Chapter II
But Frank's fears were unfounded. It was still early evening and light outside when Jerry handed his headset to one of the assistant stage managers and headed for the stage door. Joe, who was pretending to adjust Callie's harness, signaled Frank, who waited deep in the shadows of a scrim. As the stage door opened, Joe moved casually over to the scrim hiding Frank and pretended to get ready to adjust the fly ropes. Great, he thought, as Jerry disappeared into the parking lot. If he takes his car this will be the shortest tail in history. I doubt there's another friendly catering truck hanging around.
He casually strolled over to the stage doorway and leaned against it, looking into the parking lot as if he were getting some air.
"Hi!" said a bright voice somewhere near his chin. "Are you, like, having a smoke? Can I have one?" Joe looked down to see Suzy smiling sweetly up at him. He groaned inwardly.
"I don't smoke," he said abruptly, then, as it occurred to him, "And neither should you! You're a singer! And you're only fifteen!"
Suzy stuck her lower lip out. "Fifteen's old enough for a lot of things." She widened her eyes meaningfully, but it was wasted on Joe who was keeping an eye on Jerry's progress through the parking lot and racking his brains for a way to get rid of her.
"Hey, Joe," Frank popped his head out from behind the scrim. "Jerry wants us to pick up some more of that..." he groped for inspiration, "Stuff…for him." Joe raised his eyebrows at him and he shrugged. "You ready? He wants it five minutes ago."
"Yeah! We'd better hurry! See you, Suzy!" Joe slipped outside the door, dodging Suzy's grasp and signaling Frank to follow. Frank emerged into the sunlight just as Jerry turned in his direction. He dropped abruptly to his knees, crouching behind a station wagon. He looked up at Joe, who was gesturing him to stay down while pretending to unlock a car.
"Hey! Lose a contact lens or somethin'?"
Frank glanced up to see that Suzy had followed them outside. He stared at her in horror. "I - thought this tire looked soft." He glanced wildly at Joe, who nodded that it was all right for him to rise. Frank stood up slowly, smiling at her and backing away. "I guess it's all right! See you, Suzy!" He caught up with Joe, who was frowning.
"I don't know. I don't think he saw us, but we'd better take it easy. At least we're in luck. For a minute it looked like he was going to take the car."
Sure enough, Jerry had started down the street at a rapid pace.
"Great," grumbled Frank. "Not a whole lot of cover. Hang back a little."
They let Jerry get a decent lead with a few knots of people between them.
"Lucky thing we're tall," muttered Joe. "Cause we're going to lose him."
"Not if I can help it," answered Frank grimly.
One of the bright cable cars San Francisco was famous for trundled past them and pulled to a stop at the end of the block.
"He's getting on!" Joe broke into a jog. "C'mon!" He and Frank raced the length of the block as the cable car started to move. It was moving downhill, picking up speed, when Joe caught the rear rail and swung on. A second later, Frank pulled himself on beside him. The brakeman gave them an amused grin.
"Better stay on the outside." Frank murmured. Joe was nothing loathe. The Bay disappeared and reappeared as they flew up and down the hills, the harbor lights winking on below them. He wondered wistfully if they'd ever get a chance to really enjoy the city.
The car stopped at the bottom of the hill. Joe looked up to see that they were almost at Fisherman's Wharf. They let Jerry get off, then paid the conductor and lingered near the back of the cable car to see where he'd go. The brakeman and the conductor got out and started the colorful process of turning the car around. They pretended to watch as Jerry made his way down the Wharf.
Here the crowds were thicker, and for a moment they were afraid they'd lost him. Then Joe spotted him at the Pier 41 ticket booth. He let out a groan.
"Don't tell me he's going to Alcatraz! We could be following him sightseeing!"
"In the middle of the final dress for the Gala? I doubt it." Frank's eyes followed Jerry. "You'd better get us two tickets. I'll stand behind this post and pretend to feed the gulls."
Joe walked over to the ticket booth. The line was much shorter than the morning they'd gone. Was it only two days ago? It seemed like a lifetime. He hung back to let a good length of line build up between Jerry and themselves, then sauntered over.
Frank materialized beside him. "Not a bad place to make a contact, actually," he said softly.
Joe nodded dubiously.
A sharp wind was blowing off the Bay, and they hadn't really dressed for it. What's more, Joe had found Alcatraz creepier than he liked to admit.
"Think he spotted us?" he asked, to keep his mind off where they were going.
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "Probably not. He doesn't have any reason to believe he's being followed."
"Huh." They remained silent the rest of the ride. Jerry stayed in the bow of the boat, gazing out toward the island. When the ship docked, he was the first one off. A crowd of passengers pushed their way between him and the Hardys, surging onto the dock. This time, even their height didn't help. By the time they managed to make their way to the dock, Jerry was nowhere in sight.
Joe smacked his fist into his palm. "Gone!" he said in disgust. "We might have known he wasn't going to stick with the tour group. Now what?"
"I guess we split up," Frank answered slowly. "It is an island, and this is the last boat of the day, so he can't go far. The tour's about forty-five minutes. Let's synchronize our watches and meet back here in about thirty."
Joe nodded, staring at the building with distaste. "Why don't you take this end? I'll start at the far end."
Joe watched his brother disappear into the tour group, then he started up the steep labyrinth of stairs. He took them briskly: partly to stay warm, partly to get this thing over with. He wasn't that worried about being spotted since he didn't think that Jerry knew who he was, and because, as Frank had pointed out, he couldn't really go anywhere anyway.
He walked around the perimeter of the prison, easily scaling rocks, fighting the wind. The roar of the violent surf against the rocks drown out the sound of the tourists voices. He remembered the stories of the convicts who were drown or shot trying to escape and he shivered. He felt as though he was completely alone in this desolate spot, accompanied only by the restless spirits of the hundreds of prisoners who had been incarcerated there.
He ducked inside and walked slowly down a corridor between the bi-level cell blocks. The echo of his footsteps followed him eerily. No sign of Jerry. No sign of anyone.
He found himself on the row the rangers had referred to as Broadway, connecting Cell Blocks C and D. The tour group must have already passed through.
He thought he heard something - the scuff of a shoe on the floor - and he froze, listening. A shiver ran down his spine. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. It wasn't that he believed in ghosts...not exactly. It's just that the atmosphere seemed to vibrate with the memory of death and violence. He eased his way into Cell Block D.
The sense of another presence deepened, pressing on his diaphragm like an oversized hand, tightening his breathing. There's nobody there, he assured himself. Nobody.
He thought he caught a flicker of movement ahead and moved after it. A chill of perspiration formed at his hairline.
Okay, so there's somebody there. But it's a real somebody. Somebody alive.
He moved down Cell Block D, his heart hammering suffocatingly against his ribs. He told himself that he was being silly, but it didn't help. At the end of the cell block he caught another glimmer of movement. He increased his pace, keeping his footsteps stealthy and silent. He crept to the end of the cell block. There was no one to be seen.
He came to a halt, puzzled. Then he saw that the double doors of one of the old isolation chambers were slightly ajar. He stared at them in dismay.
The thought of entering made his flesh crawl. Maybe he ought to go back for Frank. He glanced at his watch. He was just about due. Still, if Jerry and Cobra were rendezvousing now, by the time he got back with Frank it could be too late. He crept to the door and listened closely. Silence. He set his teeth. Okay, then. In it was.
He opened the door with excruciating care, and, taking a breath, plunged into the lightless interior. The cell was chilly and damp. Ahead of him was another cell door. In the pencil of light from the door behind him, he could make out the door handles, but little else. He listened. Nothing. Maybe he'd been mistaken. Maybe there was no one there. One quick peek, and then off to meet Frank.
He eased the door open and looked inside. The darkness was profound, the dampness settled on his skin like a cold, thin rain. Without knowing it, his teeth were chattering. He took one step into the second chamber. This time the sound of the footfall was distinct, and behind him. He started to turn, but a strong shove sent him slamming into the steel floor with a force that made him see stars. He lay still a moment, dazed and winded, and heard the horrible sound of the door slamming closed behind him. He tried to push himself up, but he lolled feebly on the floor. After a moment he heard, with mounting terror, the outer door slam as well, with the resounding crash of steel on steel.
Joe's hands clamped over his ears to blot out the sound. He tried again to push himself up. This time, with the help of the wall, he made it to sitting position. He sat still for a moment, trying to steady his swimming head, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the luminous dial of his watch and his breath caught in his throat. The boat! He was going to miss the boat! The last boat of the day! That would mean spending the night alone on Alcatraz Island!
He scrabbled along the floor until he found the door and threw himself against it with all his might. It was like charging a locomotive. He slumped hopelessly against it.
Easy, he told himself. Frank won't leave without you. He won't leave you here alone. He'll come looking, and he'll find you. He felt the weight of the cold steel against his cheek and an awful thought occurred to him. Could Frank even hear him through all this steel? Maybe he'd be stuck here forever!
In rising panic, he threw himself at the door with renewed force. For a frenzied moment, the only sounds were his labored grunts of effort and the sound of flesh on steel, then as suddenly as he'd started, he froze.
Because there had been another sound. A low, eerie moan. Joe felt his hair rise on his scalp.
Up until that moment, he had been sure that there could be nothing worse than being trapped in that isolation cell alone. Now he knew that there was something much, much worse.
Because he was not alone. Someone, or something, was in there with him!