"Can I get a taking-care-of-business check?"
"You've got a postponement."
"Where's Kathy now?"
"With Janet."
"How's she getting along with Horace?"
April smiled warmly. "Just fine, but she'd love to see her best friend, Mr. Mongo. She's been asking about you all week, and she doesn't understand why you haven't come to see her."
"Does she know about. . her father yet?"
April nodded. "She knows that Frank died in the fire you saved her from, but not the details. She doesn't remember anything about what happened before the fire. All she can say is that she fell asleep in the car coming home from my house; that's all she remembers until she woke up in the hospital."
"It's just as well. Are you and Kathy doing anything this afternoon?"
"No. Why?"
"I have to drop by the hospital for my shot, and then I'd like to do something with the two of you. Like go to the zoo. Can Kathy leave the house?"
"She can, and I know she'd love to go to the zoo."
"I'm a zoo freak-if you'll pardon the pun."
April giggled. "I'll ignore the pun-and I'm a zoo freak too. I love orangutans." Her smile fluttered and faded. "Does this mean that at least you're not starting back to work right away?"
"Certainly not before we go to the zoo," I said, getting up to clear away the dishes.
But I would right afterward, as soon as it got dark. And I had a pretty good idea where to start looking.
Chapter 19
The lights were on in Krowl's brownstone, and the shades were up. I didn't want anyone inside looking out and seeing me, so I stayed across the street in the night shadows. I walked to the end of the block and went down the side street. In the shadows between the glows cast by two street lights I crossed the street to the warehouse behind Krowl's house. The warehouse still looked abandoned, but I didn't think it was; the coven had to have a private and secure place to meet, and the warehouse looked like a perfect spot.
All the windows I could see were painted black, and the glass looked as if it were reinforced with wire mesh. Considering the neighborhood, the building looked in good shape and seemed to be maintained well. In the front was a stainless steel door with a heavy padlock. I was reasonably certain I could work my way through the lock, but the street was too exposed.
I had better luck in a side alley. I had the same problem with a heavy door and padlock, but in the alley I was shrouded in darkness. There was always the danger of setting off an alarm, silent or otherwise, but there didn't seem to be any way of getting around that risk if I wanted to get inside the building-and I most certainly wanted to get inside. The drop-bolt lock was expensive and sturdy; beyond the skills of the average burglar, nervous and in a hurry. It took me almost an hour and my entire set of custom-made lockpicks to get through it.
I stepped inside the door and found myself in pitch darkness. I fumbled along the wall, found a light switch and flipped it. Fluorescent lights came on, throwing a stuttering, soft glow over a narrow stairway. I slowly climbed the stairs, paying close attention to where I stepped in case the setup was booby-trapped. I could find no wires or mechanical devices that would indicate an alarm rigging, and I assumed I was home free.
At the top of the stairway I found myself on a catwalk which circled a broad concrete area on the first floor below. Occult symbols had been painted on the concrete between the perimeter of a large black circle and twelve smaller circles surrounding it. Black draperies encircled the entire area. There was a sloping, sunken area in the center of the floor. The depression was scorched, and I thought I could see three small metal outlets that were probably gas jets. They would make a clean, gas-burning bonfire; all the conveniences of modern covenry.
To my right was a narrow platform constructed of reinforced concrete and jutting out over the ceremonial area below. At the end of the platform was a small enclosure draped in crimson velvet. Assuming I was right about Esobus keeping his identity secret even from the members of his own coven, the cubicle would probably be where the ceremonial magician held forth. A look inside the cubicle confirmed it. There was what I assumed to be a one-way mirror overlooking the area below. In front of the glass were a bare wooden writing desk and a straight-backed metal folding chair. The walls were bare, except for a small sign that had been lettered with India ink on heavy bond paper. It was neatly taped to the smooth wood just to the left of the glass, and read:
THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH IS NEITHER MORAL NOR IMMORAL: IT IS THE PREREQUISITE OF A CIVILIZED SOCIETY.
It seemed a curious motto for the leader of a coven that went around killing people and poisoning little girls.
I took the paper from the wall, folded it and put it in my pocket. Then I turned my attention to the small console of electronic equipment in the corner to the right of the desk. There were a tape deck, a microphone and equipment for voice distortion. I was certain that the message Joshua Greene had received at the hospital had been recorded on the machine I was looking at.
I went back out on the catwalk and walked around it. The gutting and reconstruction of the building was far from complete. There were a number of dusty corridors radiating off the catwalk to other sections of the building. I walked down one corridor and found myself in a large, bare area that looked as if it had once housed heavy equipment. I didn't have time to explore all the other sections, and I was anxious to examine the main floor. I returned to the catwalk.
There was probably a stairway leading downstairs if I looked long enough for it, but I was in a hurry. I found some heavy rope on a scaffold that had been left in a corner. I anchored the rope, then dropped it over the railing and shinnied down. At the bottom, just in case I wanted to get back up in a hurry, I coiled the rope end and hid it behind a section of black drapery. On the other side of the drapery, on the concrete apron of the main area, I discovered a large cubicle whose walls and ceiling seemed to have been constructed from prefabricated materials. A quick swing around the area behind the drapery showed that there was a total of twelve such cubicles.
I stepped into one, found the light switch and turned it on. Again, fluorescent lights flickered on. My heart almost stopped as I heard a sudden, pneumatic hissing sound. I wheeled and dived for the entrance. In a way, I was lucky that my reflexes were slightly off; if I'd been a split second faster, I'd have been decapitated or cut in half as a steel plate dropped from a hidden niche above the cubicle doorway and hit the floor with a solid, loud clang.
I got my arms up just in time and absorbed the force of my hitting the plate with my forearms. Panicked at being caught like an animal in a trap, I leaped up and hurled myself against the steel; the plate set me right down on the floor again. This time I stayed down, held my head in my hands and tried to calm nerves that were shrieking with fear. The plate was solid, and all I'd get from banging against it would be a broken shoulder and a headache.
If I had to play rat, I decided I might as well try to be a smart one: I got to my feet and carefully examined the surface of the plate. Fifteen minutes of this convinced me there was no way to escape; obviously, one had to make arrangements for walking out before walking in. That, I thought, didn't seem to bode well for my future-which could be very short. But I knew that the terror generated by dwelling on the fact would only sap my strength. There was nothing I could do but wait and see who-if anyone-was going to show up. I took out my gun and looked around.
The cubicle had been designed as an all-purpose private retreat for one of the coven members. There were a cot, a small library of sorts with an esoteric collection of occult books; there was even a black-draped altar with black candles. In the center of the altar was a large, hand-bound book with hand-tooled leather covers and thick parchment pages. A book of shadows. Having absolutely nothing better to do and needing something to keep my mind off my situation, I sat down on the edge of the cot, placed my gun next to my right thigh and began to leaf through the book.