Notes: This chapter marks the beginning of the climax.

Chapter Twenty

"My feet are killing me!"

Ahiru groaned, slumping against the side of a brick building on a normally busy but currently empty corner. The handle of her small white purse was held loosely in her hands.

Autor pushed up his glasses and watched her in some amusement. "As I recall, you were the one who suggested walking through this business district, so you could get a better feel for the city," he remarked.

"Yeah, I know," Ahiru said. "I just wasn't expecting everything to be so big."

"Even though we've been around two other cities already," Autor said.

"Most of the time we were in Frankfurt I was too upset to even pay attention," Ahiru said. "But now that we have Detective Kirsch's list and we can look around for Fakir with more hope, I'm paying a lot of attention!"

"Just remember that we are not to do anything rash," Autor cautioned. "We're only to look."

"But what if we really do see Fakir?" Ahiru protested. "What then?"

"We call the police." Autor was firm. "And then we wait."

"What if there's extenuating circumstances?" Ahiru returned, emphasizing each little-used syllable.

"Then we might have to not wait," Autor admitted.

Ahiru gave a satisfied nod. "I hope there's extenuating circumstances," she said. "Then we can get to Fakir sooner!"

"Personally, I hope there isn't," Autor said. "We've waited this long; we could wait a few more minutes. I don't want to be forced into a position where we have to save Fakir and risk making another horrible life-and-death blunder out of it. I'd be perfectly content to let the police handle this."

Ahiru pushed herself away from the building. "I guess I should be too," she said. "But . . . I just . . ." She gave a sad sigh. "I want to feel like I really helped save him and didn't just make a phone call."

"The phone call could be the best help we could give," Autor said. "Nevertheless, I know how difficult it is to only be able to stand at the sidelines and watch while feeling helpless and useless." He looked away. "That's how Fakir and I felt when you had to battle the Monster Raven."

Ahiru blinked and looked to him. "But Fakir was helping all along the way!" she said. "He was writing the Story out and giving me strength. And you were helping him!"

"I realize that. But both of us wanted to be right there with you, actively involved in the fight instead of staying behind."

Ahiru took several steps towards him. "I thought back then, you wanted to be in Fakir's place and write," she said.

"At first, yes, I did," Autor said. "But when Fakir and I could only stand there and watch you running towards the town square . . . I wanted more than anything to stop you, to tell you not to do something so foolhardy and dangerous. Then I wanted to go with you. But I knew that was not where I would be able to do the most good. So I forced myself to go inside with Fakir, and later, to stop him from fatally running out when he wanted to abandon the Story and go to you."

Ahiru tilted her head to the side. "I didn't know any of that," she said softly.

"Of course, you couldn't have. I never told you, and at that time I wasn't about to let my feelings show. I was still trying to deny the extent of my caring for you, although I realized shortly afterwards that it was impossible." Autor glanced away, uncomfortable. "Anyway, my point is that sometimes what we would like to do is not necessarily what we would be the most useful doing."

Ahiru gave a slow nod. "Yeah . . . I understand," she said. "But . . . I still hope I'll be able to do more than just make a phone call."

Autor half-smiled. "Some part of me, perhaps the illogical part, wishes the same for myself.

"But speaking of phone calls . . ." He looked up, scanning the street. "We need to find a phone and call Detective Kirsch. It's time for us to check in with him and Charon."

"Oh yeah!" Ahiru perked up, looking around too. "That's right! We don't want to be late; maybe they've found something!"

"And if we're late, they'll worry that we've found something—most likely something we shouldn't have." Autor glanced at the building they were standing by. "We can't go in there to call, just in case there is some connection with the gang and one of them will overhear. Come on, there should be a telephone booth somewhere nearby."

With that he led her to the next block and up the sidewalk. Still within sight of the building they had walked past was indeed a telephone booth. Autor hastened to it, digging in his pocket for a coin at the same time.

"We're lucky this one accepts coins," he said as he placed it in the slot. "Most of them demand telephone cards, which I do not have."

Ahiru made a face. "Yeah, you don't need those things back home."

"We may before long," Autor said. "Now that we're free of Drosselmeyer, the town has been gradually embracing modern devices." He took up the receiver and dialed the number of Kirsch's cellphone.

Ahiru scrambled into the booth with him. He gave a start, not particularly appreciating having his personal space invaded. The booth was not designed for more than one person. But he sighed and did not try to rout her out.

After a moment there was a click. "Hello?"

"Detective Kirsch, this is Autor," the boy greeted. "Ahiru and I are checking in as planned."

"Good. Have you had any luck? There hasn't been anything remotely suspicious here."

"Our luck has been the same," Autor said, turning to look towards the building he and Ahiru had been at moments before. "We haven't seen anyone we recognize."

"Alright. What's your location? We'll come by and pick you up. There's still a couple of residential locations to try."

Autor gave the address, all the while watching the apparently innocuous building. Curious, Ahiru turned to look at it as well.

"Alright, stay where you are," Kirsch told them. "We'll be there in a few minutes, if the traffic permits."

"We'll be here," Autor assured him.

He hung up, relieved that they would be moving out of the phone booth. "Let's wait out here, by these stores," he said.

Ahiru was not paying attention. Autor frowned, looking at her questioningly. "Ahiru, are you listening?"

Ahiru shook her head. "Not really," she said. "Look! There's a guy coming out of the building."

Autor raised an eyebrow. "Do you recognize him?"

"I can't tell from here," Ahiru said. She scrambled out of the booth and moved down the sidewalk, towards him.

Autor hurried after her, grabbing hold of her wrist. Before she could protest, he was pulling her behind a tree.

"If he is part of the gang, we can't let him see us," he scolded. "We have to be inconspicuous."

Slowly, both of them looked out from behind the tree. The man was standing on the corner, checking his watch with impatience.

"He must be waiting for someone," Autor noted.

They continued to watch. Ahiru shifted, uncomfortable staying in this position for an extended amount of time.

"My legs and back and shoulders and everything are cramping up!" she exclaimed.

Autor reached behind himself, rubbing at his own shoulder blades. "It is monotonous," he agreed. "Apparently our 'friend' is getting restless too."

The man was now pacing up and down the sidewalk, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder. At the sudden roar of an engine he stiffened, turning to look as a car approached and pulled over to the curb. He leaned down, exclaiming through the open window.

"Where have you been?" he cried.

Autor raised an eyebrow. He was yelling so loudly that he and Ahiru could both hear. The driver's reply, however, was indistinguishable.

From their position, the driver's side of the car was facing them. And as the driver turned slightly, Ahiru gasped, grabbing Autor's arm. "Autor!" she squealed.

Autor had stiffened. "He's from the gang," he said in amazement and disbelief. "I could never forget his face."

"Then we must be on the right track!" Ahiru said. "The building is owned by someone in the gang, maybe even that awful Anton, and the gang comes here!"

"It certainly looks that way," Autor said.

What were they going to do now? The man they had been watching was opening the door to get in. If they followed on foot, they would not get far. And they were supposed to wait for Charon and Kirsch. But then they might lose the car for sure. And if both of these people were involved in the gang, which was what it looked like, how could they miss out on a possible chance to follow them and maybe find Fakir?

The sound of a car pulling up next to them was the most welcome sound imaginable at that moment. Autor hurried over, thrusting open the back door.

"A member of the gang just drove up over there!" he announced to Charon and Kirsch as he threw himself inside.

"What?" the men boomed in unison.

Ahiru scrambled in after Autor, shutting the car. "They're driving off right now!" she said. "Quick, we have to try to follow them!"

Kirsch, who was driving, gunned the engine. "You're positive he's one of the gang?" he said, keeping the other vehicle in sight as it started down the street. He turned the corner, allowing one car to come between them as he pursued it.

"Yeah!" Ahiru declared.

"Definitely," Autor said at the same time. His eyes narrowed. "He was at the mansion the night they took Fakir."

Charon's visage twisted in anger. "Don't lose them!" he instructed his friend.

"I'll do my best," Kirsch said. "Traffic here is leaving something to be desired."

"I've already memorized the license number," Autor said. "In case we lose track of them, you can call the state police and report it."

"If that would help," Kirsch said. "The other license number you reported belongs to a car owned by someone using a false name and another fake address."

Ahiru stared at him. "So it didn't help at all?" she said in dismay.

"It still might," Kirsch said. "The police have linked that alias with several others used by the same person. He'll hopefully slip up sooner or later."

Somehow he managed to keep the suspicious car in sight as they traveled through the business district. Eventually it turned onto a side road and parked near an old, brick building. The man in the passenger seat leaped out and ran up to the door, knocking firmly and furiously.

Kirsch parked across the street and down a ways, hopefully out of their sight behind a thick bush. "What's going on?" he muttered. "Is this another hideout?"

"It doesn't look like they plan to be here long," Autor said. "The other man is staying in the car and letting the engine run."

The door of the building opened by someone unseen. The man spoke with whomever it was, his voice too low to be overheard. After a moment he returned to the car and got in. They sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Kirsch started the engine of their car, moving slowly towards the building in case someone was watching. "Can you see what kind of place it is?" he asked, trying to keep his attention on the vehicle ahead. They could always come back and examine this location later, or tell the state police about it and have them do it. But the car would get away if they stopped now.

The others turned to look to their right, studying the brick edifice. "It seems to be a photography shop," Autor noted. "They develop film."

Ahiru read through the old sign above the door. "'Peter's Photography,'" she announced.

"It certainly sounds innocent enough," Autor said.

"There is the chance that the business is legitimate," Charon said. "And the one that man was standing in front of downtown, too. Even if it is connected with the gang, Anton supposedly has legal enterprises. Maybe that man has no idea he's traveling with a criminal. Maybe whatever they stopped for here was upright as well."

Kirsch nodded. "Anything is possible," he said. "We don't even really know that the first man works at that building. Just because he came out of it doesn't mean much."

Ahiru looked with nervous eyes towards the other car. "Do you think they know they're being followed?" she wondered.

"If they don't by now, I can't think they're very intelligent," Autor said. "Although that would be a good break for us."

"We could sure use one," Ahiru said.

But if the occupants were not aware of their shadow, they were certainly doing an inadvertently good job of appearing otherwise. Now, as Kirsch tried to catch up with them again, they sped around corners, zigzagged over streets, and vanished in front of other cars.

Kirsch gripped the steering wheel in frustration. "They must be trying to get rid of us," he said.

"And they're getting away with it," Charon growled.

He clenched a large fist on the armrest. There was one possible clue slipping away from them now. They would probably never know if those people could have led them to Fakir.

Kirsch was trying his hardest, but he could not seem to locate the vehicle. It had completely disappeared into the late-afternoon traffic. Cars were swarming from all directions, making it impossible to see far ahead.

At last he pulled over to the side of a road and stopped. "It's no use," he said, feeling grim. "I can't see where they went at all."

Charon bowed his head. "You tried," he said.

For an agonizing moment a discouraged silence settled over the car. There had been so many disappointments on this case already. It was hard to have to take another one, especially after their renewed hope.

". . . We do still have those other addresses to investigate," Autor spoke. "And maybe we should try to find out more about that photography shop."

Ahiru started. "That's right!" she exclaimed. "Maybe we should split up again and . . ."

"No!" Kirsch interrupted. "The photography shop could be dangerous. Maybe it was even the person there who told the other man that they were being followed. We should stick with the original plan of looking at those residential addresses. If we don't find anything at either of those, then we'll decide what to do about the shop."

"That's fair enough," Autor said.

"I just hope it's safe enough," Kirsch said.

xxxx

The first of the homes on Kirsch's list was a large, white manor with several pillars supporting a small roof over the front door. The sight of it gave everyone a start; it eerily resembled the mansion near the forest outside of Kinkan.

"It's like it was built to look like that other place!" Ahiru wailed. "The gang has to be here! It looks just like a place they'd want to stay at!"

"It's very likely just a coincidence," Autor said. But he was frowning at the abode himself. It was a very odd coincidence. In spite of trying to tell himself he was being overly sensitive and cautious, it did not fully work.

"I don't see any cars," Kirsch said. "It actually looks vacant."

"Does your list say how long each location has been owned?" Charon asked.

"Yes," Kirsch nodded. "This is the most recent. It was purchased several months ago."

Autor undid his seatbelt and began to climb out of the car. "Let's at least try to see if we can catch sight of anything important through the windows," he said. "The curtains on the window to the right aren't pulled together as much as they should be."

"Be careful!" Charon exclaimed. He started to exit the car as well. "We only agreed to let you and Ahiru walk past some of the businesses on the list because they were in areas with lots of people and we thought you'd be less likely to get into danger. But out here there doesn't seem to be anyone around. If the house isn't empty after all, you could be grabbed and pulled inside!"

Autor paused, waiting for Charon and the others to join him on the walkway. When they were together he headed in determination towards the window in question. He pressed himself against the glass, peering through the slit at what he could see of an old living room.

"Can you see anything?" Ahiru demanded, trying to look over his shoulder.

"Yes!" Autor declared, excitement tingeing his voice. "It looks like there are stacks of wooden boxes in that room."

Charon's eyebrows lifted. "Such as the crates from the first robbery?"

"Possibly. Or maybe from other robberies." Autor pushed himself away from the pane. "What if there are houses such as this in many different cities, all containing wares that the gang has pilfered?"

"That could be," Kirsch nodded. "And they might all be listed under respectable names. No one would think of those people being members of the most notorious gang in Germany."

He sighed. "On the other hand, there could be a perfectly legal explanation for the crates in there."

"There could be," Autor agreed. "But will you call in about it anyway?"

"Unless we could make out an incriminating name on a crate, it still wouldn't be enough evidence to get a search warrant," Kirsch said.

Again Autor pressed himself against the window. "I don't see any names," he said. "All of the crates appear blank."

"Maybe they turned them away so the names wouldn't show!" Ahiru exclaimed.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Kirsch said. "But I can't call the state police and tell them to come investigate a perfectly legal house with stacks of crates in the living room." He shook his head. "If we could only connect that man with the gang!"

"Let's walk around the property and see if we can discover anything else of interest," Autor said. "If not, we should move on to the other house. It won't be long now and it will be dark."

The others consented.

A walk around the perimeter of the house revealed nothing. Several other curtains were slightly apart, but looking through the windows displayed only old and empty rooms. The owner had not furnished the house yet, if he was planning to at all.

"This is pretty weird," Ahiru said as they came back to the front. "If he bought this house several months ago, why hasn't he done anything with it? It's nice!"

"Weird, but not criminal," Autor sighed, pushing up his glasses. "Let's go."

They trooped back to the car and climbed inside. As Kirsch started the engine, something caught Ahiru's attention out of the corner of her eye. She blinked and looked up at the house. Had the curtain on the top floor fluttered? Maybe it was her imagination; it was holding still now. She frowned, leaning back against the seat.

Autor looked to her. "Is something wrong?" he asked in concern.

Ahiru shook her head. "I'm not sure," she said. "I thought I saw the curtain moving up there, but . . ."

Everyone else turned to look as well. "If it was moving, it isn't now," Kirsch frowned.

"Do you think someone is here after all?" Charon asked.

"I don't know." Kirsch studied the attic window. "Someone might be here guarding the merchandise, or even arranging it. Or just innocently planning what furniture to get."

"Or being held prisoner?" Ahiru said quietly.

The others looked to her.

"I don't think they would keep Fakir here," Autor said. "It's more likely they would want him right with them, wherever they are."

"I agree," Kirsch nodded. "Still, I'd feel better if there was someone to watch this house while we check the other one."

"Are you going to call the state police?" Ahiru exclaimed.

"I don't know," Kirsch frowned. "There's really not enough evidence for it. And they might only try to keep us from driving to the other location." He started the engine and moved the car slowly down the street and around the corner out of sight. Then he stopped again.

"I'm thinking maybe I should stay here, just for a few minutes, while you drive to the other house," he announced.

Charon rocked back in surprise. "What if there's trouble?"

"If there's trouble on your end, you'd better call the state police. If there's trouble on mine, well . . ." Kirsch started to open the door. "We'll deal with that later."

He took a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Charon. "Here's the address and the directions," he said. "Do you think you can find it?"

"Just as well as you could," Charon said.

"Good." Kirsch climbed out and stood on the road. "I'll find a way to double-back without being seen. And all of you, be careful." He shut the door as quietly as he could.

Charon moved into the driver's seat. "Be safe," he muttered under his breath. He started the engine as Kirsch slipped out of sight.

Ahiru continued to look for him as they began to drive away. "I hope he won't get caught," she worried.

"There's probably no one even there," Autor said. "And if there's one person, he probably won't bother coming outside. If he does, Detective Kirsch should be able to handle him."

He prayed that was the truth.

xxxx

It took several confused attempts and one count of becoming lost before at last Charon found the correct street in a much more recent and fancy neighborhood. The houses here were both more modern and larger than on the street from which they had come. The yards sprawled for meters, perfectly green and well kept. And most properties were behind strong and determined gates.

"This certainly looks more like the kind of neighborhood where a successful businessman would want to make a purchase," Autor commented.

Ahiru was in awe. "They're all so big!" she exclaimed. But then a problem occurred to her and she frowned. "How will we even see anything, though? We won't be able to get close enough!"

"We'll think of something," Autor returned. "We've come too far to be defeated here."

"We might be defeated before we've begun," Charon said. "We don't know that there's anything here to see."

By now the sun had gone down. Both house lights and streetlights were starting to come on, illuminating the area. Charon leaned forward, hoping that it would not be difficult to see the addresses.

Suddenly Ahiru cried out. Charon nearly slammed on the brakes. "What is it?" he exclaimed. "Do you see it?"

"Yeah!" Ahiru said, staring out her window. "And I see Fakir! I know it's him!"

Now Charon pulled over to the curb, hope forming again. "Where is he?" he demanded.

Autor was looking to where Ahiru was transfixed. "Over there," he said, "in a lower window of that mansion. I think Ahiru's right; it definitely looked like Fakir, even from this distance."

Charon visually searched the area. "I don't see anyone now," he said with a frown.

He had no sooner spoken when another form stepped into the light of the window. This one raised Charon's eyebrows and then swiftly narrowed them. "That man looks familiar," he noted darkly.

"Who is he?" Autor asked.

"Unless I miss my guess, he's the very man on record for owning that house—Bernhard Schuhmacher." Charon continued to watch him with suspicious eyes. "He's talking to someone in there, maybe even Fakir."

"Isn't this enough to take to the police?" Autor exclaimed. "At least they should come on suspicion of kidnapping."

"They should," Charon said. "And we're going to try to make that happen." He shook his head. "I've never been interested in those pocket phones, but it would certainly be useful to have one right now. We have to keep watch on the house, yet the police have to be called."

"I could try to find a phone!" Ahiru volunteered. "I can run fast! Or maybe someone on this street would help!"

"The problem is, how do we know there aren't other gang members inhabiting some of these houses?" Charon gripped the steering wheel, turning the problem over and over in his mind. At last he eased the car back enough that it would hopefully not be seen from the house in question. He parked and started to undo his safety belt.

"I'm going to try the house across the street," he said. "It's in full-view of the car. If something goes wrong . . ." He drew a heavy, conflicted breath. "You'll need to try a house on another street."

Autor nodded. "Alright then. And in case something does go wrong, maybe we should have the car keys here, so that they won't fall into the wrong hands."

Charon handed them to him. "I'm sure it will be fine," he said. "But this is just in case." He looked from Autor to Ahiru. "Don't do anything impulsive!"

"We won't," Autor said.

"Unless there's extenuating circumstances," Ahiru added.

Charon started to get out of the car. "And there had better not be," he said.

Shutting the door, he walked across the street.