Chapter IX
Joe hunched his broad shoulders deeper into the kneehole of the desk. He sure hoped that whoever it was wasn't looking for these logs. But his visitor stayed on the other side of the desk.
Joe heard him drag something across it, then a faint beeping sound. He's just using the phone, he thought in intense relief. As long as he uses it and gets out.
There was a pause during which Joe forgot to breathe and then a voice said, "Hi, babe. Me. How's everything?" Another silence. "Listen to me. I haven't got much time. Cobra dropped off another hypo for the kid's second injection."
Joe grit his teeth and listened as hard as he could.
"I know what you say, babe - I just don't think one can keep him out for three whole days. I know, I know, but that was an accident. Besides, it was Cobra's doing." Pause. "I am thinking of his safety. And ours. Right now, unconscious is about as safe as it gets. Look, we can argue about this later. I should be off here in about half an hour. I'll come right over." Another pause. "Yeah. Me too. See you soon."
Joe heard the phone return to its cradle, followed by a heavy sigh. Then steps turned toward the door and the room returned briefly to darkness, followed by a slice of light as the door was opened and then the sound of a lock securing it shut.
Joe stared at the logs in his hand in an agony of indecision. He needed the information in those logs, but he also needed to follow that guy. From the sound of it, he could lead him directly to his brother! Determinedly, he tucked the log under his arm and left the other two on the desk, unlocking the door and slipping silently through it.
There was no time for fancy tricks like relocking the door. In the faint light from the windows he saw a figure briskly turning the corner. Hugging the wall, he followed as far behind as he dared. The man opened a door ahead and disappeared behind it. Joe counted to ten and followed cautiously. It led to a short, dark flight of stairs with a light at the top. As Joe crept up them, he realized it was a side entrance to the theater, and that the hall of stairs was the device Alissa had showed them to keep the light from disturbing the rest of the audience as people entered and exited. It made an excellent place to spy.
For the first time he could see his quarry in the light - at least the back of him. He was average height and wiry, dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, with a slight bald spot.
"Hey, Jer!" The man turned his head. "Grab a headset and give us a cue to cue on the final scene! I think we've got that lighting thing worked out!"
Jer. Joe's heart was hammering now. It was too many coincidences. This guy had to be involved with Frank's disappearance. What he needed now was some way to tail him.
He eased carefully back down the stairs and into the corridor, towards the back parking lot. If the guy took the BART system it would be no problem, but at this hour chances were he'd use a car, and Joe didn't have any wheels.
He erupted into the parking lot and gazed around desperately. If somebody had left their door unlocked he could do a hotwire job. It was risky, and it made his conscience twinge uncomfortably, but if it meant keeping his best lead to Frank, he'd do it. And of course he'd bring it back. He started moving from car to car, testing the door handles.
"What on earth are you doing?" A voice behind him made him jump. He whirled around, grappling for a plausible explanation. Then his breath left his lungs in a rush.
"Callie!"
"Of course." Callie lowered her voice. "What are you doing? Did you find anything?" Joe remembered the log still clutched under his arm and nodded.
"Yeah. I think so. Listen, in just a little while this guy-" he broke off at the sound of voices from the stage door.
"You can lock up, Herb?" In a pool of light from the open door stood the man who had entered the office to use the telephone. Joe took a step backward under the cover of a nearby van and watched as the man pulled out a set of car keys.
Joe clutched Callie's arm. "I've got to follow that guy!" He looked about wildly and finally noticed the van they were standing near. The caterer's van! He glanced toward the rear doors, where the driver was stowing his leftover gear.
"Say," he blurted "Can I borrow your van and take it for a spin? It's -a - a- fraternity initiation rite!" He clenched his teeth in what he hoped was a semblance of a smile. Callie and the driver both stared at him.
"You must be crazy, man. It'd be worth my job."
"Look, I'll bring it right back. I'll even leave collateral..." Joe was watching out of the corner of his eye as the man he was following moved toward a serviceable sedan.
"Right. What kind of collateral?"
"Huh?" Joe blinked. "Um - her!" He pointed to Callie.
"Joe!" Callie gaped at him.
"Really?" The driver brightened. Gazing at Callie, he fumbled for the van keys and held them out to Joe. "What the heck. I quit and go back to school in two weeks anyway."
"Great! Thanks!" Joe grabbed the keys and pulled at the door handle, then he caught a glimpse of Callie's face and paused. "Think of Frank, Callie. And you - she better not look even mildly annoyed when I get back." He turned the engine over just in time to see the Stage Manager pull out of the parking lot.
Joe didn't even bother to follow at a discreet distance until they reached the main road. There he let a car or two get between them but even that made him nervous, trying to follow an unfamiliar car down unfamiliar streets at night. Finally the car slowed in a quiet, pleasant section of town and pulled over to the curb in front of one of the old, well preserved Victorian buildings. Joe started to follow suit, but there was no parking spot big enough for the van.
He watched the man enter the front door of the building and drove the van around the block, looking for a place to leave it. He finally found a spot around the corner and sauntered in what he hoped was a casual manner to the lobby. There was no sign of the man in flannel.
There were six labeled bells and six mailboxes - probably, he figured, one apartment per floor. Past the security door he could see an elevator and a fireproof door labeled "STAIRS". He hesitated.
Probably he could pick the lock, though it would be hard to do it casually in the well lit entryway. And then what? Run from floor to floor, asking if anyone had seen his brother? Ring all the bells and see who appeared? And if he figured out which apartment, what then? Could he overcome the man in flannel and whoever was with him single-handed? And if he did manage that much, could he then escape quickly with his possibly unconscious brother? And if he failed, either join him in imprisonment, or risk losing all trace of him?
Joe gave the wall a vicious kick. As much as he longed to bang on every door demanding his brother and to have the pleasure of beating the stuffing out of their friend Jerry, he had to play it cool. He couldn't come this far to lose it all on impetuousness.
He took two deep breaths and removed a pad from his wallet to write down the names and floors of the apartments, smiling grimly to himself. Frank would be so proud. He hoped he got a chance to tell him about it.
It wasn't much later that he was pulling the van into the Opera House parking lot. He had gotten an irritated radio call from the catering company asking why he was so long returning, which he had hastily explained away with a flat tire. Now he was going to have to explain to Callie, which would be a little trickier.
He picked up his backpack in which he had stowed the surveillance equipment, the log, and his copies, and turned off the engine.
Callie and the driver were seated on the curb, chatting amicably. The driver rose reluctantly.
"So. How'd it go?"
"Okay." Joe handed him the keys. "Thanks a lot."
"No problem. I kept trying to convince Callie here to go down the street for a cup of coffee, but she wouldn't budge. You've got a pretty loyal girlfriend."
"And I kept trying to explain that it wasn't you I was being loyal to," Callie returned with a smile that told Joe that things would not be pleasant once they were alone. "Not by a long shot. You've got a lot of explaining to do, Joe."
"I know," Joe admitted. "But you'll forgive me. Believe me."
The driver opened the door and paused. "Say, I'm in this deep. Might as well go deeper. Can I drop you guys someplace?"
"Sure." Callie slid into the middle of the seat. "Me you can drop at the hotel. Him you can leave at the dog house."
Joe hardly heard her. His eyes were fixed on the faintest of movements in the shadow of the building. For an instant, the headlights of a passing car picked up the suggestion of a non-descript figure. Then it was gone, as if it had never been.
*
Frank had figured out how the bed went together, just not how to get it apart with one hand and limited mobility. He fiddled with it for a few minutes then stopped, afraid the noise would arouse suspicion. What he needed was a plan.
Normally plans were his specialty, but his brain seemed sluggish, without its usual clocklike efficiency, and he found himself wishing instead for Joe's heedless impulsiveness. It wasn't usually the safest or neatest way, but it sure could be effective.
He heard the sudden sound of footsteps in the hall and raised his head to listen. They stopped outside his door. Remembering the woman's warning he stretched out and closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing deep and even, the way his karate teacher had taught him.
"I told you he doesn't need it. I don't see why you can't take my word for it."
"All this time? On one injection?"
"Well, you saw that knot on his head. Besides, I think he had an allergic reaction or something. For all we know another one might kill him."
The knob half turned, but the door didn't open. "Gabby. Honey. I know how you feel. And I know why. But - "
"You know how I feel? There's some innocent kid handcuffed to the bed in my spare room! The heck you know how I feel! Here-" There was a sudden, furious rattling of the lock. "See for yourself, then. Report to your master."
Frank reminded himself to breathe.
"It's not like that, Gabby. If I thought I could get away with a lie..."
Gabby gave a sound between a laugh and a sob. "No, by all means, don't lie, Jerry. On top of thievery and kidnapping, that really would be too much."
The door swung inward and the light flicked on. Frank willed himself not to react; to relax, just relax. Footsteps came a short way into the room, then stopped. And fidgeted. Frank's heart skipped a beat. What if he decided to inject him anyway? What should he do then? Easy, Frank. Breathe.
"Looks okay," the man's voice mumbled. The light went off abruptly. There was a sound of the door closing, then locking. Frank exhaled in relief.
"Is Alissa in place yet?"
"No." Gabby sounded cross. "Tomorrow. I can't do it too soon, or she'll be sure to spill the beans." The voices were moving away from the door now. Frank strained to catch what they were saying. He barely made out the man's voice finishing with "two more days", then all was reduced to mumbling.
Frank lay back and sighed. Well, he certainly couldn't work on the bed now. Maybe he could find something to use to pick the handcuff lock.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was the sound of angry voices. Watery early morning sunlight filtered through a tear in the shade. A door slammed nearby and the voices escalated, though he couldn't distinguish any words. A short time later there was the sound of a car peeling away from beneath the window. He wished that he could get close enough to the window to look.
Before he could contemplate a way, the doorknob rattled and his jailer entered with a breakfast tray. She stared at him. Her eyes looked red and swollen.
"You're awake early."
He nodded. "You're Gabby, aren't you?"
She blinked at him, then sat down abruptly on the chair by the bed, her tray across her lap. After a moment she said, "You really didn't remember, did you? And probably wouldn't have. Anything important."
He shook his head. "Probably not. I mean, I remember thinking it was weird, but my mind was on my vacation."
She shook her head again, placing the tray across his knees. "I knew it. I told them, but...they wouldn't take the chance...now all this terrible, ridiculous mess for nothing." She smiled suddenly. "It's funny, how you go along, thinking that what you're doing isn't really so bad, that life somehow owes you a break. Then something happens that changes everything and you see how far you've fallen...how colossally stupid…" she sighed. "You know, no one ever does that run that early. Not in that kind of fog. I really thought we'd be safe."
Frank smiled. "I noticed."
"And then they brought you here, and I realized - all I could think was, what have we done?" Gabby reached for the napkin on his tray to blot at the sudden flow from her eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. No one was supposed to get hurt. And now I just don't know what to do anymore." Gabby was sobbing in earnest now. Frank reached over to pat her hand. His cuffed arm just made it.
"Gabby, why don't you let me go?"
Gabby shook her head vigorously. "I can't. I don't have the key to the handcuffs. They know I don't like this, so they don't trust me. And Jerry - well, he's got a record. Heaven knows what would happen to him if this fell apart. Jerry is the best thing that ever happened to me." She laughed bitterly. "Which should tell you a whole lot about my life."
"The guy last night?"
Gabby blinked at him. "You were awake?"
"Yeah. I remembered what you said about laying low. He didn't exactly seem like a cold blooded killer."
Gabby stared. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen. Why?"
"You've got the coolest head I've ever seen. Eat your breakfast."
"I'm not really hungry."
Gabby rose to her feet with a sigh. "Well, suit yourself. I'll leave it within reach, then, in case you want it later. I have to get to work."
Frank looked down quickly to hide the hope that sprang into his eyes. If she were gone maybe he'd have an opportunity to carry out his escape plan. Such as it was. He glanced at the tray, hoping for tools. Plastic silverware. Not much help there.
He felt a kiss on the top of his head and looked up, startled. Gabby was halfway out the door but she turned, her expression suddenly soft.
"Nothing's going to happen to you," she said, like someone making a wish on birthday candles. "Nothing. I promise."
Frank listened as she locked the door behind her and kept listening, as hard as he could until he heard another door close and fasten.
Then he pushed the chair with the tray as far across the floor as he could and rolled himself carefully out of the bed until he was seated on the floor beside it, his left shoulder firmly wedged against the headboard.
It was an awkward position, but somehow or other he was determined to get that bed apart. Somehow or other, he was going to get free.