Corey can’t remember it either. ‘742?’
‘No, 274!’ Judd punches in the numbers. With a heavy click and a swoosh of compressed air the canister’s lid unlocks. Judd flips it open.
‘Quick!’ Corey holds up the screaming chainsaw.
Judd tilts the canister towards the fuel tank’s filler neck. ‘How much?’
‘Just pour it in!’
Judd sloshes half a cup of the counteragent into the tank. Corey places the chainsaw in the far corner of the elevator and they stand back, side by side, eyes locked on the exhaust. It turns black and the engine note sounds like rocks in a blender.
Corey takes a breath. ‘I’m starting to think coming down here was a bad idea.’
Judd almost smiles.
The exhaust is pitch black.
The engine runs rough.
Then it doesn’t — and the exhaust clears.
They exhale, long and deep, more relieved than words can express. Corey rubs his face. ‘Far out. Well, the upside is that we now know the counteragent works, so that’s nice.’
Judd presses the ground floor button. No joy. The elevator does not move. ‘Now we just have to find a way out of here.’
Corey looks up at the wood-panelled ceiling, then down at the running chainsaw, then up at the ceiling again. ‘Got an idea.’
The roaring chainsaw blade slices into the ceiling’s wood panelling, cuts out a large square piece that drops to the floor.
Corey rests a foot on the railing that rings the elevator and propels himself up through the hole. Once on the elevator’s roof he reaches down, grabs Judd’s hand and helps him up. He carries the still-running chainsaw with him.
Corey looks at it. ‘Really?’
Judd shrugs. ‘I got a feeling it’s gonna come in handy.’ As he says it the chainsaw runs out of gas and cuts out.
The Australian moves to the right wall, where a series of small metal rungs have been cemented into the shaft and act as a service ladder. ‘Excellent.’ He quickly climbs the rungs towards the ground floor elevator doors. ‘Never been in a lift shaft before. We call them “lifts” in Oz, by the way.’
Judd is just behind him. ‘I’ve been in one.’
‘Really? When was that?’
‘Just before Atlantis was hijacked — would’ve loved a ladder built into the wall that night.’ Remembering shuttle Atlantis immediately makes Judd think about its commander, his partner, Rhonda. ‘Man, I hope Rho’s okay.’
‘When’s she due to land?’
Judd glances at his Ploprof. ‘In just over an hour.’
‘Word will be out about what’s happening here, mate. I’m sure they’ve already landed a couple of states away and she’s sitting in the airport lounge, sipping a crappy latte, pissed off that she has to listen to Severson bang on about some nonsense.’
Judd nods hopefully, wishes it were true, knows in his heart she would have called him if it was.
They reach the ground-floor elevator doors. Corey grabs one and forces it open. He pokes his head out, checks there are no chainsaw-wielding mofos about, and slides out. He reaches back and helps Judd up.
As soon as he’s on his feet Judd pulls out his iPhone and dials Rhonda. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up, tries not to worry about her, fails miserably.
Paws click on the marble floor as Spike bounds towards them and lets out a sharp bark.
Corey pats him on the head. ‘Let me just say this: I want to leave this place and never return.’
They head straight for the bikes, which are right where they left them. Judd rests the chainsaw across his handlebars and they run-roll them onto the street, hop on and start to pedal, the dog right behind.
Corey turns to Judd. ‘We need to find another cop shop, tell them what happened here.’
Judd nods but his mind is elsewhere. ‘I gotta work out the MHS thing.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Man, forty minutes. MHS. It’s — I know what it is — it’s right there — I just can’t put my finger on it.’
‘If only there were a service that could instantly answer annoyingly difficult questions like this.’ Corey looks at Judd, then nods at the phone in his hand. ‘I believe some call it “Google”.’ He throws in a pair of ironic air quotes on “Google”.
Judd glances at the phone and stops pedalling. ‘Worth a try.’ He swipes open his phone, thinks about it. ‘I should search, what — MHS Los Angeles.’
‘Good place to start.’ Corey decides to help him search for it and stops too. He reaches into his back pocket, draws out Bowen’s iPhone and looks at the screen.
Lola called — and left a message. The mute button was switched on so he didn’t know it rang. Even though the call isn’t for him he feels a buzz in his chest. The intensity of his excitement surprises him. He’s desperate to hear her voice and to know she’s okay. He’s not surprised she called Matty. Not only did she work for the guy but they were great mates.
Jeez, he’ll have to tell her what happened to him.
Spike barks.
‘What? I’m fine. Nothing.’
Judd looks up from his phone. ‘Why is your face flushed?’
‘No, it isn’t. What?’ Corey tries to play dumb and again fails miserably.
‘You look like a beetroot. Who called?’
‘Umm, well… Lola. She left a message.’
Judd stares at him blankly for a moment. ‘The one whose boyfriend is Steve Ford?’
‘Scott Ford, and thanks for the reminder.’
‘You’re going to call her back?’
‘I’m not, I mean I just…’ He trails off.
‘As long as you’re clear about it.’
Corey’s head drops to his chest. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Nothing is what you do. She has a boyfriend. She blew you off.’ Judd looks back at his iPhone. ‘Why are you even thinking about it?’
‘Because when I’m with her it feels — right, like I don’t have to do it all on my own. I’ve never felt that way before. I think I should tell her and see where the chips fall.’
‘But you know where they fall. They fall on “I have a boyfriend who is the biggest movie star in the world so thanks for dropping by and don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out”.’
Corey takes this in unhappily.
‘I don’t mean to sound like a dickhead again, but, really, you don’t want to get hurt, or, you know —’ He says it in a low voice, ‘—embarrassed again, do you?’
Corey listens, but his finger still hovers over the iPhone’s screen. Does he play the message or not?
Judd watches him. ‘Let it go, Blades.’ He looks back at his own iPhone’s screen then takes in a sharp breath. ‘Of course.’
‘What?’
‘I know what MHS means.’
‘And?’
‘It’s short for Moreno High School. I played baseball there when I was a kid. T-ball actually. That’s where I know it from.’
‘Why would they — what would be happening at a high school?’
‘That’s what I’m going to find out —’ He glances at his watch, ‘—in thirty-eight minutes.’
‘You’re going there?’
‘Of course.’
‘Shouldn’t we tell the cops? About, you know — what happened here?’ He nods at the Beverly Hills Police Station in the distance.
‘You can. I have to do this.’
‘You sure that’s a good idea?’
‘Absolutely not. It could work out really badly, or I could be going to the wrong place, but if something is going down I don’t wanna be standing around twiddling my thumbs at some police station.’
‘You’re doing it again.’