XIV.
The warehouse was locked up tight, all right, Malone thought. In the dimlight that surrounded the neighborhood, it stood like a single stoneblock, alone near the waterfront. There were other buildings nearby, butthey seemed smaller; the warehouse loomed over Malone and Boydthreateningly. They stood in a shadow-blacked alley just across thestreet, watching the big building nervously, studying it for weak pointsand escape areas.
Boyd whispered softly: "Do you think they have a lookout?"
Malone's voice was equally low. "We'll have to assume they've got atleast one kid posted," he said. "But they can't be watching all thetime. Remember, they can't do everything."
"They don't have to," Boyd said. "They do quite enough for me. Do yourealize that, right now, I could be--"
"Break it up," Malone said. He took a small handset from his pocket andpressed the stud. "Lynch?" he whispered.
A tinny voice came from the earpiece. "Here, Malone."
"Have you got them located yet?" Malone said.
"Not yet," Lynch's voice replied. "We're working on a triangulation now.Just hold on for a minute or so. I'll let you know as soon as we've gotresults."
The police squads--Lynch and his men, the warehouse precinct men and theSafe and Loft Squad--had set up a careful cordon around the area, andwere now hard at work trying to determine two things.
First, they had to know whether there was anybody in the building atall.
Second, they had to be able to locate anyone in the building withprecision.
The silence of the downtown warehouse district helped. They had severalspecially designed, highly sensitive directional microphones aimed atthe building from carefully selected spots around the area, trying topick up the muffled sounds of speech or motion within the warehouse. Thewatchmen in buildings nearby had been warned off for the time being sothat their footsteps wouldn't occlude any results.
Malone waited, feeling nervous and cold. Finally Lynch's voice camethrough again. "We're getting something, all right," he said. "There areobviously several people in there. You were right, Malone."
* * * * *
"Thanks," Malone said. "How about that fix?"
"Hold it a second," Lynch said. Wind swept off the river at Malone andBoyd. Malone closed his eyes and shivered. He could smell fish andiodine and waste, the odor of the Hudson as it passes the city. Acrossthe river lights sparkled warmly. Here there was nothing but darkness.
A long time passed, perhaps ten seconds.
Then Lynch's voice was back: "Sergeant McNulty says they're on the topfloor, Malone," he said. "Can't tell how many for sure. But they'retalking and moving around."
"It's a shame these things won't pick up the actual words at adistance," Malone said.
"Just a general feeling of noise is all we get," Lynch said. "But itdoes some good."
"Sure," Malone said. "Now listen carefully: Boyd and I are going in.Alone."
Lynch's voice whispered: "Right."
"If those mikes pick up any unusual ruckus--any sharp increase in thenoise level--come running," Malone said. "Otherwise, just sit still andwait for my signal. Got that?"
"Check," Lynch said.
Malone pocketed the radiophone. "O.K., Tom," he whispered. "This isH-hour--M-minute--and S-second."
"I can spell," Boyd muttered. "Let's move in."
"Wait a minute," Malone said. He took his goggles and brought them downover his eyes, adjusting the helmet on his head. Boyd did the same.Malone flicked on the infrared flashlight he held in his hand.
"O.K.?" he whispered.
"Check," Boyd said.
Thanks to the goggles, both of them could see the normally invisiblebeams of the infrared flashlight. They'd equipped themselves to move indarkness without betraying themselves, and they'd be able to see where aperson without equipment would be blind.
* * * * *
Malone stayed well within the shadows as he moved silently around to thealley behind the warehouse and then to a narrow passageway that led tothe building next door. Boyd followed a few feet behind him along thecarefully planned route.
Malone unlocked the small door that led into the ground floor of thebuilding adjoining. As he did so he heard a sound behind him and called:"Tom?"
"Hey, Malone," Boyd whispered. "It's--"
Before there was any outcry, Malone rushed back. Boyd was strugglingwith a figure in the dimness. Malone grabbed the figure and clamped hishand over its mouth. It bit him. He swore in a low voice, and clampedthe hand over the mouth again.
It hadn't taken him more than half a second to realize what, whoever itwas who struggled in his arms, it wasn't a boy.
"Shut up!" Malone hissed in her ear. "I won't hurt you."
The struggle stopped immediately. Malone gently eased his hand off thegirl's mouth. She turned and looked at him.
"Kenneth Malone," she said, "you look like a man from Mars."
"Dorothea!" Malone gasped. "What are you doing here? Looking for yourbrother?"
"Never mind that," she said. "You play too rough. I'm going home tomother."
"Answer me!" Malone said.
"All right," Dorothea said. "You must know anyhow, since you're here.Yes, I'm looking for that fat-headed brother of mine. But now I supposeit's too late. He'll ... he'll go to prison."
Her voice broke. Malone found his shoulder suddenly occupied by a cryingface.
"No," he said quickly. "No. Please. He won't."
"Really?"
Boyd whispered: "Malone, what is this? It's no place for a date. AndI--"
"Oh, shut up," Malone told him in a kindly fashion. He turned back toDorothea. "I promise he won't," he said. "If I can just talk to yourbrother, make him listen to reason, I think we can get him and theothers off. Believe me."
"But you--"
"Please," Malone said. "Believe me."
"Oh, Ken," Dorothea said, raising her head. "Do you ... do you mean it?"
"Sure I mean it," Malone said. "What have I been saying? The Governmentneeds these kids."
"The Government?"
"It's nothing to worry about," Malone said. "Just go on home now, allright? I'll call you tomorrow. Late tonight, if I can. All right?"
"No," Dorothea said. "It's not all right. Not at all."
"But--"
Boyd hissed: "Malone!"
Malone ignored him. He had a bigger fight on his hands. "I'm not goinghome," Dorothea announced. "I'm going in there with you. After all," sheadded, "I can talk more sense into Mike's head than you can."
"Now, look," Malone began.
Dorothea grinned in the darkness. "If you don't take me along," she saidquietly, "I'll scream and warn them."
Malone surrendered at once. He had no doubt at all that Dorothea meantwhat she said. And, after all, the girl might really be some use tothem. And there probably wouldn't be much danger.
Of course there wouldn't, he thought. He was going to see to that.
"All right," he said. "Come along. Stick close to us, and don't worryabout the darkness. We can see, even if you can't, so let us guide you.But be quiet!"
Boyd whispered: "Malone, what's going on?"
"She's coming with us," Malone said, pointing to Dorothea.
Boyd shrugged. "Malone," he said, "who do you think you are? The PiedPiper of Hamelin?"
* * * * *
Malone wheeled and went ahead. Opening the door, he played his I-Rflashlight on the room inside and he, Boyd and Dorothea trailed in,going through rooms piled with huge boxes. They went up an iron stairwayto the second floor, and so on up to the roof.
They moved across the roof quickly under the cold stars, to the wall ofthe warehouse, which was two stories higher than the building they wereon. Of course, there were no windows in the warehouse wall facing them,except on the top story.
But there was a single, heavy, fireproof emergency exit. It would havetaken power machinery or
explosives to open that door from the outsidewithout a key, although from the inside it would open easily.
Fortunately, Malone had a key.
He took it out and stepped aside. "Give that lock the works," hewhispered to Boyd.
Boyd took a lubricant gun from his pocket and fired three silent shotsof special oil into the lock. Then he shot the hinges, and cracks aroundthe door.
They waited for a minute or two while the oil, forced in under pressure,did its work. Then Malone fitted the key carefully into the lock andturned it, slowly and delicately. The door swung open in silence. Maloneslipped inside, followed by Boyd and Dorothea Fueyo.
Infrared equipment went on again, and the eerie illumination spread overtheir surroundings. Malone tapped Boyd on the shoulder and jerked histhumb toward the back stairs. This was plainly no time for talk.
From the floor above, they could hear the murmur of youthful voices.
They started for the stairway. Fortunately, the building was of thesteel-and-concrete type; there were no wooden floors to creak and groanbeneath their feet.
At the bottom of the stairs, they paused. Voices came down the stairwellclearly, even words being defined in the silence.
"... And quit harping on whose fault it was." Malone recognized MikeFueyo's voice. "That FBI guy was on to us and we had to pull out; youknow that. We always figured we'd have to pull out some day. So why notnow?"
"Yeah," another voice said. "But you didn't have to go and vanish rightunder that Fed's nose. You been beating into our heads not to do thatsort of stuff ever since we first found out we could make this vanishingbit. And then you go and do it in front of a Fed. Smart. Sure, you get abig bang out of it, but is it smart? I ask you--"
"Yeah?" Mike said. "Listen, Silvo, they never would've got onto us if ithadn't been for your stupid tricks. Slugging a cop on the dome. Crackingup a car. You and your bug for speed!"
Malone blinked. Then it hadn't been Miguel Fueyo who'd hit SergeantJukovsky, but Silvo. Malone tried to remember the list of Silent Spooks.Silvo ... Envoz. That was it.
"You slugged the FBI guy, Mike," Silvo said. "And now you got us all onthe run. That's your fault, Mike. I want to see my old lady."
"I had to slug him," Mike said. "Listen, all Ramon's stuff was in thatCadillac. What'd have happened if he'd found all that stuff?"
"So what happened anyway?" another voice--Ramon?--said. "He found yourstupid notebook, didn't he? He went yelling to the cops, didn't he?We're running, ain't we? So what difference?"
"Shut up!" Mike roared.
"You ain't telling me to shut up!" (That was the third voice. Malonethought; possibly Ramon Otravez.)
"Me either!" Silvo yelled. "You think you're a great big-shot, you thinkyou're king of the world!"
"Who figured out the Vanish?" Mike screamed. "You'd all be a bunch ofbums if I hadn't showed you that! And you know it! You'd all--"
"Don't give us that!" Silvo said. "We'd have been able to do it, same asyou. Like you said, anybody who's got talent could do it. There wereguys you tried to teach--"
"Sure," said a fourth voice. "Listen, Fueyo, you're so bright--so whydon't you try teaching it to somebody who don't have the talent?"
"Yeah!" said voice number five. "You think you could teach that flashysister of yours the Vanish?"
"You shut up about my sister, Phil!" Mike screamed.
"So what's so great about her?"
"She got that book back from the Fed," Mike said. "That's what. It'senough!"
A voice said, "Any dame with a little--"
"Shut your face before I shut it for you!"
* * * * *
Malone couldn't tell who was yelling what at who after a minute. Theyall seemed unhappy about being on the run from the police, and they wereall tired of being cooped up in a warehouse under Mike's orders. Mikewas the only person they could take it out on--and Mike was under heavyattack.
Two of the boys, surprisingly, seemed to side with him. The other fivewere trying to outshout them. Malone wondered if it would become afight, and then realized that these kids could hardly fight each otherwhen the one who was losing could always fade out.
He leaned over and whispered to Dorothea and Boyd: "Let's sneak up therewhile the argument's going on."
"But--" Boyd began.
"Less chance of their noticing us," Malone explained, and startedforward.
They tiptoed up the stairs and got behind a pile of crates in theshadows, while invectives roared around them. This floor was lit by asingle small bulb hanging from a socket in the ceiling. The windows werehung with heavy blankets to keep the light from shining out.
The kids didn't notice anything except each other. Malone took a coupleof deep breaths and began to look around.
All things considered, he thought, the kids had fixed the place uppretty nicely. The unused warehouse had practically been made over intoan apartment. There were chairs, beds, tables and everything else in theline of furnishings for which the kids could conceivably have any use.There were even some floor lamps scattered around, but they weren'tplugged in. Malone guessed that a job would have to be done on thewarehouse wiring to get the floor lamps in operation, and the kids justhadn't got around to it yet.
By now, the boys were practically standing toe to toe, rippingair-bluing epithets out at each other. Not a single hand was lifted.
Malone stared at them for a second, then turned to Dorothea. "We'll waittill they calm down a little," he whispered. "Then you go out and talkto them. Tell them we won't hurt them or lock them up or anything. Allwe want to do is talk to them for a while."
"All right," she whispered back.
"They can vanish any time they want to," Malone said, "so there's noreason for them not to listen to--"
He stopped suddenly, listening. Over the shouting, screaming and cursingof the kids, he heard motion on the floor below.
Cops?
It couldn't be, he told himself. But when he took out his radiophone,his hands were shaking a little.
Lynch's voice was already coming over it when Malone thumbed it on.
"... So hang on, Malone! I repeat: we heard the ruckus, and we're comingin! We're on our way! Hang on, Malone!"
The voice stopped. There was a click.
Malone stared at the handset, fascinated and horrified. He swallowed."No, Lynch!" he whispered, afraid to talk any louder for fear the kidswould hear him. "No! Don't come up! Go away! Repeat: go away! Stay away!Lynch--"
It was no use. The radiophone was dead.
Lynch, apparently thinking Malone's set had been smashed in the fight,or else that Malone was unconscious, had shut his own receiver off.
There was absolutely nothing that Malone could do.
* * * * *
The kids were still yelling at the top of their voices, but thethundering of heavy, flat feet galumphing up from the lower depthscouldn't be ignored for long. All the boys noticed it at about the sametime. They jerked their heads round to face the stairway. Malone and hiscampatriots crouched lower behind the boxes.
Mike Fueyo was the first to speak. "Don't vanish yet!" he snapped."Let's see who it is."
The internal dissent among the Silent Spooks disappeared as if it hadnever been, as they faced a common foe. Once again, they fell naturallyunder Fueyo's leadership. "If it's cops," he said, "we'll give 'em theGrasshopper Play we worked out. We'll show 'em."
"They can't fool with us," another boy said. "Sure. The GrasshopperPlay."
It was cops, all right. Lieutenant Lynch ran up the stairs waving hisbilly in a heroic fashion, followed by a horde of blue-clad officers.
"Where's Malone?" Lynch shouted as he came through the doorway.
"Where's your what?" Mike yelled back, and the fight was on.
Later, Malone thought that he should have been surprised, but he wasn't.There wasn't any time to be surprised. The kids didn't disappear. Theyspread out over the floor of the room easily and li
ghtly, and the copscharged them in a great blundering mass.
Naturally, the kids winked out one by one--and reformed in the center ofthe cops' muddle. Malone saw one cop raise his billy and swing it atMike. Mike watched it come down and vanish at the last instant. Thecop's billy descended on the head of another cop, standing just behindwhere Mike had been.
The second cop, hit and blinded by the blow on his head, swung back andhit the first cop. Meanwhile, Mike was somewhere else.
Malone stayed crouched behind the boxes. Dorothea stood up and shouted:"Mike! Mike! We just want to talk to you!"
Unfortunately, the police were making such a racket that this could notbe heard more than a foot or so from the speaker. Lynch himself chargedinto the mass, swinging his billy and his free fist and laying othersout one after the other. Pretty soon the floor was littered with cops.Lynch was doing yeoman duty, but it was hard to tell what side he wason.
The vanishing trick Mike had worked out was being used by all of thekids. Cops were hitting other cops, Lynch was hitting everybody, and thekids were winking on and off all over the loft. It was a scene oftremendous noise and carnage.
Malone suddenly sprang to his feet and charged into the melee, shoutingat the top of his lungs and swinging both fists. The first person he sawwas one of the teen-agers, and he charged him with abandon.
He should, he reflected, have known better. The kid disappeared. Malonecaromed off the stomach of a policeman, received a blow on the shoulderfrom his billy, and rebounded into the arms of a surprised policeofficer at the edge of the battle.
"Who're you?" the officer gasped.
"Malone," Malone said.
"You on our side?"
"How about you?" Malone said.
"I'm a lieutenant here," the officer said. "In charge of warehouseprecinct. I--"
Malone and the lieutenant stepped nimbly aside as another cop careenedby them, waving his billy helplessly. They looked away as the crashcame. The cop had fallen over a table, and now lay with his legs in theair, supported by the overturned table, blissfully unconscious.
"We seem," Malone said, "to be in an area of some activity. Let's move."
* * * * *
They shifted away a few feet. Malone looked into the foray and saw Boydat work roaring and going after the kids. One of them had established akind of game with him. He would appear just in front of Boyd, who rushedat him, arms outstretched. As Boyd had almost reached him, the kiddisappeared and reappeared again just behind Boyd. He tapped the FBIagent gently on the shoulder; Boyd turned and the process was repeated.
Boyd seemed to be getting winded.
The lieutenant suddenly dashed back into the fray. Malone looked around,saw Mike Fueyo flickering in and out at the edges, and headed for him.
A cop swung at Mike, missed, and hit Malone on the arm. Malone swore.The cop backed off, looking in a bewildered fashion for his victim, whowas nowhere in sight. Then Malone caught sight of him, at the other edgeof the fight. He started to work his way around.
He tried to avoid blows, but it wasn't always possible. A reeling copcaught his lapel and tore it, and Lynch, indefatigable in battle,managed to graze his chin with a blow meant for one of the disappearingboys. Other cops were battling each other, going after the kids andclutching empty air, cursing and screaming unheard orders in the fracas.
Malone ducked past Lynch, rubbed at his chin and looked for Mike. In thetangle of bodies it was getting hard to see. There was the sound ofbreaking ceramics as a floor lamp went over, and then a table followedit, but Malone avoided both. He looked for Mike Fueyo--
A cop clutched him around the middle, out of nowhere, said: "Sorry,buddy, who are you?" and dove back into the mass of bodies. Malonecaught his breath and forged onward.
There was Mike, at the edge of the fight, watching everything coolly. Nocop was near him. In the dim light the place looked like a scene fromHell, a special Hell for policemen. Malone wove through battling hordesto the edge and came out a few feet away from Mike Fueyo.
Fueyo didn't see him. He was looking at Boyd instead--still stumblingback and forth as the teen-ager baiting him winked on and off in frontof him and behind him. He was laughing.
Malone came up silently from behind. The trip seemed to take hours. Hewas being very quiet, although he was reasonably sure that even if heyelled he wouldn't be heard. But he didn't want to take the slightestchance.
He sprang on Mike and attached the handcuffs to his wrist, and toMike's wrist, within seconds.
"Ha!" he said involuntarily. "Now come with me!"
He gave his end of the handcuffs a tremendous yank.
He started to stagger, trailing an empty cuff behind him, flailing hisarms wildly. Ahead of him he could see a big cop with an upraised billy.Malone tried to alter his course, but it was too late. He skiddedhelplessly into the cop, who jerked round and swung the billyautomatically. Malone said: "Yi!" as he caught the blow on thecheekbone, bounced off the cop and kept going.
He careened past a blur of figures, trying to avoid hard surfaces andother human beings. But there was--
Oh, no, Malone thought.
Lynch.
Lynch was ready to swing. His fist was cocked, and he was heading forone of the teen-agers with murder in his eye. Malone knew their pathswere going to intersect. "Watch out!" he yelled. "Watch out, it's me!Stop me! Stop me! Somebody stop me!"
He went completely unheard.
Lynch swung and missed, hitting a cop who had been hiding behind theteen-ager. The cop went down to join the wounded, and Lynch roared likea bull and swung around, looking for more enemies.
That was when Malone hit him.
Long afterward, he remembered Lynch's hat sailing through the air, andlanding in the center of a struggling mass of policemen. He rememberedLynch saying: "So there you are!" and swinging before he looked.
He remembered the blow on the chin.
And then, he remembered falling, and falling, and falling. Somewherethere was a voice: "Where are they? They've disappeared for good."
And then, for long seconds, nothing.
* * * * *
He woke up with a headache, but it wasn't too bad. Surprisingly, notmuch time had passed; he got up and dusted off his trousers, lookingaround at the battlefield. Wounded and groaning cops were all over. Theroom was a shambles; the walking wounded--which comprised the rest ofthe force--were stumbling around in a slow, hopeless sort of fashion.
Lynch was standing next to him. "Malone," he said, "I'm sorry. I hityou, didn't I?"
"Uh-huh," Malone said. "You seemed to be hitting everybody."
"I was _trying_ for the kids," Lynch said.
"So was I," Malone said. "I got the cuffs on one and yanked himalong--but he disappeared and left me with the cuffs."
"Great," Lynch said. "Hell of a raid."
"Very jolly," Malone agreed. "Fun and games were had by all."
A cop stumbled up, handed Lynch his cap and disappeared without a word.Lynch stared mournfully at it. The emblem was crushed and the cap lookedrather worn and useless. He put it on his head, where it assumed therakish tilt of a hobo's favorite tam-o'-shanter, and said: "I hopeyou're not thinking of blaming _me_ for this fiasco."
"Not at all," Malone said nobly. He hurt all over, but on reflection hethought that he would probably live. "It was nobody's fault." Except, hethought, his own. If he'd only told Lynch to come in when calledfor--and under no other circumstances--this wouldn't have happened. Helooked around at the remains of New York's Finest, and felt guilty.
The lieutenant from the local precinct limped up, rubbing a well-kickedshin and trying to disentangle pieces of floor lamp from his hair."Listen, Lynch," he said, "What's with these kids? What's going on here?Look at my men."
"Some days," Lynch said, "it just doesn't pay to get up."
"Sure," the local man said, "but what do I do now?"
"Make your reports."
"But--
"
"To the Commissioner," Lynch said, "and to nobody else. If this getsinto the papers, heads will roll."
"My head is rolling right now," the local man said. "Know what one ofthose kids did? Stood in front of a floor lamp. I swung at him and hevanished. Vanished. I hit the lamp, and then the lamp hit me."
"Just see that this doesn't get out," Lynch said.
"It can't," the local man said. "Anybody who mentioned this to areporter would just be laughed out of town. It's not possible." Hepaused thoughtfully, and added: "We'd all be laughed out of town."
"And probably replaced with the FBI," Lynch said morosely. He looked atMalone. "Nothing personal, you understand," he said.
"Of course," Malone said. "We can't do any more here, can we?"
"I don't think we can do any more anywhere," Lynch said. "Let's lock theplace up and leave and forget all about it."
"Fine," Malone said. "I've got work to do." He looked round, foundDorothea and signaled to her. "Come on, Dorothea. Where's Boyd?"
"Here I am," Boyd said, walking slowly across the big room to Malone. Hehad one hand held to his chin.
"What's the matter with you?" Malone asked.
Boyd took his hand away. There was a bald spot the size of a quarter onthe point of his chin. "One of those kids," he said sadly, "has a hellof a strong grip. Come on, Miss Fueyo. Come on, Malone. Let's get out ofhere."