed to the gigantic structure at the far south end of the building and the single-story structure adjoining it. “In one of those buildings is where they’ll be holed up. They have to be.” I paused, shook my head. “Jeez, I just hope to hell they’re not in that four-story monstrosity.”
He leaned back on his chair, tipped it onto its back legs, and stared at photograph.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s a plan, and at that time in the morning… it might just work.”
He let his chair fall forward again, onto all four legs, got to his feet, and was about to say something when Amanda walked in, followed by Kate. Both were now dressed in jeans and sleeveless tops. Jacque followed a moment later. She was wearing cut-off jeans, a bright red halter top, and no shoes.
“You two look smug,” Kate said. “What have you been up to?”
I quickly explained the plan, and was expecting all sorts of objections, but surprisingly I got none. The plan was a go.
“Okay, folks. I need to go drag Dad and Rose out of the club. Why don’t you get something to eat going while I’m gone. I want to be in bed by ten tonight.”
“Oh my. Lucky me,” Amanda said slyly.
I grinned at her, shook my head, and headed out the front door.
Chapter 14
Thursday Morning, First Light
I’d set the alarm on my iPhone for four o’clock, but when it went off I thought the Armageddon was upon us. Custer’s adopted marching song “Garry Owen” reverberated around the room. Damn, I’ve got to change that friggin’ ring tone.
I crawled out of bed, looked down at the beauty I hated to leave lying there, and then staggered into the bathroom and hit the shower.
Five minutes later, my nether regions wrapped in a towel, I headed down the hall to make sure Bob was up and about. He was. He was already in the kitchen, seated at the table nursing a cup of coffee.
“I made one for you,” he said. “All you need to do is hit the button.” And I did. “I heard that stupid tune, by the way. You need to change that.”
I didn’t bother to answer. I sat down opposite him, sipped the steaming brew, looked at the clock. It was 4:25 a.m.
“It’s still early, but we can head out whenever you’re ready,” I said.
He nodded, and I went back to the bedroom to dress. It was still pitch black outside, and would be for at least another couple of hours, but I was worried about the weather. The sky outside my bedroom window looked clear enough, but the folks at Channel 7 had forecast rain, and that was what I was hoping for, because it would provide another level of cover.
I dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, slipped into the shoulder rig, attached a suppressor to the VP9, checked the load—fifteen rounds—and slipped it into its holster under my left arm. The damned thing was bulky and uncomfortable with the suppressor attached, but if I ended up needing to use it, the less noise the better.
I bent over the bed and kissed the still-sleeping Amanda. She stirred, rolled over, kicked the cover off, and exposed one of the prettiest legs on the mountain.
Whew. I need to get outa here.
I donned my black leather jacket, grabbed a spare mag for the VP9 from the drawer, and stuffed it into the custom-designed pocket inside the jacket, took one last look at Amanda, and headed out to join Bob.
He was similarly dressed. We must have looked like a pair of thieves, but I was at my most comfortable dressed that way, invisible, a creature of the night.
It was almost five when Bob steered the old Jeep Grand Waggoneer through the electronic gates and out onto East Brow. The drive to Cleveland was uneventful; even I-75 was quiet, which was unusual.
We took Exit 20 onto APD 40, drove on for another mile, and then turned left onto South Lee. All was quiet as we drove past the high school. We swung right onto East Third and drove on for maybe a half mile, and there she was, on the right, a vast black shadow silhouetted against the still-dark sky.
“Turn right and go slow,” I said. “No, wait. Pull into that lot over there. I’m on the wrong side. I need to be in the back.”
I climbed over the seats into the back, and Bob swung the Jeep onto Church Street and we cruised slowly along the length of the building, but we were too close to see anything other than the ground floor. The interior was all in darkness; there was not a light inside anywhere that I could see. I could, however, see from the street lights and the overspill from the fire department across the road that even though there were panes of glass broken and missing, all of the ground-floor windows were secured on the inside by heavy, eight or ten-gauge steel wire mesh. Unless there was something different around back, the windows would not provide us with a point of entry, not even with bolt cutters; time would be of the essence. It wasn’t an option.
We drove along the seemingly endless frontage o
f the building, turned left on Sixth, which was little more than a one-lane track, and slowed to a stop. The approach to the building there, at the south end, was overgrown. Two-foot-high grass fronted a sturdy wooden wall that was itself flanked by a ditch.
Hmmm, no access there either.
I tapped Bob’s shoulder; he drove slowly on, then turned left onto Euclid: also useless. We were now too far from the building, maybe a hundred yards or more, and it was too dark to see anything but its outline against the barely lightening sky.
“Let’s park it, Bob. Go to the end, turn left and then right into the lot, and drive to the corner of Third and Church. If I’m right, that will put us across the road from the north end of the building, and out of sight.”
We found the spot: perfect. I could just see the north end of what I now figured must have been a later two-story addition. Maybe it was only one story with high ceilings. Whatever. It was home to some six or seven companies, including a wedding venue and a restaurant.
We exited the vehicle.
Hey, I thought, looking up. It is going to rain.
I could already feel it. Nasty for what we were about to do, but welcome, because it would provide the extra cover we needed. I caught Bob’s eye over the hood of the Jeep, my eyebrows raised. He nodded, hauled the 1911 out of its holster, jacked the slide, and slid it back inside his jacket.
“Let’s do it,” I said. I pulled the VP9 from under my arm, racked the slide and, with my right shoulder close to the wall, led the way slowly south.
We eased our way along Bellweather Lane, a small service path that served the small business on the backside of the two-story section. No problems there. We were covered by the main wall to the right, and a five-foot-high brick wall to the left.
The end of the lane was blocked by another two-story addition. We eased to the left along the wall, then right, and found ourselves confronted by the first section of the four conjoined structures that made up the main building. I looked upward into the rapidly lightening sky. The dark wall seemed to stretch endlessly upward toward the clouds. We were on a slab of what appeared to be a fairly new concrete pad set in front of a pair of huge steel doors that must once have provided access to the interior for the service trucks. Right beside them, and just to the right, was another, pedestrian-sized steel door. Both were secured by heavy steel chains and huge locks—the small door and its steel frame had holes through which the chain was threaded. To the left and above, vast stretches of red brick were pierced by massive windows: hundreds, perhaps even thousands of small panes set in giant frames that could be measured only in yards. The ones at the lower level were maybe four or five feet above our heads, too high to see through.
“It will take a man-sized set of bolt cutters to get through these chains,” Bob said as he tested the small door. It rattled, but the chain held it tight. “How the hell are we going to get inside?”
I had no answer yet, so I didn’t say anything. I looked along the wall to the south, and then across the dirt parking area to the east. The first glimmer of light was already upon us. We didn’t have much longer.
“Come on,” I whispered. “We need to get moving.”
I walked quickly across the concrete pad, staying close to the wall. I didn’t bother to check on Bob; I knew he would be right at my back.
South of the new concrete, and the huge chimney, was yet another office building. The concrete continued, but it was no longer new; this was the stuff of a bygone age. It was concrete for sure, but it had suffered the ravages of time: cracks had allowed water inside, which had frozen and thawed, over and over, during more than three decades of winters, reducing it to little more than rubble and dust. Vegetation had burst through the cracks, turning it into a minefield of disjointed chunks and cavities, each a potential hazard all its own, and to make matters even worse, the entire area was littered with debris—the detritus of an industry that had abandoned the building almost half a century before.
We crept onward maybe another fifty feet, then stopped and leaned against the wall, listening. Nothing.
“Looks deserted,” Bob whispered. “No sign of any vehicles.”
I nodded back toward the great steel doors. “I’d say they’re inside. If not there, maybe at the far end. Let’s keep moving. It’s beginning to get light.”
Sixty feet or so father on, still in the first section of the four-story building, we came to a pile of concrete blocks set against the wall under one of the great windows. Several of the panes were broken or missing. Together we climbed the blocks, stood side by side on tiptoes, and looked inside; it was dark, but there was just enough light shining in from the other side to cast a faint glow over the interior of a room. The size of it was truly staggering.
I realized then that the footprint of that room was also that of the entire section of the building outside which we stood, and that there must be three more like rooms stacked on top of it, one above the other. If this held true for the other three sections, the building contained no less than sixteen such rooms.
This was going to be some project. How the hell were we going to find a couple dozen people hidden among almost six acres of cathedral-sized rooms stacked four high?
I stepped down, sat down on the top layer of blocks, and looked up just in time to see Bob raise his iPhone to the broken windowpane.
“No, don’t!” I hissed up at him. Too late. I cringed as the flash lit up the inside of the building.
“Jesus Christ. Get down, you ass, and stay still.”
He sat. We waited. Nothing. Thank God.
“Damnit it, Bob. I hope to hell no one saw that. If they did, we’re toast. No, don’t say it. Let’s go. We need to see the rest of this monstrosity before they catch us, if they’re even here, that is.”
“Sorry, Harry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s fine. It looks like we’re okay. Let’s do this and get out of here.
I stood, climbed down off the blocks, and together we worked our way slowly southward along the wall.
We passed by several more steel doors, all of them chained and padlocked. The light was coming on fast and I was becoming more and more concerned we would be seen.
A couple of minutes later, we were standing at the edge of the waterway—the pool was away to the left, unseen. I was right. At least I figured I was. It did indeed supply water to the building, but it wouldn’t supply us with entry. The huge iron grill set into the wall would stop anything but a tank.
I looked at Bob and shrugged, then stepped onto a wooden plank that someone had kindly laid down as a bridge across the waterway.
We were close to midway along the third section of the wall when something made me stop, stand still, and put an arm out to stay Bob. I didn’t know what it was, maybe one of those creepy feelings I sometimes got, but I listened.
I scanned the acreage in front of me, and then I listened some more. I thought I could hear water running, which was strange, because I was sure the water was cut off….
And then I saw something. Someone. I shoved Bob back into the shadows against the wall. “Look, down there. See him?”
“No, where?”
I pointed. “Right there. See that overhead door in that one-story section? He’s right there, by the corner with his back to us; he’s taking a leak, I think. Yeah he is. He’s zipping up. See him?”
“Got him.”
He was a long way away, maybe four or five hundred feet, but there was something vaguely familiar about him. The overhead door was partially open. He turned, put his hands in his pockets, looked around, walked a small circle, and then ducked under the big door. It closed behind him.
And I recognized him. It was the dreads that gave him away. Anger and hatred surged through me, white hot. I saw my kid brother strapped to a chair, that piece of garbage standing over him, that self-satisfied, arrogant smirk I knew so well on his face, and for a moment I was tempted to throw caution to the wind and charge across the open space to the door, but
I knew it would have been pointless, and would only have served to give the worthless piece of crap a warning that we were onto him.
“Christ, that was Shady,” I snarled. “Shit! We could have gotten him. Son of a bitch.”
Bob put his hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me; I shrugged it off.
“Hey!” he whispered sharply. “Forget it. He’s gone, but he’s not going anywhere. Now we know they’re here, and we’ll be back. It’s time we got out of here.”
I nodded. Of course he was right. I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat, and tried to make some sense of what we’d seen, what we now knew.
“Our biggest problem,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm, “is we don’t know how many he has with him. Benny said between twenty and twenty-five, but that’s… well, it’s not good enough. We also know that they’re using that overhead door to get in and out, and that they’re probably keeping their vehicles in there too. That door obviously isn’t going to work for us; we have to find a way in. Come on. There’s still time. Let’s go look some more.”
“Hey, what if he comes out again?”
“We’ll hear that door and drop. C’mon. It’s got to be done. We have to find a way into this mother somehow.”
But the building was locked up tight. By the time we’d made it all the way to the southern end some thirty minutes later, we’d discovered nothing helpful. I was damp, pissed, depressed, and feeling like shit.
All we’d accomplished was confirming that Shady Tree was indeed in residence at the Old Woolen Mill. That, and we had a slightly better knowledge of the lay of the land. We didn’t know how many men he had with him, or how they might be armed; hell, we didn’t even know how to get into the place. How we were going to bust the place wide open, and hopefully put an end to the phantom menace inside the building, was something else again….