Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy (33 page)

Day Four - Monday

At seven thirty the next morning he was again
observing the A.I., this time from an outdoor restaurant located to
the East of the motel. At three minutes past eight and again at
nineteen minutes past eight he watched as the drapes opened at
adjoining rooms near the south end of the twelfth floor. At
eighteen minutes of nine the drapes were closed again. The windows
had been uncovered a total of thirty eight minutes.

Day Five - Tuesday

Clay was at the parking garage on the West
side of the motel at what had become his usual morning starting
time. At one minute before eight the first of the drapes on two
windows were opened. On a hunch Clay quickly started the car, left
the garage and drove through heavy early morning traffic to a spot
on the east side of the motel where he had a clear view. Crawling
over the seat into the back seat he again scrunched down and hoped
the guards or passersby’s wouldn’t notice him in the unlit interior
of the car. He had barely gotten in position when the curtains on a
room near the middle of the top floor were opened. They remained
open for approximately fifty eight minutes before closing again.
Now he had something to ponder. What did the timing of the curtain
openings indicate?

After dark he noticed shadows flash across
light seeping around the window coverings in one of the rooms on
the West side where curtains were opened and closed the previous
morning.

Day Six - Wednesday

At sixteen minutes before nine the next
morning, Clay observed the drapes open on the same room he had
observed shadows breaking the slivers of light the previous night.
Both windows were hidden again at nine forty two. He figured there
was a total open time of fifty two minutes.

After finding a small restaurant he ordered
coffee and breakfast. Copying the times and duration’s of the
curtain movements from his notes he tested a developing theory.

He drove back to the area of the A.I. and
again drove the streets around the motel, within a radius of a half
mile, stopping several times to take notes. At a spot inside the
perimeter of his search area he parked the car, sat looking at the
motel, and pondered his ability to make a killing shot at the
distance. There was no other choice, he had to make the shot and be
successful on the first and only attempt.

The man he wanted was in there. How could he
get Trezzini to show himself? What would it take to cause him to do
something dumb? They’ve been in there for almost seven weeks; even
the FBI gets complacent and sloppy after a long period; it’s human
nature. But what will it take to make something happen now? Think,
Clay, think. Clay wrestled with himself to come up with an answer;
a key to the situation facing him. I can’t shoot what I can’t see.
How do I make him visible? Having seen enough for the day, he went
back to his motel, pulled the license plates from both loaner cars,
drank a few beers and cleaned up. Looking spiffy in dress slacks
and a blue summer weight sport coat, he felt like going to a good
steak house for a quiet dinner where he could relax and forget his
work problems, even if only for a few hours.

Driving his own car, he followed the
directions provided by the desk clerk to a recommended steak house
and entered the establishment after turning his car over to the
parking attendant. A waiter had just brought him a bourbon on the
rocks when he saw a man wearing a tall white chef’s hat and white
jacket wheeling a cart across the dining room to a table on the far
side. Most patrons were talking or eating and likely didn’t notice
the man setting up to make a flaming desert at a customers table.
When it was time to light the gas burner the cook waited too long
to ignite the gas, letting it accumulate under the pan and around
the burner. With a loud WOOMMSH, a fireball shot up five feet high
as the gas ignited. A man at the table behind the preparation cart
almost turned his table over, knocking over all the wine and water
glasses while reacting to the unexpected explosion. Everyone in the
dining room was caught off guard and turned to see what the
commotion was. Gasps and Ohhhs permeated the room as people reacted
to the unanticipated fireball.

Clay grinned and made a silent toast to the
chef. The chef had solved his dilemma. To celebrate the event he
had two more drinks, ordered the best steak on the menu, and sat
grinning from ear to ear planning what would be required to pull
off the plan starting to form in his mind.

After supper he again drove to the A. I. and
sat until almost midnight watching the lights. On his way back to
the motel he lifted a set of license plates from a car sitting on a
self pay parking lot and then removed a set from another car to
replace the first. Most people don’t know their license number
unless it’s a vanity plate, so odds were good only the missing set
would be reported to the police. He was almost ready for the next
step.

Day Seven - Thursday

Since too many people could have the
description of the loaner cars he was driving, he got up early the
next morning and spent an hour moving both cars to another motel
three miles away. They would be picked up in a few weeks and held
until Frank paid the storage fee.

After moving the last car he had a taxi take
him to a large nearby factory. When the taxi left he walked to the
far end of the parking lot and found a car he liked. He removed a
tool from the gym bag he carried to unlock a two year old black
Buick Wildcat. After pulling the ignition switch he drove it to a
park where he installed the license plates stolen the night
before.

At seven he was at a construction supply
business where he bought a white hard hat, a pair of safety glasses
with side shields, a pad of green engineer’s graph paper and a
clipboard.

Now he was ready to visit the construction
site of the five story building across from the A. I. He located a
small parking lot for visitors at the site and left the Buick
there. Donning his hardhat and carrying the clipboard he entered
the fenced area behind two craftsmen, noting the locking method. To
his left he saw a ten foot by twelve foot guard shack manned by two
security guards. The two craftsmen ignored the guard shack and
headed for the main entrance. He emulated their lead as if he were
being escorted by them and tagged along closely behind them. Inside
he wandered through the building occasionally making official
looking notes and sketches on the paper pad. Mentally he noted what
he was really there for. The first floor was being utilized as a
storage area for materials for the rest of the building. On the
second floor he located an area near the center of the floor where
oil based paint, solvent and painting equipment were being staged.
The remaining upper floors were in various stages of final
finishing. Having seen enough, he left the building and walked the
perimeter. Behind the building there was another drive through
gate, held closed by a chain and cheap pad lock. This area was
partially obscured by six, thirty cubic yard capacity roll off
trash boxes, staged inside and outside the fence, some full or
partially full, some empty. A temporary roadway led from the fence
to the basement of the building.

Back at his car he wrote down the details he
had noted while they were still fresh in his mind and then drove to
a gas station with an outside phone booth. After Tony answered he
said, “The problem you feared is real. Can I call you on the other
line in fifteen minutes to discuss it some more?” Hanging up he
moved the car to a pump and filled the gas tank, paid for the gas
with cash and walked back out to the phone. Dialing the phone again
he got Tony at the phone booth they had arranged to call in case he
needed a secure means of communication where the police wouldn’t
have a bug.

“Tony, you were right, one of the other
people here did try to set me up. It’s a damn woman. But don’t
worry; I’m taking care of it. I need some things; a lot of things.
Is there someone here you can trust, or will you need to send
someone out from Chicago? Good, tell him to get a three quarter ton
van and leave it in the parking lot of the Princess Theater at six
tomorrow evening. It’s on Euclid Street; tell Tracy to park in the
back of the lot. The things on my shopping list aren’t going to be
easy to get on short notice. Yeah? Well, you’re right, if anybody
can get it my moneys on you pal. Here’s what I need.”

"Call Ernesto Martinson for a one pound PETN
shaped charge with a timer detonator for the explosive trigger.
Tell him not to substitute another explosive unless it's as stable
and as powerful. I'll need two empty fifty gallon drums, ten
gallons of diesel fuel, ten gallons of high octane racing fuel, and
twenty fifty pound bags of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. Don't
substitute with any other fertilizer. You better have the
fertilizer stolen from distributors so there won't be a sales
record. Got all that, or do I need to go over the list again?"

"Got it. Clay, what the hell is this stuff
for?"

“It’s something I learned in War School as
you called it. We’ll soon know if it’s enough and if it’s as
powerful as I was told”. In closing he told Tony “Make sure the
truck can’t be traced; it won’t be coming back. Tell Tracy to leave
the keys in the floor and take a cab to the train station to get
back home. Pay him well and I’ll settle up with you when I get
back.”

“O.K. Clay, if Ernesto has the bomb stuff on
hand I’ll have it there. Be careful and good luck kid.”

“Thanks Tony. Hey, there is one other favor I
need. Check with your contact again to ensure Trezzini is still in
the motel. If he’s been moved there’s no need to send the truck. If
it doesn’t arrive tomorrow I’ll know why.”

He drove by the construction site again. It
was deserted except for a solitary guard he could see sitting in
the guard shack, facing the building listening to a radio. From a
parking spot where he could see the guard in the window he watched
for four hours. The guard never moved from the trailer.

Day Eight - Friday

The following morning Clay was in position to
observe the eight o’clock ritual at the A.I. Everything was falling
into place. At six o’clock in the evening he was in the parking lot
at the Princess Theater, leaning against the side wall of the brick
building. At five minutes past the hour a white Ford utility van
moved slowly down the driveway and parked at the end of the lot.
Clay had dropped down behind the car in front of him and watched
the entrance to the lot to see if anyone was following his supply
run. Even if Tony was in charge of the arrangements he wasn’t
taking any chances. The driver of the Ford van had gotten out of
the truck and was stretching while looking at the area around him.
He glanced at his wristwatch to assure himself of the time, and
then turned and walked out to the street and flagged down a cab.
Clay waited another fifteen minutes, then stood up and walked
briskly to the van. After driving back to his motel he parked the
truck under a light fixture where it was visible from his room. By
then it was time for supper which he decided to eat in the small
chain restaurant attached to the motel. Before going back to his
room he went to his car and got his rifle, rolling the gun case up
in a sleeping bag to conceal it. He went to bed early but was
absorbed for over three hours in going over last minute details of
the next days plan.

Day Nine – Saturday

At three in the morning Clay woke to the
sound of the alarm clock, dressed and carried a garment bag out to
the white van. The rifle was hanging vertically between shirts in
the bag He needed to get it out to the van without being seen and
this was a good time. Besides, he had another errand to run.

Later he stopped for breakfast and was in
place at the parking garage at seven thirty for his last
observations. As anticipated draperies opened on two rooms a few
minutes past eight and closed on both by eight thirty seven. He
felt sure he knew the room Trezzini would be sleeping in. He was
betting all his chips on the first draperies to be opened each
morning at around eight o’clock were in the rooms getting a final
prep for occupancy; thus the shorter duration. The later and
extended duration in rooms on the opposite side of the motel were
while the staff cleaned the just vacated rooms after the tenants
moved their personal belongings each morning. The F.B.I. was
careful to keep window coverings closed while they were in the
rooms, but had neglected to frequently reinforce the requirement on
the cleaning staff.

Get ready to die Dominick Trezzini I’m coming
for you. The next part of his plan was to put a set of stolen
plates on his personal car and leave it in a residential
neighborhood until after the hit was accomplished. He didn’t want
anyone to associate it being parked near the get away car he would
dump there after the hit.

At a bus stop Clay selected a route, and rode
five miles into the city to steal another car. He had stashed the
Buick and felt a need to change cars again, just to be safe.
Although he hadn’t seen the woman in the red Monte Carlo since the
bus station sighting, he was willing to bet she was keeping an eye
on him. He wanted something faster this time, so he found an almost
new Chevrolet Camero. Prior to taking it he popped the hood to
assure it had the big block V8 engine. After switching plates with
another car the Camero was left in a parking garage a block from
the constructions site. Wanting to make a detailed final review of
his plan and then exercise in the swimming pool, he took a cab back
to his motel to spend a few hours trying to relax.

Saturday night at eight, Clay parked the
white truck outside the back gate at the construction site. He was
dressed from head to toe in black and wore a black ski mask. After
cutting the pad lock with bolt cutters he slipped through the gates
to survey the grounds inside the fence. From outside the guard
shack he observed one elderly gray haired man in a black security
uniform. The old man was sitting in a swivel desk chair with his
legs propped up and his shoes off, listening to a radio and reading
a magazine. The shack had a large window with a view of the
building project. A radio sat on a counter top on the opposite
wall. The guard was facing away from the building and wouldn’t be a
problem unless the radio broke. He made his way to the basement and
spent a full twenty minutes moving boards, scaffold parts and waste
barrels out from an area near the center of the basement. After
opening the back gate he again checked on the guard and then drove
the truck down the gravel drive into the basement. Once the truck
was inside he turned the parking lights on using the dim yellow
light to position the truck just where he wanted it.