by Jan Burke
“Because it had blood on it,” Frank said gently.
I was a little puzzled by Frank’s tone of voice.
Just above a whisper, Bret said, “Yes.”
“Go ahead and show me the trick,” Frank said, obviously trying to distract Bret from troubling thoughts.
Bret, seeming to come out of a reverie, said, “I’d take your chains off, but Samuel is already upset with me, and he should be back soon.”
“It’s all right,” Frank said again — as if comforting Bret.
I was confused by that. Was this the “Stockholming” Cassidy had spoken of? Or was Frank trying to get Bret to drop his guard? Perhaps there was something in the drugs they were giving him that made Frank docile.
I was soon distracted by the implications of what Bret had just said. If Samuel was returning, I would need a better hiding place. But if I went down the stairs, I ran the risk of walking right into him. I looked at the pile of equipment in the corner. I might be able to hide behind some of it.
“I stand here,” Bret said, drawing my attention back to the stage. He moved to a center point behind Frank. “The audience sees me lift this drape — usually, I’d cover you with it. But since you need to see what I’m doing, I’ll remove it for now.” He pulled the drape from the front of the platform with a flourish.
Frank was on a long board, it seemed, not a table, as I had thought. The board was supported by two folding chairs. It looked pretty unstable, and I wondered if Bret was planning to injure Frank in some way.
“Watch the mirror at the front of the stage,” Bret said, then suddenly pulled both chairs away.
I drew in a breath. Frank was floating in midair.
And smiling.
“Oh, if you were part of my act, I’d ask you to be more serious than that,” Bret said, obviously enjoying himself. “This is levitation, and if my concentration is broken, you’ll fall!”
Wires, I thought, trying to see them.
Bret picked up a large hoop, passed it completely over and under Frank’s body, then, putting it over Frank’s legs, brought it to Frank’s waist. He laid it almost flat in one direction, then the other; he repeated this motion from the other direction, brought the hoop over Frank’s head and shoulders to his waist. So much for wires.
Frank was starting to laugh.
“Do you know what’s holding you up?” Bret asked.
“No,” Frank said.
“Here, give me your hand.”
Bret helped Frank to stand up. As Bret moved I could just make out some object near the platform. Frank was studying it. “Here,” Bret said, “I’ll turn the lights up.”
For a moment I feared he would come up the stairs, but he changed the lighting from the stage. In the brighter overhead light I could see that a sturdy pole was planted into the floor of the stage. The pole rose straight up, about thirty inches from the floor, then bent forward toward the audience at a right angle, forming an arm that extended parallel to the floor. This horizontal arm connected to the platform.
“See this S-shaped bend?” Bret asked, pointing to a curve in the arm.
“Yes,” Frank said. “What’s it for?”
“The hoop pass. This pole is called an S-suspension. From the audience’s point of view, when the trick begins, the platform is draped. So I move up to the pole and straddle the arm, keeping my feet together and hiding the vertical part of the pole behind my legs. As I said, usually, the drape is pulled upward and over you.”
“But once the drape is pulled up, you can’t move from the center of the platform, right?” Frank asked.
“Right. I have to stay where I am to hide the pole. So the drape is pulled up, and the chairs removed. Naturally, with the support beneath you apparently gone, the audience believes you are suspended by wires. So I pass the hoop, first from one end and then the other, using the S-bend to lay it almost flat when it’s in front of me. No wires! When I do the trick in front of an audience, I replace the chairs, then allow the drape to drop back over the front of the platform. Only then can I move away from the pole. There’s another version of this trick, where the pole is behind a curtain. In that version, I can move around. But I like this version better. I think a curtain that close to the platform is too obvious — makes the audience suspicious.”
He began showing Frank other tricks, how they were done. Although Frank was slowed by the chains between his ankles, he seemed to be enjoying the conversation. Under other circumstances they would have appeared to be friends. Frank made no attempt to overpower him, although I was fairly sure he could have.
At one point Frank said, “Why are you showing me all of this? Isn’t there some code of silence among magicians?”
“Not really. Otherwise, all the secrets would have died out with Houdini or Thurston.” Bret smiled. “Or Merlin.”
“But I’m not exactly a sorcerer’s apprentice,” Frank said.
“This isn’t really magic. It’s illusion. It requires skill and showmanship and no small amount of mechanical wizardry. And it works best if you believe in real magic.”
“Do you?” Frank asked.
“Of course. What if someone else had found us that day?”
Frank was silent.
“I want this to be a children’s theater,” Bret said. “With magic shows.”
“Then make sure you get what you want,” Frank said.
Bret shook his head.
A door burst open and Samuel came onto the stage.
“The alarm was tripped,” he said to Bret.
“I know,” Bret said.
“What do you mean?”
“It was nothing. I checked the building. No one.”
Uneasy with this discussion, I moved back to the pile of equipment.
“What do you mean, ‘no one’?” Samuel asked.
“I mean, it went off not long after you left. The point of entry was the delivery area. The entry door was secure. All the doors leading from it were locked.”
“I just checked the videotape,” Samuel said angrily.
I felt sick to my stomach.
“And?” Bret said calmly.
“And you erased part of it.”
“Yes. The lights went on in the delivery area. The cameras rolled — and recorded absolutely nothing. Is there some special reason you’d like to save a tape of an empty concrete room?”
There was a brief silence, then Samuel said, “Did you check the other parts of the building anyway?”
“Of course.”
There was another lull in the conversation, then Samuel said, “What’s he doing up here?”
“I was teaching Frank something about magic,” Bret said, then added, “You are being impossibly rude.”
“Shhh,” Samuel said suddenly.
At first I didn’t understand what was happening. Frank said, “What’s wrong?”
“Shut up!” Samuel snapped, then, in sarcastic tones, said, “Forgive me. Please listen.”
Soon I heard it, too. The unmistakable sound of a rotor blade slapping the air. A helicopter was hovering overhead.
“They’ve found us!” Samuel said. “Let’s move it.”
I heard a scrambling sound, Frank’s chains rattling. Then Bret said, “I’ll go up to the control booth to turn the board off. You take Frank.” He paused, then said,
“And, Samuel—”
“I won’t hurt him, for chrissakes. Not unless—”
“Samuel!”
“Just go. He’ll be fine. Hell, if you’re that worried about him, I’ll go up to the booth.”
“No,” Bret said, and even I heard the quickness of the reply.
There was another brief silence.
“You’ve run all the errands,” Bret said. “I can’t make you do everything for me.”
“I don’t mind,” Samuel said, all the heat gone out of his voice. “I like staying busy. You know that.”
“Yes,” Bret said. “I know. But you have plenty to do right now.”
&
nbsp; “Don’t take too long!” Samuel said.
I waited, listening, until I heard approaching footsteps. I broke out in a cold sweat, my heart hammering. I have problems with claustrophobia to begin with, but admit my fears at that moment were strictly of humans, not confined spaces. I held my breath as the door opened.
Carrying a flashlight, Bret walked quickly to the console and turned it off. The room was pitch black except for the light from the flashlight. He left it on, setting it on a corner of the black desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a key, and left it next to the flashlight. Leaving the flashlight on the desk, he walked across the room in the darkness with sure steps. At the door he paused, listened, then said, “This is not a good hiding place. Don’t try to leave the building now, though. The exterior doors are armed.” He was so quiet after that, I thought he might have left. But then I heard him say, “Sorry we didn’t get to know one another.”
The door closed, and I heard the rapid fall of his footsteps as he raced down the stairs.
37
“FOUR.”
Cassidy swore under his breath. “He’s certain?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Henry Freeman spoke into the headset, listened, then looked up at Cassidy and nodded. “Four. Three just moved out of sight. He thinks they’re in a room with a thick metal ceiling or some other shield to prevent thermal readings. Fourth is at the other end of the building.”
“Moving?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “At least they haven’t found her yet.”
“Sir, maybe it isn’t Ms. Kelly.”
“You still hanging your stocking by the chimney, Hank?”
“No, sir.”
“How are we doing otherwise?”
“The phone company has already moved to deny origination, so they don’t have a dial tone on their phones. New line will be established any minute now.”
“We have building plans yet?”
“No, sir, but they’re on the way.”
Cassidy picked up his binoculars, stared at the old theater. The metal doors were new, but everything else about it spoke of another era — the big marquee with star-shaped neon lights ascending from it; the etched glass on the box office windows; the colorful, fan-shaped entry mosaic. The word “Starlight” was spelled out in brass-outlined letters in the mosaic.
“Which end of the building did they see her in?” he asked.
Freeman called the helicopter, repeated the question.
“This end, sir. Up high.”
“Up high?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Near the projection booth, then,” Cassidy said. “Is this a movie theater?”
“No, sir,” Freeman answered. “Although it may have been at one time. The gentleman from the bookstore said there were plays performed here until the church owned it.”
Cassidy dropped the binoculars but kept watching the building.
“Sir?” Freeman said.
“When are you going to figure out that you don’t have to call me that?”
“I don’t think I can break the habit now, sir.”
Cassidy smiled. “I guess not. What’s the trouble, Detective Henry Freeman?”
“No trouble, sir. I just wanted to say that I’m glad Captain Bredloe is allowing you to handle this one.”
“Why, thank you, Hank. But we’ve got a long way to go before we feel glad about anything.”
A few minutes later Freeman said, “The phone is ready.”
“You all set up?” Cassidy asked.
Freeman nodded.
“Let’s give them a call, then.”
The phone was answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Tom. Nice to have you back.”
“Hello, Samuel. How’s it going?”
“Well, we’re not too happy. We’re cooped up in here with Detective Harriman. Our phone doesn’t work unless you call.”
“Oh, you can call me now, Samuel. It’s just that you can’t call anyone else. By the way, how did you know it was me?”
“We can see you, of course. These high-pressure tactics are upsetting us. We don’t have the man we asked for, and time is running out.”
“Our work finding your man was delayed a little. But we’ve made progress.”
“Not enough, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve pushed us now, Tom. We would have waited until Tuesday, but you’ve pushed us. We’ll just have to give Detective Harriman a little larger dose of medicine.”
“Why rush things, Samuel?”
There was a long silence. “You talk to him,” he heard Samuel say to someone else.
There was muffled conversation, then he heard a door closing. He wrote a quick note to Freeman, who radioed the helicopter.
“Hello?” a voice said on the phone line.
“Hello,” Cassidy said.
“This is Bret.”
“Hello, Bret. We haven’t spoken much. I’m Tom. How are you doing?”
“I need to convey some information to you, Detective Cassidy,” he said, ignoring the question. “Don’t allow anyone to try to enter this building. All the doors and windows are armed with explosives. We have no regard for our own lives. We’d like to allow Frank to live, but we will kill him if our single demand is not met. We have planned for this day for over a decade, so we are prepared. We would like to achieve our goals without unnecessary loss of life.”
Cassidy was silent.
Bret spoke again, his tone softer now. “Would you like to speak to Frank?”
“Yes.”
A speakerphone button was pushed.
“Tom?” a distant voice said.
“Hello, Frank. How are you?”
“I’m a little down,” Frank said.
“We’re in a basement,” Bret said. “I believe that’s what he’s trying to hint at.”
“Is Irene there with you?” Frank asked.
“She’ll be along a little later,” Cassidy said.
“He’s lying to you,” Bret said. “She’s in the building.”
“What?” Frank shouted.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” Bret said. “She’s in the building. Samuel doesn’t know. I’ve told her about the doors.”
“But Samuel could be out looking for her right now!” Frank said.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to be going now, Detective Cassidy. I’m turning the ringer off, by the way. I’ll call you a little later.”
He hung up.
“What’s the chopper say?” Cassidy said.
“Two people moving around in opposite ends of the building.”
“Stay hidden, Irene,” Cassidy said.
“Mrs. Harriman needs to talk to you,” Hank said, listening on the radio. “Says it’s urgent.”
“Mrs. Harriman?” Cassidy said, still thinking of Irene.
“Bea Harriman.”
“I can’t leave this situation to go down there and—”
“She has some people from Bakersfield with her, sir. She said to tell you she has what Hocus wants.”
Cassidy stood stock still. “Go down there and tell Mrs. Harriman — Never mind. Listen, Hank, make sure the captain is spreading word to SWAT about those entrances. Tell them about the cameras, too. I’ll take the portable phone with me.”
He walked slowly toward the group of people standing with Bea Harriman. He’d calmed himself by the time he reached them. Cecilia Parker. Nathan Cook. Gus Matthews. Bear Bradshaw.
“Y’all have a nice trip from Bakersfield?”
“You know why we’re here,” Cecilia began.
“Oh, yes, Ms. Parker, I know. And I’m surprised four law enforcement officers — retired or not — could be such damned fools. You come here with some noble intentions, I suppose, but the truth is, Frank is alive because Hocus doesn’t have what it wants. And you know we are not going to send anyone here into that building. We’d be signing your death warrant, and probably Frank’s and Irene’s at the same ti
me. We are not in the business of vigilante justice here. You give me time, and we’ll get Frank and Irene out of that building alive. Hocus will just have to accept that things are not going to happen exactly the way they wanted them to happen. It’s my job to get them to that point — peacefully.”
“But we know why they are doing this,” Cecilia began. “And we—”
“And you are going to be arrested if you try to interfere in any way. I won’t hesitate. Do you understand?”
He waited.
“We understand,” Bradshaw said. “I told you what would happen. Let’s go.”
He got angry looks from all of them. Cook and Matthews stomped off. Cecilia moved slowly, helping Bradshaw, both of them clearly as angry as the others. He didn’t care. They were a distraction he didn’t need. Only Bea Harriman stayed behind with Pete, Rachel, and Jack.
Cassidy walked back to the negotiator’s post.
“Any word?” he asked.
“No,” Freeman said. “But the drawings arrived.”
Cassidy looked back at the group. Pete Baird was walking away now.
“SWAT have copies of these, too?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cassidy unrolled the building plans, then turned to stare at Pete Baird’s retreating back. “Hank,” he said, “I want someone to watch those people. Baird included.”
“Someone is watching them, sir. We have guards—”
“No. I want our people to keep an eye on them, even if they’ve left the area. Especially if they’ve left the area.”
38
THEY PULLED INTO THE UNDERGROUND parking garage and waited.
“Excellent, Cecilia,” Nathan Cook said after a moment.
She didn’t smile until Gus said, “You’re a hell of a driver. I don’t think I could have shaken them that fast myself.”
“We might not be in the clear yet,” Bear said.
“You old hen,” Gus said. “Of course we are.”
“Having second thoughts?” Nat asked her.
“Shut up, Cookie,” Gus growled. “Don’t try to work that shit on anybody.”
“I wasn’t trying to talk her out of it, Gus,” Nat said. “I’m as determined as any of you are.”
“I doubt that,” Bear said. “Now hurry up. Who knows what they’re doing to the boy while you shoot your fancy yap off.”