The Bricklayer

TWENTY-NINE

VAIL SAT IN HIS CAR OUTSIDE HIS HOTEL, WAITING FOR RADEK’S call. He checked his watch again; it was after 2 a.m. The suitcases were secured in the trunk. He couldn’t believe he was delivering three million dollars to a murderer for the second time.
The phone rang. “Vail,” he answered.
“Do you have the money?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a boarded-up factory on Keller Street where it dead-ends at the river. Around back you’ll find a black trash bag next to the fence. Be careful with it, there’s a laptop inside. It’s already on, so just open it and wait for my instructions.”
It took Vail less than twenty minutes to find the factory. He turned off his lights and listened, but the only thing he could hear was the occasional rush of distant traffic. As instructed, he had left his handgun in his room. He got out and went to the trunk, taking out the suitcases. Around the back of the building he found the plastic bag where Radek had said it would be. Inside was the laptop, a couple of small green lights indicating it was running. A wireless Internet card protruded from the left side. He opened the lid and immediately heard Radek’s voice.
Vail then noticed the webcam at the top of the computer. Radek was now able to watch him, but the screen was black which meant Radek was keeping his camera blocked so Vail couldn’t see him. Because of satellite technology, it was impossible to tell where he was. “In the bag are a change of clothes. Set the computer on the ground and step back so I can see you completely. Then change clothes just in case there’s something hidden in yours that will track you.” Vail did as he was told, and when he was done, Radek said, “Over against the wall are two large duffel bags. Bring them back here, and then let me watch you transfer the money—slowly. And riffle through the stacks when I tell you to so I can be sure it’s all there.”
Vail complied with the instructions and when he was done closed and secured the bags with the clips at the end of the shoulder straps. “Okay, now where’s Tye?”
“Come on, Vail, would I have made it that easy?”
“The money is staying right here until I hear Tye’s voice.”
“How about a compromise.” Radek kicked the wooden box and then held the baby monitor up to the computer speaker.
Vail heard a woman’s voice heavily muted, seemingly pleading for help.
“Okay, where to?” Vail asked.
“Get your flashlight and cell phone.” Radek watched as Vail transferred the devices to the pants he had been given. “Okay, climb over the fence. At the bottom of the incline is a set of railroad tracks. Follow them north for about three-quarters of a mile until you find yourself on a small overpass bridge. Below will be another set of tracks. When you get to that point, turn on the flashlight and hold it up. Then turn in a full circle so I’ll know you’re there.”
Vail tossed the two bags ahead of him and climbed over the fence. The incline was steep but not long. He half slid, half walked down until he was at the tracks. They ran alongside the narrow Los Angeles River. With the track bound by a waist-high retaining barrier, there was no room on either side of the rails to walk, so he had to step from wooden tie to tie and watch each step as the thirty-plus pounds of cash in each hand made the balancing act that much more difficult.
When he reached the overpass, he was soaked with sweat. He set the bags down and looked around, trying to figure out if Radek was around or just running him through a gauntlet to break him down physically and mentally. There were a few dots of yellow light scattered in the distance, but no apparent hiding place in the vicinity from which Radek could be watching him. As instructed, Vail switched the flashlight on and held it up, slowly turning in a complete circle. Immediately his cell rang. Wherever Radek was, he could see Vail. “Yeah.”
“Get down to the rail line below and follow it to the right.” Vail looked down and it appeared to be about a fifteen-foot difference in elevation. He released one of the bags over the side and then the other before letting himself drop to the track below. He picked up the bags and followed the track as instructed. It immediately crossed over the river and turned sharply south, back in the direction he had come from but on the opposite bank of the concrete-walled waterway.
This track seemed even narrower and he began to wonder if a train was scheduled, another obstacle that it would have been like Radek to throw in. Fifteen minutes later he found himself passing under the same road he had traveled beneath when he started out. He was back to where he had started but on the other side of the river, the shadow of the factory up on the rise.
His phone rang. “Yes.”
“Flashlight.”
This time Vail shined it only in the direction of the factory to see if that was where Radek was. “You’re in position now,” Radek said. “Get across the river and bring those bags to the roof of the factory.”
“And then what?”
“Meaning, where is your woman? All your questions will be answered when you get up there.”
“How do I get to the roof?”
“I wouldn’t use the front door.” Radek hung up.
Vail lowered himself from the track and walked down to the angled concrete bank of the river. It was about fifty yards wide at that point. The water appeared, by the debris in it, to be a couple of feet deep at the most. He slid down the embankment and half fell into the water. It was waist-deep and its coolness felt good. The current was surprisingly strong, and as he walked, he held the bags above it. On the other side he waited for the water to drain from his clothes before climbing the equally steep embankment.
Tossing the bags over the fence that had been scaled a little over an hour before, he vaulted himself over. The laptop was gone but his clothes were still there. After changing, he wondered about Radek’s warning to not use the front door.
Above the entrance to the building was an engraved stone anchored into the brickwork above the door identifying it as the Y. P. Androyan and Sons Wire Works, established in 1913. It was a four-story brick structure whose footprint was triangular. One end of the building was not much wider than its double door, but the far end was close to a hundred feet wide. Probably the original piece of property had dictated the design of the building. Located less than a hundred yards from the Los Angeles River and with a rail line on either side, it looked like, at one time, the area had been a prime industrial location.
Between the second- and third-story windows was a faded blue and white sign that read “For Lease.” A heavy steel gate protected the front door, but it was ajar, like at the house on Spring Street. And Radek had warned him not to go in that way, probably more to protect the three million dollars than Vail. He decided to look for another way in.
Along the street side of the building was a fire escape, which ran from the second floor to the roof. Vail drove onto the sidewalk and parked directly underneath the steel lattice of ladders and landings. He got out and could see that if he stood on the roof of his car, even with his best vertical leap, he would still be a foot or two short of the fire escape. He went to the trunk and took out the Halligan tool. After patting his pockets to make sure he had his flashlight and cell phone, he decided to take along the low-light monocle, since the building appeared to be completely dark inside.
He had figured out how to get himself onto the fire escape, but the two bags of money were going to be a problem. Remembering how Dan West had negotiated his way out of that naval prison cell, he took his knife and, pulling out each of the seat belts to its maximum length, cut them free. Knotting the ends as tightly as possible, he had a length of strapping almost twenty feet long. He threaded it through one bag’s handle and tied it to the other.
After climbing up on top of his car, he fed the pick end of the Halligan up through the fire escape’s grated floor and pulled himself up. Once he swung himself up onto the landing, he lifted the tool and money up after him.
As quietly as possible, he started making his way up to the roof. The windows he passed were a common factory type, the kind that after turning a handle inside the bottom of the frame rotated outward. On the third floor he noticed that the pane directly above one of them was broken. A few small pieces of broken glass were on the outside sill, indicating that it was not the result of kids throwing stones, but broken from the inside. A little too convenient. He regripped the pry bar and bags and headed up the final ladder.
Once he stepped onto the roof, the only thing visible was an eight-foot-high structure along the back edge that housed an access door for the building’s stairwell. He looked over the side and let his eyes trace the railroad tracks he had walked. Radek must have watched him the entire time from there, making sure that no one else was anywhere near.
Sitting on the tarred surface next to the access structure, he could see something emitting a small green light. Halfway across the roof, Vail could hear a woman’s muffled voice coming from it. When Vail reached the source of the light and sound, he discovered it was a baby monitor. Because of the limited range of the device, it meant Tye had to be inside the building. Underneath it was a note, which simply stated, “Leave the bags here.”
He set down the bags and tried the doorknob. It was locked. He pushed the adze end of the Halligan between the door and the frame just above the lock. It sank in just far enough so he would be able to get some leverage on it. He took a half step back and pulled evenly on the tool’s shaft. The door shifted inside the frame but the pry bar started tearing through the edge of the wooden door. Vail pushed the tool’s head deeper into the widened gap. Again he pulled back, and this time the door sprung open with little sound.
He had no idea what lay ahead. Other than his knife, he had no weapon, so the Halligan would have to do. He started to take out the flashlight but then remembered the photocell trigger in the tunnel. Instead he closed the door behind him, which enclosed him in darkness. He stood perfectly still while his eyes adjusted. After a moment, he could see some light at the bottom of the stairs on the fourth floor, possibly coming through the windows from the streetlights.
The stairs were wooden and creaked with almost every step. He took his time, listening after each one, and at the same time feeling ahead for any wires or rigged construction. It took twenty minutes to descend the three floors, and his legs were starting to feel the exhaustion of the last couple of hours.
At the bottom of the stairs was a door. It was locked. To his left was a hallway that skirted the outside of the first floor. The main part of the floor was most likely a factory workspace. Halfway down the corridor was another door. Vail tried it, but it was also locked. At the end, the corridor turned right toward the building’s main entrance. There was light from the street coming through the double door windows. To his right was a large open door that led to the floor’s workspace.
Then he noticed, sitting six feet from the entrance door, an object that was four feet tall and three feet wide. He stepped slowly toward it. It looked like an industrial-size cable spool for heavy-gauge wire. After another step, he could see that it was coiled with hundreds of feet of barbwire. It didn’t make any sense until he looked at the core. It was packed with something light in color. Thin electrical wires ran out of it toward the door. Carefully he stuck his finger into the center of the spool. The material had the consistency of C-4. He was afraid to move any closer, but instead took out the monocular and traced the wires visually. They ran to two electrical contacts, one on each of the front doors, like a burglar alarm. As soon as either door was opened, the electrical signal was interrupted and the blasting caps at the core of the spool would be detonated. Any person or persons entering through that door had no chance of survival.
Ever so slowly, he pulled the blasting caps out of the C-4. Stepping around the spool, he laid them on the floor. Not wanting to get any closer to the doors, he took the sharp, claw end of the Halligan and drove it accurately into the wooden floor, severing both wires, one with each side of the claw. He picked up the caps and tossed them down the hallway as far as possible. Blasting caps were relatively inert. Even if they went off at that distance, they couldn’t detonate the stable C-4. Vail knew the bomb was not for him, but rather for any FBI cavalry should they somehow be tracking Vail’s movements. If there was an “obstacle” for him, it lay somewhere else.
He pulled the Halligan out of the floor and looked through the inner door into the workspace. The windows had been drywalled over. Only a thin slit of a window at the back end of the room allowed any light at all. Using the monocular, Vail could see a dozen or so dark shapes of uniform size placed irregularly along the floor. The pattern seemed to be random, but Vail could see that it was arranged so that eventually, in the dark, anyone walking through the room would bump into one of them, and possibly with the same consequences as entering through the front door. After memorizing their positions, he gripped the Halligan at its balance and stepped into the room.
Immediately he heard a woman’s desperate moans. She was somewhere inside the large room. Straining his eyes to confirm the location of the objects along the floor, he slid each foot forward, testing for trip wires while continuing to move toward the voice.
Halfway across the room, he stopped and took out the monocular. He could see the outline of a coffin-shaped box along the far wall where the muffled syllables seemed to be coming from. This was where he was supposed to become emotional and charge toward it. He stopped, took a deep breath, and blocked out the muted pleas.
The objects placed between him and the box containing her turned out to be eighteen-inch-high wooden cubes. He could now see a small green dot of light up on the wall, and he suddenly became aware of an almost inaudible hum, an electrical hum. The transmitter for the baby monitor? He took one more step forward and felt the floor give way slightly, causing a distinct mechanical click underfoot.
A small spotlight snapped on, illuminating what housed the green point of light. It was a motion detector, the kind used in home security systems, and its green light had changed to red, indicating it was now armed. He froze. Illuminating it meant that Radek now had him trapped and wanted him to know.
He was standing on a two-foot square of plywood, which had been painted flat black to make it unnoticeable. He suspected that the click heard under it might have done more than turn on the light. Vail turned his attention back to the sensor. Ordering himself not to move his head, he used eye movement only. A snarl of wiring surrounded the monitor. It was hooked into a larger cable, which ran up the wall and then overhead toward him, finally disappearing behind a large black void above his head.
Imperceptibly, Vail moved his head upward slightly to determine exactly what was above him. It was not a void at all, but a huge steel plate hanging ten feet over his head. His mason’s eye estimated it to be approximately sixteen feet square, and he was at its dead center. Printed in large chalked letters on its underside was a note:
VAIL—
EM wired to pressure release and motion sensor.
Good-bye.
Vic
That’s what the hum was, an electromagnetic crane used to move stock around. And it was double primed. Two systems to make sure he couldn’t move. Either the sensor or the pressure-release switch he was standing on would shut it off and drop the steel on him. He couldn’t see how thick the plate was, but the thinnest he was aware of was three-sixteenths of an inch. A sixteen-square-foot piece of that thickness had to be close to two thousand pounds.
An urge to laugh at his own insolence started to rise up in him. He would gladly have given in to it to relieve some of the tension if he hadn’t feared it would set off the motion detector. His contempt for anything meant to control him, even if it was concocted by Radek, was about to take his life. Insolence had always been a trusted, if expensive, ally, but never this costly.
His self-recrimination was interrupted by another burst from the wooden box, now only twenty feet away. It reminded him that more than his life was at stake. He had to find a way out. Trying to gauge the speed needed, he doubted that he could make it beyond the edge of the steel plate before it crushed him. However, it would be close. The eight feet to the edge looked like a hundred.
Then he remembered that he was still holding the Halligan tool in his left hand, a possible solution to the ton of impending death hanging over him. The pry bar was three and a half feet long and the shaft was one-inch-thick steel alloy. Primarily it was manufactured for fire departments, so its strength had to be exceptional.
Running and diving straight forward was the best chance, since turning in any other direction would add an additional split second. Once he took that first step, he would have to flatten out as horizontally as possible and at the same time move the bar behind him, turning it vertical with the claw downward. That way, if he didn’t make it to the edge in time, the Halligan would stick upright in the wooden floor and absorb the initial blow of the steel. He hoped. If he ever needed to take a deep breath it was now, but that pinpoint of red light reminded him that if he did, it would probably be his last.
He closed his eyes and could feel his heartbeat pounding against his eyelids. He forced himself to slow his breathing. Inside his head, he visualized what he had to do: flatten out and at the same time move the bar into position and behind him. He waited until he could no longer hear his heart. One more time he closed his eyes and watched himself perform the intricacies of the long eight-foot dash.
He exploded forward. At the exact same instant, the hum of the electromagnet crane above him stopped. Everything became slow motion, and the last thing Vail remembered was the first gray light of dawn coming in the small, slotted window.