My mind did an internal scan of the names and faces of our neighbors, and none fit the description of bum. Then I thought about Pops. Our house was just a few blocks from the beach, his usual haunt. I didn’t think he knew which house was ours, but maybe he did. Or maybe he was strolling the nearby area and simply saw Kirk and reported it. It wouldn’t have been difficult. The police station was almost spitting distance to everything. Although we weren’t sure where Pops spent his nights, everyone in the area knew he was pretty territorial about Seal Beach and its inhabitants. He knew who belonged and who didn’t.
“Was the Sharp woman with him?” It was Maria, daring to ask for further information.
Harper shook his egg-shaped head. “No. Paul just saw Kirk being led away in cuffs and asked some of the locals what was going on.”
I just had to confirm the suspicion nagging at me like a hang nail. “So Paul Milholland works for you, too, huh?”
Harper stood in front of me, hands on his chunky hips, his barrel chest less than a foot away. He looked to be studying me but his eyes were active, displaying the plotting and planning going on behind them.
“Who in the hell do you think was tailing you?”
It took a moment before clarity sunk in. When it did, I wanted to slap myself upside the head. The van. Those mornings at the bakery. Pops wasn’t babbling about Greg’s van, he was trying to warn me that a van was following me. A van that didn’t belong.
“What now, boss?” asked Charles.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” Gordon announced. “Pronto. The fool’s probably spilling his guts right now.”
Charles jerked his chin in my direction. “What about her and the other one? Do them here or someplace else?”
“Why kill them at all?” Maria interjected.
The men looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
She shrugged. “They don’t know where we’re going or any real details. Anything this one knows,” she indicated me, “Kirk Thomas knows more, and he’s the one who’s going to talk.”
Sounded like a reasonable argument to me.
Charles looked disappointed. Gordon scowled. He went to a nearby desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a good-sized handgun. This was it. Since I wasn’t being offered a blindfold, I scrunched my eyes closed.
“Leave the other broad,” Gordon ordered. He reached down and grabbed me roughly by the arm, yanking me to my feet. “This one’s coming with me for insurance.”
I didn’t relish the idea of another road trip, especially with this bunch, but at least it meant I could live a bit longer.
We were about to pile into the service elevator when a loud noise came from outside, from above. It grew louder by the second. Charles stepped quickly to the window and looked out. Immediately, he scooted to the side of the window, with his back to the wall.
“It’s a chopper. Cops. Right overhead.”
“Can’t be,” Gordon shouted. “They’ve barely had time to get Thomas to the station.”
Gordon Harper moved to the window and looked up, then down, before he also moved away from the window. “The place is crawling with cops.”
“Grab the other broad,” he yelled to Charles, “and bring her in here. We have hostages. The cops won’t do anything stupid. If we have to, we’ll use the two of them as shields to get out of here.”
I felt like I was center stage in a rerun episode of S.W.A.T.
As Charles took off down the hall to get Lisa, the cell phone on the table vibrated. My heart about stopped. Gordon picked it up and looked at the display. His puzzled look made me think he didn’t know who was on the other end. He handed the phone to Maria.
“You answer it,” he ordered.
Maria took the phone and said a tentative hello. She listened, then said to Harper, “It’s the police. Downstairs.”
After a short pause, he took the phone from her. “What?” he shouted into it.
He listened briefly before shouting again into the phone. “They’re alive now, but they won’t be for long unless you clear out!” He snapped the phone shut.
Charles came back half-dragging a groggy Lisa Luke. He tossed her on the sofa. Lisa stirred and moaned.
“She’s too out of it to drag around,” he announced.
The phone vibrated again. Gordon looked at Charles, then Maria. “It’s not just LAPD downstairs, it’s the feds.”
“How’d they get this number?” Charles asked.
“Who gives a shit!” Gordon yelled at him. “They got it.”
He picked up the phone. “Yeah?” A short pause. “No, you listen to me. I’m getting out of here, and you’re letting me. Otherwise both of these women will be shot and dumped out the window. You want that?” He listened some more. “That’s more like it. I’m coming down. I’ll have the Stevens woman with me. When I get downstairs, I’m getting into my car and driving away. It’s that simple. Otherwise, she gets a bullet to the brain. Got it?” He hung up.
Bullet to the brain. I felt as green as Kermit the Frog.
Gordon Harper stuck the phone into his shirt pocket. We piled into the service elevator and started the trip to the ground floor, leaving Lisa behind. Gordon kept me directly in front of him and had a steel grip on my arm. The others were posted on either side of us. When the doors of the elevator opened, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The place looked the same but my personal radar was picking up on something, almost like the air in the place was charged. Gordon must have felt it, too, because behind me he stiffened and tightened his grip. Yet ahead of us, everything looked the same as when I’d arrived earlier.
We moved quickly in a single file through the maze of sewing machines, fabric presses, and rolls of material towards the small door next to the large delivery door. Charles led the way, his gun poised and ready. I followed with Gordon close behind me, still attached to my arm with a death grip. Behind him was Maria Santiago.
Gordon gave final instructions. They were to take the SUV. We’d go in the Mercedes. He said they’d rendezvous in the usual place. I didn’t know if the final rendezvous plans included me or not.
At the door, Charles unlocked it and pulled it open.
That’s when things changed.
Instead of pushing me forward behind Charles, Gordon yanked me to the side and gave Charles a shove from behind with a foot to his backside. He stumbled out the door alone. Gordon then slammed the door shut and locked it, leaving Charles virtually naked in front of the armed police squad.
I pictured Charles with his hands up, surrendering, but knew that wasn’t the case when we heard gunshots, many of them. They hit the other side of the door and wall where we were standing fast and furious, like raindrops on steroids. The three of us instinctively took a dive to the floor.
When the shooting stopped, I felt myself being tugged and pulled. It was Maria Santiago. Without a word, she gestured for me to stay down and crawl away from the door, in the direction of the front office. I didn’t know whether I should do it or not, but I sure didn’t want to stay where I was. I thought about sneaking off towards the stairs and going back to the apartment. Thoughts of barricading myself in the back bedroom with Lisa until everything was over entered my brain. But Lisa was now passed out on the couch, and by the time I moved her to safety, Gordon would have gunned us both down.
I felt Maria push me from behind. She was on her feet and had her gun still drawn, but it was not aimed at me. It was aimed at Gordon Harper, who was just now getting to his feet and hadn’t noticed it yet.
That was enough to get me moving. As Maria had directed, I started crawling off on my hands and knees, trying to get behind a nearby machine for cover as fast as I could.
“Federal agent,” I heard her say.
I poked my head up just enough to see what was going on. Maria had moved behind some large boxes, her gun still trained on Gordon Harper. “It’s over, Harper.”
Maria Santiago was a fed? An undercover federal agent?
; Gordon Harper was standing up now, leaning against the wall near a panel of switches.
“You’re shitting me. You?” The disbelief in his voice was thick and mocking. “I was sure the snitch was Charles.”
“Drop the gun and put your hands on your head.” Maria’s voice was even and controlled.
At this point, I expected Gordon to yell you’ll never take me alive, copper, and start shooting. Instead, he started to raise his hands above his head, one still holding the gun.
“Drop the gun,” Maria ordered again.
Instead, with the same speed as the earlier backhand to her face, Gordon simultaneously hit several switches on the panel, plunging the factory into darkness save for a few low-level security lights scattered throughout the place. The security lights were about as effective as the nightlight in our bathroom.
At the same time, Gordon fired his gun towards Maria. The gunshot flashed in the darkened space. She fired back. I shrunk in fright so intense I thought my hair would fall out. From Gordon’s direction came more shots, this time scattered. One of the bullets hit a box next to the machine I was behind, and I nearly fainted.
I’d been shot at before, but it’s something you never quite get used to.
Shouts from outside could be heard when the shots died down.
I didn’t know how many shots had been fired, or if any in the short barrage had come from Maria. But even if I had counted the bullets, I had no idea what type of weapons were being used. To my gun-ignorant mind, Gordon could have none, two, or one hundred bullets left.
I peeked out to see if I could make out a silhouette of Harper against the wall, but I saw none. I heard slow movement among the aisles but had no idea if it was Gordon Harper or Maria Santiago. I wasn’t about to open my mouth to find out.
Then I heard Gordon talking. “I don’t care if he’s dead. I still have the Stevens woman and that skank agent.” He must have been talking into the cell phone to the people outside.
I didn’t think the police would bust into the place as long as they thought Gordon had hostages. If they couldn’t get to me, I had to get to them, or at least to Maria. But if Maria was still near Harper and the door, there was no way I was going in that direction.
I tried to get my bearings. From the door, I knew the elevator and stairs leading to the next floor were back to my left. Based on that, I determined that the office and fitting areas of Seventh Veil would be behind me to my right. I turned on my hands and knees and headed that way, shuffling quietly along the floor as fast as the low visibility would allow, hoping the noise outside would hide any sounds I made.
The other two both knew the layout better than I did. But Maria was focused on nailing Harper, and Harper was determined to save his neck. I hoped the two of them forgot about little ol’ me until I was safely out of range.
With reduced vision, I continued my tedious way on my hands and knees, not daring to raise my head. I moved slowly in and among boxes and various garment-making equipment, often meeting dead ends and having to awkwardly turn around in the narrow spaces. The building wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either, and neither was I. From this position, in the semi-dark, with the outside noise and two guns behind me, I felt like I was crawling to Palm Springs by way of hell.
After reaching another spot that caused me to change directions, I had an idea. I groped around for something small and solid, but found nothing on the floor. I raised my hand to the surface above me, which seemed to be a small worktable, and found a heavy bottle of some kind. It felt sticky. I curled my fingers around it and brought it down to me. My nose confirmed it was glue or some type of adhesive.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened on my knees and hurled the container as far as I could in the opposite direction. It hit something with a loud bang. Although I expected knee-jerk gunfire from Gordon, all that followed was some shuffling, and again, I couldn’t tell if it was from Maria or Gordon.
I didn’t know if I was getting closer to the office area or still weaving my way through the guts of the place, and I was too scared to raise my head to find out. In the semi-darkness and confusion of the maze of aisles, it was possible that I’d gotten totally turned around and was heading back towards where I’d started, which wouldn’t be good at all.
Instead of moving farther, I tucked myself up under the small worktable, deciding to stay put for a bit. Until I knew for sure I was heading to safety and not doom, I didn’t want to proceed. There were two small boxes nearby. I pulled them in front of me as camouflage in case Harper went by on his own way out.
Except for the noise outside, which was considerable, it was deathly quiet, making me wonder if Maria had been hit in the gun battle. I strained my ears to block out the noise beyond the doors and listened for sounds of the other two.
Nothing.
I smelled it before I saw it.
Then I saw the glow of light. Small at first, but growing. Flickering against the walls and contents of the warehouse, the fire lit the darkened area.
Moving aside the boxes, I crawled from under the protective table. Even without raising my head, I could tell the fire started near the back wall between where I was squatted and the elevator. It spread rapidly, fed by fabric, glue, and other materials used to construct the elaborate costumes.
And it brought light. There was enough light now for me to peek out and see that I was nowhere near the office area, but had, as I feared, been backtracking or even circling.
Turning my head, I saw movement. It was Maria, crouched low, doing surveillance. I saw her head turn and stop, frozen, as she spotted her prey. Several yards away from her, I could see Gordon Harper’s bald pate as he moved, half upright, away from the fire. He was moving towards the bulk of the security light, in the direction of the office area.
The smoke was starting to sting my eyes and nose, and the flames were growing. With all the fabric and packing material inside the warehouse, it wouldn’t take long for the place to become an inferno.
I took a second to consider my options. If Gordon was going towards the office, there was no way I was heading in that direction. But if he was moving that way, then the door next to the loading dock would be uncovered.
I looked again for Maria. This time, she spotted me, and with a jerk of her head confirmed that I should head for the door. She took off through the maze after Harper.
The smoke from the fire was getting thicker, and the air in the close space was growing hot. Half bent over, I started to run for what I hoped would be safety but only succeeded in tripping over something in the aisle. I went sprawling, ricocheting off a heavy sewing machine before landing, one knee first, on the concrete floor. Pain shot through my knee but went ignored as a gunshot rang out and struck something near me.
As I stayed crouched, Lisa, upstairs and unconscious, came to mind. I knew there were police outside but had no idea how many. And by the time I reached them, would there be enough time for someone to get Lisa out? Cautiously, I poked my head up. As I expected, the fire was spreading fast. I estimated that if I kept down, I might be able to make it to the stairs. The elevator was out. It needed a key to open on the top floor, and often elevators shut down during a fire. And probably the door at the top of the stairs was locked.
The door to safety and resuming my wonderful life with Greg was ahead of me. The fire was behind me. Gordon Harper was somewhere to my right, and Lisa was to my left and up the stairs, the farthest away.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
But as much as I wanted to bolt for the outside door, I knew I couldn’t make my run for safety without at least trying to help Lisa.
I poked my head back up and saw no one. Maria had vacated her last spot. The smoke was making it difficult to see and breathe, and the fire only lit part of the warehouse. I pulled the neck of my sweater up over my nose and mouth. After taking note again of where the staircase was in relation to the fire, I headed in that direction. I stayed down as best I could, using the light from the fire to
make my way and hoping the smoke would cover me.
As soon as I hit the stairs, the overhead sprinklers kicked in. Soon there would be even more smoke.
I ran up the stairs as fast as my chunky legs would carry me. At the top was the door I’d seen next to the elevator upstairs—the one Maria had been fiddling with. I tried it; it was unlocked.
I dashed inside but Lisa was not on the sofa where she’d been left. Going down the hall, I found her slumped in the bathroom. I tried to get her to her feet, but she was too heavy. I dragged her into the stall shower and turned on the cold water. Aiming the shower nozzle, I hit her smack on the face with it. It roused her. Her eyes blinked several times but kept closing. I left her in the shower with the water on her and headed back into the hallway.
The smoke wasn’t as bad upstairs, but I knew it soon would be. I closed the door to the stairwell to help stem the smoke’s progress. The fire was big enough and spreading so fast that I doubted the sprinklers alone would put it out. And there was a lot of flammable material downstairs—enough to feed a family of four fires.
Unlike the warehouse, the apartment had windows. Going into the back bedroom first, I opened the sliding window. I pushed hard against the screen and kept pushing until I succeeded in pushing it out.
I yanked my sweater away from my mouth and gulped in the air. I coughed several times. Even the outside air was full of smoke.
“Help!” I yelled out the window. “Help! We’re up here.”
I grabbed a pillow off the bed and ripped the case off it. Returning back to the window, I stuck it out the window and waved and yelled. I could hear the sound of the crackling blaze.
Next, I dashed into the master bedroom and did the same. But its window didn’t overlook the large delivery area where the police were gathered.
Before going into the living room, I checked on Lisa. She was coming around, but slowly.
“Come on, Lisa. Wake up!” I shouted. I shook her and slapped her cheeks lightly. “We gotta get out of here!”
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