Chaotic Be Jack (The Cap's Place Series Book 5) Page 19

  The officers were told to hold their positions around the building until a senior command officer could arrive and a plan could be formulated. This was no longer search and rescue, it was now apprehension of armed and dangerous felons. Things would be done by the book.

  It was nearly an hour later when Major Benjamin Gonzalez arrived on the scene. His responsibilities as commanding officer of the Uniform Division of Hollywood PD had demanded his nonstop attention for the past forty-eight hours. Nonstop except for two hours of fitful sleep he had gotten on a cot in a back room of the city’s emergency operations center. That sleep was so long ago he couldn’t even remember which twenty-four hour period it had occurred in.

  Gonzalez met with the senior S.W.A.T. officer under the shade of a lopsided tarp that had been strung between the trunk of a leaning palm tree and the bumper of an abandoned car. The location afforded a view of the rear corner of Cap’s Place where the utility pole had penetrated the building.

  Gonzalez took a long drink of a bottle of water he had carried from his SUV and asked, “You have a tactical plan formulated?” His brusk manner was totally out of character, but social graces had been dropped from his demeanor some twenty hours ago.

  “We do, Major. We’ll jam a plank that has been cut to length between the back wall and the door. That will secure the door during removal of the utility pole. Once the pole is out of the way, we’ll remove the plank, open the door, and toss in a flash bang. In a space as small as that one, the flash bang will render anyone inside helpless long enough for us to make entry and secure the suspects.”

  Gonzalez took another drink of the water. “What are the chances that they have hostages in there? Any means to communicate before we breech the door?”

  The officer shook his head and replied, “That was the first thing we looked for, a means to get some communication established. The space is tight as a drum. As for hostages, we have no idea. We do know that the other vehicle in the parking lot belongs to a guy who works here. We found several items in the car that establishes that: pay stub, business documents. No bodies were found in our search of the remainder of the building, so it is certainly possible that this guy is inside that cooler as well. Of course, there are two or three pretty sizable piles of rubble in there that could conceal a body. And we haven’t been upstairs, into the part of the upstairs that remains, but we used a drone to take a pretty good look and we didn’t find anyone, living or dead. So, yes there could be a hostage inside with them.”

  The Major asked, “What about tossing a phone inside, once the utility pole is cleared?”

  “We considered that, but given the violent nature of these guys, we decided it would be safest to just make a sudden and immediate breech. Safer for our guys and safer for any innocents who may be inside.” The S.W.A.T. officer exhaled tiredly and added, “Major, we considered tossing a phone inside and securing the door until we could talk them out on our conditions. That would probably be our approach under normal circumstances. Starve ‘em out if need be. But with everything going on after the storm, we don’t think that’s the best tactic. It would tie up too many officers for far too long.”

  The Major glanced around the scene at the number of officers he could see from his single vantage point. He nodded and said, “I hear you. Okay, let’s get this over with. Can the utility get in here to remove the pole?”

  “We contacted the utility, but it would be hours before they could get a truck here. They have everyone working to restore power to the greatest number of people first. Those are the areas some distance away that were not hit as hard as this one. This area is way down on the depth chart. They said they’d send a crew, but it would be quite a while before they could arrive.”

  The Major grumbled, “Damn.”

  “I’ve talked to our public works guys here. They’re working to clear the streets. They said that they can cut the pole near the base with a chainsaw. It’s an old wooden pole. Then they’ll drag it away from the door with the loader they’re using to clear trees.”

  The Major nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  “One other thing, Major. Given the size of that cooler and the fact that we can’t find any penetrations for air, we may not find anyone alive anyway. Probably depends on how long they’ve been in there.”

  The Major rolled his head to crack his neck. “Damn, that would simplify things, wouldn’t it?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  PJ was pacing back and forth on the front porch. Her friend had gone to work and Angela, accompanied by her grandparents, had taken PJ’s car to explore the area. They asked her to go along with them, but PJ declined, saying that she thought she should stay at the house in case Jack showed up. It was a weak excuse and everyone knew it, but no one challenged her. In truth, she hadn’t been very good company all morning, distracted as she was after her last call from Mark, so they would probably have a better time without her.

  She startled as the cell phone in her pocket vibrated and buzzed. The screen read Sissy. “Hi, Sissy, been some time since I’ve heard from you. How are you doing anyway?”

  The warm voice on the phone said, “I’m doing fine, PJ. The question is how are you doing? You and Angela okay? The news makes it sound like the hurricane hit Hollywood pretty hard. You guys safe?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. We left before the storm made landfall and came up to Gainesville. We’re here now. Are you in Atlanta?”

  Sissy replied, “I’m in San Francisco. Been at a business conference out here for nearly a week. Been so busy that I hadn’t really seen the news. I’d have called earlier. I’m at the airport and it’s on all of the televisions. Sounds pretty bad.”

  “From what I’ve learned talking to the guys down in Hollywood, it is bad in some areas.”

  “Have you talked to Jack? How did he fare? This is his first real storm.” PJ hesitated for so long that Sissy added, “You still there, PJ?”

  “I’m here. It’s about Jack, Sissy. He was supposed to come up here and stay with us until the storm passed. He didn’t show up and I can’t reach him. Hollywood PD found his car abandoned on South Ocean Drive not too far from Cap’s Place. A palm tree had fallen on it.”

  Sissy gasped. “Oh God. No sign of him, though?”

  “Not a sign.”

  “Maybe he went back to the bar. Anyone check there?”

  PJ exhaled and replied, “That’s the thing, Sissy, Cap’s Place sustained major damage. They’re trying to search the building now. The details I got are sketchy, but I guess they think that possibly someone could be in the big cooler in the kitchen.”

  “The cooler?”

  “Yeah, evidently they found the words in here spray painted on the door. The cooler survived the storm intact, so Jack and Moe could have taken refuge in it.”

  “Moe, too? Moe’s there, too?”

  “Looks like it. His car was found near the back door.” PJ didn’t see any sense in mentioning the stolen truck, utilized in the armored truck heist and murders, that was also there. No reason at this time to add that stress to the load she was dumping on Sissy.

  “Why doesn’t someone just open the cooler and see if they’re inside?”

  “Sounds like it’s jammed shut by a fallen utility pole. They’re going to open it as soon as they can get the pole out of the way. Guys I know down there have promised to give me another call as soon as they get it open.”

  “As soon as you hear, call me. Please, PJ. I had no idea. This is horrible.” Sissy paused and then said, “You know, I remember Mickey saying that the cooler had been built, years before he bought the bar, to double as a storm shelter. If they are in it, they’re probably safe. Yeah, I remember now, it’s a storm shelter. They’re gonna be fine. Don’t you think so?”

  PJ hesitated and then said, “I certainly hope so, Sissy. I want to think so. I really do.”

  The tone was pleading as Sissy again asked PJ to call her as soon as she had any additional information. She said that it was two mo
re hours until her flight was scheduled to take off and that even after that she would check her voicemail in-flight. PJ promised she would call. The two long-time friends ended their first talk in weeks without touching another subject. There just wasn’t anything else to talk about today.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Somehow it felt comforting to be drifting back into my dream, prehistoric creatures and all. It was getting hotter and more humid in my hiding spot under the rootball of the fallen tree. The hot breath of the creature pinned by another fallen tree, with his head but feet away from me, was expelling the coolness from the damp earth. I allowed my eyelids to droop as I gazed in his general direction. Although I was having more and more trouble focusing my thoughts, I did know that it was best not to look directly at him. My mental focus, fuzzy as it was, might alert him to my presence.

  I cautiously turned my head slightly to the side in an effort to identify a sound I heard in the distance. It sounded like the deep growl of a large motor of some type. Something like a military tank. Maybe that’s it. Maybe the military is coming to rescue me from this prehistoric nightmare. Yes, that must be it. Justin’s coming. If not Justin, someone like Justin. Someone to swoop in and save me from this gruesome death. The creature cocked his head to one side as if he was listening also.

  Then the noise stopped. My visions of rescue evaporated. Strain as I might I couldn’t hear anything but the breathing of my captor. His nostrils again flared as if he had detected a scent. That scent must be me. His tongue snapped alive again but came to rest after making a couple of quick passes across the small space separating us. I tried to shrink into myself. To make myself as small a target as possible.

  My head was pounding from the stress and I could feel my breath rate quickening. I was fighting through my foggy mind to keep myself in control. Fighting to resist the urge to just lunge forward and face my inevitable death. Then a vague idea began to develop in the recesses of my mind. Could I be quick enough to dart past the creature and out the small opening that was unfilled by his body? He was pinned by the fallen tree and once I got past his head, I’d be safe. Well, safe from him. God only know’s how many other creatures lurked out there. Although, the storm seemed to have passed and I didn’t hear the frenzied cries of the others any longer. I tensed my muscles, but they felt like lead. I’d been crouched and straining to stay small for so long that I didn’t know if I could move at all, certainly not quickly.

  I allowed my eyelids to continue drifting downward until my eyes were closed. Maybe I should permit myself just a little sleep. A few minutes, just to clear my mind. Through the closing dark curtain of sleep, I could again hear the roar of the approaching tank. The sound was becoming throatier, as if the tank was as angry as the creatures that had chased me. Then a higher pitched sound accompanied the roar of the tank. I fought back to semi-consciousness to attempt to identify the second noise.

  The creature was now also fully engaged in attempting to identify the sounds. He lifted his head and twisted from side to side, again unleashing an avalanche of falling earth dislodged from the tree roots. The high-pitched sound seemed to be closer now. Then I identified it, a chainsaw. Damn, the rescuers aren’t here for me, they’re here to free him. They’re cutting the tree that has him pinned. His head quit moving and he stared directly at me. He had known all along that I was here and as soon as the tree is cut away, he’ll be free, and I’ll be his.

  The last bit of adrenalin drained from my body and took my hope with it. The tank didn’t bring Justin to save me. The tank brought chainsaw man to free the creature and doom me. I again closed my eyes and thought that allowing myself to drift into sleep would cheat the creature of the pleasure of seeing the terror in my eyes as he snatched me into his mouth. How I faced my death was all I had control of now. I would like to think that I’m the type of man who would look death in the eye and spit, a John Wayne type, but I know better. I may have to face death, but I don’t have to look.

  I tilted my head back slightly and inhaled a slow deep breath. What was that smell? Fresh air? Then I could feel the air movement against the back of my neck. I cautiously turned my head and could see the small opening behind me. The movement of the creature had dislodged dirt and revealed another small opening through the back side of the rootball. Another way out. If I could force my body to move I could get out before the creature was freed.

  With all of my foggy mental energy, I forced my body to lean in the direction of the opening. I was attempting to force my muscles to launch me backward when the chainsaw suddenly stopped. Has the tree been cut? The creature struggled to move, but he was still pinned. I could see rage again flaming to life behind his eyes. This is my opportunity, my one and only opportunity. I must make myself move toward the incoming fresh air. I struggled, but something was amiss. Either my muscles were frozen in place, or my mind had lost the ability to command them. I knew what needed to be done, I just lacked the ability to execute the actions. Rest, that’s what I need. I’ll just take that quick nap I’d started earlier. That’ll recharge me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The equipment operator maneuvered the front end loader into position. A chain was tightly wrapped around the utility pole near the base and the chainsaw operator prepared to cut the pole free from the portion still in the ground. Suddenly, one of the firefighters, who had been watching from a distance, began waving his arms wildly and yelling at the chainsaw operator, “Hold it. Hold up.” Neither the chainsaw operator nor the equipment operator could hear the words through the ear protection they both wore, but his message was obvious. The rumbling diesel motor of the loader and the chainsaw were both turned off, so that the firefighter could be heard.

  Major Gonzalez joined the impromptu meeting that was being held in the shadow of the loader. The firefighter was pointing at the pole where it rested on the back wall of Cap’s Place and the loader operator was nodding in agreement. Gonzalez asked, “What’s the problem?”

  The firefighter replied, “We didn’t know there was a transformer on the pole.”

  Gonzalez cocked his head to one side and asked, “I don’t see the problem. Can’t we just pull the pole off of the wall with the transformer attached?”

  “Well, maybe. Maybe we can, but maybe we can’t. At least not without taking some additional precautions.”

  The second firefighter stepped forward and said, “Major, some of these transformers contain polychlorinated biphenyl, known as PCB’s, in the oil that is used to cool them. PCB’s are a health hazard and in 1979 the Environmental Protection Agency banned their use in these transformers. Most of the old transformers have been replaced by now, but we still run across old ones now and again.”

  Obviously wanting to move the process along, the major asked, “How do we know if it’s one of the old ones?”

  “We find the name of the manufacturer and the serial number, which contains the date it was built. At the station we have access to a database that will tell us if it was manufactured with PCB’s in the oil. We’ll call in the information and they can tell us if it’s a problem or not.”

  The major asked, “How are we going to get up there to check the serial number? You guys have a ladder with you?”

  With a hint of bravado in his voice, the first firefighter said, “Naw, they’ll put me in the bucket,” pointing toward the loader, “and I’ll go up and find the numbers.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” was the major’s curt reply as he turned and walked back to the location of the S.W.A.T. officers.

  The loader was maneuvered into a suitable position, the firefighter climbed into the bucket, and the operator slowly and steadily raised it to the top of the gash in the wall. The firefighter climbed out onto the pole and shimmied the last couple of feet until he reached the transformer. With one leg hooked around the pole and holding onto the transformer with one arm, he assumed the posture of a monkey hanging from a tree. He used his free hand to wipe grime from the nameplate on the transfo
rmer and called the serial number and name of the manufacturer out to the second firefighter, who recorded them in a small pocket-sized notebook.

  Once the first firefighter was safely back on the ground, the second firefighter stepped away from the noise of the loader and unclipped the radio from his belt. In a few minutes he waved to the major and gave him a thumbs up sign before returning to the loader and telling the operator that they were okay to proceed. After the loader had returned to its earlier position and the chain was reattached, the chainsaw operator made quick work of cutting the pole from its base. Cutting the pole at the base would prove to be the easy part of the entire operation.

  The loader bucket rose a couple of feet and the machine began to back away from the building, pulling the pole with it. The transformer reached the inside of the back wall and lodged against the crude opening in the block wall. The operator increased the power of the loader and the rubber tires began to spin on the pavement of the parking lot. Soon black smoke was pouring from all four spinning tires. The operator attempted to move the pole forward and back in a rocking motion, but the transformer was now jammed at an awkward angle into the opening of the wall.

  After shutting down the loader, the operator climbed down. The four public works employees, the two firefighters, and the major met at the base of the pole. “It’s jammed,” said the operator as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a large faded blue handkerchief. “I can’t get enough traction to pull it out. I think our best bet is for me to get the bucket under it right at the wall and lift it clear of the wall. Then I’ll back away and lower it to the ground.”

  Several of the others were nodding as they listened. The major said, “What ever it takes. Let’s just get it done. We need to get inside that cooler,” waving his arm in a circular motion, pointing around the general area, “so I can get these officers back to other duties. I can’t cut them loose until we find out who’s inside that cooler.”