Trick Turn

by Tom Barber

  ‘Stop there,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry,’ she called.

  ‘Everyone take a couple minutes, then reset to the start of Abigail’s false possession. We’ll run the rest of the Act and then break for lunch. We do it until we make it through. Max, pull your pants up,’ he called to one of the boy actors, who was standing at the back of the set. ‘This is 17th Century Boston, not a skate park at the mall.’

  Chalky smiled as the kids separated, some of them going offstage to get water or a snack, but he wasn’t taking his attention off Issy. She was looking out into the auditorium and when she caught sight of him, he gave her a thumb’s up. She gave a brief wave back but stayed where she was.

  The bright lights illuminating the stage made it impossible to hide emotion. Throughout her performance, Chalky could detect hints of real fear.

  ‘Are there blocks?’ he asked the director, keeping his voice low.

  ‘Emotional, you mean?’

  Chalky nodded. ‘With her.’

  ‘Yes. There are with almost anybody. Emotions make you vulnerable, and they can be hard to control, especially for the young. People tend to suppress them. But in here, you need to learn to let them out. Be free. Own yourself, and the stage. Did you ever act, Officer?’

  ‘Played an innkeeper in a nativity once.’ He looked at the edges of the stage and the front row seats ahead, and noticed some of the other kids talking quietly. Someone among them had made that drawing of Isabel bleeding at the carnival last night.

  Luckily they didn’t know that had only been attempt one of two.

  If the parents of these kids knew someone had turned the girl’s bed into a Venus flytrap, he had a feeling a lot of these children wouldn’t be on stage today.

  At the Bureau, Shepherd’s team had split into three pairs, and were each watching shots from the sides of 38th Street, Steinway and 37th respectively, on laptops Ethan had retrieved from downstairs. Archer and Vargas were focusing on the feed on 38th; having sat through the sped-up last few hours of video from today, which they’d run from 8am, they were now studying the footage from the previous day and night. The time on fast forward rolled on to 8pm; although they’d stopped it several times, none of what they’d seen had led to anything.

  Then they both saw Vargas’ car turn the corner off 30th Avenue and move down the street, officers from the 114th Precinct following them down, the extra security requested by the CT Bureau for the night to watch the building.

  ‘That’s when we got back from here, after talking with the guy from the Newton carnival,’ Archer said. ‘Damn it.’

  ‘You guys seeing anything?’ Marquez asked the others.

  ‘Just a lot of random people,’ Ledger said, watching the Steinway monitor with Josh, who had pen and paper to hand, ready to write down timestamps for anyone who caught their eye. The paper was blank. Shepherd and Marquez were studying 37th Street and their search was proving just as fruitless. ‘There’s a blind-spot near the apartment too.’

  ‘And we’ve got no description of our knife thrower or flytrap builder,’ Josh added. ‘We don’t even know who we’re looking for. Or if it’s a team, not just one person.’

  ‘Then we need to go through the feeds again until we scope anything unusual,’ Marquez said.

  ‘It’s wasting time, Lis,’ Josh said.

  ‘It’s all we have right now.’

  ‘This person isn’t just gonna walk down the street carrying a rack of knives,’ he replied. ‘If it’s the same asshole, he managed to throw a blade at Issy in a crowd. But so far, we haven’t managed to get single description of a possible suspect from anyone, despite that.’

  ‘He’s not invisible.’

  At their laptop, Vargas frowned and wound her tape back with Archer, double-checking something. She went to 7:23pm, and ran it, Archer glancing at her then at the tape.

  A minute or so later, they both watched a tall figure moving down the street, his back to the camera, a brown grocery bag under his arm.

  They had an adjacent feed for the other end of the street, but the man didn’t come out the other side.

  ‘Can we get a front shot of this guy?’ Archer asked Ethan, who moved from his seat to see the timestamp. ‘From when he turned onto the street.’

  Ethan pulled up a corner camera looking down 30th and they saw the figure.

  Very tall, wearing a ball cap and with aviator shades over his eyes.

  ‘We ran the tape on for another thirty minutes,’ Archer said. ‘He’s not appearing the other side of the street or coming back down to 30th.’

  ‘Someone you recognise?’ Shepherd asked Vargas. ‘A neighbor?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Could be staying with someone on the block, or a new renter.’

  ‘I can keep running the tape,’ Ethan said. ‘Check again and see if he reappears.’

  ‘We already did that,’ Archer said. ‘He didn’t.’ Confused, he rewound it to when police had pulled up on the block, less than ten minutes after Issy had almost been killed in the bed. He and Vargas both looked at the flashing lights, the people passing down the street stopping to see what was going on, residents from the building appearing and being asked questions.

  They continued to watch, the tape speeding on throughout the night.

  The tall figure didn’t reappear at either side of the street.

  ‘He might be in bed at this time, asleep,’ Shepherd said, having come over to look.

  ‘Or what if it was him and he hadn’t left Alice’s building yet?’ Archer said quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Marquez asked.

  He paused, thinking. ‘We got back not long after he walked down the street, and the 114th arrived to post people front and back on the building, at our request, after the knife throw on Long Island.’

  ‘OK,’ Shepherd said.

  Archer pointed at the screen, speeding onwards, no sign of their guy re-emerging. ‘Just an idea. But say that man picked the locks on Alice’s apartment and snuck inside? He set up the bed but ran out of time and got trapped; maybe he was in the building all night? That’s why we’re not seeing him walk out.'

  The detectives looked at him, as the camera footage on the screens remained frozen.

  The time ticked on now towards 8am, people leaving apartments as they walked either up or down the street.

  But the tall individual wasn’t one of them.

  He hadn’t reappeared.

  NINE

  In Chelsea, break-time was almost over, the courtroom resetting to complete the rest of the act. As everyone was getting back in position, Issy saw Chalky come down the aisle towards the stage and quickly moved over to meet him.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘Any good?’

  ‘You kidding? You never told me you could act. Thought I was watching Demi Moore there for a while.’

  ‘Who’s Demi Moore?’

  ‘Are you serious? Now I feel old.’

  ‘You are old.’

  ‘I’m thirty one.’

  ‘Like I said, old,’ she relied, grinning up at him.

  ‘Places!’ Pete called, the young actors and actresses hustling back onto the stage.

  ‘You feeling alright?’ Chalky asked Isabel, just before she turned to leave.

  She nodded. ‘I’m fine. Sorry this is how you’re spending your vacation, man.’

  ‘I’m enjoying it. Finish this off and we can get lunch together.’

  She smiled and as she scuttled back to her position in the courtroom scene, Chalky turned and walked back up the aisle. As he went, he scanned the theater once again, making sure no-one had snuck in while he’d been distracted. Satisfied there was no-one else in the seats aside from Pete the director, he withdrew a burner phone the NYPD team had loaned him, Shepherd thinking it would be easier to get in contact using that rather than having to call his UK cell.

  There were no messages or missed calls. If he was in their shoes, he wouldn’t be wasting time keeping him in the loop e
ither; he’d be head down with his team.

  He settled back into his seat, and watched the kids pick up where they left off.

  Hopefully the NYPD team were getting somewhere with a lead.

  Acting on Archer’s suspicion, Vargas, Marquez, Shepherd and Archer had left the CT Bureau and just pulled up outside Alice’s apartment building in one of the Bureau’s 4x4 Fords. A female NYPD officer and her partner from the 114th Precinct were stationed outside and walked over to meet them.

  ‘CSU cleared outta here around ten thirty this morning,’ the female officer informed them after they explained who they were. ‘We’ve been interviewing neighbors in case they saw anything. People in every apartment have been spoken to, but nothing suspicious reported.’

  ‘What about the basement?’ Archer asked. ‘Anyone check down there?’

  ‘Night guys might’ve done,’ her partner replied. ‘Not sure. We spoke to the super earlier this morning and he said it’s just used for storage.’

  ‘So room to hide?’ Marquez asked.

  ‘Yeah. I guess.’

  As the officer was talking, a car pulled up behind them and a man stepped out, giving Vargas a nod.

  ‘That’s the super,’ Vargas said.

  ‘I’ll talk to him,’ Shepherd said briskly, then turned to his three detectives. ‘Check it out but be careful. Whoever’s doing this has tricks up his sleeve.’

  Using Vargas’ key to enter the building, the trio drew their sidearms and moved to the stairs, going down towards the basement. Vargas took point, and reached for the door handle, but Archer suddenly caught her arm. They made eye contact and he shook his head; holstering his Sig for a moment, he took out his cell, Marquez behind him.

  Could be booby-trapped, he typed onto the screen, showing it to both women. They nodded, each recalling in vivid detail the flytrap laid in Issy’s bed upstairs. Archer pointed above the door, mouthing around back, and the three of them went quietly back up the stairs before exiting the building, looping around down a narrow alley.

  There were closed metal storm shutters at the rear of the apartment building, and the three detectives knelt down beside them, Shepherd joining them moments later with the super, who’d followed the police team. ‘You got a key for this?’ Archer asked the super quietly. The man nodded, withdrawing a set and selecting one.

  He stepped forward, but Archer caught him.

  ‘I’ll do it. Better stand back.’

  He nodded and everyone moved back out of the way as Archer positioned himself to the side and tried the key in the lock. It fit. Keeping well over to the left, Archer carefully eased up the left shutter, which came away easily and without incident. He cut over to the other side and did the same with the right.

  Archer pulled his Sig again and took point, edging his way down the steps, Vargas, Marquez and Shepherd following with the two 114th cops who’d joined them, curious to see what was going on.

  The basement was pretty dark, but sunshine from the open storm shutters provided sufficient light to allow them to see. Through the sights of his pistol, Archer scanned the lowest level of the building, listening for any indication they weren’t alone.

  After a moment, he was satisfied no-one was down there.

  However, there were signs that someone had been recently. A small wastepaper can stood in the middle of the space; when he walked over to check it, Archer saw it contained burned cinders of both brown and white paper, along with what was left of the packaging for the springs that had snapped the bed shut with so much force. An empty bottle of lighter fluid was also dumped beside the can.

  He looked up and saw the smoke alarm had been pulled apart, allowing whoever had been down here to burn whatever it was they’d wanted to dispose of.

  ‘You were right, Sam,’ Marquez muttered, joining him by the trash bucket after they’d cleared the rest of the basement, making sure no-one was lurking in the shadows.

  ‘How long could he have been down here?’ one of the 114th officers asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Archer replied quietly. He looked at the can. ‘But I think he was hiding when officers arrived last night and decided to destroy any evidence. Wouldn’t want to get caught with anything that could incriminate him when he walked out.’

  He knelt to get a close look at the pieces of wrapper. Inside, he also found a twisted, melted ID card.

  ‘Eisenhower Park ID,’ he read, seeing the edge of the lettering. ‘Groundskeeper.’

  Vargas swore. ‘That’s how he got inside yesterday,’ she said, looking at the card but not touching it. ‘We need to check their employees.’

  ‘Looks like he was down here for a few hours, at least,’ Shepherd said.

  Archer looked at the shelves, noting a couple of lighter fluid cans among others filled with paint and other supplies. ‘He took advantage of what he found, then must’ve snuck out when he saw a chance.’

  ‘Did you have people watching the back last night?’ Shepherd asked the 114th officers.

  ‘We were more focused on the street. Someone could’ve slipped away, I guess.’

  ‘Ledger said there was a blind-spot in the Steinway cameras,’ Marquez noted. ‘Could’ve been how whoever was down here got out without being seen.’

  Beside the can, Vargas’ attention was drawn by a piece of singed paper, which looked as if it had floated down to the floor a few feet away. She knelt, not touching it, but looked closer.

  ‘It looks like a schematic,’ she said quietly. ‘Check it out.’

  The edge of the paper was blackened, but the three of them could make out two and a half words.

  …age Right Exit.

  Vargas looked at Archer in horror, recognising what the first cut-off word was.

  Stage Right Exit.

  It was the map for a theater.

  TEN

  Five minutes earlier, the kids at the Chelsea performing arts school had managed to get through the 3rd Act with a few prompts but no derailments and had just broken for lunch. They’d brought their own food with them, and had all headed to the cafeteria to eat it. ‘Don’t want them making a mess in the theater,’ Pete told Chalky, who nodded, seeing Isabel take a seat with some of the other kids. A guard was watching them from across the room and made eye contact with Chalky, a hostile expression on his face. ‘Guess he doesn’t like to feel babysat,’ Pete added, who’d noticed the look.

  Chalky smiled. The man was clearly unimpressed with his presence. ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Does he know what you’re all up against?’

  ‘None of us do, for sure,’ Chalky said. ‘Just that there’s an increased threat. I’m going to do a round of the site. He’ll keep an eye out while they’re eating lunch.’

  ‘I’ll be here too,’ Pete said. ‘See you in a few minutes, Officer.’

  Chalky nodded then walked out of the cafeteria, looking left and right down the empty main hallway of the school. He went towards the front entrance and found one of the guards sitting on a chair in an alcove, picking at his fingernails. He glanced up when Chalky arrived, but much the same as his colleague in the cafeteria, didn’t seem to care much for the British cop’s presence at the school today, judging by the expression on his face. ‘All’s fine.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Lucky you’re here, Prince Harry. Checking up on us, and all.’

  Ignoring the comment, Chalky glanced at the pistol on the guard’s hip, feeling vulnerable without one himself. The guy was testy but Principal Del Pasio had mentioned the men on the security team came from a quality service, some of them ex-cops. However, he’d seen for himself more than once how stress and fear could freeze a person up; the only way to condition yourself against that happening was good training and in-field experience. Chalky just hoped these guards had had it in case it was needed.

  He went on up a flight of stairs and checked the upper floor, seeing the classrooms and rehearsal rooms were empty. Instruments were packed in cases, additional pianos covered by she
ets like the one downstairs in the wings, each room with a blank whiteboard and polished floors.

  ‘We were talking about you, you know,’ the girl playing Abigail said to Isabel, inside the cafeteria. She’d established herself as one of the cooler kids in the summer ensemble and Issy had never taken to her. She also sensed the girl was increasingly hostile today, guessing that was down to the extra attention she was receiving from Pete, the guards and with Chalky being there. ‘Before you arrived this morning.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘We heard someone tried to kill you yesterday at a carnival.’

  Isabel didn’t reply. She felt the other girls’ eyes on the marks on her forearms, and slid them off the table to rest her hands on her lap.

  ‘My mom said your whole family died when you were younger and that you only just escaped. And people have tried to kill you again and again. Maybe you’re meant to die.’

  ‘Don’t be so mean, Britney,’ another girl said.

  ‘Shut up, Monica. If so many people keep trying to kill you, you must be a bad person. Maybe you should let them,’ the girl continued spitefully. ‘Maybe you should just kill yourself and get it over with. Did you see the drawing we left you?’

  Isabel felt her lip threaten to tremble, and tears well in her eyes, the other kids looking at her but not daring to go against the lead girl, who was smiling, seeing her words had affected Issy.

  ‘I need to go…practice…my lines,’ Isabel muttered, rising and leaving the group, several tears spilling down her face as she turned away, leaving her lunch uneaten.

  The guard saw her rise and moved away from his position, following her.

  Upstairs and across the school, Chalky had checked out all the upper floors and was now on the second floor of the west side of the building.

  He was about to turn back down the corridor when he noticed a stain on the floor in the classroom to his right.

  He stopped mid-step.

  It was a red smear.

  Wet.

  Recent.

  He looked at the stain, then instantly focused on the rest of the room. Windows across the room were open, and he saw the rooftop of the adjacent building was less than six feet away.