At 3:25, Kluger unfolded the blueprints on the card table and studied them more assiduously than he had before. He found no hidden rooms. No secret passageways. No air ducts. large enough to hold a man. Nothing.
At 3:40, a three-man search party that he had sent into the storm-drain system returned without having found anything worthwhile. So far as they were able to ascertain, the original blueprints were accurate in every detail. The entrances to the storm drain from the parking lot were all much too small to pass a man. There was only one way out: the one that Kluger's men, out in that patch of scrub land, had been covering from almost the start.
At 4:00, a representative of the largest local television station came in to bargain for filming permission. He was a short, blocky man who dressed too loud for Kluger's taste and talked too rapidly.
"I told you," the lieutenant said irritably, "that I'm not going to allow anyone in here."
"The media has a right-"
"As far as I'm concerned," Kluger said, "those bastards haven't left the mall."
The television man looked around, perplexed. "They're still here, you mean?"
"I know they are," Kluger said, like a religious man earnestly repeating the supreme tenet of his faith. "And I'm not letting you people interfere with a case when it's still a hot-pursuit item."
"Hot pursuit?" the man said. "Where?"
At 4:10 the lab technicians and the homicide detectives called it a night. They put up barriers in front of the bank and jewelry store, closed and sealed the room in which Keski and his bodyguard had been murdered. The chief detective on the case-a sallow, quiet little man named Bretters-came over to the card table by the fountain to see how things were with Kluger.
"You can't be leaving now," Kluger said. "They must be here just waiting for us to leave."
"They can't be here," Bretters said softly.
"But they can't have gotten out."
"It's a real mystery how they slipped past you," Bretters admitted. "But we'll figure it out in a day or two."
"They didn't slip past me!"
"Then where are they?"
"Here!"
"Haven't your men looked everywhere?" Bretters asked.
"Everywhere."
"We'll figure it out in a couple of days," Bretters said. Then he went out after the others.
At 4:20, Kluger learned that headquarters had begun to take his men away from him, dispatching them to other trouble spots all over the city. By 4:30, he was the only one left besides Hawbaker and Haggard. They went out to their patrol car to wait for him.
The newspaper reporters and the radio and television people had given up at last and gone away. The owner of the jewelry store, his very nervous insurance agent, and the manager of Countryside Savings and Loan had all gone back to their homes to lie sleepless for the remainder of the night. The four corridors and the nineteen stores were deserted, silent.
Lieutenant Kluger walked over to the pool and sat on the edge of the fake rocks. The fountain rose in front of him, two hundred jets of water that shot twenty feet into the air and rained back into the artificial pond. The surface of the pool was like a sheet of opaque white glass through which and in which one could see nothing at all except milky angles, whirlpools of foam, silvered bubbles. It was a restful thing to watch while he went over the night in his mind to see if he had overlooked something, anything.
The two night watchmen came up to the lounge to see if there was anything he needed or wanted.
"Take the chairs and table away," he said, reaching out to pluck the blueprints from the table top.
As the two men folded the furniture, the big man said, "How in the hell did they do it, Lieutenant?"
"Do what?" Kluger asked, looking up from the pool.
"Get away."
"They didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"They're here."
The guard looked around at the mall. "I don't think so," he said, glancing pityingly at Kluger.
The other watchman, the quiet one, said, "We were told not to touch anything after we were untied. Does that still go? Or can we finish closing up for the night?"
The lieutenant hesitated, then sighed. "Go ahead."
"Will you be leaving soon?" the first guard asked.
"Soon," Kluger muttered dismally.
They picked up the folded chairs and the collapsed table and carried them out of the lounge, down the east corridor to the warehouse. The carpet soaked up their footsteps. In a moment all was quiet again.
How? Kluger wondered.
Through the north exit? No, that had been guarded.
Through the west? No.
Out of the south doors or the east? No.
Up onto the roof? Impossible and pointless.
Out the storm drains?
He got to his feet and folded up the blueprints. Still thinking about it, searching for the hole they'd used, he walked slowly across the public lounge.
Behind, the fountain suddenly died.
He whirled, then realized the guards had turned it off from the control panel in the warehouse.
Out one of the bay doors in the east wall?
Impossible.
He walked slowly along the east corridor and was passing under the breached steel-bar gate when two of the three strips of fluorescent lights in the ceiling behind him fluttered out.
"Good night, Lieutenant," Artie said as he came out of the warehouse behind Kluger. "Tough luck."
"Yeah," Kluger said.
"You'll get them sooner or later."
"Yeah."
In the parking lot he stood alone, the wind from the Pacific Ocean slicing past and over him. It carried the odor of salt and seaweed. In the last few hours the cloud cover had grown more dense, and the smell of rain now lay on the air, a portent.
Hawbaker and Haggard were not waiting for him as he had thought they would be. Apparently they had gotten dispatched to the scene of another crime.
Kluger looked at his watch.
4:43.
He turned and stared at the Plaza, wondering if it could really be only three hours since he had broken into it with the acetylene torch. He saw one of the watchmen lowering the ruined gate-and that was all he saw. Everything else was still, at peace, shrouded in the early-morning calm.
Dawn would soon come. Already the sky seemed to be growing lighter, the blackness seeping away behind the clouds.
He walked across the macadam to his unmarked Ford, opened the door and got in behind the wheel. The radio fizzed and sputtered at him, and the dispatcher's voice faded in and out on other channels. He started the engine and drove out of the lot, turned north on the main highway. He drove half a mile, made a wide U-turn, came back and parked on the shoulder of the road just two hundred yards from Ocean view Plaza, facing south.
"Okay," he said.
He thought of the smartass to whom he had talked on the telephone, thought of the ruptured bank vault and the stolen gems and the two dead men, thought of the way that Evelyn Ledderson had treated him and of the look of pity he had received from that potbellied night watchman. All of these things ran together in his mind and were inseparable, as if they were a single insult. They made a rich broth of humiliation, peppered with the realization that he had taken a setback on his march toward the chief's chair.
"Okay."
He took his revolver from the leather holster under his left armpit, checked to be sure it was fully loaded.
"They'll have to come out on foot since we hauled the
stolen station wagon out of there," Kluger said, though there was no one to hear him.