by Robin Cook
As he turned into the parking area in front of the immense plant, Kim noticed there were only a few parked cars scattered through the lot. He saw Marsha’s car at one end, nowhere near the entrance.
Kim pulled up directly opposite the front door. He leaped out. He tried the door. It was locked. He banged on it with his fist. Cupping his hands around his face, he peered inside. All he could see was a dimly lit, deserted corridor. There was no security guard in sight.
Kim listened. There was no sound. His anxiety mounted. Stepping back from the door, he surveyed the front of the building. There were a number of windows facing the parking lot.
Kim stepped off the concrete entrance slab and quickly moved north along the side of the building. He looked into each window he came to and tried it. They were all locked.
When he peered into the third window, he saw file cabinets, upended chairs, and what he guessed was Marsha’s phone on the table. Like the others, the window was locked. Without a second’s hesitation, he bent down and picked up one of the stout rocks lining the edge of the parking area. Hefting it up to shoulder height, he tossed it through the window. The sound of shattering glass was followed by a tremendous crash as the rock bounced off the wooden floor and collided with a number of the upended chairs.
Carlos paused and listened. From where he was standing in the head-boning room, the place where cattle heads were stripped of their cheeks and tongues, the sound of Kim’s rock came through as merely a muffled thump. Yet as an experienced burglar, he knew he could not ignore any unexpected noises; invariably they spelled trouble.
Carlos closed the top of the combo bin then turned out the light. He slipped out of the bloody white coat and pulled off the gauntlet-length, yellow rubber gloves he was wearing. He stowed these items under a sink. Picking up his knife, he moved silently but swiftly from the boning room out into the kill floor. There he doused the light as well. Once again he stopped to listen. He would have retreated up the cattle chute except he wasn’t quite finished.
Kim had climbed through the window headfirst. He did his best to avoid the shards of broken glass on the floor but wasn’t entirely successful. As he got to his feet he had to brush a few small slivers gingerly from his palms. With that accomplished, he scanned the room. He saw a blinking red light on a motion detector high in one corner but ignored it.
The abandoned cell phone, the upended chairs, as well as a broken panel of glass in the door to the front hall immediately convinced Kim that he was standing in the room where Marsha had been when she called him. He also noticed the open door at the rear of the room and guessed after being surprised she’d fled in that direction.
Dashing to this second door, Kim looked down the length of a deserted back hallway. He paused to listen. There wasn’t a sound, a fact which only fanned his ever-building anxiety.
Kim started down the corridor, rapidly opening each door he came to. He glanced into storerooms, cleaning closets, a locker room, and several restrooms. At the far end of the hall, he came to a lunchroom. He paused at the threshold. What caught his attention was the trail of overturned chairs leading to a rear door. Kim followed the trail out the rear door and up a half flight of steps. He yanked open the fire door and stepped through.
Kim again paused. He didn’t know what to do. He found himself in a room filled with a labyrinth of machinery and raised metal platforms that cast grotesque shadows.
Kim noticed a cloyingly fetid smell that was vaguely familiar. His mind struggled to make the association. Within seconds he had the answer. The odor reminded him of observing an autopsy as a second-year medical student. He shuddered against the mostly suppressed, unpleasant memory.
“Marsha!” Kim yelled in desperation. “Marsha!”
There was no response. The only thing Kim could hear were the numerous echoes of his own frantic voice.
To Kim’s immediate right was a fire station with an extinguisher, a long, heavy-duty flashlight, and a cabinet with glass-paneled doors that revealed a canvas fire hose and long-handled firefighter’s axe. Kim snatched the flashlight from its bracket and turned it on. Its concentrated beam illuminated narrow conic sections of the room and cast even more grotesque shapes onto the walls.
Kim set out into the alien world, shining the light in fast-moving arcs. He proceeded in a clockwise direction, skirting past the machinery to explore more thoroughly.
After a few minutes, he paused and again yelled out Marsha’s name. Besides his echoes, all he could hear was the sound of dripping water.
Ahead the flashlight beam swept across a grate. Kim moved it back. Over the center of the grate was a dark smear. Advancing to the grate, he bent down, and shined the light directly on the smear. Hesitantly he reached out with his index finger and touched it. A chill went down his spine. It was blood!
Carlos had pressed himself against the wall of the head-boning room, at the very lip of the doorless opening to the kill-room floor. He’d been retreating from Kim’s relentless advance. Carlos had first seen Kim as he’d come down the back hallway clearly on a searching mission.
Carlos had no idea who this stranger was and had first hoped the man would content himself with wandering around the office area of the plant. But once Kim had come into the kill floor and had yelled out Marsha’s name, Carlos knew he’d have to kill him.
Carlos was not dismayed. Contingencies were a factor in such work. Besides, Carlos figured he’d be paid more, maybe even double. He also wasn’t concerned about the stranger’s size and probable strength. Carlos had experience and the benefit of surprise, and, most important, he had his favorite knife, which at the moment he was holding in his right hand up alongside his head.
Cautiously Carlos eased his head out into the opening so he could see into the kill-floor area. It was easy to keep track of the stranger now, thanks to the flashlight. Carlos saw the man straighten up from the grate at Carlos’s workstation.
All at once the flashlight shined directly at Carlos. He retreated from the beam, careful to keep the knife blade from flashing in the darkness. He held his breath as the stranger edged closer, again probing the kill floor with sweeping motions of his shaft of light.
Carlos flattened himself against the wall and tensed his muscles. The stranger was coming into the boning room as Carlos had anticipated. The searching flashlight beam flickered around the room in a progressively brighter fashion. Carlos could feel his pulse sky rocket as adrenaline coursed around his body. It was a sensation he loved. It was like popping speed.
Kim knew he was in a slaughterhouse that had been in operation that day, so finding blood shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Yet the blood he’d found was unclotted and appeared fresh. He hated to think it could have been Marsha’s; the chance that it was brought back his familiar fury. Now he wanted to find her with even more urgency than earlier, and if she were indeed injured, he wanted to find the individual responsible.
After having searched the kill floor, Kim decided to widen his search to other areas of the huge plant. He headed to the only open passageway he’d seen, on guard against the person or persons who had already spilled blood.
In the next instant it was his wariness that saved him. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected sudden movement coming at him from the side. Reacting by reflex, he leaped ahead and used the long flashlight to parry what he perceived as a thrust.
Carlos had lunged from the shadows, hoping to skewer Kim in the side with a quick stab, withdraw the knife, and retreat. He’d planned to finish Kim off once Kim had been weakened. But the knife missed its mark and only succeeded in producing a shallow cut across the top of Kim’s hand.
As Carlos tried to regain his balance, Kim hit him with the flashlight. It was a glancing blow to the shoulder that didn’t hurt Carlos although, catching him off balance, it knocked him to the ground. Before Carlos could scramble to this feet, Kim took off. He ran through the head-boning room into the main boning room. This next room was almost the size of the kill floor
and somewhat darker. It was filled with a maze of long stainless-steel tables and conveyer belts. Above was a web of metal-grate catwalks where supervisors could survey the butchering of the carcasses into known cuts of meat on the tables below.
Kim searched frantically for some kind of weapon to counter the long knife. Having turned off the flashlight and afraid to turn it back on, he could only grope blindly along the tables. He found nothing.
A large, empty, plastic trash barrel fell over when Kim stumbled against it. Desperately, he reached out to keep it from rolling around and further giving away his position. Looking back at the passageway into the head-boning room, Kim could see the silhouette of the man with the knife. He was backlit for a brief instant before silently slipping into the shadows.
Kim trembled with fear. He was being stalked by an obvious killer armed with a knife in a dark, totally alien environment with no way to protect himself. He knew he had to stay hidden. He could not let this man get near him. Although he’d managed to elude the first thrust, Kim was smart enough to understand that he probably wouldn’t be so lucky a second time.
The sudden high-pitched sound heralding the start-up of electronic equipment made Kim jump. All around him the tangle of conveyer belts commenced their noisy operation. Simultaneously the room was flooded with bright, fluorescent light. Kim’s heart leaped into his throat. Any chance of remaining hidden in the mazelike room evaporated.
Kim crouched as best he could behind the plastic trash barrel. By looking beneath the boning tables he saw the tattooed man pursuing him. The stranger was advancing slowly along the back aisle with both hands held up in the air. His right hand clasped the knife that looked to Kim to be about the size of a machete.
Kim panicked. Carlos was only one aisle away. Kim knew the man would see him the moment he looked down the aisle Kim was in. It was only a matter of seconds.
Impulsively Kim leaped to his feet while grasping the plastic trash barrel with both hands. Shouting like a Celtic warrior commencing battle, he charged directly at his stalker. Using the plastic barrel like a shield, Kim collided with the knife-wielding Mexican.
Carlos was bowled over. Although shocked by the unexpected charge and powerful impact, Carlos had the presence of mind to hold on to the knife.
Kim’s momentum carried him well beyond Carlos. He tossed aside the plastic container and sprinted the length of the main boning room. Kim knew he’d only succeeded in knocking his pursuer down; he’d by no means put him out of commission. Sensing his best chance was to again flee, he passed through a second doorless opening to find himself in a cold, misty, dimly lit forest of cattle carcasses. Each had been sawed in half and hung from a hook attached to a roller system in the ceiling. The only light came from widely spaced ceiling lights along a central corridor separating the long rows of cooling carcasses.
Kim sprinted along the central corridor desperately looking for a place to hide. The chill room was cold enough so he could see his breath as he panted. He hadn’t gone far when he came to a cross aisle down which he caught a welcome glimpse of the green glow of an exit sign. He made a beeline for it only to discover that the door was secured with a chain and a heavy-duty padlock.
Kim then heard the distant but unmistakable sound of his pursuer’s heels clicking against the concrete floor. Kim could tell he was approaching, and Kim panicked again. Moving as quickly as he could along the narrow periphery of the carcass room, Kim hunted for another exit. Unfortunately when he found it, it too was chained shut.
Discouraged, Kim continued on. The room was gargantuan. Squeezing between the outer wall and the hanging carcasses, it took Kim several minutes to reach the corner, where he turned ninety degrees. Here his progress was faster. Just before he reached the central corridor that ran the length of the room, he came to an interior door. He tried it, and to his relief, it opened into a dark room. Next to the door was a light switch. Kim flipped it on. The room was a large storeroom with steel shelving.
Kim ducked into the room with the desperate hope of finding something to use as a weapon. He made a quick circuit of the space but had no luck. All he found were small, spare parts including replacement ball bearings for the overhead rail system plus a cardboard box of rubber stamps used by the USDA inspectors to grade meat “select,” “choice,” or “prime.” The only sizable object was a broom.
Thinking the broom might be better than nothing, Kim picked it up. Returning to the front of the room, he was about to exit, when he again heard the footfalls of his pursuer. The man was close, no more than twenty feet away, approaching along the nearby central aisle!
Panicking again, Kim pulled the storeroom’s door closed as quickly and as silently as possible. Holding the broom in both hands by the tip of its handle, he flattened himself against the wall just to the right of the door.
The sound of the footsteps stopped. Kim could hear the man cursing. Then the footfalls recommenced, increasing in intensity until they stopped just outside the door.
Kim held his breath. He gripped the broom handle harder. For an agonizing moment, nothing happened. Then he saw the door handle begin to turn. The man was coming in!
Kim’s heart raced. The door was yanked open. As soon as Kim sensed the man was starting in, he gritted his teeth and swung the broom at chest height with all the strength he could muster. By chance he hit the man full in the face, knocking him back through the door. The surprise and the force of the impact dislodged the knife, and it tumbled to the floor.
Still holding the broom in his left hand, Kim leaped for the knife. He seized it, only to discover it was a flashlight, not a knife.
“Freeze!” a voice commanded.
Kim straightened up and looked into the blinding glare of another flashlight. Instinctively he raised his hand to shield his eyes. Now he could make out the man on the floor. It wasn’t the Mexican but rather a man dressed in a brown Higgins and Hancock shirt. It was a security guard, and he had both hands clasped to his face. Blood was coming out of his nose.
“Drop the broom,” a voice behind the glare commanded.
Kim let go of both the flashlight and the broom. Both fell to the floor with a clatter.
The bright beam of the flashlight was lowered, and to Kim’s utter relief, he found himself facing two uniformed policemen. The one without the flashlight was holding his pistol in both hands, pointed directly at Kim.
“Thank God!” Kim managed, despite looking down the barrel of a gun less than ten feet away.
“Shut up!” the policeman with the gun commanded. “Get out here and face the wall!”
Kim was only too happy to comply. He stepped out of the storeroom and put his hands against the wall as he’d seen done in movies.
“Frisk him,” the policeman said.
Kim felt hands run up and down his arms, legs, and torso.
“He’s clean.”
“Turn around!”
Kim did as he was told, keeping his hands raised to avoid any confusion as to his intentions. He was close enough to read the officers’ name tags. The man with the gun was Douglas Foster. The other was Leroy McHalverson. The security guard had gotten up and was dabbing at his newly bent nose with a handkerchief. The metal portion of the whisk had hit him with enough force to break it.
“Cuff him,” Douglas said.
“Hey, hold on!” Kim said. “I’m not the one you should be cuffing.”
“Really?” Douglas questioned superciliously. “Who would you suggest?”
“There’s someone else in here,” Kim said. “A dark, wiry-looking guy with tattoos and a huge knife.”
“And wearing a hockey mask, no doubt,” Douglas said scoffingly. “And his name is Jason.”
“I’m serious,” Kim said. “The reason I’m here is because of a woman named Marsha Baldwin.”
The two policemen exchanged glances.
“Honest!” Kim maintained. “She’s a USDA inspector. She was here doing some work. I was talking with her by phone when someon
e surprised her. I heard breaking glass and a struggle. When I got here looking for her to help her, I was attacked by a man with a knife, presumably the man who attacked Ms. Baldwin.”
The policemen remained skeptical.
“Look, I’m a surgeon at the University Med Center,” Kim said. He fumbled in the pocket of his soiled white coat. Douglas’s grip on his pistol tightened. Kim produced his laminated hospital I.D. card and handed it to Douglas. Douglas motioned for Leroy to take it.
“It looks authentic,” Leroy said after a quick inspection.
“Of course it’s authentic,” Kim said.
“Have you doctors given up on personal hygiene?” Douglas asked.
Kim ran a hand through his scruffy beard and glanced down at his dirty coat and scrubs. He’d not showered, shaved, or changed clothes since early Friday morning. “I know I look a little worse for wear,” he said. “There’s an explanation. But for the moment I’m more concerned about Ms. Baldwin and the whereabouts of that man with a knife.”
“What about it, Curt?” Douglas asked the security man. “Was there a woman USDA inspector here or a strange, dark, tattooed man?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Curt said. “At least they didn’t come in while I’ve been on duty. I came on at three o’clock this afternoon.”
“Sorry, fella,” Douglas said to Kim. “Nice try.” Then to Leroy he added: “Go ahead and cuff him.”
“Wait a sec,” Kim said. “There’s blood in the other room that I’m afraid might have come from Ms. Baldwin.”
“Where?” Douglas asked.
“It’s on a grate,” Kim said. “I can show you.”
“This is a slaughterhouse,” Curt said. “There’s always blood.”
“This looked like fresh blood,” Kim said.
“Cuff him and we’ll go see,” Douglas said.
Kim allowed his wrists to be handcuffed behind his back. Then he was made to walk ahead of the others the full length of the central aisle of the chill room. In the main boning room. Curt asked the policemen to wait while he turned off the lights and the conveyer belts.
