Chapter 9
The Thin Man grinned as he watched Max take the lead. He'd let the
boy have his fun; in the meantime, he'd just relax and bide his time
until they got inside the building.
Max himself was having a blast, the stairs weren't a problem at all
and felt the greatest thrill as he sped through one building; flying
out the back off the loading dock. Max looked back, the Thin Man was
following right behind him.
Alex peered through her scope at the van, "Maybe you guys should get
into position..." "Yeah, that might be a good idea," Nat
replied. Alex squinted, "Mmmm check out the expedition pulling
in." It was a large suv with tinted windows and it was rolling slowly
up into the middle of the parking lot.
Dylan flashed her light around the walls, the bright circle of light
bouncing from one side to another, as she silently gaped in awe at the
incredible richness of the Thin Man's small but comfy home. She knew
she shouldn't be surprised, but she was taken aback at how wonderful
it was. He must have spent a fortune!
No, he probably hadn't spent a dime, thinking back to the kinds of
goods that the O'Grady clan had traded in. Yep, the Thin Man
"shopped" wisely and had exquisite good taste. If he were ever
caught, my God, he'd be serving at least twenty years!
Her foot sank into a thick Persian rug, the pilings so thick, she had
to be careful not to twist her ankle. Stepping carefully around the
dark red carpet, she walked along the draped walls looking for a
switch. The plans had indicated an electrical source near the left
hand corner of the roughly 15 by 30 foot room. Her hand groped, her
fingers touching a cold, metal round knob.
My God! She blankly shut off her flashlight; shocked at the soaring
heights to which the ceiling seemed to fly. Simple arches, strong
lines, like many large, thick fingers forming a steeple; flowed up to
a distant point high above. This was most definitely not in the
blueprints. She kept turning in circles slowly, expecting that
maybe it was just his clever use of dramatic interior lighting. The
room was just huge and she could see that it opened onto a few more
rooms in the back.
Her knee banged into a table and she looked down again. She looked
back up and flashed her light on the farthest corner of the ceiling.
Perhaps trompe l'oeil? She squinted no hmmm. Perhaps this just
went off the map. Haha, Dylan thought nervously, her skin prickling.
She looked back down. She didn't have a lot of time to gawk. Dylan
reached into her jeans and pulled out the skeleton key that she found
at the orphanage. She felt really really bad about being in the Thin
Man's home like this; guilty, in fact, for violating his privacy. But
she brushed that aside, knowing that her information would help her
close this case and perhaps help him in some way.
She looked at her watch. She had given herself three hours to do
this...there were two hours built into the deadline, for the race at
least; but she wasn't going to test that. Three hours for travel time
from the race and back.
This room looked like his main living area; a large long wooden table,
a study area with a desk and lamp. Many, many books lined the cases
along the walls that reached at least fifteen feet into the air. She
wondered where to begin....
Pulling open the desk drawers, she started to look for files.
Anything that would lead her on a paper trail to Vasilescu and perhaps
explain his disturbing relationship with the orphanage. She could get
his involvement with a shady character like Vasilescu, feeling a
moment of empathy for that restless, sixteen year old Thin Man; but
she couldn't get what the deal was with the orphanage.
Here we go! She sat in the oversized wooden chair and pulled up a
large file. What's he got stashed in here I wonder? Her fingertips
grazed photographic paper. It was a thick stack of photos. Targets.
This must be his records, she thought, as she turned over each photo,
looking for a date. The one on top was dated about twenty years ago.
She shuddered, that's a long, long time to be killing people. That
would make the Thin Man about thirty-eight, starting two years after
he ran from the orphanage; a legal adult. Jesus!
She thumbed through them all, gasping at some of the ones she
recognized. They were all notorious men, gangland figures, some more
'legitimate'. Powerful men who died in mysterious circumstances; some
even in protective custody. She stopped at Corwin's picture. Were
all these freelance? Or did they conveniently coincide with this
Vasilescu's plans?
And she figured that they did, as she turned over Knox's and Wood's
pictures. He had planned on betraying them. Is Vasilescu his highest
bidder? A vulture on the side, waiting for the Thin Man to finish his
dirty work?
A chill went through her as she looked at Max's picture. Max on the
grounds of the orphanage. There was a picture of her at the park,
playing basketball with some friends. Alex and Jason shopping. Mama
Bosley coming from church. Nat, Pete and Spike grocery shopping. Her
watching television in her bathrobe. Jesus! She slammed down the
pictures. She didn't feel guilty anymore.
There was a wardrobe in the corner, which doors she yanked open. She
needed to find something! She glance around at a lost. Heading over
to the back, she kicked open a closed door. She didn't care anymore
if he knew that she was there, had been pawing through his belongings
at her leisure. Bastard.
She stopped; just when she thought she was done being surprised. His
bedroom. A simple affair. Charming, almost; with it's clean white
sheets and pillowcase and gray blanket folded neatly back, regulation
style. Like he was still at the orphanage, I bet. His closet was
full of black, white pinstriped suits. His shoes- everything in this
room was deliberately in its place. He's an absolute neat freak!
His rooms were like nesting dolls of his personality; the living area,
full of opulent elegant mystery. Contrasted to his puritan bedroom.
He's a mess of contradictions. There's another door that must be the
bathroom, I mean, he has to go sometime.
Her heart jumped as she spotted him, his face shadowed in dark. She
turned on the light. A portrait of his parents. The older boy from
her dream! That's the Thin Man's father! Her eyes flew to his
mother's face! Jesus! The mother superior is his aunt! Holy Shit!
That certain something that Dylan couldn't put her finger on, finally
slid into place. Her eyes fell to his mother's neck and her flesh
crawled as she made out the fuzzy outline of the snake necklace; her
hand to her own neck.
Stunned, she reached out, in disbelief; and almost wet her pants as
the picture flew off the wall and stuck itself in her hand.
She jammed her back into the door; at least to get it to stop
crawling, she thought rather dispassionately. She drew her gun and
felt better.
So Mother Superior had lied; about a lot of things. This explained
his continued involvement with the orphanage, even after he ran away.
But why had she lied? Why keep the family connection secret? It
didn't make sense. Dylan's mind hurried along this thread of reason,
trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on her.... the Thin Man.
She looked over at the portrait; she was still holding it,
at arm's length and had to squint.
He was a just a boy. A child like every other person on this earth
had been; he was smiling. The smile of a shy, but happy boy with his
parents. He looked most like his father, but the Thin Man's features
had been softened a little around the mouth and cheekbones and eyes.
He had her eyes. Though the picture was black and white, her eyes
seemed to glow, they were so pale. She shook her head, the mother
superior's eyes! Why hadn't she seen it before behind those glasses?
While not as intense as the Thin Man's, there was no denying that she
was his aunt.
She slowly walked back to the wall and hung the picture. There was a
table; letters wrapped in a ribbon. An unlit candle. Dead flowers.
A small photo album. The room was decorated with a variety of circus
posters....she stopped in front of a large life size poster of his
father. So, he was a magician. The father poised with his wand in
one hand, hat in another, slyly winking. Wand? Wait a minute. She
stood back a little and cocked her head. That looks a bit like a cane.
So his parents were murdered right around the same time as that
portrait was taken, she guessed. He has his father's cane and he
wants his mother's necklace. How are these two things tied together?
Why did Vasilescu's men have the necklace? What was it's real
purpose? Was the cane also enchanted?
She hesitated over the term enchanted; she felt that the cane and the
necklace were magical things. But she wouldn't call them
enchanted...like...Some Enchanted Evening....or something.
These things were- powerful. She had seen what he could do with
that cane, both the physical and the impossible. She opened all the
drawers in the table. She felt lucky and started to search the room.
The key was- key. She had to find what it could open.
Max revved up the last stair; his engine echoing off the walls as he
raced through the eerily dark corridor. The neglected building had
water damage on the floor and the wood was visibly sagging in some
parts. Huge sheets of paint hung; peeling from the wall with the help
of gravity. Max could hear the Thin Man's engine race up and down as
he tried to navigate the stairs. Max stopped to listen a bit.
The Thin Man had fallen behind a little; Max wondered if the course
was difficult or if he was being humoured by him. He was hoping that
the track was just difficult. Max turned around on his seat and
waited for the sound of the engine to come closer. The next leg would
be difficult. As they had raced around the perimeter of the park, Max
noticed the low, flat building that had slid off the hill. It was
torn in two; office furniture flung about like toys, trash stuck to
the sides of the chain link fence. Erosion had finally swept one half
of the building away into a big broken up trash heap.
Max could hear him getting closer and kicked off towards the bridge.
Alex had felt a pang of fear as she spotted the first black clad
figure in the distance. "Nat, we got ourselves a problem." At first,
given the distance Max and the Thin Man were from her position and the
waves of heat radiating from the ground, she had thought that the Thin
Man had merely gotten off course. Perhaps, the Old Man missed one of
the small flag markers, she snickered.
But she became alarmed when that small black clad figure in the
distance seemingly split before her eyes on the distant horizon into
two, then three, then four, then five.....
The mysterious black suv hadn't moved since first pulling up either.
And Nat was responding with increasing anxiety. She didn't dare
reveal her and Bos' position to this potential enemy. But she was
panicking about the crowd that was growing bolder and actually tapping
on the glass, trying to peer into the interior.
Alex looked through the scope, "Nat, they still haven't come around
that corner." What were those things riding anyway? They were
flitting about the horizon like caffeinated horseflies.
The Thin Man sped down hall after hall, occasionally overtaking Max,
who was suddenly not as confident as he had been at the start of the
race. But Max still managed to get ahead of him and he could hear him
start his run towards the bridge. Max took off across the enclosed
bridge, towards the blinding white sunshine of the outside. It's so
bright-
Two things puzzled Max even as he and his bike dropped towards the
ravine below. What the hell was that buzzing noise and where was the
rest of the bridge?
The Thin Man had seen Max in that moment just before gravity started
to slowly pull him down. Horror filled him as he stood up on his
bike, before gunning it and hurtling himself after the boy.
Dylan finally found what she was looking for. In a corner by a door,
a veritable shrine to Vasilescu; his mustache and beard neatly
trimmed, his eyes hidden by black eyeglasses. His picture hung over a
small bureau with a large silver box that seemed to pulse with life;
twining, sinuous glinting branches twisting itself around the box, as
if grown from it and into it. She got out her key and started to open
the box.
The Thin Man grinned as he watched Max take the lead. He'd let the
boy have his fun; in the meantime, he'd just relax and bide his time
until they got inside the building.
Max himself was having a blast, the stairs weren't a problem at all
and felt the greatest thrill as he sped through one building; flying
out the back off the loading dock. Max looked back, the Thin Man was
following right behind him.
Alex peered through her scope at the van, "Maybe you guys should get
into position..." "Yeah, that might be a good idea," Nat
replied. Alex squinted, "Mmmm check out the expedition pulling
in." It was a large suv with tinted windows and it was rolling slowly
up into the middle of the parking lot.
Dylan flashed her light around the walls, the bright circle of light
bouncing from one side to another, as she silently gaped in awe at the
incredible richness of the Thin Man's small but comfy home. She knew
she shouldn't be surprised, but she was taken aback at how wonderful
it was. He must have spent a fortune!
No, he probably hadn't spent a dime, thinking back to the kinds of
goods that the O'Grady clan had traded in. Yep, the Thin Man
"shopped" wisely and had exquisite good taste. If he were ever
caught, my God, he'd be serving at least twenty years!
Her foot sank into a thick Persian rug, the pilings so thick, she had
to be careful not to twist her ankle. Stepping carefully around the
dark red carpet, she walked along the draped walls looking for a
switch. The plans had indicated an electrical source near the left
hand corner of the roughly 15 by 30 foot room. Her hand groped, her
fingers touching a cold, metal round knob.
My God! She blankly shut off her flashlight; shocked at the soaring
heights to which the ceiling seemed to fly. Simple arches, strong
lines, like many large, thick fingers forming a steeple; flowed up to
a distant point high above. This was most definitely not in the
blueprints. She kept turning in circles slowly, expecting that
maybe it was just his clever use of dramatic interior lighting. The
room was just huge and she could see that it opened onto a few more
rooms in the back.
Her knee banged into a table and she looked down again. She looked
back up and flashed her light on the farthest corner of the ceiling.
Perhaps trompe l'oeil? She squinted no hmmm. Perhaps this just
went off the map. Haha, Dylan thought nervously, her skin prickling.
She looked back down. She didn't have a lot of time to gawk. Dylan
reached into her jeans and pulled out the skeleton key that she found
at the orphanage. She felt really really bad about being in the Thin
Man's home like this; guilty, in fact, for violating his privacy. But
she brushed that aside, knowing that her information would help her
close this case and perhaps help him in some way.
She looked at her watch. She had given herself three hours to do
this...there were two hours built into the deadline, for the race at
least; but she wasn't going to test that. Three hours for travel time
from the race and back.
This room looked like his main living area; a large long wooden table,
a study area with a desk and lamp. Many, many books lined the cases
along the walls that reached at least fifteen feet into the air. She
wondered where to begin....
Pulling open the desk drawers, she started to look for files.
Anything that would lead her on a paper trail to Vasilescu and perhaps
explain his disturbing relationship with the orphanage. She could get
his involvement with a shady character like Vasilescu, feeling a
moment of empathy for that restless, sixteen year old Thin Man; but
she couldn't get what the deal was with the orphanage.
Here we go! She sat in the oversized wooden chair and pulled up a
large file. What's he got stashed in here I wonder? Her fingertips
grazed photographic paper. It was a thick stack of photos. Targets.
This must be his records, she thought, as she turned over each photo,
looking for a date. The one on top was dated about twenty years ago.
She shuddered, that's a long, long time to be killing people. That
would make the Thin Man about thirty-eight, starting two years after
he ran from the orphanage; a legal adult. Jesus!
She thumbed through them all, gasping at some of the ones she
recognized. They were all notorious men, gangland figures, some more
'legitimate'. Powerful men who died in mysterious circumstances; some
even in protective custody. She stopped at Corwin's picture. Were
all these freelance? Or did they conveniently coincide with this
Vasilescu's plans?
And she figured that they did, as she turned over Knox's and Wood's
pictures. He had planned on betraying them. Is Vasilescu his highest
bidder? A vulture on the side, waiting for the Thin Man to finish his
dirty work?
A chill went through her as she looked at Max's picture. Max on the
grounds of the orphanage. There was a picture of her at the park,
playing basketball with some friends. Alex and Jason shopping. Mama
Bosley coming from church. Nat, Pete and Spike grocery shopping. Her
watching television in her bathrobe. Jesus! She slammed down the
pictures. She didn't feel guilty anymore.
There was a wardrobe in the corner, which doors she yanked open. She
needed to find something! She glance around at a lost. Heading over
to the back, she kicked open a closed door. She didn't care anymore
if he knew that she was there, had been pawing through his belongings
at her leisure. Bastard.
She stopped; just when she thought she was done being surprised. His
bedroom. A simple affair. Charming, almost; with it's clean white
sheets and pillowcase and gray blanket folded neatly back, regulation
style. Like he was still at the orphanage, I bet. His closet was
full of black, white pinstriped suits. His shoes- everything in this
room was deliberately in its place. He's an absolute neat freak!
His rooms were like nesting dolls of his personality; the living area,
full of opulent elegant mystery. Contrasted to his puritan bedroom.
He's a mess of contradictions. There's another door that must be the
bathroom, I mean, he has to go sometime.
Her heart jumped as she spotted him, his face shadowed in dark. She
turned on the light. A portrait of his parents. The older boy from
her dream! That's the Thin Man's father! Her eyes flew to his
mother's face! Jesus! The mother superior is his aunt! Holy Shit!
That certain something that Dylan couldn't put her finger on, finally
slid into place. Her eyes fell to his mother's neck and her flesh
crawled as she made out the fuzzy outline of the snake necklace; her
hand to her own neck.
Stunned, she reached out, in disbelief; and almost wet her pants as
the picture flew off the wall and stuck itself in her hand.
She jammed her back into the door; at least to get it to stop
crawling, she thought rather dispassionately. She drew her gun and
felt better.
So Mother Superior had lied; about a lot of things. This explained
his continued involvement with the orphanage, even after he ran away.
But why had she lied? Why keep the family connection secret? It
didn't make sense. Dylan's mind hurried along this thread of reason,
trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on her.... the Thin Man.
She looked over at the portrait; she was still holding it,
at arm's length and had to squint.
He was a just a boy. A child like every other person on this earth
had been; he was smiling. The smile of a shy, but happy boy with his
parents. He looked most like his father, but the Thin Man's features
had been softened a little around the mouth and cheekbones and eyes.
He had her eyes. Though the picture was black and white, her eyes
seemed to glow, they were so pale. She shook her head, the mother
superior's eyes! Why hadn't she seen it before behind those glasses?
While not as intense as the Thin Man's, there was no denying that she
was his aunt.
She slowly walked back to the wall and hung the picture. There was a
table; letters wrapped in a ribbon. An unlit candle. Dead flowers.
A small photo album. The room was decorated with a variety of circus
posters....she stopped in front of a large life size poster of his
father. So, he was a magician. The father poised with his wand in
one hand, hat in another, slyly winking. Wand? Wait a minute. She
stood back a little and cocked her head. That looks a bit like a cane.
So his parents were murdered right around the same time as that
portrait was taken, she guessed. He has his father's cane and he
wants his mother's necklace. How are these two things tied together?
Why did Vasilescu's men have the necklace? What was it's real
purpose? Was the cane also enchanted?
She hesitated over the term enchanted; she felt that the cane and the
necklace were magical things. But she wouldn't call them
enchanted...like...Some Enchanted Evening....or something.
These things were- powerful. She had seen what he could do with
that cane, both the physical and the impossible. She opened all the
drawers in the table. She felt lucky and started to search the room.
The key was- key. She had to find what it could open.
Max revved up the last stair; his engine echoing off the walls as he
raced through the eerily dark corridor. The neglected building had
water damage on the floor and the wood was visibly sagging in some
parts. Huge sheets of paint hung; peeling from the wall with the help
of gravity. Max could hear the Thin Man's engine race up and down as
he tried to navigate the stairs. Max stopped to listen a bit.
The Thin Man had fallen behind a little; Max wondered if the course
was difficult or if he was being humoured by him. He was hoping that
the track was just difficult. Max turned around on his seat and
waited for the sound of the engine to come closer. The next leg would
be difficult. As they had raced around the perimeter of the park, Max
noticed the low, flat building that had slid off the hill. It was
torn in two; office furniture flung about like toys, trash stuck to
the sides of the chain link fence. Erosion had finally swept one half
of the building away into a big broken up trash heap.
Max could hear him getting closer and kicked off towards the bridge.
Alex had felt a pang of fear as she spotted the first black clad
figure in the distance. "Nat, we got ourselves a problem." At first,
given the distance Max and the Thin Man were from her position and the
waves of heat radiating from the ground, she had thought that the Thin
Man had merely gotten off course. Perhaps, the Old Man missed one of
the small flag markers, she snickered.
But she became alarmed when that small black clad figure in the
distance seemingly split before her eyes on the distant horizon into
two, then three, then four, then five.....
The mysterious black suv hadn't moved since first pulling up either.
And Nat was responding with increasing anxiety. She didn't dare
reveal her and Bos' position to this potential enemy. But she was
panicking about the crowd that was growing bolder and actually tapping
on the glass, trying to peer into the interior.
Alex looked through the scope, "Nat, they still haven't come around
that corner." What were those things riding anyway? They were
flitting about the horizon like caffeinated horseflies.
The Thin Man sped down hall after hall, occasionally overtaking Max,
who was suddenly not as confident as he had been at the start of the
race. But Max still managed to get ahead of him and he could hear him
start his run towards the bridge. Max took off across the enclosed
bridge, towards the blinding white sunshine of the outside. It's so
bright-
Two things puzzled Max even as he and his bike dropped towards the
ravine below. What the hell was that buzzing noise and where was the
rest of the bridge?
The Thin Man had seen Max in that moment just before gravity started
to slowly pull him down. Horror filled him as he stood up on his
bike, before gunning it and hurtling himself after the boy.
Dylan finally found what she was looking for. In a corner by a door,
a veritable shrine to Vasilescu; his mustache and beard neatly
trimmed, his eyes hidden by black eyeglasses. His picture hung over a
small bureau with a large silver box that seemed to pulse with life;
twining, sinuous glinting branches twisting itself around the box, as
if grown from it and into it. She got out her key and started to open
the box.