Cold Sanctuary (John Decker Series Book 2) (12 page)

28

Adam Hunt crossed the space between the two towers, his eyes fixed on the two figures ahead of him. When they reached the abandoned office block he stopped and waited, flattening his body against the side of a small storage shed lest the subjects of his surveillance glance his way.

It had been pure luck that he was here at all. He hadn’t expected Decker to take off on a midnight jaunt. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the camera placed in Decker’s apartment, Hunt might be sleeping now. Instead he was out in the freezing cold, watching the ex-cop and his companion, most likely the brat Mina, jimmy a window and climb into the crumbling north tower.

Only when they disappeared from view did Hunt feel it was safe to move again. He sprinted across the remaining distance and reached the window. He paused for a moment, listening, and then, when he was sure Decker and the girl had moved off, climbed over the sill and dropped down into the room with catlike agility.

Once inside, he made his way to the door and slipped into the corridor, not daring to pull out the small flashlight he was carrying despite the gloom.

Not that he needed it anyway.

He knew this building well, had been here many times. Of course he didn’t usually need to go in through a window. There were other ways in, better ways, and he had a feeling that Mina was about to show Decker one of them. That was fine. There wasn’t much the ex-cop could glean from a moldy old tunnel. Even if he did put two and two together and figure out that the maintenance man’s killer had escaped into the north tower, he would be no closer to identifying the killer, and even further from learning the real secret of the tower.

It was that secret that Hunt was sworn to protect, the reason he was here. Even if Decker managed to catch the murderer he would not learn the truth. He couldn't. But it would raise other questions, which was why Hunt needed to take care of things he should have in the first place instead of trying to let nature do the job for him. He had made a mistake, and he knew it. Now the deaths of at least six people were on his hands. That bothered him. He’d let a situation that should have been easy to contain get out of control. After the years spent here watching and waiting for anything to go wrong, when something finally did, he screwed up.

But there was no point dwelling on that. His job right now was to clean up the mess and make sure that no one ever found out the truth. That meant not only eliminating the cause of the issue, and making sure that the idiot sheriff, Wilder, spent enough time chasing his own tail to never make any headway catching the killer, but also to hamper the clandestine investigation that John Decker was running. Of the three things, it was Decker who most concerned him. The man might be a laughing stock, a joke in law enforcement circles, but Hunt knew better. Decker was dangerous because he had peeked behind the curtain of illusion, went toe to toe with something that should not have existed, and triumphed. His mind was open to possibilities beyond the comprehension of most men, and so he was willing to entertain notions that most people would write off as fantasy or superstition.

Hunt was in the lobby now, crossing past the rotting reception desk, picking his way through the decay and rubble, stepping only where it was safe, avoiding anything that might give him away. Decker and the girl were quite a way ahead, but he knew where they were heading. He could make out the faint sound of their feet as they descended the stairwell to the basement.

Hunt came to a halt. There was no point in proceeding further now that he knew where they were headed. Decker would not find anything useful in the tunnel, nor would he discover much in the south tower sub-basement. That didn’t mean that Hunt was in the clear though; he just had a temporary reprieve. If he’d learned anything from the last debacle, it was that one shouldn’t assume things would go as planned. There were secrets in this building he could not afford for Decker to stumble upon, and that meant he would have to make sure the man didn’t dare come here again.

Hunt turned and backtracked. When he reached the room with the open window he climbed out and hurried toward the south tower, only stopping when he was under the protection of the portico leading to the main doors. 

He took his cell phone out and searched the contacts, found the number he wanted, and dialed. A moment later the call was answered. The person on the other end was groggy, his voice full of sleep. “This is Sheriff Wilder. Can I help you?”

Hunt smiled.

This was just too easy.

29

Decker moved along the tunnel with slow, deliberate steps, his flashlight held at arm's length to illuminate the narrow space. He was not prone to claustrophobia, but down here, in this dark, dank space full of cobwebs, with the walls closing in and the low ceiling forcing him to stoop a little, he found himself wondering if their midnight excursion was worth it. It didn’t help that this was the most likely way the killer had made his escape from the sub-basement after ripping out the throat of the maintenance man. That thought made Decker’s blood run cold. He expected to see the beast Hayley had described earlier barreling down the tunnel toward him, mouth agape, wicked sharp teeth ready to tear into him. But this was his imagination talking. The tunnel was empty, he knew. If there were anything else down here with them they would have encountered it by now.

Besides, they were almost through. He could see the metal access door leading to the south tower basement, and that made him feel better.

Despite her brave face and assurances that she had been here many times before, Mina must have been feeling the same way, for when they reached the door she let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t remember this place being so spooky.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Decker said, putting his shoulder against the door until it swung open on protesting hinges. “I don’t think it gets any better.”

“Great.” Mina looked back over her shoulder. “We could go back now that you’ve seen the tunnel.”

“Give me a moment.” Decker shone his flashlight through the opening, but all he saw was a wall of metal. For a moment he was confused, but then it hit him. This door must be tucked away behind one of the large generators, which was why he hadn’t noticed it when they searched the basement the previous night. He stepped forward and found himself in a tight space between the machinery and the basement wall. To his left was nothing but a dead end, but to his right he could see the greater expanse of the basement. He stepped forward, past the generator and recognized where he was, noting the wall with the circuit breakers, and beyond that, the dark entrance to the storage rooms, and the scene of the crime. “This has to be how the killer got in and out,” he mused, more to himself than to his companion.

“So can we go now?” Mina kept close, her eyes darting around as if she expected to be attacked at any moment. “I really don’t like it down here.”

“I think I’ve seen enough.”

“Thank God.” Mina took a step back toward the tunnel and lingered at the doorway waiting for Decker to follow, then ducked through the opening.

Together they made their way back to the north tower, neither one saying a word. When they reached the stairwell, they climbed, emerging into the lobby. Decker breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to be free of the dark, oppressive underground, and looked forward to returning to his accommodation and climbing between the sheets. Since he’d arrived in Shackleton sleep had been tough, and he could feel exhaustion lingering at the edges of his consciousness.

They moved toward the corridor and the window through which they had gained entry to the building, past the large semi-circular reception desk, but as they went, Decker’s foot caught on a piece of broken floor tile. He staggered forward. He reached out to steady himself, and in the process the flashlight jolted free and fell from his grip. It hit the floor and rolled, coming to rest under the desk.

“Damn.” He stopped and bent over.

“Forget it.” Mina was already at the corridor. She stopped and waited for him. “It’s not important. I still have mine.”

“Hang on. Decker dropped to his knees and reached under the desk. “I think I can get to it.”

He felt around, his fingers probing the small space, but the flashlight remained elusive. He scooted lower, resting his weight upon his shoulder, and pushed his arm further underneath. His fingers came in contact with something furry and matted. A dead mouse? He shivered, pushing it aside. He could see the flashlight’s beam, and had a good idea where it had rolled, but it was just out of his grasp. He made one last effort, pushing his arm under as far as he dared, and touched the round, cool barrel of the light - and something else.

There was a strap resting against the flashlight. He probed further, his fingers tracing the strap back to something large and bulky, but he could not tell what it was. He knew one thing though. It wasn’t supposed to be there.

He nudged the flashlight, allowing it to roll back toward him, out from under the desk, then gripped the strap and pulled.

For a moment the thing didn’t budge, but then it came free. He dragged it out from its hiding place and stood up, lifting his mysterious find onto the desktop, then bent and picked up the flashlight, letting the beam play over the object. He looked toward Mina, puzzled.

She was already on her way back to him. “What did you find?”

“A back pack.” Decker leaned in to examine it. “It’s not that old either.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Mina was at his side now. She looked down at the bag, perplexed. “What was it doing pushed under the desk?”

“Beats me.” Decker reached out and touched the zipper. “Want to see what’s inside?”

“Sure.” Mina leaned in close, her eyes wide.

Decker unzipped the bag and pulled it open. He shone the beam of his light inside. He saw wadded up papers, something that looked like a bunch of credit cards bound with a rubber band, and a cell phone.

He reached in, perplexed, and pulled the items out one by one.

“What is all this stuff?” Mina picked up the sheaf of papers and turned them over in her hand, then pulled one out and unfolded it across the counter top to reveal faint, straight lines etched onto the paper.

Decker recognized it right away. “That’s a plan. A building layout.”

“Are you sure, It’s so faint.” Her light played over the paper.

“I’m sure. It looks old too.” Decker had seen such plans before. They were used in the construction of big buildings, and were often stored in city archives. He searched for anything that might identify the plan, his eyes drifting to the bottom of the sheet, and a title block with two words and a date stenciled into it. He read it aloud. “Deep Sanctuary – 4 Oct 63.”

“What does that mean?”

“Beats me, but I was right. This dates back 1963.”

“So what is Deep Sanctuary, and why is there a map of it in this bag?”

Decker examined the faded sheet, picking out other words now, labels identifying parts of the building. He saw living quarters, meeting rooms, and several laboratories. “I have no idea on either count, but whatever the place is, it appears to be a laboratory complex.”

“And the rest of this stuff?”

“More plans.” Decker rifled through the rest of the papers, then turned his attention to the plastic cards bound by a rubber band. He pulled one out, running his fingers over the surface, feeling the pattern of bumps that reminded him of Braille, but he knew it was no such thing. “This looks like an old entry card.”

“A what?”

“A key card. Like you get in hotel rooms, only instead of a magnetic strip, this one has bumps on it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s for a lock that predates magnetic strips.” He went through the other cards one by one, seven in all, noting how pristine they looked. They were also identical. “These are not originals. They are copies.”

“Why so many?”

“Spares? After all, if you’re going to copy the card, you might as well make enough duplicates to cover all eventualities.” He turned his attention to the cell phone, pressing the power button. Nothing happened. The battery was drained. Still, it confirmed something in Decker’s mind. This was not something left over from the days of the Navy base. The bag had been stashed recently.

“What do you think it means?” Mina asked.

“I don’t know.” Decker leaned on the counter. “It might have nothing to do with the murders, but then again, it could. Either way, I intend to find out.”

“So what do we do with this stuff?” Mina picked up a key card and turned it over in her fingers. “Take it with us?”

“No. That would be foolish.” Decker folded the map and put it back with the others, then dropped the items back into the bag, but not before pocketing one of the key cards. “We should put it back, at least for the time being.”

“Why?” Mina looked disappointed.

“Because we don’t know who stashed it here, or if they are coming back. If this does have something to do with the recent deaths, the last thing I want to do is alert anyone that we found it.” Decker took a breath. “Besides, we don’t want to get caught with this stuff. If the sheriff finds it he’ll confiscate it and lock me up for obstructing his investigation.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Mina didn’t look convinced.

“I am. Trust me.” Decker zipped the bag and pushed it back under the desk. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He turned and made his way to the corridor, then glanced back, noting that Mina was still lingering by the desk. “Are you coming?”

“Fine.” She cast one last glance downward, to where the bag was now hidden, and then pushed past Decker in the direction of the room they had entered through.

They reached the open window.

Mina climbed out first, dropping down to the cold earth. As soon as she was clear, Decker swung his legs over the windowsill and climbed through.

It was colder now, if that was even possible. Decker could see a white mist of condensation with every breath. He rubbed his hands together, and turned toward the south tower with Mina at his rear.

He had taken no more than a couple of steps when a shape separated from the darkness, appearing as if from nowhere. A voice carried on the breeze. Decker recognized it and groaned. This was the last thing they needed.

“And just what do we have here?” Sheriff Wilder asked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Out for a little stroll, are we?”

Decker came to a halt and glanced at Mina, then turned back to the sheriff.

“Well?” He blocked their path, his firearm leveled at Decker. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Like you said, we’re just out for a stroll.” Decker did his best to sound nonchalant. “A nice night for it too, don’t you think?”

“Bullshit.” Wilder shook his head. He narrowed his eyes. “Get your hands in the air, nice and slow, so that I can see them.”

“We're not looking for any trouble.” Decker did as he was told. “Like I said, we’re just out taking a walk before bed.”

“Really?” Wilder didn’t sound convinced. “You and the girl?”

“Yep.”

The sheriff’s eyes fell to Decker’s waist, to the bulge of the gun under his jacket. “In that case, you won’t mind telling me what you’re packing under that coat, will you?”