But Wark would have had to stand on the toilet, then hoist himself up onto the thin partition of the booth. And even if the partition would hold his weight, Joe could find no footprint on the toilet seat or on the top of the tank. There was no strong scent of Wark around those fixtures. "He sure didn't use the facilities."
Dulcie reared up to stare with curiosity at the urinal, then grimaced, realizing what it was. "He used this," she said with disgust. She leaped to the sink and dabbled her paws in the few drops of water that clung around the drain, then examined the rectangular mirror.
The glass was fixed solidly to the wall-it was not like the medicine cabinet at home. In fact, nothing in the room seemed movable, except the toilet tank top, and what could you hide there? The tank would be full of water.
Dulcie said, "I know I heard a key in a lock." But there was no lock. They were still standing on the sink, pawing at the mirror, when the door swung open behind them.
24
The swinging door slammed open; the cats had no time to leap off the sink. Wark stood staring in, into the bright white glare of the men's room. His muddy eyes glinted with rage. As he lunged at them, they exploded apart. Joe hit the floor. Dulcie leaped straight to the top of the booth, brushing past Wark's face; but she moved too late, the Welshman grabbed her. As he fought the brindle cat, Joe leaped at his head raking and snarling. This allowed Dulcie to twist free from Wark's hands; with one last rake of her claws she sprang away into the attic and disappeared within the black hole.
When she appeared again looking over, Wark had scrambled up onto the toilet seat. But Joe still clung to his neck; as the Welshman fought Joe with one hand he grabbed for Dulcie with the other. She fled again. Joe propelled off Wark's shoulder into the dark behind her but he was off-balance. He hit the side of the hole, scrabbling into the soft tiles, felt them tear under his weight. Wark's fingers closed on his leg. Joe twisted, bit the offending hand, and leaped upward with a force that carried him up into the blackness.
They fled away through the cavernous dark along the wooden beams, dodging the thin metal struts. They heard him climbing, heard the clang of the porcelain tank as his weight hit it, then a dry, tearing sound as tiles gave way beneath him.
Then a loud crack, a sharp indecipherable word, and the clattering of dislodged porcelain as Wark fell.
Cheered by Wark's mishap, they turned to look back and in the darkness, Dulcie smiled. "Good for him. I hope he broke a leg."
But in a moment they heard him step on the toilet seat again, and climb. They moved away quickly.
The attic was vast, its low, sloped roof receding into an endless tunnel of unrelenting night, the tangles of metal struts hindering any swift flight.
"This can't just be the attic over the stores," Joe said. "It's too big, it has to go on over those open sheds." And why not? The buildings were all attached.
They were headed deeper in, toward the area over Clyde's shop, when Dulcie stopped and turned back, and began pawing at something.
In a minute, she hissed, "Here! Come and look."
She stood looking down between two acoustical tiles, where a sliver of light squeezed through no thicker than a thread.
Digging, she tried to force her paw through. They dug together, and soon widened the crack until they could see, below them, rows of metal pipes. The air smelled of cleaning solvent and steam. The pipes were loaded with hanging clothes, all sheathed in plastic bags. They were pawing again, trying to get through, when they heard voices from below, from an unseen part of the room. A woman's voice approached. She said something about tags and numbers, then laughed. They backed away into the dark.
"There's another crack," Dulcie said, "near the men's room."
"Its too close. He'll be up here in a minute."
But all sounds from Wark had ceased. They dug at the new crack until a tile shifted. A two-inch space revealed an office below. A battered desk and chair stood directly below them, and, to the left, two metal file cabinets. Next to those was a whole wall full of cubbyhole shelves, crammed with papers. As they fought to dislodge the tile, their faces pressed close together, they heard the men's room door open, and heard a sharp clang of metal.
"What's he doing?" Dulcie breathed.
"Whatever he's doing, you can bet your fur booties he'll up here in a minute. Dig harder."
But then a rhythmic noise began, a sharp metallic Click click click rising up. "Extension ladder," Joe hissed.
They fled again, but their scrabbling feet knocked the tile loose behind them; they heard it fall down into the office. Dulcie paused, turning back. "We've time to get through, come on." But Wark was already up through the hole, his lit face pushing up. They sped away crashing into metal struts and through cobwebs, dragging cobwebs with them. Joe didn't like to think about being trapped up there with no way to get out.
But if the attic continued over the drive and over the showroom, maybe there would be a way out. They raced on, slowed by the struts, swerving and dodging as if in some fun house obstacle coarse-a fun house as seen in nightmare.
They had scrambled around a corner, they were halfway around the U-shaped building, over the repair shop, when a perpendicular wall stopped them. They slid to a halt. The attic ended.
They crept along the wall nosing and pawing at its base. It was solid, not a hole or a crack. And suddenly light burst across the attic from behind them.
The swinging beam of a flashlight sought them, burning a path through the dark. They crouched behind a beam, out of its range. On it came, picking out beams and struts above them, frosting the curtains of hanging cobwebs. It glanced over the top of the beam where they crouched, and went on, as frantically and uselessly they dug at the floor. And Wark crawled nearer, swinging his light back and forth, searching.
This floor wasn't soft under their claws, not like acoustical tiles; this ceiling over the shop was hard and unyielding. And again Wark's light swung close.
"He has a gun," Dulcie whispered, "I saw it earlier."
Joe glanced at her "I didn't…" But from below in the shop came muffled voices and the clang of tools.
"Clyde's down there, I can hear him. They've started work. If I shout…"
"No! It'll bring his light." She dug harder, clawing at the dense Sheetrock. Below they heard an engine start. But even over that sound, Wark would hear them digging. He had drawn closer, and his angle of vision was steeper now. He could see partially behind the last beam. Dulcie had managed a shallow indentation in the Sheetrock when Wark's light found them, blinding them. They were trapped in light. A shot cracked through the attic, exploding with ragged flame as Joe lunged against her, knocking her away. And a second shot thundered.
25
Ten minutes after Kate Osborne left the courthouse tucking her shirt more securely into her jeans, the cream-colored cat entered the Osborne backyard.
She scanned the neighbors' windows, and when she thought she was unobserved, she leaped to the back porch. There she rubbed against the porch rail, surveying again the adjoining dwellings.