by Levi, Steve;
The back door to the Blankenship Building opened onto a parking lot, which had formerly been the old Princess Theater. The Princess was one of the structures not surviving the quake. Herman Blankenship had bought the property for $1 under the agreement he was to remove the rubble of the old theater. He did and transformed the land into a parking lot for his building, a parking lot which was the second most valuable half-block in Alaska.
Though it was a hard concept to consider, Herman Blankenship had been the Alaska equivalent of a slumlord. This is hard to consider since Anchorage does not have slums in the same sense as New York, Philadelphia or Los Angeles. What it did have in the 1960s were ramshackle cabins, eroding Quonsets and deteriorating railroad housing units. Built because they were cheap and not expected to last much beyond the Second World War, Blankenship bought them for a dime. In this case, a dime is accurate. Proof was the properties exchanged hands for ten cents.
At the time it was a good but modest deal. By the end of the century it was a great deal. Blankenship had initially made his money by filling those derelict structures with “working girls” who serviced service men during the war and thereafter the canners and fishermen. As the population of Anchorage increased, there was an effort to move The Line further out of town. In those days The Line was the collection of structures–all owned by Blankenship under a variety of business cover names– at the end of the landing strip. That wasn’t far enough out of town for the city alleged-to-be blue Alaskan bluebloods. So Blankenship sold the structures to morally upstanding individuals who believed once the houses where the working girls did business were emptied the moral problem would be solved. The working girls would move away.
They did.
Downtown.
Into buildings Blankenship had purchased for a dime.
It did solve the problem of working girls on The Line. It brought them downtown where they built the Blankenship fortune one trick at a time. In no other town in America could this have happened. But then this was Alaska. It was not until after Old Man Blankenship died that his heirs moved the girls down to Spenard where the police were more understanding. This was because Spenard was part of the Anchorage Borough, not the City of Anchorage. The Borough needed income and turned a blind eye to how some of its properties were being used – as long as the property tax was being paid. More important to the Blankenship sons – who operated under the business name Acme Corporation which was taken from the Roadrunner cartoons because they believed it gave them anonymity – the Borough had a police force of about five while Anchorage had them by the score. Thereafter the Blankenship Building was rented by the room, again, to small businesses, most lawyers, because of the proximity of the building to the courthouse. When the new courthouse was built, the lawyers moved and were replaced with accountants, insurance agents and small corporations involved in dubious or unprofitable ventures in Anchorage.
With Homeland Security in charge, Noonan had no choice but to play along with them. Even he was appalled at the lack of understanding of its minions. With 95 lives at stake there was every reason to be cautious. This, however, did not concern Homeland Security. They just drove up to the Blankenship Building and opened the door for Noonan to step out.
Into an open parking lot.
In broad daylight.
Knowing full well one of the extortionists was in the building.
Looking out any one of the three floors of windows overlooked the parking lot.
“This is not a good idea,” Noonan said as he got out of the car. “You’ve got so many people around the building no one is going to approach it. When I get the run around, you’re going to have all the people following me. They’re going to be in plain sight.”
No one in the car said anything. Then one of the men who wedged him in the back seat of the limo said, “You just do your job. We’ll do ours.”
“Oh, I am so comforted,” snapped Noonan. “There are 95 lives on the line here.”
If it mattered to anyone in the car no one said so. Noonan closed the car door and watched it pull away from the back door – and park 20 feet further away. So much for discretion.
The car following Noonan remained at the back of the building. According to the plan, three men were going to cover the back entrance. Two of them were going to use the car as cover and the third would be on a cell phone. How this was going to give the extortionist confidence was beyond Noonan and he had so stated when he was told of the arrangement. Henry Harrison said he, Harrison, was in charge and that was the way the deal was going to go down.
So that was the way the deal was going down.
Noonan took a long look at the circus in the parking lot, shook his head sadly and entered the structure.
Inside, the Blankenship Building was a basic, 1960s Alaska commercial structure. It had a single hallway running down the center of the building with small rooms on either side. The carpet was of 1970 vintage, threadbare and dusty. There was an elevator midway down the hallway. Noonan took it the third floor and started looking for the janitor’s closet. It was not hard to find. It had no door and there was a sign above the door which read JANITOR. Inside was a single folding metal chair with a note with bright red letters stating: “Take this note to the basement using the elevator.”
Noonan returned to the elevator and hit the B. When the elevator doors opened up he was in a dark hole. There was a single patch of light coming from an open doorway at the end of the hall. He left the security of the elevator and walked toward the light.
“Ah, Captain Noonan. It’s so good to see you. I trust you brought a small package with you.”
The perp, wearing an Elvis Presley mask, was seated on a folding metal chair behind a grated steel door. This room had clearly been the vault of the bank. The safe and its massive metal door were long gone but the corpse of the vault with its shelving and file cabinets were still there, now filled with office supplies instead of cash. Where the safety deposit boxes had been were cubbyholes, some of them filled. There was a pair of skis leaning against the wall behind the steel door and a piles of cardboard boxes with names written in broad ink slashes. What had been the vault was quite obviously now a storage area.
Between Noonan and the perp was the last vestige of the bank, the metal grate dividing the vault from the work area.
It was locked. The perp was on one side and Noonan the other.
“This is when you gloat?”
“Not yet. First, I’d like the pouch you have for me.”
“This one?” Noonan held up the pouch.
“Absolutely. Just slip it through the bars.”
Noonan juggled the bag in his hand. “You seem pretty confident you can get away with this. How are you planning on getting out of this building without being spotted?”
“I have a secret plan. The pouch if you please.”
Noonan continued to juggle the pouch. “You made a big mistake by having me come directly here. The building is surrounded.”
“I expect it is. The FBI is expecting you to be run all over town. They’re waiting for you to come out. Homeland Security would be out of their depth in a puddle of water on the street.”
“There are still 95 hostages to be concerned about.”
“True. This is all coming to an end rather quickly. By this time you should have collected all of the diamonds we have demanded. This collection,” the perp pointed at the pouch, “was just a courtesy call.”
“So you could gloat?”
“So we could meet face-to-face.”
“You’re wearing a mask. It’s hardly face-to-face.”
“It will have to do. Now, I’ll take the pouch and then I’ll have my little say and then the games will proceed.”
Noonan pushed his hand with the pouch through the bars.
“Just drop it. That will be fine. I trust it does have diamonds in it?”
“$5 million. Just like you wanted.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” The perp opened the
pouch and let the diamonds trickle into his hand. He rolled the diamonds around on the surgical glove. Then he poured them into a cloth bag he had in his lap.
“Don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust the FBI. I’m looking for a tracking device.”
“Find one?”
“Nope. Not this time.” He tied the cloth bag shut and flipped it inside the waist band of his pants.
“Do I get to know who you are now and why I’m involved.”
“Our paths crossed years ago. You busted my brother on a robbery, a small one. He should not have gotten caught in the first place, but he was nabbed. Got a five year sentence and was stabbed to death into his third year.”
“I’m to blame?”
“I think so. He was put in for hard time. First offense so he should have been in medium security at best.”
“If he got hard time there must have been something more than just a dash and grab.”
“There were a number of them involved. Hit a pedestrian as they made their getaway. Old man. He died.”
“Deaths change things in the eyes of the law.”
“Well, the old man’s dead and my brother’s dead. Now I’m going to even the score. I’m going to pull off the greatest jewelry heist in American history right under the nose of the great detective Captain Heinz Noonan. You’re even going to be part of it! Ironic, eh?”
“You know you can’t get away with it.”
“So far I have. Within a handful of hours I’ll be gone. You’re a smart cookie so you’ll eventually figure out who I am but by then it won’t do you any good. Once I’m out of the country I won’t be coming back.”
“The FBI will follow you forever.”
The perp stood up and stretched. “Let them. I’m pushing 65 now. If it takes then 20 years to get me back, fine. With my cut of the take I can live very well for 20 years. Average life span in the United States is now about 75. I’ve got a ten good years left.” He waggled the empty pouch in front of the bars. “No need for Social Security either.” The perp tossed the empty pouch to Noonan through the bars. “Here’s a memento for your files.”
“So you are not going to tell me who you are?”
“You’ll figure it out. I just wanted to confront you in person.”
“How are you planning on getting out of here?” Noonan pointed around to the vault. “You don’t have a lot of options.”
“I am a man of many talents, Captain Noonan. One of the them is the ability to disappear at will.”
Noonan pointed around the vault. “Well, you had better be very, very good because vaults are made to keep money inside and the burglars out.”
“True, true.” the perp leaned forward and made a mock whisper, “I have a secret plan.”
“I’m dying to hear about it.”
“Just wait outside and see. Now, Captain Noonan, we’ve have had our little chat and it’s time for you to go. You’ve been down here just long enough to make Homeland Security nervous. The door is already locked from the inside so just close it as you leave.”
“You seem pretty confident.”
“If I were you I’d worry about how you’re going to look in ten minutes.” The perp looked at his watch. “It’s 4:10 now. You’ve still have Ayanna’s phone?”
“It’s upstairs in the car.”
“Fine. Be on it at 5:30 for final instructions.”
“If you haven’t been caught by 4:30.”
“I have great faith in the incompetence of Homeland Security. It’s one of the few things dishonest fellows like me can count upon.” The perp stood and pointed toward the door. “This is your cue to exit. Please make sure the door latches shut on the way out.”
Noonan turned and left. As the door latched shut, he could hear the perp on the phone.
“Gerry, dahling. This is your moment.”
Chapter 54
Henry Harrison was harassing two of the historians at the National Archives when he got the call from his Second-in-Command. Noonan had just left the building and the perp was inside. No one else had exited. Harrison ordered the building sealed and they were to search the building room by room, detaining everyone. Then Harrison called the AIC and ordered him to support Homeland Security in the search of the building.
Chapter 55
The Corporal was hunched down behind a bush as the Humvee came slipping and sliding up the muddy frontier road. His shoes, top and bottom, were a thick goo of mud and he was not making good time. He didn’t know where he was but at least he was not back in the warehouse barracks. He was cut and scraped but still in good shape. But he was soaking wet. That was going to have to change soon or he was going to catch one hellacious cold. He would have to keep moving to stay warm. This wasn’t Iraq but the danger was just as real. He didn’t have an M-14. All he had were his instincts and, so far, they had not failed him.
It paid to be prepared. In the split second the warehouse door had been open earlier he had seen the razor wire. So he had planned for it. He assembled an escape kit. If there was no gate he’d have to go over the razor wire. It would be tricky and it would require a lot of muscle which, in fact, he had.
As soon as the plug of hostages ran out, he grabbed his escape kit and headed away from the electric eye. He could hear the yells of frustration and figured they had discovered there was no way out. So it was time for Plan B. He climbed the cyclone fence as high as he could and tossed two blankets over the razor wire. Then he put on two hot pad mitts. His grip was not good but it did get over the hump. He fell over the other side and made it into the forest just as it started to rain.
Now he was going for help. Where, he did not know. He figured his best bet was to follow the road. It had to lead somewhere. So he followed the frontier road a dozen yards inside the forest. It as a Herculean task. If he wasn’t stumbling over roots he was sinking into ooze or being batted by low hanging branches. He wasn’t making good time but, then again, he was making progress.
He tried to get a license plate from the Humvee when it went by it there were no plates. He did see two men in the vehicle. The number matched with what he, Jim and Mittles had figured. One to watch and the other to do the errands. Two coming out meant no one was left at the barracks. It wasn’t a good bet but it was a safe one.
It also raised a troubling thought. If there was no one at the warehouse, those hostages were stuck inside. There was no way out. If he could not find help it might be days, weeks before the hostages were found. If it was a week, not all of them would make it. None of the older ones for sure. They’d be stuck with the food and water on hand which wasn’t much.
When the whine of the Humvee faded, the Corporal left the security of the forest and began walking along the side of the frontier road. The grass was wet here and he was able to wipe off some of the mud on his shoes. The going was better here. Less mud but he was still walking in a down pour.
Chapter 56
Gerry and her cameraman had no trouble finding the spot on the sidewalk where she was to set up her camera.
“X marks the spot,” she said. “With arrow pointing south. How original. Make sure the camera is facing south.” She indicated the camera would be focused due south, exactly like the chalk arrow on the sidewalk.
“What are we filming?” asked her camera man. He set up the camera and looked south.
“I have no idea.”
The X, a bright red, was about 15 yards back from the corner on Third Street. South of the X, half of the entire block was the parking lot servicing the Blankenship Building and the two other high rise structures opening onto Fourth Street. There was a squat, two-story building to the east and a three-story parking garage to the west. The other side of Third Street was a steep hill, created by the 1964 Earthquake and too unstable for any structure. At the bottom of the hill was a massive parking lot for the new State Office Building, SOB, which had been built at the bottom of the hill.
“What time is it?” asked the cameraman.
&n
bsp; “4:20. Joint time if we weren’t on duty.”
“Stifle it. Pot’s not legal yet.”
“Not yet,” the camera said wistfully.
“Well, we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
They both turned when they heard a commotion across the parking lot. It appeared about a dozen people were clustering at the back entrance to the Blankenship Building.
“Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to film.
“Shoot it,” said Geraldine.
As the cameraman was focusing the lens on the disturbance Gerry got a call.
“Look up,” the voice said.
“Eh?”
“Up, Gerry, dahling, up. Look up. The top of the building.”
Gerry looked up and there, on the top of the four story structure next to the Blankenship Building was the figure of a man on the roof. He was waving at Gerry.
Gerry nudged the cameraman. “Up there,” she pointed. “On top of the building.”
The cameraman swiveled his equipment and zoomed in on the figure on top of the building.
“The dude’s got an Elvis mask on. Sure he’s our man?”
“Do you have an Elvis mask on?” Gerry said into the phone. “He’s our man,” she said an instant later. “He says to follow him.”
Gerry snapped her phone shut. With the cameraman she watched as the figure walked to the edge of the roof where he fiddled with something on the ledge. Then, with a sudden movement he jumped off the roof.
“Jezz,” snapped the cameraman.
“Tell me you got that on film,” Gerry said holding her breath.
“Ab-so-positive-lulty. You won’t believe what he’s. . .”
“I can see him from here.”
The figure only fell about four feet and suddenly he was whizzing down from the four-story building to the top of the three-story parking garage across G Street.
