Earthquake in San Francisco
Chapter 7
1
The day Frank Hunt had been waiting for had finally come. He was going to get out of this stinking hole. Fifteen long years had been taken out of his life, and one man was responsible for it. He'd finally get his revenge against Robert Ironside. Nothing was going to stop him. He intended to kill the detective, but he had to plan it carefully. He certainly didn't want to come back to prison if he could avoid it. Nevertheless, he had every intention of killing him whether he returned to prison or not. Hunt had thought about nothing else for his entire 15 years of his incarceration.
Rolland Hubbard watched his friend as he packed his personal belongings. He was afraid that he had not gotten through to Frank. He could sense the slow burn Hunt was feeling. Roland walked over to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I sure am going to miss you. You're the only friend I've ever had in this joint."
Frank smiled. "I don't know how I could've tolerated this place without you. You've made it bearable. I'll miss you as well. I promise you I'll keep in touch. I'll visit you regularly."
Roland shook his head. "They'll never allow you to visit a convict in prison. You're going to be on parole. You're not allowed to associate with ex-cons or current ones, for that matter."
"I'll find a way."
"No, stay away from here and forget that I exist."
"This is Ironside's fault. Fifteen years of my life was taken away by that damn cop. I can't even choose my own friends."
"You aren't going to take my advice, are you?"
"He did this to me. I know you think I should forget it and go on with my life. The problem is I just can't do it. Ironside must pay for what he's done to me."
Roland stepped in front of Frank. Looking him straight in the eye, he warned him, "It's been tried many times before and Ironside remains unharmed. He's simply too well-protected by the police."
"No one is too well protected, not even Ironside. There's a way to get to him; I just have to find it."
"Everyone who has tried it ended up back here behind bars. I'm afraid the same thing will happen to you if you go ahead with your plan to kill him. Let it go, Frank. Forget Ironside and get the hell out of San Francisco so that you're not constantly reminded of him."
Staring off into space, Hunt shook his head. "I haven't thought about anything else for 15 years. It was the only thing that got me through every miserable day of my existence here." He looked at his friend and smiled. "That is except for you."
The conversation was cut off when one of the guards approached their cell. "Alright, Hunt, it's time. I'll take you to the entrance. You can catch your ride right outside the prison."
"There won't be anybody waiting for me. I'll call a cab."
The guard grinned. "Oh, but there is someone waiting for you. He's giving you special attention."
"Who'd be waiting to pick you up?" Roland asked.
With a frown on his face, Frank answered, "I've got a pretty good idea." He turned to the guard. "Get me the hell out of this stinking hole."
"Anxious, are we?" The guard said sarcastically with a grin on his face.
Frank ignored him and turned to the only friend he had. He put out his hand Roland shook it. "I'll be seeing you."
"Take care of yourself, Frank." He embraced his buddy and then let go.
Hunt took one last look at his friend, turned, and left the cell without looking back. The guard led him out of the cell block toward the entrance of the prison. They walked in silence. Frank had no desire to converse with a guard whom he hated almost as much as he did Ironside.
When they reached the entrance to the prison, the attending guard opened the doors. For the first time in 15 years, Frank looked upon the outside world. He wished they had given him sunglasses as the brilliance of the sunlight he wasn't used to seeing blinded him.
Parked just outside the entrance was the familiar van of Chief Robert T. Ironside. Mark Sanger got out of the van and met Frank Hunt as he approached.
"Get in, Mister Hunt," Ironside called out from inside the van.
The last thing Frank wanted to do was get in that van with the man he hated more than anyone else in the world. Yet, he didn't have a ride. He opened the passenger side of Ironside's van and climbed in.
"My lawyer would consider this harassment," Hunt accused Ironside.
"Who's harassing you? I came here to offer you a ride," the gruff detective said.
Mark got back into the van, started up the engine, and pulled the vehicle away from the prison entrance.
"Your parole officer has arranged for a small apartment for you. We'll drive you there."
"I expected to be met by my lawyer." Frank knew that wasn't true. His lawyer had contacted him and told him he wouldn't be picking him up. He was actually surprised that his parole officer hadn't shown up to take him to the apartment. Why did it have to be Ironside of all people? He wished the detective would just keep his mouth shut for the entire ride. Unfortunately, he knew that wasn't going to happen.
"He couldn't make it. I decided to step in for him."
"Why? So you could threaten me?"
"No," Ironside said. "I wanted to give you some friendly advice."
"You're not my idea of friendly, Ironside. Say what you have to and then do me a favor and shut up until we arrived at the apartment."
"My advice is that you confess to the murder of Zack Hill. Because if you don't, I intend to find the evidence to return you to prison. Both you and I know you killed him. You're a killer, Mister Hunt. You're going back to that prison as soon as I can prove it."
"You got a big mouth, Ironside. One of these days someone is going to shut it for you. You may live in a building full of cops, but you have to leave it at some point. When you do, I have no doubt somebody will be there to shut your big mouth for good."
"It won't be you because you are going to spend the rest of your life in prison where you belong," Ironside assured him.
Hunt was seething, but he kept it inside. He wasn't about to let Ironside see that he'd gotten to him. He'd enjoy nothing more than ending this cop's life. If only he had some kind of weapon on him right now, he'd take care of him and his aide.
"Did you do it yourself or did you have someone do it for you?" Ironside asked.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Did you kill Zack Hill yourself or did you have someone do it for you? I bet it was the latter.
You always had someone else do your dirty work. You didn't have the guts to do it yourself."
Frank turned quickly toward the detective, unable to control his anger any longer. "You're going to get yours, Ironside. It's only a matter of time."
"Is that a threat, Mister Hunt?"
"Of course not. It's a promise."
"Did you hear that, Mark? Mister Hunt just threaten me," Ironside said, looking at his aide.
"I heard," Mark replied.
"You heard nothing, Sanger," Hunt said. "Who's going to believe either one of you? They all know that your boss is obsessed with keeping me in prison. Hell, picking me up and badgering me is harassment. I intend to complain to my parole officer. I might even file a complaint with the San Francisco Police Department."
"Drop by my office and I'll be happy to provide you with paperwork," Ironside said.
Mark pulled the van to a stop in front of an apartment building. "This is where you get out, Hunt."
Frank opened the passenger door. He hesitated only long enough to address Ironside. "Your days are numbered." He got out of the van and walked into the apartment building.
After Hunt disappeared inside, Mark turned around and looked at his boss. "Chief, do you think it was a good idea to taunt him like that?"
"I intend to force him to make a move, Mark," Ironside explained. "I don't want a killer out on the streets any longer than necessary. If he attempts to kill me, it'll put him back in prison for the rest of his life. He won't get out again."
"So you intend to make yourself a target?"
"Oh hell, Mark, I'm already a target. I intend to see to it that he's informed exactly where we are with this investigation. The closer we get, the more imperative it'll be for him to take me out. I intend to be ready when he does that."
"I don't like you setting yourself up this way," Sanger told him.
"It's my neck," Ironside reminded him.
"Yeah, but it's my neck too since I'm always with you."
"I told you the work would be interesting." Ironside grinned.
"Yeah," Mark said.
2
Roland Hubbard felt lost for the first time in all the years he had been in prison. Frank Hunt had always been there to talk to. Now, he was completely alone. Soon, they'd give him a new cell mate. Roland didn't believe he would ever find a friend like Frank. Without him, life in the prison would become unbearable. The only option he could think of was to escape. Was it possible to escape from the prison? It had been done before, but the prisoners were always captured just outside the walls. Was he smart enough to plan an escape?
He decided if he were going to do it, it would have to be before he was assigned another cellmate. If he could get out of the prison, maybe he could stop Frank from killing Ironside. On the other hand, the more he thought about it, maybe Frank was right. Ironside deserved to die. Frank was not the only man the cop had put behind bars.
He too was in the prison because of Robert Ironside. Roland had nothing to lose. He would be here for the rest of his life unless he found a way to escape. But Frank had a real chance at life. As much as he would like to see Ironside dead, he cared more about Frank. He didn't want to see him end up back in this stinking prison. Frank was smart. He could do anything in life he wanted to do. He was blinded by his hatred for the detective, although he couldn't blame him.
If he could escape, maybe he could kill Ironside for Frank. After all, he already had a life sentence. Maybe he should've thought about escape while Frank was still here. He had the brains and the know-how to figure out how to escape. Roland didn't care what happened to him, but he did care what happened to Frank. He had to help his buddy see that Ironside was not worth it. If you wanted him dead, Roland would do it for him.
He started thinking about where the prison was weak. He believed the guards were that weakness. Roland had heard there'd been three guards who'd left the employ of the prison. That meant no one would be that familiar with the new guards who were hired. If he could overtake one of them and remove their uniform, he might be able to get past the other guards. Roland had to find out exactly when the new guards would start. That was when he would make his move.
3
Frank could not believe the stinking hole his parole officer and lawyer had secured for him. It was a two-room apartment. The living room, bedroom, and kitchen were combined. The bathroom didn't even have a door. How were any of his guests supposed to use the bathroom when they couldn't even close a door?
The carpet was so worn out there were small holes throughout it. The curtains on the only window in the apartment were nothing but rags.
The bed came out of the wall. Frank pulled it down to discover it was no different from sleeping on a cot. The mattress was so thin, it could hardly be called a mattress. The springs poked through it in some places. He couldn't help but wonder if Ironside had a hand in choosing his living quarters.
His parole officer had gotten him a job pumping gas at a gas station for minimum wage. Part of that money would go to pay for the dump he was expected to live in. He had been told that the price of food had more than doubled since before he went to prison. How was he supposed to even feed himself on the money he would make at the gas station?
He had far better accommodations in prison. At least, he could sleep in a halfway decent bed. The food certainly wasn't great, but it was definitely better than anything he could cook. He certainly wouldn't make enough money to eat out on a regular basis.
All of this was unacceptable. He had no intention of being in this dump for very long. As soon as he was able to kill Ironside, he would leave San Francisco and head for the Mexican border. At least down there, he would stand a chance of being able to live his life the way he wanted to. There was so much corruption in Mexico, he would be right at home. But first, he had to kill that damn cop.
Frank left the apartment, went outside, and flag down a taxi cab. After telling the driver to take him to Police Headquarters, he sat back and dreamed of watching Ironside take his last breath.
It had seemed like no more than a few seconds and the driver told him they'd arrived at Police Headquarters. Frank paid him and got out of the taxi.
He stood across the street from the building and looked up at the top floor where he knew Ironside's office was located. If only he had a gun in his possession, he could go up there right now and shoot the bastard dead. It would almost be worth going back to prison. However, he would be patient and figure out a way to get away with the murder of Robert Ironside.
Crossing the street, he headed for the police garage where the cop parked his van. Frank knew there was a back elevator that went up to the detective's floor.
He realized that he would have to go through the duty entrance where all the police officers reported for work. Willing to take the chance of being seen, he headed for that entrance. He was surprised to find it was actually pretty deserted. There was one cop in a room behind a counter. He stood back and watched a couple officers walk up to him. They were handed keys. Frank watched as they headed for two police cruisers, unlocked them, and got in. Moments later, they drove out of the police garage.
Frank waited until the officer behind the counter turned his back, and he passed by him unnoticed. Keeping an eye out for other police officers, he headed to the end of the garage where he knew Ironside's van was parked. The elevator to his floor had to be located in the same area. They wouldn't expect the crippled to travel very far to the elevator, especially if he were alone.
As he reached the end of the isle, he spotted a van parked in a spot marked with his name. Frank walked over and looked into the window of the vehicle. There wasn't any doubt it belonged to Ironside. He could see the lift that the detective used to get his wheelchair in and out of the van.
Looking over at the building, he spotted an elevator. It definitely had to be the one Ironside used to get to the top floor of Police Headquarters where his office was located.
Frank looked around to make sure there were no police officers anywhere in sight. He did not want to be caught checking out the elevator. If he were recognized, it could present a major problem for him. After he was certain that there wasn't anybody around, he hurried over to the elevator. To his disappointment, he saw a panel that required a key code in order to open the doors of the elevator.
Ironside was a coward. Not only did he live in a building full of cops, he made sure no one could reach his office without knowing the code to the elevator. It would not stop Frank. He would figure out a way to get past it.
At first, he thought about waiting until Ironside was out in public. He found it far more satisfying to kill him right in his own office. He would prove to the cripple that not even a building full of cops and an elevator with a key code could keep him safe. Furthermore, he would go right out the front door past the entire police force. Then he would leave San Francisco behind him for good. The thought of leaving the city that Ironside loved so much gave him some comfort, but not the kind of comfort killing that damn detective would give him.
Hunt had been concentrating so hard on how to get to Ironside, he did not hear the vehicle that pulled in and parked beside the detective's van. He had discovered what he wanted to know. It was time he got out of the garage. When he turned around, Lieutenant Carl Reese was standing directly in front of him.
"Well, hello, Frank," Lieutenant Carl Reese said. "What are you doing here? You wouldn't be here to try to harm the chief, would you?"
"Of course not. I came to pick up the papers to file a complaint. Ironside said I could come to his office to get them."
Taking Hunt by the arm, Carl said, "Then by all means, come on up to the chief's office with me."
Seeing no way to get out of it, Hunt watched as Carl keyed in the code to the elevator. The doors opened and Reese pushed him inside. The last thing Frank wanted to do was to see Ironside so soon after being picked up at the prison.