Chapter XIII

Joe slowly put his hands up. The figure in black reached down to tweak the gun from his fist. And let out a howl of pain as he flew forward onto his face, his own gun and silencer sailing through the air to land and clatter across the floor. It barely had time to register in Joe's brain that Callie had given the basement door a mighty kick, hitting the man in the back and knocking him off balance, because he was already in motion, leaping through the basement door after Callie, pulling Frank along behind him. Frank yanked the door closed as he slid through and shoved the bed slat he was still carrying through the handle to secure it.

"That'll hold it for a second," he panted. "But he might have the fire power to shoot through it. Or he might just go to those windows and wait to pick us off, nice and quiet." The door shivered as someone pulled on the handle from the other side, and despite herself, Callie shuddered.

"Hang in there, Callie," Joe encouraged, glancing around desperately. "That was a pretty smooth move back there. Don't lose it now."

Frank was staring thoughtfully at a series of slat-doored and chicken wire storage closets ranged along one wall, labeled with apartment numbers. "You know, I think I  - "

"Have a plan!" Joe finished for him triumphantly, catching him in a bear hug. "Boy, I've missed your plans!"

"Well, don't break my ribs about it." Frank looked pleased and embarrassed. "And this one's not exactly state-of-the-art. Joe, collect some of those wood cartons and stack them under one of the windows. Then open the window as far as you can. But quietly, in case he's got a friend out there somewhere."

Frank turned his attention to the different padlocks on the storage bin doors.

The door shook again - this time the slat creaked ominously. Callie bit her lip and turned away from it determinedly. "What can I do?"

Frank didn't even look up from the lock he was fingering. "These are pretty cheap. In some of them you can feel the tumblers, if you pay attention. Help me find one that seems likely. You'll be able to tell by the drag as you approach the number - of course, it would be a lot faster with a lockpick..."

"Like this?" Joe appeared at his side, holding out Frank's lockpick case. "The boxes and window are set. I even snagged a scrap of cloth from my shirt in the window frame for good measure."

Frank grinned. "Very artistic," then winced as the door gave an especially threatening shake. He slipped the lockpick into the keyslot on the padlock in front of him. "Here - " the lock dropped open, and he pulled it off and opened the door. Inside was a dim jumble of furniture and shelving. "You and Callie. In. Now."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to hide behind the water heater. Somebody has to put the lock back or it's a dead giveaway."

Joe shook his head. "Uh-uh. You and Callie in. I'll take the water heater - I've got the gun to keep me company."

"That's even worse!" Frank protested fiercely. "Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

The slat gave a warning crack and the door rattled loudly.

"Frank, this is no time to play big brother. Besides, if it comes down to it, I could take you easy about now. Callie -" he handed her into the compartment and pushed Frank unceremoniously after her, swinging the door closed and snapping the padlock in one motion. He just barely had time to duck behind the water heater, grimacing as the cobwebs hit his face, before the slat splintered and a shaft of light shot down the stairs.   

Joe held his breath. The tread would have been noiseless, except for the age of the creak-prone wooden stairs, and from his dim hiding place he caught the dull flash of the silver-toed boots. The rest of the black-clad figure remained shadowy in the milky light filtering through the narrow, dirty panes of the basement windows.

Joe could just make out his movement toward the boxes piled under the one window. The figure appeared to study it for a moment, then turned toward the storage bins. Joe grit his teeth as he made his way toward them.

The dark figure pulled gently on each door in turn as Joe silently willed Callie and Frank to stay cool. One door was unlatched, and he pulled it open and peered inside. Joe couldn't be sure how much was visible through the chicken wire interior, but he prayed it was too dark to make out anything - or Frank and Callie were sitting ducks. After an endless moment, their pursuer returned to the window and studied it carefully.

He must have found Joe's scrap of cloth, because something kept him busy for a while. Then he climbed onto one of the boxes and pulled himself, cat-like, through the window, and was gone. This time Joe counted to twenty-five before daring to leave his hiding place. Even then he kept low and hugged the wall. When he reached the first window, he eased up the wall slowly and peaked out cautiously, but no man with a gun appeared flattened near the windows, waiting to ambush them. Only then did he approach the storage bins.

"Okay, guys," he whispered, "You can come out now."

"That's great, Joe," Frank's voice was dry. "And we'd love to - really. Except that you locked us in here with the lockpicks."

"Bummer." Joe glanced around the basement. His eyes lit on a ladder and a metal box stowed carelessly in one corner. "Wait a minute…" He rummaged through the box. Claw hammer – maybe. Screw driver – hammer was better. Wrench – no good. Aha! He triumphantly shook a small crowbar free from the other tools. "Hang on and I'll have you out in a jiff. Shouldn't be hard to get that door open."

It only took a couple of tries with the crowbar before the rotten wood gave way with a groan. Frank handed Callie down from her seat on some boxes of books and followed her out, brushing at cobwebs. He turned to survey the damage. "Well, we've done a nice job on this building today, between us. Better get out before we bring the walls down around us. The window?"

Joe shrugged. "He's not posted by it, but he could be waiting nearby to snipe at us."

"I guess our other options are the lobby - I can only think of half a dozen or so people I'd prefer to avoid we might run into there - or return upstairs to Gabby's apartment and look for the fire escape - and I'm really not crazy about going back in there. Personally, I'd rather take my chances with the sniper. You guys?"

"Me too," agreed Callie. "I just couldn't face those stairs again. Think you can fit, Joe?"

"I'll make myself," was Joe's grim answer. "Come on, Callie, I'll boost you up. Look for some kind of cover and wait until we're together." 

It was easy enough to shoot Callie through the narrow opening.

"You're next, Frank."

Frank hesitated. "How are you getting up?"

"I'm going to stand on that old wood box over there and you and Callie are going to stand by in case it's a tight fit." He laced his fingers together and bent over. "On my count of three."

Soon they were all kneeling in the alley next to the apartment house. Callie looked from one to the other and giggled. "You guys should see yourselves. You look like chimney sweeps."

Joe touched the tip of her nose with his finger and brought it away black. "You're not winning any good grooming awards yourself just now."

Frank had moved to the corner of the building to reconnoiter and now he crawled back. "There's a BART Station not too far from the corner. Could be an easy crowd to get lost in, in case anybody's watching."

Joe nodded. "Good idea," he agreed cheerfully. "All we have to do is get there without getting shot."

Despite their disheveled appearance, they merged well with the dense sidewalk traffic, and though Joe felt as though he had a bulls eye painted on his back the entire length of the corner, they descended the stairs to the underground train unmolested. A train was just pulling up to the platform.

"Go on. Let's take it."

Callie craned her neck to see the label. "How do you know it's the right one?"

"Because it's going away. Who cares where it goes? We can always transfer. C'mon! Hurry!"

Joe swiped his BART pass then handed it back over his shoulder to Frank, who swiped Callie through and then followed. They blended into the crowd, carried along onto the train.

"Well," Joe said cheerfully, twisting around in his seat in front of Frank and Callie. "How often do you get to do a really good getaway on public transportation?"

Frank sat back in his seat, suddenly exhausted. Somehow, he wouldn't feel comfortable until the apartment building was well behind them.