Eldorado (24 page)

He approached warily, venturing only close enough to convince himself that it was the location Keller had described. When he was confident he had the right place, he moved back well out of view.

He decided that the best plan was to find an empty building close by, if possible, from which to observe the complex. Desperate as he was to act, he knew well enough that throwing his own life away wouldn’t help Danny or anybody else. He would use whatever street smarts he had picked up over the past week and a half to his best advantage. He prayed that those meager skills would be enough.

He found a building with a commanding view. Its windows were all shattered, its brick facade crumbling. Mildew, moss, and even small plants crowded its many cracks and crevices. It looked rough enough to be unoccupied, but solid enough to bear his weight. He hid his bike behind some debris on the bottom floor and carefully picked his way through the darkness. Much of the roof and parts of intervening floors had collapsed, allowing moonlight and starlight inside. He found some stairs and made his way up to what was left of the roof. After gingerly crawling to the very edge of a narrow concrete lip that ran around the perimeter, he peered through the darkness at the site below.

There were two guards patrolling. For the most part, they confined their rounds to the area around the gate, though occasionally one would break off and stroll around the perimeter. He studied the fence. The chances of climbing it without being spotted were slim. The chances of climbing it without making enough noise to attract attention were zero.

He examined the area to the left of the site. An aging, broken-down brick building, not unlike the one on which he was perched, stood right next door. It was three stories tall, and looked as if it could collapse at any moment. A section of wall at the far end was already crumbling. There was no light in any of the windows.

He studied the black rectangular blotches marking entrance ways along the front of the structure. The most distant was well away and hidden from the guards’ view. The nearest wall of the building actually bordered on the wire fence of the complex; there weren’t more than a couple of yards between them. He followed the wall all the way to the back. His pulse quickened as his gaze settled on a landmark that might be the key to getting inside.

He made his way back out, turned down an alley and headed for the brick apartments, continuing for two blocks to approach from the side farthest from the guards.

He soon reached the target doorway. An old metal door still hung on its hinges, but the lock had long since been broken. The interior was dark, lit only by the stray light from occupied buildings nearby. The place was filthy and deserted, and stunk of urine and rotting garbage. He made his way through a debris-scattered hallway in the direction of the compound, searching for a staircase.

At the center he found some stairs that looked usable and began his ascent to the roof. Reaching the first landing, he caught sight of a movement out of the corner of his right eye. He turned and was confronted by an old man in rags, bathed in a shaft of light from the street. The man’s yellow-gray hair was matted and filthy. A cloud of glittering dust particles danced in the beam of light that illuminated his wild black eyes – eyes that blazed with pure madness.

The man let out a yelp when he saw Richard, and immediately began screaming, “This is my house! Get out of here! You don’t belong here!” The old man rushed toward him with his hands raised, but Richard stepped out of the way and hurried past him and up the stairs.

The man turned and followed, all the while screaming hysterically. Richard tried to open the distance between them, but his pursuer was surprisingly quick on his feet. Richard prayed that the screams wouldn’t draw the attention of the guards next door.

When he reached the top floor the old man was still in pursuit, but losing steam. Richard flew down a hallway, dodging debris, and at the end found a doorway with an intact door under an old sign-box. He guessed that the box had once pointed to an emergency exit. Rushing through the door he found himself on a landing full of broken up desks, chairs, and light fixtures. He jammed a chair against the stub of the door-handle and made for a staircase on the far side.

Seconds later a pair of fists pounded on the other side of the door. As he climbed the stairs he could still hear the fading screams of the old man, “I know you’re in there! Come out and take what’s coming to you!”

The stairway terminated in a small open space. There was only one tiny window, but he could dimly make out a steel ladder running up to the ceiling. He could no longer hear the old man, who must have given up and gone elsewhere. Richard climbed the ladder and soon reached a trap-door. Like the rest of the building, its latch was in bad repair; a couple of careful bashes with his shoulder were enough to break it open.

He lifted the hatch covering and emerged onto the roof, crawling across the moss-speckled gravel and peering over the edge. Both guards strolled around their respective sections of the complex with a bored, shuffling gait.

The hatch was about half-way from the front of the building. He crawled across the flat roof toward the back, and within a few minutes had reached the farthest corner.

At close range, he studied the prospect he’d identified from his perch on the other building. Solidly between the ledge where he now crouched and the wire fence surrounding the complex stood a huge chestnut tree. Some of its upper branches arched to within a few feet of the roof; others hung down over the wire fence to within easy jumping distance of the ground inside. The tree was almost totally cloaked in darkness.

He scanned the area below. There was the question of how he would escape, in the unlikely event that he actually achieved his goal and made it inside. His only option would be to scale the fence. There was an acceptable risk he could climb it and find a hiding place in a nearby abandoned building.

From his original vantage point, the nearest branch had appeared to be almost touching the roof. The distance was really more like two or three feet, and that branch was another foot or two below him. The good news was that the branches were massive, easily able to support his weight.

He located the best prospect, a massive, broad limb near the back, well obscured from the guards. It was close enough for him to reach, and bushy enough to provide a reasonable landing pad. He waited until the closest guard was a maximum distance away and had his back turned.

Crouching, teetering on the ledge, he said a silent prayer and launched himself into the air. As he landed, the ribs on his right side struck a projecting limb and the impact nearly knocked the wind out of him. He lay for several minutes, clinging to his perch, shaking and gasping for breath. With a sense of dread he peered through a gap in the intervening branches. To his relief, both guards continued undisturbed on their monotonous rounds.

He made his way down, using branches for a ladder, and found a suitable one for his descent – long and sturdy, passing well over the topmost wires. Its farthest extent hung close to the ground, hidden behind another tree and out of sight of the guards.

He crawled out, balancing on a narrow, slippery foundation still at least fifteen feet from the ground. There were no side-limbs for support, and the slightest shift in balance could send him plummeting to the ground.

About half-way along some branches finally appeared, but now there was a new problem. His weight caused the limb to bend and, even worse, bounce. Not only did the movement make it difficult to hold on, but it was likely to catch the attention of the guards. He was forced to move with painful slowness to minimize the effect. His muscles ached from the constant effort, and the pain was fast becoming unbearable. By the time he reached the end of the branch it was bowing severely, and he feared it would break. His final challenge was to make the leap to the pavement below.

He slid his body between two of the larger side-limbs until he hung by his arms. The branch bounced as he changed positions, and the pain in his muscles was excruciating. He guessed that his feet were dangling close to the ground, but couldn’t be sure.

Finally he just let go – he didn’t have the strength to hang on any longer. His feet touched the ground with what he dared to hope was a barely audible tap. He quickly caught the tip of the branch as it sprang back, slowly controlling its return to its original position.

He crawled into the shadows and lay there, getting his breath and studying the closest guard who, to his relief, showed no interest in his hiding place. He had broken into Crack’s lair – there was no turning back now. His muscles were on fire and his body shook as he considered what to do next.

From the darkness he surveyed the main building, which he assumed was his ultimate goal. The layout offered no cover. He would have to make for the doorway exposed not only to the guard by the gate, but anybody else who might be wandering around. He wished he’d spent more time studying the area.
Where was the door, exactly? How many windows were there and what were their positions?
It was too late now. Only fate and an incredible quantity of luck would help him now.

The closest wall was blanketed in shadow. He studied the nearest guard, who clearly had a routine of patrolling –
something else I should have worked out before I got into this, he thought
.

For several minutes he studied the guard. An out-building stood at farthest right-hand corner of the complex, and the guard passed behind it and out of sight for several seconds as part of his patrol.

Richard began counting silently as soon as the guard disappeared –
one, two three…
, and stopped when the guard came into view.
Twenty seconds, he thought.
I’ve got twenty seconds to get to the wall, move to the front of the building, find the door, and get inside.

From his estimate of the distance to the building and what he could remember about the position of the doorway, he concluded that he could make it. The moment the guard disappeared, Richard took a deep breath, and sprinted for the wall and its comforting shadows. He moved along it, his body pressed flat against the concrete. Within fifteen seconds he was at the corner and ready to make a dash for the door.

He poked his head around and his heart stopped – no more than a couple of yards away a man stood smoking a cigarette. Incredibly, the man had his back turned and hadn’t heard him. Richard immediately drew back. In seconds the guard would emerge from behind the out-building. There was only one choice. He moved back along the wall the way he’d come and waited, frozen against it in the shadows, willing himself invisible.

Right on schedule, the guard moved back into view, and strolled casually to the center of the gate opening. Richard thought his heart would explode when the guard stopped and peered in his direction. For several terrifying seconds the guard stood staring. Finally he turned and continued on his way.

Now Richard was trapped. He couldn't move while the guard was in view. He was forced to wait until the guard turned and passed again behind the out-building. Only then did he dare try again for the building’s door – and even then the smoking man might still be there.

The guard returned and passed without stopping. As soon as he was out of sight, Richard edged back to the corner. He listened for any sign of the smoking man, but heard nothing. In the end, he had no choice but to poke his head around again to check.

The man was gone. The door was a couple of yards away. His heart thumping against his rib-cage, Richard rushed around the corner, tested the handle of the door and exhaled deeply finding it unlocked. He plunged through it and into the building.

In the distance he heard echoing voices. He followed them down a dark hallway with doors on either side, probably offices back in the days when the building actually housed a business. The hallway angled to the left and the voices grew louder. It straightened again. The voices were very clear now.

He peeked around the corner. The hallway ran for about thirty feet before opening into an open expanse. Whoever was talking was there, but out of his sight. Near the end, on the left, was a single door. He made for it and, checking underneath, saw no light. He turned the handle and pushed it open. It didn’t make a sound. He slipped into the darkness and shut the door behind him.

When he turned he staggered back in shock. The wall separating him from the area where he’d heard the voices was made almost entirely of glass. He was a single step away from exposure to those in the next room. Shaking, he flattened himself against the wall. By chance he was hidden from whoever was on the other side, but one of them could move at any moment.

On the other hand, the window gave him an excellent view of his quarry. He’d never met Crack; the only way he could hope to identify the gangster was by watching his interaction with others around him. He listened to the conversation for a few minutes, and decided that the speakers were somewhere just beyond the right extent of the window.

The window stopped a few feet from the floor. He crawled to the far left corner, keeping below the glass. The only light in the room was a dim glow from the open area. His heart pounding, he backed into the shadows well away from the glass and slowly lifted his head above the bottom ledge. Trembling with fear and rage, he peered out of the darkness at the men he believed had kidnapped Danny.

The office where he sat had been designed to afford a view of a workspace for what was probably once a light-industrial business. The remains of work benches were still piled against one of the walls, and some machines, whose original function he could only guess, lay broken here and there.