Missing: A Mason Gray Case

by William Markham

  I jerked hard and the door swung open... revealing an empty hallway.

  Okay, back to stealth. I stepped inside and eased the door shut behind me.

  The hallway ran the length of the building. There were doors every ten feet on either side. I crept to the first one, cracked it open and peered inside. It led into the storage room I’d seen through the window. I worked my way down the hallway, carefully checking behind each door. So far, this floor appeared to have been set up as office space for whatever business had occupied the building, though it now sat empty. I finally found a stairwell leading to the lower floors at the end of the hallway.

  The flight of stairs went down one floor and ended at a heavy wooden door. This one was in better shape than the outside door, so it didn’t take quite as much effort to open, though it did squeak a bit on its hinges. I inched it open a bit at a time until I could get an idea of what was on the other side.

  It opened onto an iron catwalk. I couldn’t see anything else, because the area was totally dark. I slipped through and crouched on the metal grating, closing the door quickly behind me, then waited for several minutes, letting my eyes adjust and listening for any activity. I could feel the openness of the room: while I still couldn’t see anything, I sensed there was no floor beyond the railing. There was a bit of ambient light; eventually my eyes adjusted to a point where I could see a few feet in front of me, but no farther. Hearing nothing, I worked my way along the catwalk, placing my feet lightly so I wouldn’t stumble or step on a creaky spot. I passed several places where the walkway branched to the left, away from the wall, over the emptiness of what had to be the main part of the warehouse.

  It was strange. There should have been more light in here. My innate sense of distance told me I should have been surrounded by the exterior walls. Even if the windows were boarded up, I should have been able to make out their outlines as sunlight filtered through the cracks, and yet there was nothing. Perhaps the room wasn’t as big as I thought, and the main warehouse was partitioned off.

  I didn’t like the idea of venturing out over open space, so I continued to hug the wall until I came to a metal staircase. I paused before descending to the lower level, and paused once again when I got to the bottom, still listening carefully for any movement. I knew there were at least two men beyond the far wall, and there could very well be others patrolling the interior. The last thing I wanted was to be caught before I found anything.

  As I stood there, a shiver went down my spine. Something about this place was giving me the creeps, but I had to keep moving. I shuffled forward a few yards and came to another wall. It was cinderblock, not brick, which confirmed that this area had been partitioned off. I didn’t like all this darkness. It was such a big room that I couldn’t see anything that was in here. Sure, I could walk the perimeter, or even wander off into the middle, but I’d just be blundering around. I pulled out my phone and debated the risks of using its flashlight app. So little light came in from outside that there was little chance of anyone seeing my own light unless they were in here with me. And if there was someone else in here, they were being very quiet. I’d heard no movement.

  I decided to risk it, since I was just as likely to be discovered wandering around blind. I flicked on the light and aimed it toward the center of the room.

  LEDs are pretty bright for their size, and in a confined space, like a bedroom or hallway, they work like a charm. In a large, open space like this, however, their light diffuses rather quickly. I held the phone over my head to get the most illumination possible and could just barely make out the far wall. More importantly, though, I spotted low, rectangular blobs at the center of the warehouse. I couldn’t make out what they were, but at least they gave me a direction to move in.

  I slunk across the floor, more confident in my movements now that I could see where I was going.

  When I had covered half the distance, I stopped—froze was more like it. I still couldn’t tell what the shapes in front of me were, but a sound had reached my ears. It was a quiet sound, come and gone. I stood deathly still, straining to make sense of it. For a moment there was nothing, and then I caught it again: a low, barely audible breath.

  I clicked the light off, plunging myself into darkness once more, and listened.

  My own breath crashed into my eardrums, obscuring everything else.

  I blocked out my own existence and stretched my senses outward. Sight was useless, so I closed my eyes.

  It came again. Breath. Shallow. Slow. Directly ahead.

  I took two silent steps forward.

  Again, a breath. Wait, no. Two breaths. Two different breaths.

  Two more steps. Stop. Listen for a change. No, it stayed the same. Whoever was there was unaware of my presence. Sleeping, maybe? Oh, shit. Rectangular objects in the middle of a darkened room where people were sleeping. My brain conjured images of coffins and dirt and fang-filled jaws.

  Stop. Don’t panic, investigate. No jumping to conclusions.

  I drew my piece and started forward again. Slowly, smoothly, I closed the distance to the source of the sound. I was close now. Very close. Once again, my eyes adjusted to the gloom, and I saw the edge of something just ahead. It wasn’t a coffin.

  I flicked the light back on and shone it over the scene before me. The rectangular object was definitely not a coffin. It was a cot of some kind, all metal tubing and flimsy mattress-foam, atop of which lay the withered form of a man. Plastic tubes ran in a tangled web from his arms and every orifice to a nearby IV stand holding bags of various sizes and colors. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths.

  I panned the light around to see what else was in the vicinity and found another dozen setups just like this one laid out in neat rows, each supporting a frail, unfortunate soul. As my light washed over the last body, I froze. It was a face I recognized. A face I was supposed to find. Ellie McCarthy lay in a stupor amidst a dozen others, tethered to medical bags for God-knows-what purpose.

  22

  I quickly strode over to where Ellie lay. She was terribly pale, her cheeks sunken, her eyes ringed with dark circles. I put my ear to her chest. She was breathing, but just barely. Her pulse was weak. I laid a hand on her forehead: it was cool and clammy. I couldn’t tell if she was in a coma or just heavily sedated. Despite her pallor, someone appeared to have taken care with her appearance. She was clean, and a blanket had been draped carefully across her naked form.

  My first thought was to call 911 and bring the authorities down on this place with a vengeance while I waited by her side. I looked at my phone. Of course, I had no signal in the building. I could go back out the way I’d come and make the call, but now that I’d found her, I couldn’t leave her again. Something about this whole situation was abhorrent. I needed to get her out of here. I needed to get them all out of here—but I couldn’t do that alone. And right now, Ellie was my priority.

  There was no way I could carry Ellie out the way I had come in. That left leaving by the loading dock, and I doubted the fellows I’d spoken with earlier would be too gung-ho about letting that happen.

  Before I could move her, though, I had to get her unhooked from all the... stuff that was connected to her.

  I turned my attention to the tubes protruding from her limbs and followed each line to its corresponding bag. There were some I recognized, like the saline and glucose, and several I didn’t. She also had a catheter and colostomy bag hanging on the side of the bed. After several moments, I decided I could unhook everything safely. I wasn’t sure what effect that would have, whether she would wake up soon after being disconnected from the mysterious chemicals coursing through her system or if it would send her into some sort of shock, but I had to take the chance. Leaving her here simply wasn’t an option.

  I re-holstered the .45 and set about carefully removing everything. Once all the tubing was clear, I wrapped the blanket around her and lifted her gently in my arms. She was so thin, it felt like I was li
fting a child. Though her weight wouldn’t impede me, I needed a free hand, so I shifted her onto my left shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then held my phone aloft to illuminate the surroundings.

  I spotted a door on the east wall and made a beeline for it. Once I reached the door, I pocketed the phone and drew the .45, settling its weight in my grip. I worked the handle with my foot and pulled the door open. Light flooded in.

  The hallway we were in ran the length of the building. I knew the loading dock was on the north side, so I headed that way. We came to a corner and I stopped. I couldn’t put my back to the wall like I normally would, so I had to be satisfied with inching forward until I could see down the corridor and hope I wouldn’t expose myself.

  Halfway down, I saw a big roll-up style garage door next to a smaller metal exit. My brain was scrambling to come up with a plan to get us out of here as quickly as possible. Carrying Ellie, I wasn’t in the best position to fight my way out, but my trigger finger worked just fine. I didn’t want to shoot anyone, per se, but whatever was going on in here definitely qualified as creepy, which placed the goons guarding this mess into the lowlife category. If lead started flying, I wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.

  A half-assed idea popped into my head. It wasn’t the most solid plan I’d ever come up with, and there were no guarantees it would work, but it gave me the element of surprise and could potentially take out one of the guys pretty quick. There were at least two on the other side of the door, maybe more. I didn’t know what else to do, so I went with it.

  I stood directly in front of the exit, then leaned as far toward the roll-up as I could and banged on it twice with the butt of my pistol. Then I straightened up and waited.

  Muffled voices came from outside. I couldn’t tell what they said, but I didn’t care. I was watching the door very closely. The latch lifted, and the door began to open.

  The second I was certain the latch had cleared the door frame, I slammed my right foot into the center of the door with as much force as I could muster. The door flew backward, sending the guy who was opening it sprawling off the loading dock onto the concrete below.

  I stepped onto the dock, pistol barrel leading the way, and swung to the left. A heavyset guy with a tattooed bald head, caught off guard by my sudden appearance, was fumbling with his own gun in the waistband of his jeans. I aimed mine at the spot right between his eyes and said, “Don’t.” The guy froze.

  “Use two fingers and toss the gun,” I told him.

  Slowly, he did. The 9mm Beretta clattered onto the pavement below.

  “Turn around.” He did.

  I glanced at the other guy lying a few feet away. He was moaning and groaning, but wasn’t trying to get back to his feet yet.

  “Keys to the gate?” I asked the one still standing.

  “In my pocket.”

  “With one hand, I want you to take them out very slowly. I see anything other than keys come out of that pocket, I shoot you and find them myself. Understood?”

  He mumbled an affirmative and did so. Then I directed him over to the gate, giving his buddy a wide berth, and had him unlock it. He kept muttering to himself about how “they” were going to kill him. His eyes just about bugged out of his head when I had him toss the keys into the road, then lock himself back inside once I had Ellie safely out.

  I put the pistol away, then shifted Ellie back to both arms and ran for the closest intersection, where I hailed a cab to Rush Medical Center.

  23

  On the way to the hospital, with Ellie’s head cradled gently in my lap, I phoned Alderman Juarez and told him that I’d located his fiancée and where we were headed. Then I called her father and told him the same. Next, I called Jack Larsen.

  Jack seemed hesitant to talk to me at first. He said Detective Rowe had been breathing down his neck ever since he’d visited me in the hospital. So I told him all about the warehouse and what I’d found there. He let out a low whistle when I finished the story.

  “I’ll get someone over there as soon as I can, but it’ll take a while. You know how these things work. And don’t be surprised to get another visit from Rowe.”

  “Right,” I said. “There’s something else. This warehouse belongs to a real estate company that may be involved in the whole thing. I’ve got a bunch of data to sift through, but in light of what I found, maybe I should turn it all over to you guys.”

  “Not a bad idea. Might get Rowe off your back for a while.”

  I mulled that over. Even though I could officially close this case, I had a niggling thought that it wasn’t over yet. Something told me I’d been skirting around the edges of something big—I’d smelled the storm brewing for a while. My guess was that rescuing Ellie had put me right in the center of it. It couldn’t hurt to throw the detective a bone, to give him something to gnaw on for a while instead of dogging my every move. Yeah, it wasn’t a bad idea to share the data.

  I told Jack I’d be in touch, and if he needed anything more from me, I’d be at the hospital.

  ***

  The sun quickly lost its grasp on the sky, and the fiery colors of sunset gave way to twilight as we reached the ER. The doctors and nurses hesitated to start treatment on Ellie until I informed them that her father was on the way, as well as Alderman Juarez, who had a special interest in her condition. They had lots of questions about what had happened to her, which I answered as best I could. They were particularly interested in what types of pharmaceuticals she had received. Unfortunately, I couldn’t provide much help there.

  After the initial flurry of activity and barrage of questions during the admission process, things quieted. The hospital staff were waiting on lab results and a transfer to a room upstairs. I sat in the chair next to Elllie’s bed for an hour, trying to figure out what the hell had been going on at the warehouse. Why were all those people being kept there like that? It wasn’t what I had expected from slave traders. The setup seemed too permanent. I could understand keeping them sedated, but all the rest didn’t make sense. My train of thought was interrupted when Mr. McCarthy arrived. He thanked me profusely for finding his daughter and asked a few questions about her condition. I didn’t really know, so all I could do was assure him that the doctors were doing what they could. He didn’t ask where I’d found her or what had happened to her. That seemed odd to me, so I asked him if he wanted to know.

  A shadow passed over his face, and then he answered. “No. All that matters is that she’s here now. Whatever happened, it can’t be good, but it’s in the past. Knowing about it would only cause me more heartache, and I’ve had all of that I can take.”

  I nodded. That approach to life must be nice, truly living in the present. I couldn’t do it. I always needed explanations, reasons, answers. It’s what drove me. It’s why, even though my job was finished here, I’d keep digging. I needed to know.

  Just then, Juarez calmly stepped through the curtain and absorbed the scene before him. Before the curtain closed, I caught a glimpse of his bodyguard, the same one from the pub, standing just on the other side. After a beat, Juarez met my eyes and nodded slightly, then turned his attention to the old man kneeling beside the bed.

  “Mr. McCarthy, my name is Arthur. I’m a friend of Ellie’s.” There was a tightness in his voice, and I could tell he was making an effort to keep it together. I decided to give them some privacy, so I excused myself, slipped through the curtain, and found my way outside for a smoke.

  24

  Ryley stirred. His wounds were healing quickly, though not as quickly as he would have liked. It was his pride, more than anything, that had been injured. The others had given him looks that would freeze hellfire since he’d stumbled back to headquarters with a belly full of lead.

  He had failed, and everyone knew it. The master should have ended it then and there—such were the expected consequences. But instead he had been demoted, which was proving to be an even worse punishment. This was the fourth night since the debacle, and while his body was f
unctional again, his confidence would take something more than mere time to recover. He needed to get back into everyone’s good graces, but all he could think about was revenge.

  Just then, he heard a commotion outside his room: raised voices and lots of movement. He pulled on a pair of jeans, stuck his head out the door, and grabbed a familiar as he raced past. At least Ryley still outranked them.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “The warehouse has been compromised,” the kid said. “We’re meeting in the commons to get our orders now.” He scurried off down the hall.

  Ryley snatched a shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it over his head, hiding the pink, puckered scars of his wounds, then he, too, raced for the commons.

  “...don’t know how long we’ve got, so we’re moving them now!” the Sire called to the small group that had gathered. “You all know the protocol and have your assignments. We’ve planned for this possibility. No more mistakes. Now get going!”

  The others dispersed, moving with a clarity of purpose. The shit was in the fan, and they all wanted to do their best to avoid the mess. As the crowd cleared, the Sire's eyes, smoldering with anger, found Ryley’s. He crooked a finger at Ryley, then turned and strode toward a door at the far side of the room. Ryley fell in behind him.

  They walked through a short corridor and down a flight of stairs, stopping before a small alcove cut into the concrete walls and sealed off with iron bars. Inside sat two men. One was busted up pretty badly and seemed to be in a daze. The other, a large man with a tattooed head, had wild, darting eyes. The fear rolled off him in waves. Ryley's stomach lurched, it was so pungent.

  “These men failed to protect the warehouse,” his master said. “They've been forthcoming about what happened. Make sure they haven't left anything out.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Ryley emerged from the cell, confident that the two familiars had told him the whole story. It was unfortunate that one of them had died during the interrogation. That would have to stay quiet if recruitment were to continue. Couldn't build a bad reputation among the rabble of the city.