Someone was talking in loud whispers in the elevator.
As the top of the freight elevator reached the level of his floor, Kurtz stepped out onto its roof and went to one knee, a pistol in each hand. He made no noise, but the grinding and growl of cables and the ancient motor would have shielded the sound of his move even if he had been wearing metal boots.
The elevator did not stop on his floor, but ground its way up to the top floor, seven. The huge elevator door cranked open and three men inside stepped out, still whispering to one another.
Kurtz had ridden on the elevator roof before and knew there was a hole in the plaster through which he could look out onto the seventh-floor mezzanine. He knew where it was because he had made the hole himself some days ago, using a crowbar to tear through the plaster. To his right was a piece of cardboard nailed over another hole he had made, this one in the west wall of the elevator shaft; he knew from practice that he could crawl out that hole and roll onto some repositioned construction scaffolding in five seconds.
The seventh floor received more light than the lower six floors: as dirty as the ancient skylight above was, it still allowed some starlight and city light in. The walls here had been removed to make this a mezzanine-apartment level. The interior opening to the atrium seven floors below was sealed off only by stapled floor-to-ceiling construction plastic. Kurtz could easily see the three men, even while it was obvious that they were having problems seeing anything.
What the hell? thought Kurtz. He had expected Malcolm and his men. He had no idea who these
clumsy-looking white idiots were. Kurtz knew at once that these weren't Don Farino's bodyguards: the old don would never hire help with such bad haircuts and six-day beards. And, despite their arsenal, they didn't look like cops.
The three men were all large and overweight, their bulk increased by what looked to be Kevlar vests under army jackets. They were heavily armed with automatic weapons, all three of which were sighted with projecting lasers, the beams quite visible in the dripping water and floating plaster dust. All three men were wearing bulky night-vision goggles.
A radio squawked. The tallest of the three answered it while the other two kept sweeping the mezzanine with their laser beams. Within seconds, Kurtz had to wonder whether he was being attacked by the Confederate Army.
"Warren?"
"Yeah, Andrew, what is it? I told you not to radio unless it was important." Ah tole you nat to radio 'less it was imporant .
"You all okay up there, Warren?" Y'all okay
"Goddamn it, Andrew, we just got here. Now shut the hell up unless we call you or unless you see him. We're going to chase him your way."
Kurtz slid his.45 into his back holster and took the heavy sap out of his pocket.
The tallest of the three men clicked off the hand radio and gestured for the other two to split up, one going around the west mezzanine and the other around the east side. Kurtz watched them go, the big men moving in what looked like a parody of military efficiency, stumbling over heaps of construction debris, cursing when they stepped in puddles, all the time fiddling with their night-vision apparatuses.
Warren stayed behind, head moving, aiming a Colt M4 carbine burdened with a huge suppressor. The big man swiveled constantly, the laser beam flickering left, right, up, down. Warren glanced behind him, made sure that no one was between him and the wall near the elevator, and backed up cautiously.
The radio squawked again.
"What?" Warren said angrily.
"Nothing up here. Me and Douglas are at the stairway at the other end."
"You look in all the goddamn rooms?"
"Yeah. They ain't got doors on this level."
"Okay," said Warren. "Start on down. Sweep the sixth floor."
"You comin' down, Warren?"
"I'm staying right here until you got the sixth floor swept. We don't wanna be comin' at each other in the dark, now, do we?"
"No."
"So call me when you got the whole floor searched, then I'll come down, then you do the next one down, until we find the sonofabitch or flush him down to where Andrew is waiting. Y'all understand, Darren?"
"Yeah."
Another voice. "Darren, Douglas, Warren? Y'all all right?"
Three voices at once. "Shut up, Andrew."
While all this chatting was going on, Warren had been backing up until he was almost to the scaffolding. Kurtz silently lifted the cardboard panel and moved out of the elevator shaft.
The wooden plank creaked under him. Warren started to turn. Kurtz leaned forward and sapped him with the two-pound blackjack.
CHAPTER 26
Star WarsSuddenly the radio crackled again. It was Darren.
"Warren? Warren? We found this Kurtz's guy's hidey-hole on six! He ain't here, but we found a cot and sleeping bag and shit. Warren?"
Warren did not answer.
"Warren?" came Douglas's voice.
"Warren?" said Andrew from his place near the front hall on the first floor.
"Shut up, Andrew!" said Darren and Douglas together. Then, also together, they said, "Warren? Warren?"