“Crushed?” He laughed, as if she had asked something foolish. “Nah, nothin’ like that.” Haywood made a slashing motion with his hand. “Decapitated. But not crushed.”
Vail rose to fully face Haywood. “What do you mean, decapitated?”
“Back in ’79, couple a guys did sumthin’ stupid, dint turn out so good.”
Vail turned back and again peered into the darkness of both conduits. No sign of Dixon or Burden, or their headlamps. “How so?”
Haywood chuckled. “These guys, they were up by California and Mason, there’s a pit there beneath the street. The Sheave Pit. They lifted the metal hatch cover and dropped down in there to make some repairs. They radioed in and we shut down the cable. Ain’t enough room in there with the thick cable zippin’ by. It’s a real small place, that’s why we call it the pit, ya see? Anyways, they made their repair then lit up a joint, smoked some weed. Well, some asshole figured they were done and started up the cable. Bam. Loss they heads.”
“How? I mean-”
“You saw that cable up there. Big, thick, movin’ fast. Tight space. Like I said.”
“Wait a minute.” Vail thought back to the text from the offender. Look for an old cable in a small dark place near where California bricks were found long ago…Be quick or bye-bye Bob. “Where’s that Sheave Pit located?”
“Up the hill, at California ’n Mason.”
Vail faced the engineer. “California bricks. Not bricks of gold, but a mason’s bricks.”
Haywood eyed her. “You ’kay, lady? Yo talkin’ bullshit. No offense.”
Vail looked back toward the channels. “That Sheave Pit. It’s small. Is it dark?”
The engineer threw his hands on his hips. “Now whaddya think? You see lights in there? Pit’s juss as dark.” He walked a few feet and pointed to a sheave, which was still. This here’s the cable that runs through the pit.”
“How can I get to the Sheave Pit?”
Haywood lifted an arm and started to point. “Go back outside, then hang a right. Go two blocks or so to Mason. You’ll see a metal-”
Vail grabbed his shirt and started to pull him along with her. “Take me there.”
Haywood shrugged off her grip. “Must be outta yo mind if you think I cain leave my post.”
“You’re right.” Vail pulled her Glock. “I’m out of my mind. Now get going. A detective’s life depends on it, so double-time it.” She gave Haywood a shove in the back and they ran up the stairs, headed for California and Mason.
AS THEY PASSED THE CONTROL room on the left, Vail pulled her BlackBerry and called Burden, hoping he could have SFPD send a cruiser over to the area above the pit to stop traffic. Just in case her hunch was correct. But the call went right to voicemail. Probably no cell service in the conduit.
Haywood took her back the way they had come in, past the maintenance area. Two flatbed utility trucks, with equipment and compressors of some sort mounted in the rear, sat in front of Elise Cooper’s office. Haywood pulled a set of keys from his pocket and popped open a door. “Get in, this’ll get us there faster.”
“How far’s the pit?”
“Couple blocks directly ahead.” He pulled out onto Jackson, and then flipped a switch and swirling lights began flicking white and red hues above them.
“That cable you showed me. The one that goes through the Sheave Pit. It wasn’t moving.”
“Thas because I shut it down. I got an order for repair on the line this evening. ’Round 7:30. The engineer who had the shift ’fore me took everything offline.” He pulled his eyes from the road to consult his watch. “Cable’s due to start back up in ’bout four minutes.”
“Four minutes-who’s doing the repair?”
“Don’t know. I assume one of the superintendents assigned a crew.”
And what do you want to bet there is no crew, and the order was bogus? “Can you shut it down? Keep it from starting back up?”
“This point, don’t think so.”
He accelerated, turned right, and then swerved around a taxi-the heaviness of the truck chassis apparent in the vehicle’s sluggish response. “See that tall hotel up ahead? That’s the Fairmont, ’bout where we goin’.”
A block later, he brought the vehicle to a screeching stop in the middle of the street.
“We here. Now what?”
Vail pushed against her door. “Show me the pit. Open it up.”
“Open the pit?”
“You can open it,” Vail shouted. “Can’t you?”
Haywood leaned back. “Yeah, ’course. But-”
“Then open it. Fast.”
Haywood got out of the truck and met Vail around back. He fiddled with an apparatus in the rear bed as Vail once again tried Burden and Dixon. Voicemail.
“How long till the cable starts up?”
Haywood stopped and glared at Vail. “Jesus, lady. Which you want me to do? Answer yo’ questions or open the goddamn hatch?”
“Open the goddamn hatch.” She glanced around, looked at her watch, grabbed her temples. What do I have…a minute or two? Or seconds? If Friedberg’s down there…
Haywood reached into the truck bed and pulled out a carabiner-like clasp. Vail looked down and saw a steel access panel of some sort beside the rail, four feet long by five wide. “Do whatever you can to keep the cable from coming on, even if you don’t think it’s possible.”
“This point,” Haywood said, “time it take me to make the call, nothin’ I cain do. What you expectin’ to find down there?”
“A cop. A friend of mine.”
Haywood’s eyes widened. “Holy Jesus.” He dropped the clasp and crossed himself.
“Get the fucking hatch open!” Vail grabbed the dangling hook and attached it to the loop on the metal panel. She pointed at him accusingly- “Now!”
Haywood pulled a metal lever in the back of the truck. A winch started vibrating and whining, and the heavy access panel started rising.
Vail dropped to her stomach and peered in. It was dark and she couldn’t see more than a few inches below street level. She pulled out the small LED light fastened to her key chain and shone it inside. It was woefully weak. “Robert! Robert, can you hear me? You in there?”
Nothing. Maybe I got it wrong. All this for nothing. She moved her light to the left-and saw something. Is that- “Shit!” She stuck the light in her mouth and crawled forward, down into the hole, beside the cable-which had not yet started moving-and squeezed deeper in. Haywood yelled something at her, but whatever it was, she didn’t care.
A wave of claustrophobic anxiety swept over her. Her breathing got rapid. And she couldn’t move her shoulders, which were wedged against something hard on both sides.
Vail tilted her head back and moved the small light around-and saw Friedberg, wedged against the wall, the cable pressed against the right side of his neck. They were decapitated. Not crushed. Decapitated…