Shane pulled the tattered overcoat more tightly around his body to ward off the freezing cold, but then got a whiff of the stench it was emitting. "Did you have to give me the coat that smells like dead fish?"
John shrugged, peering out from under the floppy hat he had pulled out of his bag of disguises. "Sorry 'bout that. I always wanted to look the part when I went undercover-"
"Smell the part's more like it," Shane muttered.
"Well, bums in Salem do hang out around the pier and docks," John pointed out. His teeth chattered and he looked around toward the street. "Dammit, where the hell is Steve? He should've been here by now."
He should have been here well before now, Shane thought. He was baffled. His message should have reached Steve or Kayla nearly an hour ago. In that time, Shane and John had gathered these disguises, had made sure they had Shane's tools, had driven to the refinery site, and had punched a hole through the tarp-like material that covered the chain-link fence surrounding the property. And they had sat in the freezing cold for at least 30 minutes, searching for some signs of activity.
"I don't get it," John said, apparently reading Shane's thoughts. "The ships dropping anchor near this site, the name being the same as Lawrence's winery cover. . . . It can't just be a false lead."
"It's not." Shane was certain. Lawrence's base of operations was here. But where? All they could see from their current location were a couple of seemingly unoccupied trailers. The ruins of the refinery had been cleared away as part of Lawrence's "good citizen" campaign when he arrived in Salem. He lifted the binoculars again and looked at the three trailers once more.
Nothing.
"We need to get closer," he said.
John shook his head. "Not until Steve gets here."
Normally, Shane was the one who preached patience, but he was struggling to control his frustration. "Let me call the hospital again." They had driven John's car, which had a phone inside.
Stumbling under the bulky coat, Shane headed back to the car. He debated just saying forget it. He did not want Steve involved in the first place, but then he remembered what John had said.
He's right. You can't protect Steve.
Once he reached the car, Shane dialed the hospital. The receptionist assured him that she had forwarded a message for Kayla to the Trauma Center, but had no idea where Kayla or Steve might be. After asking her again to attempt to get the message through, he hung up.
After debating what to do next, Shane decided to make one more call. He dialed the number for the Spectator and asked for Jack Devereaux. A minute later, Jack answered.
"Shane, what's up, my friend?"
Setting aside the desire to debate that point, Shane asked, "Have you heard from Steve?"
"Nope," Jack replied. "I thought you were best buds these days."
"Yeah, well, I haven't been able to reach him, so I need you to do me a big favor, Jack." Shane hesitated, hating how that even sounded. "Look . . . Steve's supposed to be over at University Hospital. I need you to go find him and tell him what you told me about Jacaranda Inc."
He could almost hear the wheels spinning in Jack's head. "So that Jacaranda thing means something?"
"Don't ask questions, Jack," Shane warned. "Just get over to the hospital and find Steve. Tell him we're waiting for him. He'll know what that means."
"I could help too," Jack said.
Shane knew that was coming. "Jack . . . listen to me. . . . Just do what I said and then go about your normal business. You really can't help. Trust me." When he got no response, Shane added, "Remember how you wanted to help me after writing that article? This is how you can help - find Steve, tell him about Jacaranda, and then stay out of it."
Grudgingly, Jack said, "All right. I'll go right now."
Hanging up, Shane pulled the coat tight around himself and headed back to where John was still crouched by the hole in the fence covering. As he approached, he saw that John had the binoculars and was focused on something on the other side of the fence. Apparently hearing Shane approach, John waved his arm, beckoning Shane forward.
"We've got movement," John said.
Shane dropped to his knees and took the binoculars from John. Looking through them, he spotted what had caught John's attention. Several figures were crossing the empty site, heading toward the river. A few appeared to be carrying suitcases.
"Where did they come from?" Shane asked.
"Out of that trailer," John said, pointing to one of the buildings. "There must be more to the place than that. All those people . . . we would've seen them."
Shane thought about that. "Something underground, maybe?"
"Probably." John must have then remembered why Shane had left. "You get Steve?"
"No. Nobody's seen him at the hospital." Shane wondered momentarily if Steve might have gone to the docks instead of doing what he had promised. That would be the kind of rogue move Steve might do, but he had assured Shane he would do what he was told to. "I don't know what's going on, but I sent Jack to find him."
"Jack?" John sounded dubious. "You sure about that?"
Shane chuckled. "I don't think I had much choice." He raised the binoculars again and studied the figures. From their location, they could not see the bank of the river. It was possible there was a launch there, which would explain why only two of the figures seemed to be returning to the trailer. Shane zoomed the image closer on the two men.
"That's Ivan Marais," he said.
"Alamain's man?"
Shane nodded. He looked around again, hoping to see Steve approaching, but it was still just the two of them.
"We can't wait," he said. "We can follow Marais. He'll lead us right to Lawrence."
"What about Steve?" John asked, but Shane was already rooting through his tool bag for the wire cutters.
Finding them, he pulled them out and began snipping away at the metal of the fence. As the links gave way, forming a hole through which they could pass, Shane shrugged.
"He'll just have to meet us inside."