Tom, you're a wily fox!
Crouched down, I slowly make my way over the roof towards the offices. When I arrive, my lucky streak seems to end again. Instead of an easy-to-open window, I find a solid wall: not a single hole, no window, no fan, no air-conditioning, absolutely no connection to the inside. It would be quite the challenge to bust through this using my five-pound hammer.
However, another steel ladder leads up to the roof of the offices. I might get lucky there and find a roof hatch or something similar. With cat-like stealth, I climb this ladder making hardly a sound. At least the roof is lit by the streetlight. However, this fact only accelerates the realization that I’ve had another stroke of bad luck: nowhere on the entire roof is there a way to get into the underlying offices.
The side walls are windowless; the offices only have windows facing the street. As I already saw during the day, they are being fitted with gratings. There is one window that’s only half-barred; they’ll probably carry on working on it tomorrow. Maybe there’s a chance to climb from here to the grating and then smash the non-barred window.
But that doesn’t solve the problem with the night watchmen who are still sitting just below me by their burning barrel.
Wait a minute… they aren’t sitting there anymore. Damn! I quickly run to the right and look along the building. No one there. I sprint to the other side and see the two night watchmen just turning the corner towards the backside of the hall.
My already impressive level of adrenaline doubles abruptly. Every heartbeat is echoing in my eardrums like a battering ram and I stop breathing for a moment.
Shit, shit, shit! If they discover the hole in the fence, it's all over.
I run back to the other side and lie down flat against the edge of the roof. If a security guard climbs the first ladder and sticks his head up to check the roof, he’ll at least not see me right away.
I stare fixated at the corner where the two disappeared behind. At normal walking pace, they should have already reappeared. It's 4:30 a.m. I've heard that this is the perfect time for burglaries, because at this hour people feel the greatest fatigue. People are deeply asleep and police patrols and night watchmen allow themselves a short nap early in the morning.
With some luck, the two are just hiding in the shadows behind the building to snooze a bit. However, the moving cones of light from two flashlights quickly dispel this notion.
Shortly thereafter, one of them appears. He turns around and shines his light back behind the house. His partner is still there. Shit, the other one is probably checking out the hole in the fence and this one is already about to raise the alarm. What now?!
Suddenly, the one I can see laughs out loud while the other one appears from behind the building with one hand still at his fly.
Ugh, the boys were just taking a piss.
It paid off not making a perpendicular hole in the fence, but cutting it horizontally so I could just slide through.
Note to self: "Tom, sometimes you aren’t so stupid."
When the guards are halfway back, a flash of inspiration hits me so brightly that Shanghai must be completely illuminated at this moment. I jump up and hurry to the middle of the roof, right above the fire barrel, where the night watchmen will be sitting back down in a few seconds.
I hurriedly dig out the box with tear gas and hold it in my shaking hand. Knowing I only have one attempt makes my hands shake even more. Time seems to stand still, but I know it’s actually running out. Through the loud swooshing my high blood pressure is penetrating my ears with, I can already hear the sound of the heavy footsteps of the security people on the loose gravel. They’ll be turning around the corner any moment now.
I hold my breath and throw. The can falls in slow motion. And falls. And falls. And falls. Finally, with a faint rustle, it disappears into the deep red glow of the barrel.
Dirk Nowitzki – you’ve got nothing on me! Note to self: "You savvy fox, you."
Now it’s time to be fast yet quiet. The heat will cause the pressure in the tear gas can to build until it can’t contain it any longer. This will inevitably lead to an explosion that will surprise my opponents and blind them with tears.
Stunned victims that can’t see anything: even I should be able to take on two opponents under these circumstances.
I slide down the first ladder rather than climbing it. Thanks to my sneakers, I can practically run across the roof without being heard. But just when I arrive at the last ladder, I hear a loud bang.
Damn, the tear gas busted earlier than I had hoped. I fly down the last ladder at a speed any firefighter would be envious of. I hit the ground unceremoniously and sprint like a madman around the house. I need to prevent the guards from raising the alarm.
The front of the building offers a spectacular display. Burning embers are scattered everywhere and, in the middle, a security guard is lying on the ground, moaning and rubbing his eyes.
You’d think the place just got air bombed!
The other guard is standing upright. His face is tear-stained and grimy. It looks as if his eyes are completely shot. Just as I’m almost starting to feel sorry for him, I notice the phone in his hand. Without thinking, I rush towards him, pulling the bolt cutters out of my pocket on the way; I swing away and knock the cell phone out of his hand.
He screams and immediately starts to attack me. Since he can’t see much, I can avoid his punches. But one should never underestimate Asian martial arts. A real ninja doesn’t need eyes to know where his opponent is. So with a powerful swing, I smash my bolt cutters onto his head.
Number one falls over like a wet sack of potatoes. Excellent - now over to number two who’s whimpering on the ground. He’s definitely chosen the wrong profession. He begs for mercy when he notices me and tries to kiss my feet.
I instruct him to turn onto his belly and place his hands behind his back. He turns even before I have time to come up with a threat. A good thing. I bind his hands with cable ties, as well as his feet and, just to be sure, also his knees. Really practical, these cable ties. You should never leave home without them!
Back to number one; I first check if he’s still breathing. Thank God, he is, but he’s unconscious. All the better; this way he can easily be tied up. I grab their feet and pull both of them next to the hall where I can hide them in the shadow. Next, I take care of the burning embers and put the barrel back into an upright position. From the street, everything should look normal again.
The guards dealt with, now there’s only the little problem of the steel door left. Standing in front of it, my five-pound hammer suddenly looks ridiculously small.
I need to think of something else to get into the warehouse, so I go back to the guards. It’s best to keep an eye on them.
While number one is still dreaming away, number two is staring at me through his still watery eyes. Again he begins to whimper and beg. This starts getting on my nerves; I should gag him. When he sees the hammer in my hand, he starts stammering in a panic.
"Please, take key. But not kill!" he splutters.
"What kind of a key?" I asked absently.
"Key. Hall. Please accept, but kill me nothing!"
Ahh! Of course, the key!
"Boy, this profession is definitely not for you," I say while I fish a bunch of keys from his pocket.
"Promise you’ll look for another job tomorrow. Selling ice cream or something."
His gaze reveals that he never expected to experience the next day, so I add hastily: "If I don’t kill you first! Don’t move from this spot while I’m gone, otherwise you’ll not sell anything tomorrow!"
There are only two keys on the chain. Sla-cha… key in… turn… and ca-ching – the door opens.
Ha! Mere child’s play so far!
I enter and close the door behind me. Suddenly it’s pitch dark. The hall only has a single window. At least I can shine around with the flashlight as much as I want without being noticed from the outside.
In the storage roo
m, there are three large collections of goods, probably one shipload. For the most part it’s electronic products, LED TVs and game consoles, all in their original packaging. The boxes of the first collection are labeled with "Jakarta / Bali." On the boxes of the second collection is "Auckland / New Zealand." And on the third, shipping labels with "Buenaventura / Colombia" are attached.
Colombia! I inevitably associate drugs with this country. Well, even if my prejudice is correct, the druggy Colombians want to watch TV when they are high. So it’s safe to assume this country has a large market for consumer electronics.
Much more interesting for me, however, is that if a ship is travelling from Shanghai to Buenaventura, it’s going to pass pretty close by Hawaii!
Maybe this is the lead I'm looking for. I open some packages, but don’t find anything exciting. They contain exactly what’s written on the box. What else did I expect?!
Apart from these collections of boxes, the hall is empty. A side staircase leads to the upper floor. At the top, I find myself in a hallway, from which you can enter various offices, a small kitchen and a bathroom.
Through the windows, I can see the rundown atrium. I know that there are no windows to the rear. So all the offices facing backwards have no daylight at all. The only office facing the street, and therefore the only office with windows, is the room at the end of the hallway.
Naturally, the boss chooses the best office, so this must be his. I don’t want to stay any longer than necessary, so I don’t waste time searching the other offices. I notice a welding device with a large gas bottle in front of the semi-barred window in the hallway. The remaining gratings are probably getting welded onto the front of the window tomorrow.
The last office actually has quite a large and extravagant set up: chic carpet, leather chairs, solid oak desk, a sitting area with a bar and plenty of shelves with files. Here, I find another welding machine including a spare gas bottle by the window.
I turn my attention to the folders on the shelf and start to search. The files are all consistently labeled on top: destination / year / sequential numbering. There’s "Jakarta/2011/1," then "Jakarta/2011/2" and so on. The folders go back to 2004; the destinations stay the same throughout: Jakarta, Auckland and Buenaventura.
It would be fantastic to find a folder with annual financial statements or tax returns; all GSS activities neatly filed, sorted and ready to go. Unfortunately, I have no such luck, so I grab the latest "Buenaventura" folder.
When I turn around to the desk, my blood freezes in my veins and my heart - once again - misses a beat.
A car’s headlights are beaming through the windows. Carefully, I approach the window and look outside. Two cars are stopped in front of the building. The first is Liz Evans’ armored Mercedes, followed by the black SUV that I saw in front of the bank earlier today.
Damn, damn! The guard must have sent a distress call before I beat the phone out of his hand.
I quickly close the folder and stuff it into my backpack and have just enough space for one of each of the "Auckland" and "Jakarta" folders.
In front of the building, two men get out of the SUV and unlock their automatic rifles.
Get out of here, Tom!
But how? I can’t escape through this window, there aren’t any windows in the back, and there’s no door to the roof. The only way out is through the stairs. But that doesn’t help, even if I manage to get there before the two gorillas enter the hall. Unfortunately, the only ways into and out of the hall are the roller gate and the steel door. Back entrances are apparently not very popular in Shanghai.
I’m trapped!
Panicking, I run into the hallway. Cornered as I am, my only options are radical measures. I have nothing to lose if the two find me up here; it's over. I’ve got my back up against the wall, but I won’t give up without at least putting up a fight.
I grab the welding machine and roll it behind me into the corner office. On the way, I pass by a fire-axe in a red box. I smash the thin glass with my elbow and grab the axe.
Back in the office, I close the door and turn on the valves of all three gas cylinders. I then gently unscrew the light bulb from the ceiling, smash the glass without damaging the filament and hang a scrap of newspaper loosely over the wire. Then I screw the bulb back into the socket.
I hear the two armed men on the ground floor; they seem to have finished searching the storage room, and are now moving towards the stairs.
Unfortunately, the gas is leaking out of the bottle too slowly, I can’t even smell it yet. For welding you use acetylene, also called ethane. The gas is lighter than air, highly flammable and burns very hot.
I tip over the oak desk and push it against the wall. The gas still fills the room far too slowly. Now it's all or nothing!
I run to the gas bottles and smash the valve of the first cylinder with the axe. Immediately, it smells unpleasantly sharp like a mixture of metal and garlic. Following the motto "more is better," I walk to the next bottle. If it sparks when I hit the second valve, I’ll be taking my first flying lesson as a human cannonball. Well, still better than getting shot.
I raise the axe and strike. Bang! Phsssst... the smell is getting worse and worse. I breathe heavily but there is not much oxygen left in the air.
My eyes are watering as I arrive at the last bottle. I aim as well as possible and thrash on the last valve. The bottle falls crashing to the ground. I don’t know if the valve is still on it or not. Everything is starting to blur, I can’t breathe anymore and I feel powerless and miserable.
I stagger towards the desk, about to black out. Stumbling, I catch myself just above the table and behind the desk. There, I collapse face down onto the floor and lie there on my stomach, gasping and about to lose consciousness. For some reason I can’t help thinking about the fish in that office building.
The slightly clearer air on the floor helps keep me conscious and able to think reasonably clear.
Of course, the ruckus I made betrayed me and, seconds later, the door gets pushed open.
"Light on, turn on the light!!" I pray quietly.
"STOP!" someone cries, "Stay away from the light switch. Gas!"
Shit! That's it! All my hopes are dashed. I lose. Evans and Andrews win. In a few seconds I’ll get shot like a mangy dog.
It's true what they say, by the way. Just before it’s over, your life really does flash before your eyes. A brief summary of what it was. A “best-of,” if you will. Just like the trailer for a good movie.
The short version of my life is actually pretty good. Damn good, in fact - it definitely makes you want more. But it’s unfortunately over now, just because my best friend kissed a girl on Maui when he was drunk.
Unjustifiably bowled down in a dilapidated warehouse in the worst neighborhood of Shanghai. This is not a good ending for my film. On the contrary, this is a really crappy finish.
Enraged over the lack of control over of my own demise, I see the axe, grab it with both hands, rear up and hurl it like a hammer thrower towards the door. The moment the shaft slides out of my hands, I let myself fall again. In doing so, I scream as loudly as possible. The two attackers wince and start to shoot.
The flash of the machine guns grows into a fireball and the flying axe disappears in a huge wall of fire that already fills the entire room. With an extremely loud bang, I crash onto the floor behind the overturned desk. A firestorm races over me, followed by another loud bang.
That's it, I’m dead. Shot or blown up, I don’t know, but purgatory receives me.
This is strange; I was quite nice. So why am I not getting picked up by pretty angels flying on a cloud? Ah, who cares; I always liked to barbecue, so I’ll cope with hell.
Isn’t it funny what kind of thoughts shoot through your mind in a moment like this?!
A warm, moist breeze touches my face. Amazed, I open my eyes. In front of me there’s no red journeyman with a high forehead, horns and trident in his hand. No, I see stars. So I actually did end up i
n heaven after all?
Still lying between the overturned desk and the massive rear wall of the office, I’m looking into the open sky - the ceiling is gone.
I slowly pull myself up and carefully peep over the table. It looks as if a bomb has hit: besides the brick wall behind me, nothing is left of the office. At least half of the upper floor is missing. One of the attackers lies motionless in the hallway; the other slumped against the wall beside the door.
The sturdy desk has saved my life.
The third gas bottle is cracked at the bottom. Apparently, the valve cracked when I hit it and the bottle exploded after the gas was ignited in the room. This was the second blast; fortunately, right next to the two armed baddies.
Half way to Hawaii Page 16
