I nodded. Felt guilty that I’d doubted him. What mattered now was finding the device, wherever the hell Scott had hidden it, before Emerson’s men realised it was only Ugo Nolfi they’d got cornered.
We strode back past the ice caves. JT had his shades on. I’d dusted off the maintenance crew ball-cap and swapped it with my bandana. We moved with the flow of people on the street. The family in front of us, two parents and a small boy holding a balloon with ‘Birthday at Wonderland’ written on it, knew where they were heading: to the huge pale-blue SparkleDust Castle with its glittering turrets covered in fake ice. Me, I had no idea.
Anxiety tightened round my neck like a noose, pinching my skin. The place was too crowded, too vast. How could we ever hope to find the device? Ugo wouldn’t be able to hold off Emerson’s men for long. Then they’d be coming for us. Without a plan we were screwed, wasting time. Time we, and Dakota, didn’t have.
‘So how’d you want to play this?’ said JT.
‘We need to narrow the search.’ That had to be our first move.
‘Any idea how?’
That’s when I remembered the map. I stepped to the side of the street and digging into my pocket, grabbed the crumbled page that the cashier had handed me with our entry tickets.
‘We can plot the routes Scott would have taken each day,’ I said, showing the map to JT. ‘He’s most likely to have hidden the device in a place he knew well, where he could be sure it’d be safe. You said he was into conspiracy theories, spy shit, so I reckon it won’t be anywhere obvious. I reckon—’
‘Sounds like a hell of a lot of assumptions.’
I frowned. ‘You got anything better?’
‘Perhaps. Scott told me the job got to him sometimes, even before the messed-up shit with Emerson. Said seeing what people did, especially when they thought no one was watching, could get mighty unpleasant. Grossed him out.’
I shrugged. ‘And that’s relevant how?’
‘He told me he had a place that he’d go. To chill, clear his mind. A place the cameras couldn’t see.’
I felt a surge of excitement. ‘Where?’
‘Didn’t say exactly, just said he’d found it one time when he took a shortcut back to his car.’ JT pointed to an unnamed brown building on the map. ‘That’s the security office where he worked. He arrived and left on foot each day, walking to and from his car in the staff parking lot.’
I scanned the map. It didn’t have the staff parking lot marked. ‘Which is where?’
He indicated a brown area on the outer edge of the park. ‘Here.’
‘So we search the route. That’s our first move.’
JT studied the map then pointed to a narrow brown line. ‘That’s the path that connects the public area to the staff parking lot. It’s the straightest route along the walkways from the security office. But a more direct route would be down here.’ He pointed to the green space between the staff parking lot and the Big Freeze Zone. The route of the Frosty Looper rollercoaster snaked across it. ‘If there’s a way to get across that land, I’d say that’s Scott’s shortcut. The device will be hidden somewhere there.’
Still an assumption, but it sounded likely, and as good as anything else we’d got to go on. ‘Okay. Let’s head that way.’
I followed him back along Main Street. Long strides. Moving as fast as we could without running. In front of SparkleDust Castle we hung a right down Popsicle Drive. Scooting past the plastic stalactites that flashed blue, pink and green neon, we ducked between the groups of tourists, and pushed our way through the crowd.
I kept looking out for Emerson’s men. Wished I’d gotten a better look at their faces. They had been dressed real casual, so they could be any number of folks around us, except they’d be acting different, like they were hunting. I’d surely be able to spot that. I had to find the device before they got to us. Couldn’t fail. Just couldn’t. Dakota was relying on me.
Twenty yards along we reached a corn-dog stand. JT pointed out a small pathway between the blue hedge and the side of the vendor’s stand. ‘Down there’s the entrance to the security office. Scott would have come on to the main concourse here.’
It was a busy spot. Lots of folks in line for corn dogs, benches lining the walkway, a smokers’ area off to one side, separated by a line of blue shrubs. ‘Then where?’
He nodded towards the four-way crossing up ahead. A large silver signpost pointed to the different areas of the park. In the centre of the crossing a life-size Chester Chipmunk character was waving to the kids as they passed. I wondered if the staff had been warned to look out for two people acting suspiciously.
We hurried past Chester and his handler, an older guy sweating beneath his neon blue tabard, and took a right, following the directions to the Big Freeze Zone.
We loped along, dodging tourists and trying to avoid looking directly at the CCTV cameras. It was hard going. People were everywhere: teens dawdling, young children running, parents pushing strollers. The cameras were real regular, too. Disguised with glitter, peeping out from the fake ice that capped the streetlights. Watching.
Turned out that the Big Freeze Zone was the size of six football pitches and home to two rollercoasters – Big Chiller and Frosty Looper – as well as a whole bunch of other rides. It was also rammed with people.
So where to start? We needed to find the route Scott would have taken to the green space beyond the Zone. Searching the whole perimeter would take time we didn’t have. I looked at JT. ‘Any idea where he’d have gotten through?’
JT shook his head. ‘No. I guess we search the fence line bordering the green space on the map. See if we can find a gate.’
The odds weren’t great. We were basing our search on assumptions layered over other assumptions. But we had to do something. ‘Sounds our best shot.’
We pushed through the crowds, following the signs to the Ice Wars ride on the far side of the Zone. My mouth felt dry, my throat ached. I could feel the sweat trickling between my shoulders and down my back. My jeans felt clammy against my skin. But we couldn’t slow, couldn’t rest.
In my mind’s eye, I glimpsed Dakota in the freeze-frame image of the video left by Emerson’s men: eyes wide and afraid. The navy-blue life preserver strapped tight around her. The wires. The explosives. And my daughter’s words, the terror audible as she spoke, ‘Bring them what Santa stole. If you don’t, they say they’ll have to use the magic button.’
Past Ice Wars, which was like a supersized version of fairground dodgems, we split up and searched around the perimeter fence bordering the side of the zone adjacent to where the green space was on the map. The fence was solid white plastic, too high to see over, and no gaps to look or get through.
Ignoring the shrieks and laughter from the rides nearby, I stood back and scanned the area again. Over to the left, before the start of the line for the Big Chiller rollercoaster, was a SparkleDust Candyfloss stand. Beyond that stood the human driers – huge hot-air blowers that dried off visitors after they’d ridden Percy Penguin’s Ice Rapids ride, a log flume that guaranteed a drenching. Beyond that, the path twisted away from the direction of the staff parking lot.
On my right, the path led past the line of people waiting to ride Ice Wars and back to Main Street. The thick blue hedge that lined the street left no way through to the space behind.
It didn’t make sense. There had to be a way.
I tried to block out the dance music thumping from the speaker overhead and run through the few facts we had. We knew Emerson’s men had engineered the phone call and lured us into a disused area of the park to trap us. Course, they’d not reckoned on Ugo Nolfi tailing us, and him holding them off as they tried to grab JT in the Gingerbread Grotto. But even if that’d been a surprise, they’d know by now that we’d gotten back into the park, and would be watching for us on the security cameras. Out on the open concourse they’d have spotted us quick enough. They’d know where we were and what we were doing. It wouldn’t be long before they t
ried to grab us again.
JT joined me. Shook his head. ‘Nothing that way, I must have gotten it wrong.’
‘No. There’s got to be a way. What else did Scott tell you about the place he went to chill?’
JT thought silently for a second.
‘He did keep going on about that Ice Wars ride. He loved the thing, said he’d ridden it over a hundred times.’
I glanced over at the ride, watched the people in the dodgems laughing as they hurtled around the rink in their oversized cars. I could understand why Scott had liked it so much; it would have been one of the few rides that he could have ridden without feeling wedged in real tight. But it had to be more than that, him telling JT about it had to mean something. The more I thought about it, I reckoned that, with Scott’s love of cracking conspiracy theories and reading about spy shit he would have given clues about the device’s whereabouts without JT even realising. I just had to find out everything Scott had said and crack the code.
I stepped closer to JT. ‘When Scott told you about his chill spot, what were his exact words?’
We stared at the people smashing their dodgems into one another. JT shook his head. ‘Scott told me the view from this ride was the best in the park, but there’s no view, just a fence.’
‘That has to be a clue, doesn’t it?’
‘Meaning what?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I stared at the ride. On the far side of the dodgem rink the fence was about seven feet high. The plastic panels, decorated with huge pictures of the Winter Wonderland characters, obscured any kind of view.
The doubt crept back into my mind. Would we ever find the device? Would I ever get Dakota back safe? ‘Maybe there’s a way through further along the—’
A scream cut me off. On the far side of the rink a silver dodgem car was rebounding off the back of a pale-blue one. The girl who’d yelled was already laughing, steering back into the pale-blue car again. Getting revenge.
That’s when I spotted it.
It was an emergency exit sign, white with small black lettering – not the usual white and green, not designed to catch the eye. But I’d seen it. Below it was a gate: a safety feature, mandatory for the emergency evacuation of the ride in the event of a fire or whatnot; a route to get through to the other side.
Dressed in a security uniform, Scott would have been able to get into any place in the park without being challenged. He could have gone through the safety exit and into the green space beyond. From there he’d have been able to look at the view. And hide the device.
I pointed towards the gate. ‘We need to get through there.’
39
The digital display at the entrance to Ice Wars showed the waiting time to ride was one hour, twenty minutes. The line snaked around the barriers, corralling people together under the glare of the sun. Not good. We needed to get across the rink, through the gate, and search the area beyond. Fast.
Inside the dodgem rink a bell sounded, marking the end of the session. The cars began to slow. A shaggy-haired guy wearing a pale-blue jumpsuit and mirrored shades stepped in. He waved a chequered flag at each car in turn, directing them back to their start positions against the fence.
JT glanced at me. ‘You got a plan for this?’
‘We enter the rink with the next group. Say we’re maintenance, checking something out.’ It was the best I could think of, but still, I didn’t much like it. We’d be exposed, vulnerable.
JT frowned. He nodded towards a couple of security guards patrolling over by the SparkleDust Candyfloss stand. Both were bulked-up, filling out their uniforms almost to bursting. ‘We screw up, they’ll be on us fast.’
‘Then we best get it done right.’
The final bell sounded. The last dodgem car returned to its position and the riders climbed out. I straightened the Maintenance Crew ball-cap on my head, and strode with JT to the barrier at the front of the line. I tried to act casual, like I belonged. Wasn’t real sure I pulled it off; it’s tough looking calm when nerves are spinning in your belly like a Ferris wheel.
I glanced at JT. ‘You ready?’
‘Yep.’
We ducked under the safety rail and merged in with the next group of riders walking up the chute to the rink. Behind us, I heard a woman cuss, bitching that we’d skipped the line. I willed her to zip it. Hoped she’d not cause a scene.
Too late. A dude in baggy pants and an oversized tee jostled against JT. The woman was still cussing. People around us were staring, pointing.
JT pulled a white card from his pants pocket, flashed it at the dude, the cussing woman, and the others closest to us. ‘Maintenance Crew, please step aside.’
I moved around JT. Waved to the guy with the chequered flag. ‘Maintenance check.’
Chequered-flag guy looked pissed. He shook his head. ‘But I got a full ride here, how about you—’
‘Sorry, no can do,’ I said. ‘Boss told us to get it done. Only take a couple of minutes.’
Chequered-flag guy sighed. ‘Well, okay, I guess. Come aboard.’
We stepped on to the rink. I could still hear the woman in the chute bitching. I ignored her, had to focus. The floor was more slippery than I’d expected. I couldn’t run, instead I half walked, half slid towards the emergency exit. JT followed.
So far, all good.
I squeezed between a pink glittery dodgem car and the bumper of a shiny emerald-green one to get to the panelled fence at the spot beneath the exit sign. Pressed my hand along the join, looking for the gate release. Nothing. No handle, no button, no lever.
From across the rink, chequered-flag guy called, ‘What’d you say you were checking?’
JT took a pace towards me. ‘You got a problem with this emergency route. Faulty release mechanism, is all.’
‘Didn’t tell me,’ the guy said, his tone doubtful. ‘Who reported it?’
I heard the crackle of a radio and footsteps coming towards us.
‘They’re calling it in.’ JT sounded tense. ‘We need to move. Now.’
I twisted round, looked back across the rink. The operator, a chunky woman with pink cheeks and a pale-blue TEAM: ICE WARS polo shirt, had joined chequered-flag guy. She was talking into a handheld radio. Shaking her head.
Shit.
‘Lori. Get it open.’
I turned back, scratched at the fence, dug my fingers into the gap between the panel and the gate. Pulled hard.
It wouldn’t budge. I cussed under my breath. ‘It won’t. I can’t—’
JT swore.
Turning, I saw the operator and chequered-flag guy were sliding their way towards us. Behind them, the two bulky security guards were approaching the rink at the run.
Launching myself at the fence, I climbed as best I could up the plastic panelling. The fence was slippery, unstable. My injured leg made me weaker, less agile. Just when I thought I might fall, I felt JT’s hands on my thigh, boosting me higher. I scrambled over, tumbling on to the ground below.
Moments later, JT landed beside me.
On the other side of the fence I could hear shouting. The guards were coming for us.
‘This way, come on.’ JT sprinted forward through the bushes. I followed. Nine yards in, the bushes ended. Grass stretched out ahead of us for maybe eighteen yards. After that the ground fell sharply away. I paused on the top of the ridge. Looked out across the valley below. You could almost see the ocean from here. Scott had been right. The view was amazing.
I heard a yell behind me. Turned. Saw the guards. They’d come through the emergency exit, and were hurtling our way. They moved real quick for such big guys.
I scrambled down the slope, wincing from the pain in my ankle, skidding on loose dirt, stumbling, trying to catch up with JT.
He’d reached the bottom and stopped. Waiting for me.
I joined him, breathless. ‘Where now?’
‘Towards the staff parking lot.’
Made sense. That’s the route Scott would have been taking when he fo
und his chill-spot. Ahead of us the ground dropped away again. The slope led down to a second ridge, this one lined by large grey boulders. They’d block the guards’ view of us. Perfect for cover.
We sprinted down the slope. Behind us the guards were shouting, telling us to stay where we were. I glanced back, saw tasers in their hands. We had to stay out of range. Too close, and it’d be game over. I wondered how long it’d be before Emerson’s guys from the Gingerbread Grotto showed up, too.
I pushed myself harder. Faster. Blood pounded in my ears.
Reaching the ridge, we scrambled over the boulders, the rock scratching my palms. On the other side we ducked down, out of sight. Kept running.
Side by side, we ran along a set of narrow train-like tracks. Rails for Frosty Looper, I guessed. The device had to be close. We just had to find the specific spot Scott would go to chill, a place he’d have been shielded from the cameras. Everything so far had been too open, too vulnerable. Shit, I hoped that there was a place, that my assumption was right. That he hadn’t just dug a hole and buried the damn thing.
I kept running, kept scanning the area for possible hiding places. Kept hoping. Saw nothing hopeful. There was no grass here. The hillside had been designed to look like the surface of the moon, with craters and boulders, only all in different shades of blue.
The guards were yelling, their voices getting closer. They’d followed us over the boulders and on to the rails.
Still we ran. JT looked like he could do this all day long. But the pain in my ankle was increasing, the limp returning. My lungs felt as if they could burst any moment. I focused on my breathing, in through my nose, out through my mouth. Pumped my arms harder. Kept pace with JT, just.
He gestured down the track. About twenty yards ahead the rails soared upwards into a huge double loop, then twisted right and plunged down the hillside out of sight. Below the loop, the ground dropped away into space. ‘This way,’ JT grunted out.
Deep Down Dead Page 23
