Driving his own car, he followed the directions provided by the desk clerk to a recommended steak house and entered the establishment after turning his car over to the parking attendant. A waiter had just brought him a bourbon on the rocks when he saw a man wearing a tall white chef’s hat and white jacket wheeling a cart across the dining room to a table on the far side. Most patrons were talking or eating and likely didn’t notice the man setting up to make a flaming desert at a customers table. When it was time to light the gas burner the cook waited too long to ignite the gas, letting it accumulate under the pan and around the burner. With a loud WOOMMSH, a fireball shot up five feet high as the gas ignited. A man at the table behind the preparation cart almost turned his table over, knocking over all the wine and water glasses while reacting to the unexpected explosion. Everyone in the dining room was caught off guard and turned to see what the commotion was. Gasps and Ohhhs permeated the room as people reacted to the unanticipated fireball.
Clay grinned and made a silent toast to the chef. The chef had solved his dilemma. To celebrate the event he had two more drinks, ordered the best steak on the menu, and sat grinning from ear to ear planning what would be required to pull off the plan starting to form in his mind.
After supper he again drove to the A. I. and sat until almost midnight watching the lights. On his way back to the motel he lifted a set of license plates from a car sitting on a self pay parking lot and then removed a set from another car to replace the first. Most people don’t know their license number unless it’s a vanity plate, so odds were good only the missing set would be reported to the police. He was almost ready for the next step.
Day Seven - Thursday
Since too many people could have the description of the loaner cars he was driving, he got up early the next morning and spent an hour moving both cars to another motel three miles away. They would be picked up in a few weeks and held until Frank paid the storage fee.
After moving the last car he had a taxi take him to a large nearby factory. When the taxi left he walked to the far end of the parking lot and found a car he liked. He removed a tool from the gym bag he carried to unlock a two year old black Buick Wildcat. After pulling the ignition switch he drove it to a park where he installed the license plates stolen the night before.
At seven he was at a construction supply business where he bought a white hard hat, a pair of safety glasses with side shields, a pad of green engineer’s graph paper and a clipboard.
Now he was ready to visit the construction site of the five story building across from the A. I. He located a small parking lot for visitors at the site and left the Buick there. Donning his hardhat and carrying the clipboard he entered the fenced area behind two craftsmen, noting the locking method. To his left he saw a ten foot by twelve foot guard shack manned by two security guards. The two craftsmen ignored the guard shack and headed for the main entrance. He emulated their lead as if he were being escorted by them and tagged along closely behind them. Inside he wandered through the building occasionally making official looking notes and sketches on the paper pad. Mentally he noted what he was really there for. The first floor was being utilized as a storage area for materials for the rest of the building. On the second floor he located an area near the center of the floor where oil based paint, solvent and painting equipment were being staged. The remaining upper floors were in various stages of final finishing. Having seen enough, he left the building and walked the perimeter. Behind the building there was another drive through gate, held closed by a chain and cheap pad lock. This area was partially obscured by six, thirty cubic yard capacity roll off trash boxes, staged inside and outside the fence, some full or partially full, some empty. A temporary roadway led from the fence to the basement of the building.
Back at his car he wrote down the details he had noted while they were still fresh in his mind and then drove to a gas station with an outside phone booth. After Tony answered he said, “The problem you feared is real. Can I call you on the other line in fifteen minutes to discuss it some more?” Hanging up he moved the car to a pump and filled the gas tank, paid for the gas with cash and walked back out to the phone. Dialing the phone again he got Tony at the phone booth they had arranged to call in case he needed a secure means of communication where the police wouldn’t have a bug.
“Tony, you were right, one of the other people here did try to set me up. It’s a damn woman. But don’t worry; I’m taking care of it. I need some things; a lot of things. Is there someone here you can trust, or will you need to send someone out from Chicago? Good, tell him to get a three quarter ton van and leave it in the parking lot of the Princess Theater at six tomorrow evening. It’s on Euclid Street; tell Tracy to park in the back of the lot. The things on my shopping list aren’t going to be easy to get on short notice. Yeah? Well, you’re right, if anybody can get it my moneys on you pal. Here’s what I need.”
"Call Ernesto Martinson for a one pound PETN shaped charge with a timer detonator for the explosive trigger. Tell him not to substitute another explosive unless it's as stable and as powerful. I'll need two empty fifty gallon drums, ten gallons of diesel fuel, ten gallons of high octane racing fuel, and twenty fifty pound bags of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. Don't substitute with any other fertilizer. You better have the fertilizer stolen from distributors so there won't be a sales record. Got all that, or do I need to go over the list again?"
"Got it. Clay, what the hell is this stuff for?"
“It’s something I learned in War School as you called it. We’ll soon know if it’s enough and if it’s as powerful as I was told”. In closing he told Tony “Make sure the truck can’t be traced; it won’t be coming back. Tell Tracy to leave the keys in the floor and take a cab to the train station to get back home. Pay him well and I’ll settle up with you when I get back.”
“O.K. Clay, if Ernesto has the bomb stuff on hand I’ll have it there. Be careful and good luck kid.”
“Thanks Tony. Hey, there is one other favor I need. Check with your contact again to ensure Trezzini is still in the motel. If he’s been moved there’s no need to send the truck. If it doesn’t arrive tomorrow I’ll know why.”
He drove by the construction site again. It was deserted except for a solitary guard he could see sitting in the guard shack, facing the building listening to a radio. From a parking spot where he could see the guard in the window he watched for four hours. The guard never moved from the trailer.
Day Eight - Friday
The following morning Clay was in position to observe the eight o’clock ritual at the A.I. Everything was falling into place. At six o’clock in the evening he was in the parking lot at the Princess Theater, leaning against the side wall of the brick building. At five minutes past the hour a white Ford utility van moved slowly down the driveway and parked at the end of the lot. Clay had dropped down behind the car in front of him and watched the entrance to the lot to see if anyone was following his supply run. Even if Tony was in charge of the arrangements he wasn’t taking any chances. The driver of the Ford van had gotten out of the truck and was stretching while looking at the area around him. He glanced at his wristwatch to assure himself of the time, and then turned and walked out to the street and flagged down a cab. Clay waited another fifteen minutes, then stood up and walked briskly to the van. After driving back to his motel he parked the truck under a light fixture where it was visible from his room. By then it was time for supper which he decided to eat in the small chain restaurant attached to the motel. Before going back to his room he went to his car and got his rifle, rolling the gun case up in a sleeping bag to conceal it. He went to bed early but was absorbed for over three hours in going over last minute details of the next days plan.
Day Nine – Saturday
At three in the morning Clay woke to the sound of the alarm clock, dressed and carried a garment bag out to the white van. The rifle was hanging vertically between shirts in the bag He needed to get it out to the van without being seen and t
his was a good time. Besides, he had another errand to run.
Later he stopped for breakfast and was in place at the parking garage at seven thirty for his last observations. As anticipated draperies opened on two rooms a few minutes past eight and closed on both by eight thirty seven. He felt sure he knew the room Trezzini would be sleeping in. He was betting all his chips on the first draperies to be opened each morning at around eight o’clock were in the rooms getting a final prep for occupancy; thus the shorter duration. The later and extended duration in rooms on the opposite side of the motel were while the staff cleaned the just vacated rooms after the tenants moved their personal belongings each morning. The F.B.I. was careful to keep window coverings closed while they were in the rooms, but had neglected to frequently reinforce the requirement on the cleaning staff.
Get ready to die Dominick Trezzini I’m coming for you. The next part of his plan was to put a set of stolen plates on his personal car and leave it in a residential neighborhood until after the hit was accomplished. He didn’t want anyone to associate it being parked near the get away car he would dump there after the hit.
At a bus stop Clay selected a route, and rode five miles into the city to steal another car. He had stashed the Buick and felt a need to change cars again, just to be safe. Although he hadn’t seen the woman in the red Monte Carlo since the bus station sighting, he was willing to bet she was keeping an eye on him. He wanted something faster this time, so he found an almost new Chevrolet Camero. Prior to taking it he popped the hood to assure it had the big block V8 engine. After switching plates with another car the Camero was left in a parking garage a block from the constructions site. Wanting to make a detailed final review of his plan and then exercise in the swimming pool, he took a cab back to his motel to spend a few hours trying to relax.
Saturday night at eight, Clay parked the white truck outside the back gate at the construction site. He was dressed from head to toe in black and wore a black ski mask. After cutting the pad lock with bolt cutters he slipped through the gates to survey the grounds inside the fence. From outside the guard shack he observed one elderly gray haired man in a black security uniform. The old man was sitting in a swivel desk chair with his legs propped up and his shoes off, listening to a radio and reading a magazine. The shack had a large window with a view of the building project. A radio sat on a counter top on the opposite wall. The guard was facing away from the building and wouldn’t be a problem unless the radio broke. He made his way to the basement and spent a full twenty minutes moving boards, scaffold parts and waste barrels out from an area near the center of the basement. After opening the back gate he again checked on the guard and then drove the truck down the gravel drive into the basement. Once the truck was inside he turned the parking lights on using the dim yellow light to position the truck just where he wanted it.
In the back of the van he dumped ten bags of fertilizer into each of the drums, and divided the diesel fuel and racing fuel between them. The timer on the PETN explosive charge was synchronized with his watch and set for ten thirty. After placing the timed charge between the drums Clay locked the truck, grabbed the garment bag and carefully moved out to the back gate. He wound the chain through both gates to hold them closed and hung the cut pad lock back in position. His watch indicated the time was nine thirty. One hour to complete preparations.
While gingerly carrying the garment bag he pulled off the ski mask as he hurried to the parking garage to retrieve the Camero. After removing the rifle and bolt cutters from the bag and placing them in the car he found a trash dumpster and left the bag in it. He drove to a location a half mile from the A.I. and parked on a street running in front of a municipal water tower. He felt the distance was just at his maximum shooting range. If Trezzini hadn’t been moved to the water tower side of the A.I. the hit would have had to be postponed for a day, but Sunday would have worked just as well. The one hundred and twenty five foot tall tank had been built on a low hill, which provided enough elevation to give him a clear view of the top floors of the A.I. To the left of it he could see the top of the new building under construction. An even better view of it would be had from the top of the tank. The time was nine forty seven.
A single ladder without a protective safety cage ran up one of the support four legs to a small platform on top. Four spotlights on the ground, ninety degrees apart, illuminated the tank at night. Much earlier in the dark someone had used a ball peen hammer to smash the lens and bulbs on two of the lights aimed primarily on the ladder side of the tower. The same unknown person had also used bolt cutters to cut the chain securing a gate in a small fenced area to keep unauthorized people away from the ladder. He felt certain the vandalism wouldn’t be reported or repaired until Monday at the earliest. As he began the climb he was glad he remembered to ask Tony for cotton gloves with small rubber bumps on the palms and finger gripping areas. The time was nine fifty eight.
A hand over hand climb up a narrow vertical ladder one hundred and twenty five feet high hadn’t seemed like much. But by the time he had reached the point where the ladder began to bend to the curvature of the elliptical top of the tank he was breathing heavily. He was thankful he didn’t have a fear of heights, or this plan couldn’t have been undertaken. The heavy rifle slung over his shoulder had become burdensome and awkward during the climb. Halfway up the curved surface the ladder flattened sufficiently for him to stand erect and use the hand rail starting there to continue his ascension to the platform.
On the platform he sat and took deep breaths and suddenly realized he was hot and sweaty despite the cool breeze. The mild five to seven MPH breeze coming out of the west would be at his back. He rechecked the rifle before again looking at the time. It was nine minutes past ten. He took time to marvel at the impressive light display around him in all directions as far as he could see, and then used the rifle scope to locate the two rooms he expected Trezzini to appear in. Unzipping the right pocket of his charcoal gray sweat shirt he removed the .38 caliber automatic and placed it out of the way in the corner of the platform to his right. He removed the sweatshirt and a two inch thick by twelve inch square piece of foam rubber from inside the waist of his pants. The two of them would have to provide adequate padding while he lay on the metal grating to make the shot. His mouth had gotten dry since the climb and he wished he had some water. Glancing at his watch he noted the time was ten seventeen. Thirteen minutes to wait.
This was his most vulnerable period in the job. Someone could have seen him climbing the ladder and might have called the police. And after taking the shot, even if he were successful, he still needed to reach the ground to escape. Many people would still be up on a weekend night. And with the distant explosion and the report from the large caliber rifle most were sure to come outside to investigate. Luckily there were only nine houses on the other side of the street and four down the street on the same side as the tower. Others were around the area, but too far to be of any immediate concern. And, in his favor, this was Saturday night and a lot of cars were on the streets. He could gain precious minutes to escape while the authorities tried to reach this spot. His watch showed twenty one minutes past ten.
By synchronizing his watch and the timer he felt comfortable they would be well within a minute’s time. There was no need to be more precise than a minute. His thoughts went to the image of the man he had studied for the past nine days. He was sure he could recognize him, but would only have a second or two for a definite go or no go decision. Another thought clamored for attention in his mind. He had almost forgotten the redhead in the Monte Carlo. Where did she and the third assassin stand in all of this? Time was running out for all of them. Did either of them have a viable plan put together? Was he ahead of them, or could Trezzini already have been attacked? Was he still in the A.I. or could he have been killed or moved? It would be ironic if he blew up a building and his target had already left the motel. Walking around the platform he checked the ground area around the aging tower in all directio
ns for any sign he had been seen, but saw nothing to concern him.
It was ten twenty six. Clay laid down on the rubber pad and the folded sweatshirt, assumed a prone position and moved around until he was satisfied with the support they provided between his arms and the steel grating. Focusing the scope on the flag in front of the motel he watched for a minute to check for air speed and direction. The flag barely moved. His visit to the Westchester County Clerks Office maps section had provided him with an estimated distance to be around seven hundred seventy yards, plus or minus twenty. The scope had been readjusted for the distance; he wished he had time to go and test the settings to be sure. He rechecked the scope for drop and drift and was satisfied. The rifle was held loosely in the position it would be fired from and he was breathing slowly but deeply, sweeping the new building and the motel through the scope until he was satisfied with the feel. Without consulting his watch he knew there was one to two minutes left before the explosion would occur in the six story building. He wished he had a better feel for how big the explosion would be. The paint and solvents stored on the second floor were a key part of his plan. The detonation had to be severe enough to penetrate the two concrete floors above the blast zone to cause the fire and smoke he was expecting.
Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy Page 25
