Repairman Jack [10]-Harbingers (39 page)

"What the hell's it mean?"

Miller shook his head. "Damned if I know."

"Here's another one," Gold said, pointing to the floor to the left of the door. "Same thing. I don't get it. What—?"

"Hey!" Jolliff called from the far side of the room. He stood by the stairs, his head cocked toward the stairwell. "I hear something."

Miller joined the migration to the doorway. The four of them clustered, listening.

Miller heard nothing at first, then…

A voice.

Jack held the transmitter in his left hand, the mike in his right as he crossed the street and approached the warehouse door.

"Yeniceri," he said. "Calling all yenic,eri. I know you're here. Come out, come out wherever you are. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I'm even less dangerous than unsuspecting women and children."

He'd intended to repeat the taunt immediately, but choked on the rage and grief evoked by those final words.

He swallowed hard and kept moving. When he reached the door he was able to start again.

"Yeniceri. Calling all…"

Miller strained to make out the words. The voice, blurred by distance, distorted by static, had a tinny quality. That told him that it was either a recording or a transmission.

He nodded. Knew it. The guy couldn't resist leaving a pee stain on yeniçeri turf. What was it this time? The electronic equivalent of a note?

Gold turned toward him.

"Well, I don't see any way around it. We'll have to go up and find out what's going on."

"Yeah," Miller said. "But not all of us." No way he was going to leave their rear flank exposed. "Gold, you came in first, so you stay down here and take our backs. Watch the door. I don't want any surprises."

Gold nodded, but didn't look happy about it.

Miller hit the light switch as he put his foot on the first step. The stairwell lit up. Nothing unusual there.

He motioned Hursey and Jolliff to follow, then started up. No hurry. They had plenty of time. The door on the first landing stood open. He kept his pistol trained on the dark rectangle.

The voice became louder as he ascended but no more distinct. No question—coming from the third floor. But he wasn't going there. Not yet. Level two had to be cleared first.

He stopped on the landing and reached around the door frame. He found the light switch and flipped it. As the ceiling fluorescents in the O's office flickered to life, he peeked into the space. The desk and the furniture were as they'd left them. The stains on the splattered walls were the same—no messages written in blood there.

He motioned to Jolliff to stay where he was and for Hursey to follow as he moved in.

A quick check confirmed the empty feel of the office. The only hiding place was the desk's kneehole, and that proved empty.

"Jolliff," he said. "Get in here and watch the door while we check out the living quarters."

A search of the O's apartment—the closets, the pantry, even under the beds—yielded nothing.

"One more stop," Miller said as he led the way back to the stairwell.

"… Calling all yeniçeri. I know you're here…"

Jack stood in the cold, repeating his mantra over and over.

What was taking them so long? They should have reached the third floor by now. The only reason for the delay he could think of was a stop on the second floor to check that out.

Good move.

Now—up to the third floor to get this circus going.

As they went up the steps, Jolliff's view was pretty much restricted to Miller's big butt. He leaned around and noticed that the door to the third level stood open as well. But unlike the second, the lights here were already on.

As he followed Miller's slow ascent, the voice grew louder with every step. But he still couldn't make out what it was saying.

At the top he and Hursey squeezed up beside Miller, pistols at ready.

A quick peek showed the level as they'd left it except for one detail: The black, elongated oval of a boom box sat on a table against the front wall. It was plugged into the wall socket and attached to an FM antenna taped to the bricks behind it. It had a CD and cassette player; the radio dial glowed.

Here was the source of the voice, but accompanied by too much static to be understood.

"Be careful," Miller said. "Could be just a distraction. Spread out and secure the space."

The third level offered fewer hiding places than the first and Jolliff figured the other two could complete their sweep in less than a minute without him. As Miller and Hursey moved away, he stepped up to the box. Not understanding the words was making him crazy. After all, he'd been the first to hear it. That made it his discovery.

He bent close. The voice seemed to be repeating something over and over. Closer. One of the words sounded familiar.

He bolted upright when he recognized it.

He called out, "It's coming over the radio. I'd swear I just heard it say 'yeniçeri.'"

He looked around at the others. Miller and Hursey had stopped and turned to stare.

He leaned forward again and reached for one of the knobs.

"Maybe if I tune it in better…"

Jolliff heard Miller say, "Wait."

But why wait? He wanted to hear what the voice was saying.

As he gripped the knob to adjust it, a small corner of his brain let out a silent shout of warning. But he ignored it.

Miller again: "Jolliff, maybe you shouldn't—"

Then the boom box exploded.

Leaning against the outer wall, Jack felt the blast more than heard it. Little chunks of mortar rained from the bricked-up windows on the third floor, but all the bricks remained where they were. He'd planted a small charge—deadly at close range but not overly destructive. He didn't want officialdom here just yet.

He dropped the microphone and reached for the brand-new set of keys he'd had made this afternoon.

Earlier in the day he'd picked open the three locks and then removed them. After taking them to a locksmith to be rekeyed, he'd replaced them but left the door unlocked. Wouldn't do to let Miller and company learn too early that their keys were no good.

Sure now that no one would hear him, Jack inserted each new key and turned it, triple-locking the door. Then he left the keys in place and waited.

Would have loved to trot back to the warmth of his car and keep track of events on his computer, but he had one more thing to do here. He raised his fist and swung it toward the door.

The sound of the blast paralyzed Gold for a few unbelieving seconds.

An explosion? Here? At Home?

Had someone booby-trapped the third floor? He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Finally he reconnected to his limbs and got his body moving toward the stairwell. He stopped at the bottom step and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Miller! Hursey! Jolliff! What happened?"

No answer. No sound. Not even a groan. Just fine plaster dust drifting from the upper level.

He pulled his pistol. He'd have to go up.

But as he put his foot on the first step, someone began pounding on the front door.

He froze. Who the hell—?

He looked up the stairwell, then at the door. Maybe the bricked-up windows had blown out and this was a cop, or a fireman, or a neighbor.

Shit!

Couldn't let anyone in—not with eight corpses lined up against the wall here and maybe three more upstairs. The fact that they were knocking instead of entering was a good sign. He'd left it unlocked and they could have walked right in.