The Boy from Left Field (12 page)

Trapped by the Rippers

Hawk scampered across the street, just as two cars appeared suddenly at the next intersection and headed in his direction.
Could one of the gangs be prowling in the area?

The boy hurled himself forward, the baseball cap vanished and a big section of the patchy shop window swung back, making a convenient doorway. Hawk staggered in as the panel closed behind him. He blinked and looked around.

“I was sure you’d make it,” Panny said. “I told the boys you would.”

She was standing behind a couple of card tables that had been set up in the middle of a dreary room. Two portable lanterns sat on the tables, casting a spooky light on the maps, charts, notebooks, cellphones, walkie-talkies, and flashlights arranged there.

“Welcome to the Schiller Bunker,” Martin said as he fastened the front panel and stepped forward to kick at a stray piece of glass.

“He gets to name it because he found it,” Albert said. “Can you believe that he and his friends used to explore these buildings? You must have been desperate for play space,” he added, shaking his head at Martin. He turned and winked broadly at the still-dumfounded Hawk.

The corners of the “bunker” were littered with junk — old metal, broken signs, rusted-out paint cans and tools, and a couple of frayed blankets lying among the broken glass, where it looked as if a homeless person might recently have slept.

“No, we didn’t kick out some poor street person,” Albert said, reading Hawk’s thoughts.

“I hope there aren’t any rats around,” Hawk said.

“The rats are in the warehouse nearby,” Panny said. “Or they soon will be. And when we hear from Elroy, we’ll go rescue him.”

Panny smiled, took a dog biscuit from a box, and held it out for Chew-Boy, who had crawled out of one of the dark corners to greet Hawk. “This is a dump all right,” she said, with a glance at her watch. “Actually, the only reason I’m letting Chew-Boy run around is to keep the real rats away. I can’t stand rats!”

She made a face and added, “But this a good place for us to work from. And now it’s time to get down to business.”

Hawk played with Chew-Boy for a minute while Panny continued her explanation. “It’s seven-fifteen right now,” she told them. “In a minute I’ll send the first text messages to reassure our parents.”

“Don’t bother with my aunt,” Martin said. “She doesn’t text and she won’t even notice that I’m still out.”

Panny shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. Messages to my parents, to Albert’s, and to Hawk’s dad. Also a preliminary message to Albert’s cousin, the police officer, just so he knows that we’re up to something. But don’t worry, I’ll keep it low-key so he doesn’t start searching for us. If he arrives too soon, our plan will be spoiled and Elroy could be in a mess.”

“Suppose the Rippers have planned their robbery for the middle of the night,” Hawk put in. “No matter what you tell them, all of our parents will go nuts waiting for us.”

“It can’t be the middle of the night,” Panny said. “They’re meeting Elroy very soon and they’ll tackle the job just after they meet, I’ll bet. They’re not so dumb as to break in just when the watchmen and cops are most expecting break-ins.”

She was already busy texting messages and in a very few moments had finished. “Now we have to wait for Elroy. It’s all set up — all he has to do is press a button to dial my cell. He doesn’t have to say a word. When I see the right number in front of me, I’ll know he’s in the warehouse and they’re ready to start hauling away the O’Boyle loot.”

“I just wish I knew what that loot was,” Albert said. “Must be some kind of jewellery … or gold maybe, or a Picasso painting. Judges can afford to buy that stuff.”

Hawk, who’d been bursting with his news, spoke up. “It’s none of those. I know exactly what they’re after. Mr. Rizzuto and I have been chasing it all along. Now I just talked to him and he told me that he found out that Mr. Big has been chasing down the same thing. And it’s not jewellery, or gold, or any kind of painting. It’s something even better. It’s the baseball Babe Ruth hit for his first home run!”

The kids gaped at Hawk, then glanced, astonished, at one another. The filthy, half-wrecked room was suddenly silent. Then Martin Schiller pursed his lips and let out an amazingly loud whistle, one that seemed to shake the dust and cobwebs in every corner.

“The baseball is that valuable?” the skeptical Albert wondered. “But how do they know it’s the right one?”

“Scientific tests,” Panny said. “The baseballs were made differently in those days and they can test the fibres and the stuffing and the stitching. Right, Hawk?”

“That’s what Mr. Rizzuto thinks,” Hawk said. “The ball was hit out of the old stadium at Hanlan’s Point and probably landed in the lake. But there was a pack rat guy, the grandfather of Judge O’Boyle, who salvaged just about everything of any value from the lake, and it’s a good bet that we might find that baseball with the rest of the judge’s treasures. And you remember what Professor Sam said, Panny — the big gangs go after sports souvenirs. Even if there’s a baseball and it’s a forgery, they can probably get good money for it. And if it’s the real thing, they might get a fortune.”

“Wow, cry in your sangria, Picasso, this baseball may top some of your good prices,” said Albert, who knew a lot about art and special drinks.

Panny passed out sandwiches and the kids waited impatiently for some signal from Elroy. They could see through the dirty glass of the windows that it was getting darker outside.

“Maybe the Rippers found your cellphone and are torturing poor Elroy right now,” Albert said, giving the implacable Panny a doubtful look.

At that very moment Panny’s phone rang with a jaunty tune. There was no one on the other end. “That’s him!” she said. “Let’s get going!”

She snapped a lead on Chew-Boy, handed out the flashlights, and proceeded to place a call to Constable Perkins, Albert’s police connection. “Here, tell him what’s happening, but don’t give him the address just yet. He might mess everything up,” she instructed, handing Albert the phone.

After being transferred and put on hold several times, Albert was finally connected to his cousin. A long conversation ensued and Panny grew impatient. “Hang up! We’ve got to get out of here!”

Albert shrugged his shoulders and ended the conversation. “I’ve got bad news,” he said. “He assumed I was pulling a prank.” Panny stamped her foot. “I didn’t think of that,” she muttered. “But it can’t be helped — we’ve got to move in right now.”

A few minutes later they were hurrying through a maze of narrow streets and blind alleys. Soon they could see a hulking row of old red-brick warehouses rising beyond an area of littered lots.

“We cut through here,” she told them. They tramped along beside her — Hawk, Albert, and Martin — as she urged Chew-Boy forward on the lead. It was getting darker by the minute. When they reached the next street, they all stopped. Two cars were parked down the street to the left.

“There’s someone in the first car — the SUV,” Hawk said. “Maybe that’s the getaway car, with a gang member watching. Won’t he see us when we go in?”

“No, he won’t,” Panny said. “There’s an alley that runs beside that big warehouse. The entrance is there. Just pretend we’re playing some game and then duck into the alley when we get close enough — don’t head straight for it.”

She let Chew-Boy off the leash and they started throwing sticks for him to fetch. Toss by toss they came closer to the big warehouse. Soon they could see the alleyway. It was empty. Martin threw the last stick, Chew-Boy raced after it, and the kids followed on the dog’s heels.

Halfway down the long alley, Panny called a halt. “There’s the door Elroy mentioned,” she said. “He was going to try to leave it open. Let’s see!”

She swung the door outward; it creaked a little in opening. “All right,” Panny whispered. “That’s music to my ears. Albert, you stay here on watch. And call that stupid cousin of yours and get him over here! Come and warn us if that guy on the street decides to check us out.”

“All right, boys, turn on your flashlights and let’s go!” Panny and Chew-Boy led the way into the gloomy passage. The boys followed and Albert swung the door shut behind them. It was suddenly dark, but to Hawk’s relief not quite pitch black, and the flashlights pierced the gloom ahead.

Hawk squeezed his light, wishing it was his father’s Colt 45. But then he’d promised never to fire that weapon in anger. If his father could see him now, he thought, he’d set him straight very quickly.
Are you crazy — going into a place like that?
Hawk could hear Jim’s condemning voice. He hoped Panny knew what she was doing.

With Chew-Boy now on his long leash, Panny led the way forward. They passed several closed doors and metal hatches that might have been lockers. Barrels had been stacked up along one side of the wall, and various dollies, carts, and slings hung on racks.

“Here’s the first turn,” Panny said quietly, gesturing with her flashlight. At a junction, small signs pointed the way in various directions —
SECTION A, SECTION B, SECTION C
.

Panny stopped and looked at her watch. “Elroy is supposed to head toward the main exit as soon as he can break free,” she reminded them. “They’ll come after him, and we can intercept them and tell them the place is surrounded and the cops are outside. Hopefully they’ll just run for it — and meet Albert’s cousin and the rest of the police outside.”

“Assuming Albert gets his cousin over here,” Martin said. “Assuming Albert’s cousin believes the story. What happens if they don’t come?”

As Martin spoke, a metal door in the wall beside him swung open. He was knocked off his feet and lay sprawled on the floor. A burly teenager, bare-armed and muscular and wearing a white cowboy hat, stood up in the flashlight beams. One of the Rippers!

He swore at them and growled, “What are you kids doing here?” Then, as Hawk ducked back against the wall, the teen took a step toward Panny.

Chew-Boy growled. Panny released him and he sprang forward. The teen groped at his belt, and, as the dog leapt up and bit his hand, a knife clattered to the floor.

“I’ll kill that mutt!” he screamed. Hawk sprang over and kicked the knife away. The teen lurched after him, Chew-Boy snapping at his heels. Martin stuck out his foot and the teen crashed down. He swore again.

The corridor lights suddenly flashed on. Albert appeared, looking frightened. “That guy in the car’s coming in. We’re trapped in here!”

“Where’s your stupid cousin?” Martin shouted.

A figure appeared in one of the side corridors. It was Elroy, scared and excited. “I got away, like you said!” he told Panny. “But Ringo’s coming after me. Where’s those police?”

Martin and Hawk had jumped on top of the angry teen, and Elroy started to help them, but the Ripper was very strong and they were having trouble holding him. Hawk spotted four or five barrel hoops, large metal rings that were hanging in a recess where the corridors met, and had an idea. He scrambled away, ducked into the recess, climbed up on an old barrel, and pulled down one of the hoops. But he froze as he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the side corridor. Seconds later, the dim lights revealed a familiar figure — Ringo! The boy stepped out of the shadows, spat harshly on the concrete, and pulled something from his belt — an ordinary crowbar. But in the Ripper’s hand it looked menacing.

Ringo stood at the junction, in front of Hawk, who could almost touch his close-shaven, lumpish head, and the tattoos that marked his shoulders. Hawk could see the boy’s neck muscles twitching as he shifted the crowbar from hand to hand.

At first sight of their adversary, Chew-Boy had started growling, and now the dog barked once, twice, at this new and frightening apparition. But Panny had picked up the feisty dog and held him in check as she whispered a few soothing words in his ear.

Ringo, however, had switched his attention at Elroy. Hawk could sense the piercing gaze directed at the boy, and he could see Ringo’s arm muscles twitching as he squeezed the crowbar again and again, rocking forward on the soles of his feet as he did so.

“You turned on the lights, didn’t you, smart boy?” Ringo asked, still glaring at Elroy. “You set this up to catch us. You sold us down the river for these twerps.”

The burly teen the boys had wrestled to the floor picked up his knife, climbed to his feet, and chimed in. “What are we gonna do with them, Ringo?” he growled. “Should we lock ’em up in one of the cases? They can rot there for a few years and see how they like it.”

“I was thinking of that,” Ringo said. “Stash ’em away forever in a black box. But not this one, not this boy …” He waved his crowbar at Elroy and continued. “This one we’ll take along to Mr. Big. Mr. Big will have a good idea of how to get rid of this trash.”

Hawk shuddered and pressed himself flat against the wall, wishing he could make himself invisible.

Ringo laughed and moved forward. Martin and Albert stepped up beside Elroy. Panny joined them, holding Chew-Boy — all the kids but Hawk crowding in together.

“Hey, Sterling,” Ringo called out, suddenly addressing his sidekick. “You see those bags on the pegs over there? … Yeah, on the wall there! Grab one for me, will ya.”

The burly Ripper moved obediently and fetched one of the bags. Ringo waved him closer, took the bag from him and inspected it, running his fingers with satisfaction along the strings that closed it tight at the top. Then he bent over and whispered something in his sidekick’s ear as he handed the bag back to him. Leaning over from his perch, Hawk tried to catch the words, but he was much too far away to hear anything.

Slowly, Sterling backed toward the little group of friends that stood nervously watching. When he got very close, and they began to pull away, he whirled round, facing them, and before Panny could twist away he’d seized her and started to wrench the snarling Chew-Boy out of her grasp.

Martin and Elroy edged forward to help, but Ringo approached them with a threatening gesture. “Just touch him and you get this crowbar through your skull!” he snarled.

Meanwhile, Sterling had got hold of the squirming, yelping Chew-Boy and stuffed him head-first into the bag. He pulled the drawstrings tight, and when Panny attacked him, he knocked her down.