by Sussman, Ben
“It’s the address John gave us,” Ashley reminded him.
“Yeah, but still,” An ambulance siren cut through the night air, startling him. As it faded, Matt focused again on the squat green building in front of him. “This isn’t one of mine.”
John’s voice crackled in Matt’s ear. “Correct. But the building behind it is.”
“So why don’t I just go through there?” Matt asked.
“Number one, because I am telling you not to. And number two, this building is unguarded and vacant. There is a window on the seventh floor that leads straight into the fire escape of the room housing the server. It will cut several minutes off of our time by having you bypass the security guards altogether. We are currently behind schedule.”
Smart, Matt had to admit to himself.
“What’s he saying?” Ashley asked Matt.
“Sorry, I forget you can’t hear him, too.” He relayed what John had told him.
“This place isn’t vacant,” she informed him. At his questioning look, she pointed to the side where two dark shapes lingered, then disappeared behind the wall.
“Maintenance people maybe?”
Ashley shook her head. “Listen,” she whispered.
Matt did as instructed, straining his ears. He heard it now, too - the steady rhythmic thumping of a bassline. “Somebody is playing music in there.”
Ashley gave him a reproachful look. “How old are you? It’s clearly an underground club.”
“Yes, clearly. And you would know this from all the underground clubs you frequent?”
“I worked in Hollywood, Matt. I’ve always been cooler than you.”
The detective’s voice came from the back seat. “She’s right. I’ve heard about them busting a warehouse down the block from here a few weeks ago.” It was the first words he had uttered to them since unwillingly joining the trio in the car.
“Thank you, Detective,” Matt grumbled, then said to the air, “John?”
“Yes?”
“This place isn’t deserted.”
“I realize that now. However, you have made it past more considerable obstacles tonight. I thought you were capable of handling this.”
Matt’s eyes began scanning the building. “I don’t see a side entrance. There’s a ladder that goes to the roofline but it starts at the third floor.” He sighed in frustration.
“Matt,” Ashley interrupted him, laying a hand on his forearm. He looked to her. “I know how to get us in.”
It had been a long time since Ashley had bothered to use her combination of looks and acting skills to charm her way past a doorman. Too long, in her mind. The idea of even trying was not something she was going to entertain. Instead, she relied on her decade-old experience of figuring out the alternative way into a chic establishment.
Matt had been skeptical at first but what choice did he have, really? Ashley convinced him that, as in the previous locations, it was best to leave Luke in the car. Matt had been more fearful this time, eyeing the detective with worry.
“There’s no way we can bring him in,” Ashley emphasized. If they were caught inside, they might have a chance to explain their presence away as a couple but never with a child. Matt reluctantly agreed, but took Larsen’s handcuffs and bound the detective’s hands as a precaution.
A few minutes later, they found themselves slinking along the back of the building, clinging to shadows.
“How do you know it will be here?” Matt asked.
“You always doubt me, don’t you, Matt?”
“Not always,” he gave a weak rebuttal.
“Matt Weatherly - the smartest person in the room at all times.”
“Is that how it seems?”
“Are we really having this talk right now?” she asked, her eyes darting behind them as a dust-covered rat scuttled across the top of a nearby dumpster.
“I don’t think I’m the smartest, Ashley,” he told her. “I just have to be the best.”
“Why?” she wondered. “The money? The prestige?”
“My son,” he said simply. “Everything I do, I do for Luke.”
Ashley paused to look back at her competitor with newfound respect. Everything she had believed about Matt had been shattered by the events of the night. Before she could ponder anything further, a loud bang ten feet away caused her to press both of them back against the wall. A pool of light appeared as a stocky Hispanic man exited a metal door and dumped a sloshing ice bucket on to the ground.
She gestured towards the door as it swung shut. “That’s what we’re looking for,” she whispered to Matt. “In every club, there has to be a back bar area to toss out the trash and bring the liquor in. Everything you need to actually turn a profit.”
Matt nodded, impressed. “You think it’s unlocked?”
“Has to be. Too many things happening for it not to be.”
“But there’s got to be workers inside there. How do we get past them?” Without shooting them, he silently added, fingering Tim the security guard’s gun that still remained wedged in his belt.
“How’s your Spanish?” she asked.
“Decent. How’s yours?”
“Excellent,” she smiled.
Twenty-Six
Larsen’s head was finally beginning to clear. The throbbing had subsided and his wits were finding their way back again. He peered through the Porsche’s window, into the shadowy alley that Matt and Ashley had gone down. There was no sign of the duo. The detective did not yet know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing for him.
“Are you feeling OK?” a small voice said from the seat beside him.
The kid.
Larsen had forgotten for a brief moment that Luke was there. He swung his eyes towards him and took a full look at the boy for the first time. In many ways, he resembled his father. Larsen’s trained eye for detail noticed the square line of the boy’s jaw that was beginning to peek through the roundness of the childhood face. The nose, ears and hair were all the same as Matt’s. Luke’s eyes, however, were his own. They were strong and clear, a bright hue of green. More than that, there was a softness that lurked behind them; one that was not present in the grown up Weatherly’s. Maybe he gets that from his mom, Larsen mused. Or maybe he just hasn’t lived enough life yet.
“I’m feeling better,” Larsen finally answered the boy. “Thanks for asking.”
Luke nodded. He reached down to pull a water bottle from the nearby cup holder and unscrewed its top to wash down a small white pill. A grimace pinched his cheeks before quickly disappearing.
“You sick?” Larsen asked him.
“Yeah. I mean, sorta. I’m supposed to take one of these every hour.”
“How come?”
“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I think after tonight I would believe just about anything.”
Luke looked away and Larsen could practically see the wheels turning in the boy’s head.
“You’re a policeman,” Luke said suddenly, locking his eyes back on to Larsen’s.
“That’s right,” the detective said.
“My dad always said that if anything was ever wrong, I could always find a policeman and tell him. It was OK to trust them.”
“Your dad is right, Luke.” This poor kid, Larsen thought to himself. He tried to imagine the absolute hell the young boy must have been put through on this day. No child should have to endure the horror of murder and he wondered if Luke had been exposed to several deaths already. He leaned forward towards the boy, lowering his voice. “Is there something you want to tell me about your dad?” he tentatively asked.
“My dad?” Luke shook his head in confusion. “He’s trying to help me.”
“It may seem that way but-”
“No,” Luke insisted.
“Luke, there are a lot of people that have gotten hurt today. Your dad might have been the one doing it.”
“You’re wrong,” Luke’s voice raised, cutting Larsen off.
“My dad is trying to help me. Help everyone.”
Now it was Larsen’s turn to look confused and Luke took note of it.
“You have to promise you won’t tell him that I know,” Luke brought his voice back down to its normal level.
“I promise, kid.”
“I can hurt people,” Luke whispered.
“You? I don’t think you could hurt anyone, Luke.”
Luke shook his head, shutting his eyes in frustration. “I can hurt a lot of people. Make them die.”
Larsen could see the boy was serious. “What do you mean?” he pressed.
“The guy – the bad one. He put something in me. Something that can make me…hurt people. My dad has been trying to stop it.”
Larsen was lost. “Trying to stop it?” he repeated.
Luke nodded. “He said he would give my dad the cure if he did.”
“Who? This ‘bad guy’?”
Luke nodded again. Larsen sat back, his thoughts churning. He was beginning to understand what the kid was talking about. It wasn’t Weatherly doing these things on his own. He was a puppet; and there was someone pulling the strings.
“My dad doesn’t know that I know. I heard him talking about it with Ashley when they thought I wasn’t listening.”
Larsen sat back up. “Luke, listen to me. We can fix this, alright? I can fix this. I promise you.”
“It’s too late,” Luke said, his voice falling back down to a whisper. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye and was quickly pushed away with the back of his hand. He looked again to Larsen with clear eyes. “I’ve gotta go.”
“What? No,” Larsen told him forcefully.
“I have to. It’s the only way I won’t hurt people. I’m going to go as far away as I can.”
“Luke, you stay in this car. You hear me? You stay right here in this car with me. Your dad and I will figure this out together. You’ve got the police here now. Everything is going to be OK.”
But Luke was already unlocking his door. He looked back to Larsen. “You’ll tell my dad I love him.” It was more of a command than a question and Larsen was rocked back by how strong the voice that said it was. The door swung open and Luke ran off into the night.
Larsen shouted after him but his voice only echoed back off the walls of the alley. After a minute, he stopped trying. He struggled against the handcuffs but succeeded only in making his wrists sore. Cursing in frustration, he kicked the seat in front of him. The interior light of the car fluttered before shutting off, casting him back in shadows.
There was nothing Larsen could do now.
Except think.
Twenty-Seven
Ashley steeled herself in front of the metal door, working through the dialogue in her mind. She had not improvised a scene in nearly a decade and, other than the cost of a retake, the stakes then were not very high if she flubbed a line. Now, however, perfection was crucial.
She cast a quick look to Matt who nodded his permission.
Here we go, she thought.
Pulling with both hands, she yanked the door open. Immediately, she began barking in Spanish.
“What the hell is going on here? Someone was supposed to meet me for the delivery and I’m standing out there in the cold.”
Four heads that had previously been bent over their scrubbing and cooking snapped in her direction.
“Do I have to do everything myself?” Ashley huffed.
Matt entered behind her, doing his best to glower while he cradled a cardboard box in his hand. Ashley impatiently waved him forward. The workers looked to each other in confusion. One of them finally stepped forward.
“We don’t know about any delivery.”
“Of course you don’t! Idiot!” She brushed by him and made her way towards a bank of stairs at the far end of the room. “Stay out of my way and let me do what I’m supposed to.” She met Matt and hurried up the steps with him closely on her heels, leaving the hushed murmurs of the kitchen staff in their wake.
“How long do you think we’ve got?” Matt asked her.
“I’d guess about five minutes. Ten max.”
“Better hustle then.”
They quickened their pace, arriving at the second floor. The stairway ended at a rickety landing that faced a door propped open on rusty hinges. Variegated lights pulsated beyond. Matt crept forward to peek around the corner. Looking back to Ashley, he whispered, “There’s a catwalk to the other side. I see another stairway over there.”
With Ashley following, the pair moved through the doorway. Their senses were assaulted instantly. The blaring beat of techno music struck their ears like slaps while the strobing lights threatened to blind them. Hurrying across the swaying catwalk, Matt glanced down to see an ocean of writhing bodies, their images flashing, then disappearing between the bursts of light. He noted a grouping of tables behind velvet ropes, crowded with people hunkered over their glass surfaces.
They reached the opposite doorway and passed through it, leaving the cacophony behind. Spotting the new stairway, Matt guided Ashley towards it. Taking the steps two at a time now, they bounded up to the seventh floor. A large metal exit door stood before them. Matt placed his hand on the bar across it and pushed, saying a silent prayer of thanks when he found it unlocked. As Ashley moved forward, though, he suddenly stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The door,” replied Matt.
“What about it? It opened,” she said with a hint of annoyance.
“Yeah, too easy. If this place is supposed to be abandoned, it should practically be rusted shut. Just like the back there that was propped open.”
“We really don’t have time to analyze this right now, Matt,” she reminded him, stealing a look at her watch.
“Right, sorry.” He stalked forward into darkness. Their heels tapped across a cement floor. Matt’s eyes frantically tried to adjust to the lack of light.
“There,” Ashley said, touching his arm and pointing so he could see. At the far end of the room was a small window riddled with cracks. They rushed to it, Matt instantly feeling his way along its edges for a handhold. His fingers found purchase on the bottom and he pulled upwards.
“It’s locked,” he told Ashley. His eyes strained in the dimness to see the lock. “Any light would help.”
“Let me see what I can do.” Ashley inched her way along the shadow-splashed wall, using her hands to guide her. As she hit the corner of the room, a cold metal box with a plastic switch in its center materialized beneath her palm. “Here we go.” She flicked the switch up with her fingernail. Fluorescent bulbs crackled and hummed above before popping to life.
Matt immediately found the rusted lock at the side of the window sill. He reached for it just as Ashley gasped behind him.
“What is it?” he asked, spinning around. Ashley was staring wide-eyed at a group of metal shelves that extended from the floor to the ceiling. Matt followed her gaze to one nearby, where the shelf was lined in brick-sized bundles tightly wrapped in brown paper and cellophane. She plucked one of them off, hefting it in her hands.
“If this is what I think it is, we’d better hurry.”
“What do you mean?”
Ashley pierced the cellophane with an immaculately painted fingernail and stabbed it through the paper. As she withdrew it, a fine white powder leaked out and sifted on to the floor. “For the party downstairs,” she whispered.
Matt’s eyes snapped back to the shelves. Dozens of bricks stared back at him. Turning his neck to the opposite side of the room, he saw a mirror image of more shelves lined with similar bundles.
“John,” Matt hissed into the microphone clipped to his shirt.
“Yes?” the voice instantly answered.
“There’s a little bit of a problem.”
“I assume you are referring to the several million dollars’ worth of cocaine you just discovered.”
“Exactly.” Before Matt could say anything else, a sound caught his attention.
<
br /> Feet pounding up the stairs.
Ashley heard it too, tossing the brick aside and hurrying with Matt to the window. Her fingers joined Matt’s in tugging at the rusted lock. Nervous sweat made the job more difficult.
The footsteps were accompanied by urgent voices now, shouting. A small group was about to burst through the door any second.
At last, the window’s lock gave way under a strong tug from Matt. He yanked open the window, crisp night air streaming in.
BOOM!
The door behind them flew off its hinges. Four shadowy figures streamed through in its wake. Guns blazed fire in their hands.
Matt tackled Ashley down to the ground, bullets pocking the wall where she stood only a millisecond before. They took shelter behind one of the large metal racks, as Matt peeked around the corner. A quartet of young men in street clothes were across the room, lowering their guns. The assault paused momentarily, replaced by the ‘ka-chuck’ of new rounds being smacked into place.
The attackers stalked forward slowly and methodically, knowing their prey was cornered.
A desperate idea blossomed in Matt’s head.
“When I tell you to,” he whispered to Ashley, “run towards the window. You’re going to have to jump to make it to the fire escape.” She inclined her head in assent.
Raising himself on to his haunches, Matt placed his shoulder against the lower half of the metal rack. With a forceful heave, he levered against the rack. It tipped forward. Instantly, a chorus of urgent Spanish voices began shouting.
“Now!” Matt shouted to Ashley.
She streaked towards the window as, behind her, the rack groaned and toppled to the ground. A colossal cloud of white exploded into the air as the bricks burst upon impact with the cement floor.
Ashley’s sprinted to the window sill and propelled herself off of it, making the short jump to the fire escape across the way. The rusty metal took her weight grudgingly, swaying with the impact but holding firm. She turned to see Matt leaping across the chasm, legs stretching forward to catch the edge of the metal grate. Heart in her throat, she suddenly had the realization that he would not make it. She stepped out as far as she could and extended her arm out from the fire escape.