Bullseye: Willl Robie / Camel Club Short Story Read online

  “I don’t think that’s it,” said Robie.

  “I really don’t think so either. My friends will probably arrive at the same conclusion. But there is something else that is located here.”

  “What’s that?” asked Robie.

  “Private residences. On the upper floors. Very exclusive private residences inhabited by very rich, exclusive people.”

  “You think that’s the ultimate target?”

  “I don’t know. But we can’t discount it.” In the dark he looked closely at Robie. “How is Shane Connors doing?”

  Robie said nothing.

  Stone continued, “He was a protégé of mine. I haven’t seen him in years, of course, but once he did mention an up-and-comer in our profession, and his description pretty well matches you.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Well, it’s not a priority right now,” said Stone. “We have other things to concern ourselves with, don’t we? But tell him I said hello.”

  The two men stared at each other for a few brief if telling moments.

  “How many floors hold residences?” asked Robie, finally breaking the silence.

  “Several, up to the penthouse.”

  “Who lives there?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They’re rich, like I said. They would have to be to afford a place like that. Probably some VIPs thrown into the mix.”

  “But I wonder why today? Why strike a target like that today?”

  Stone looked thoughtful. “You’re thinking that some sort of an event might be taking place today and that’s what triggered all this?”

  Robie nodded.

  “Interesting thought for a lobbyist skeet shooter,” noted Stone. He turned his back and slid out his phone. He called Annabelle and told her this information.

  He clicked off the phone and was putting it away when they heard footsteps approaching. A few seconds later the door to the room burst open.

  In the dim glow of his flashlight they could see that it was Adam Chase. He shone his light around, checking them over one by one.

  A moment later emergency lighting kicked in, allowing them to see him more clearly. He clicked off his flashlight.

  “It appears that someone has been making a phone call from in here.” He held up his machine pistol, to which he had attached a suppressor. “Now, which of you was it?”

  None of them said anything. Chase came forward.

  “Which one of you was it?”

  He put the muzzle of his gun against a female teller’s head. “Was it you?”

  She whimpered, “No, I swear to God it wasn’t me. I don’t have my phone. You took it. You can search me. I don’t have a phone. Please, please.” She jerked back away from him.

  Stone stepped forward.

  Chase pointed his gun at him. “The manager said you were trouble. Said you were stoking the fires back here.”

  Stone ignored this. “None of us have phones,” he said. “You can have your men search us all. Your information must be wrong.”

  Chase pointed his gun at Stone’s head. “How about I start with you?”

  Stone said, “Feel free.”

  Chase spoke into a walkie-talkie and a few moments later another man came in and thoroughly searched everyone in the room. No phone was found.

  Chase looked at Stone and Stone looked back at Chase.

  “What exactly are you?” asked Chase.

  “I work in a cemetery in Georgetown. I have for years. That’s what I am. I just came here to deposit my paycheck, just like I do every Saturday. That’s how I knew the guard, Charlie. The man you killed,” Stone added.

  Chase said, “We get a hint that any one of you is trying anything, I will personally come back here and shoot each of you in the head. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Very,” said Robie.

  The door closed and Chase was gone.

  Robie and Stone moved over against one wall. In a low voice Robie said, “What did you do with it?”

  “When I heard the door opening I slipped it behind the outlet cover that got fried. They’d pulled it out earlier to see what had happened to it.”

  “So our communication lines are gone.”

  “For the time being.”

  “So I hope your friends are really good.”

  “Oh, they really are.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Before Stone had to hide his phone, Annabelle and Caleb were walking around the garage area under the building. She spotted it first—a fenced-in area that housed a parking lot only accessible by key card.

  Caleb stared through the chain-link fence and then read the sign hanging on the access gate. “They’re for the private residences, Annabelle.”

  She nodded. “This must be the blank on the plans you found online.”

  “I guess they didn’t want to publicize this aspect of the place. I’m sure the folks who own these apartments want their privacy. People with money usually do, unless you’re the Kardashians.”

  Annabelle’s phone buzzed.

  “It’s Oliver.”

  She listened and said, “Understood and on it. Oliver, how is it going in there?”

  She listened again, nodded, and said, “Watch your back.” She clicked off and stared at the concrete looking anxious.

  Caleb edged closer to her and asked nervously, “Is he okay?”

  “You know Oliver. He could be in front of a firing squad and he’d say he was just fine.”

  “But what did he say?”

  She glanced up. “Ironically, he wants us to check out the private residences. He thinks the target might lie there.”

  Caleb gazed through the fence again. “So these people might be going through the bank to get to the residences? Why?”

  “Residence,” she corrected. “I doubt it’s more than one. There wouldn’t be enough time.”

  “Okay, but which one? There are a lot of parking spaces. And they’re all filled with Mercedeses and Jags and BMWs. And there’s a Bentley over there. These people definitely have money.”

  “Well, whichever one it is we need to narrow down quickly. I doubt these guys will take too long to get to wherever they’re going.”

  She punched in a number.

  “Harry, I just got a call from Oliver. He thinks the private residences on the top floors of the building might be the target, we just don’t know which one. Can you check around up there and see if anything hits you? We’re on our way too.”

  She clicked off and said, “Let’s go, Caleb.”

  * * *

  Before Annabelle called, Harry and Reuben had together been scoping out the jewelry store and furrier. The jewelry store was closed but they could see employees inside, no doubt going through their closing procedure before leaving. As both men watched, the jewelry cases sank down into the floor, and then the top of the floor, which they could see was lined with steel, closed on top of them.

  Harry said, “I don’t see anyone breaking into that too quickly. Plus, the entrance doors are glass. No cover.”

  Reuben nodded. “And I don’t think you can steal enough furs to make killing a security guard worth it.”

  Then Harry’s phone buzzed and he spoke with Annabelle. When he clicked off he conveyed to Reuben what she had told him.

  “So private residences, huh?” said the big man.

  “Appears so. At least Oliver seems to think it’s a possibility.”

  “So a robbery of the rich or something else?”

  “No clue,” said Harry. “But let’s see if we can find one.”

  They hurried through the interior of the mall until they reached the entrance to a private bank of elevators that led up to the residences. A sign on the entry wall said that only residents and their confirmed guests were allowed past this point.

  “Looks like something is going on,” observed Reuben.

  There was a table set up near the entrance to the elevator bank. People in business attire were lined up in front of a reception table be
ing checked in. Then they passed through a security checkpoint where men in suits were standing. The men looked in the women’s purses and then allowed them through to the waiting elevator.

  “There’s a magnetometer everyone has to pass through,” observed Reuben.

  Harry nodded. “And guys in suits, shades, with earwigs and shoulder holsters.”

  “Must be the Secret Service. I’d say that whoever they’re guarding might be a target. They don’t get called up for the small-fry.”

  “But who?” asked Harry. “The Secret Service protects lots of different types, including foreign dignitaries. I don’t remember reading about any kings or queens visiting here.”

  “Might be one of ours,” replied Reuben. Politicians all over this town. President. Supreme Court justices. Agency heads. Military types. List goes on and on.”

  “Well, they’re definitely Secret Service. I see their lapel pins. So that narrows it down a bit.”

  “But not enough. And then there’s the problem of letting them know there might be a threat without causing some kind of panic.”

  Annabelle and Caleb joined them a minute later and Harry filled her in on what they had found.

  Annabelle gazed over at the people waiting to be cleared into the event.

  “But what kind of event is it?” asked Caleb. “That might tell us more about who the target might be.”

  Annabelle said, “I’ll find out.” She walked over to one of the men standing in line and gave him a warm, coy smile.

  “Okay, this is going to sound really stupid, but aren’t you on Breaking Bad? The brother-in-law of the meth dealer, Walter White? Right? The DEA guy? Oh, what was his name again?”

  “I wish,” said the man. He was about fifty, portly and balding. He was dressed in a suit and tie.

  She looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on, you have to be. Are you attending some sort of entertainment function? Is Bryan Cranston here? I’m a huge fan. Please tell me I’m right.”

  “I’m afraid it’s just a very dull but necessary political fund-raiser for a friend of mine. Congressional race.”

  Annabelle tried not to look disappointed.

  “Oh,” she said. “Politicians.”

  He smiled and handed her a card. “I know. Not as much juice as Bryan Cranston. But it’s a necessary evil. Maybe more evil than necessary in these days of paralyzed, do-nothing government. Anyway, here’s my card. Give me a call if you ever want to run for office.” He appreciatively eyed her long, slender figure. “Or if you just want to have a drink, for that matter.”

  She looked down at the card. When she looked up, Annabelle caught a breath. Heading into the elevator from what appeared to be a private entryway was Alex Ford. He was there along with the rest of the protection detail. She tried to catch his eye, but he was gone before he could see her.

  And when Annabelle saw the person they were guarding, she knew who the target was.

  She looked down at the card again and read off the name. When she looked up she had put on her most enticing, flirty smile.

  “Okay, I feel really bad, I mean really stupid, Bob.” She eyed him shyly. “I’ve never been to a political fund-raiser. I bet it’s not as boring as you say it is.”

  Bob looked amused. “I could lie and say you’re right, but I’m too nice to do that to a beautiful lady like yourself. What’s your name?”

  “Annabelle.”

  “Annabelle? Wow, don’t hear that name much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I like it,” he added when her face formed a pouty look.

  He eyed the reception desk. “Well, I was supposed to come with a guest and she couldn’t make it, which leaves me one body short. You want to sub in? My treat.”

  The pout turned to a smile. “That would be so cool.”

  He looked at her tight black slacks. “Not packing heat, are you? The Secret Service frowns on that.”

  She slowly slid her hand along her thigh. “I doubt I have room. What do you think, Bob?”

  Bob gave a little shiver and laughed. “Sold! Let’s go. Now, I’ll need to talk you into this thing. Everybody had to be vetted beforehand, Social Security numbers and everything. But I wrote a big fat check for this guy and he owes me, so let’s go pull a Salahi.”

  They walked over to the reception desk.

  Annabelle glanced back at the others. She caught Harry’s eye. He confirmed with a nod that they all had seen what she had.

  The target had just gone up in the elevator.

  It was the vice president of the United States.

  And apparently somebody wanted to do him harm.

  Today.

  CHAPTER 7

  The sounds of the tools being used stopped.

  Robie looked at Stone. “Think they’re done?”

  “Possibly but we need some more information to make sure of what’s really going on here.”

  They walked over to the two female tellers who sat on the floor tethered together. Stone and Robie knelt down beside them.

  Stone said, “Have you worked for the bank long?”

  One of the tellers, the younger woman, said, “About three years.”

  The other woman, in her forties, said, “I’ve been here ten. And I’m scared to death. We’ve never had even a hint of a robbery before.”

  Stone put a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  The woman looked up into Stone’s steady, calm eyes and relaxed noticeably. Stone looked like a rock-hard pilot steadying a passenger’s nerves while they flew through a storm.

  “Thank you for saying that,” she replied.

  Stone looked at the door leading into the room and then at the room itself. “Every time I’ve come here I’ve noticed that the configuration of the lobby is very irregular. And there’s a large pop-out on the wall over there where you lost more space. And it goes all the way into the lobby.”

  Robie glanced at him and then at the pop-out. “There’s a corner of dead space in both places,” he said. “On the left side next to the teller stand and then in here, which is a continuation of that dead space from the lobby.”

  The older teller nodded. “When I first came here I asked about that. Like you said, it just seemed like a huge waste of space. I wouldn’t have noticed it except my husband is in construction and I’m guess I’m more attuned to things like that.”

  “So what was the reason?” Stone asked.

  “The way it was explained to me was that when the building was first being constructed an elevator bank was going in there. But at the last minute they changed the location for it. But they’d already built out the shaft and all, and they didn’t want to go back and redo that—an expense issue, I’m sure. So they just did the next best thing.”

  Robie said, “They covered it up.”

  “That’s right. The bank didn’t mind. They got a deal on the rent because of it. Not only were they not charged for the dead space, but they also got a reduced square-footage rate. Most stores didn’t want this space for that reason and also because it was off the beaten path in the mall. Not enough foot traffic. But banks don’t care about that. They don’t want people to come to the bank. That means they have to hire people like me to service them. They’d much prefer you use the ATMs or bank online. Saves them a ton of money.”

  “Does it affect all units on this vertical?” asked Stone. “I mean, do they all have dead space on all the floors?”

  “No, I don’t think so. At least not as severe as ours. Where the bank is now there was going to be an anchor store, but the deal fell through. Where the pop-out is located was going to be the location of two elevators. They’d already built some of the support structure for it, which made the space basically unusable. It also had something to do with load-bearing components, which nobody wants to mess with. When the bank leased here they just walled in the shaft. But I remember someone telling me that the shaft had not been fully built out, so they didn’t have to reconfigure the other units, or at least not as much.”
/>   “But does the shaft go all the way up to the top of the building?” asked Stone. “I mean, if they were going to have an elevator here that would make sense. Why build an elevator that doesn’t reach all the floors?”

  “I think that it must,” answered the woman after giving it some thought. “I know the elevator bank was going to start in our space, so there’s a solid floor inside the pop-out.”

  “What about the private residences on the top floors?” he asked.

  “Oh, I know they have their own elevator bank.”

  “So maybe this shaft doesn’t go up there?”

  “No, my husband put a bid in to do some work here, and that included preliminary site plans and the like. The original plans did not have private elevators. But once it was clear how much the residences were going to cost, the idea of a private set of elevators became sort of a priority. You know, the rich don’t like mixing with the rest of us if they can afford it,” she added huffily.

  “Was there something special about the bank’s location?” asked Robie while Stone looked at him intently.

  “Like what?”

  “Something that made it different from the units above and below it, as related to the elevator shaft?”

  “I don’t think so. When my husband was shown the plans I remembered him telling me about the pop-out and what was behind it. He said they’d just drywalled around the shaft at our location. I suppose they did that all the way up.”

  Stone said, “But there must be some reason the robbers chose this space over the others on the vertical. Most other stores don’t have armed guards. They had to take that into consideration.”

  Robie glanced toward the door to the room. “It’s the entrance,” he said quickly.

  “What?” asked Stone.

  “Most stores have walls that come down and doors that lock that you can see through. Either glass entry doors or metal link roll-down doors. The bank doesn’t. If they had to work on something in the lobby of the other stores they’d be seen, even with the store closed. But not here. It’s opaque. Complete privacy.”

  The older woman nodded. “That’s right. Not sure why they designed it that way. I guess they assumed that even if someone broke in they’d have to punch through the roll-down wall and it would be noticed.”