Chapter Thirteen
Cabe walked over to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. He carried
over them over to the couch where Drew was sitting, watching his son as he
slept. The Homeland agent held out one of the mugs. Drew reached out and
took the offered beverage. Pulling up a chair, Cabe sat down opposite of
the ballplayer.
"Sorry you got caught up in all this," he said before taking a sip.
"It's okay. Worried about Paige, of course. Especially if what you all were
saying about that guy is true." Drew gulped down some of his coffee. "I have
to admit it's amazing, watching how fast their minds work," he said, changing
the subject. "And Ralph is able to keep up." He shook his head. "I still
can't figure out how Paige and I produced a genius. I mean, she's pretty
smart, but I never cared about school. Sports was my thing. Still is."
"He is a great kid," agreed Cabe. "And don't sell yourself short. I saw those
statistic sheets you were working on earlier. I couldn't make heads or tails
of them and I've been a baseball fan all my life."
Drew just shrugged. "I know they all hate me," he said, nodded to where the
others were working. "I'm not proud of what I did to them, Paige and Ralph.
I tried to interact with him, tried to play with him, all the stuff I did
when I was kid. He'd just wander off and try to take apart the toaster, or
a radio, or something.
"And Paige, she was stressed, working crazy shifts, dealing with Ralph."
Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I came home from a ten day road trip.
Paige was sitting on the couch wearing a bathrobe, surrounded by piles of
laundry. Ralph was sitting in the middle of the room, rolling a gear he'd
pulled off one of his toys back and forth over the rug. Paige said he'd been
doing that for three hours. Then she burst into tears."
He took another sip of coffee. "I was terrified so I bounced like a coward.
Told her I was going to a movie with some of the guys and I'd be back in
a few hours. It was seven years."
"But you did come back. That took guts."
"Yeah, but so what? Ralph has told me some of the stuff that happened to
them. Not to be mean, I don't think he's capable of that. Just offhand remarks.
I want to make it up to them, but I don't know how."
"Well, I've always found the straight forward approach works best. Ask her.
Ask him. Then do what they tell you." Cabe stood then, draining his mug.
Drew nodded. "I can do that. Thanks for listening."
"No problem." Gallo patted the younger man on the shoulder.
"Got it!" Sly's triumphant shout rang throughout the garage. Everyone flocked
to his desk. "It leads to an elevator. Found a permit from 1957 when the
original owner's children sold the estate and the new owner replaced a wooden
staircase which had been condemned."
"An elevator?" asked Cabe. "To where?"
"The beach." Happy and Toby announced simultaneously. "Finally," Toby added,
"a millionaire who knew how to spend his money. A secret elevator to. . .well,
not the Bat Cave, but fun in the sun."
The mechanic rolled her eyes. "There's a natural grotto under the cliff where
it was installed." She turned to Sylvester. "Is there a schematic of the
wiring for this place? One should have been filed at the time of any remodels."
"I think I remember seeing one." He hustled over to his computer and started
scrolling.
"What are you thinking, Happy?" Gallo asked as a yawning Ralph came up to
them carrying Ferret Bueller.
"If we can access the beach, we can use the elevator to get inside the house,"
she said, her face shining with hope. "I can turn off the alarms and unlock
the gate, and if there's a surveillance system, I can shut that down, too."
"Then we can send in personnel using both access points." Cabe nodded. "And
they won't know we're coming. Good work, Happy." He pulled out his cell and
began punching in numbers. "I'll get on the horn and see if they'll let us
back on the case. If not. . . Katherine. . ."
The Homeland agent wandered away as he spoke with the deputy director. Happy
went over to her workstation and picked up her bag. "Where are you going?"
Toby asked.
"To get my hiking gear," she said, fishing around for her truck keys.
"It's two a.m., no one is going anywhere until the sun comes up." he said.
"And wouldn't it be easier to approach by water?"
"No. The continental shelf off the headland extends into the ocean about
two miles. And low tide will reach its nadir a little after sunrise. A boat
would be worthless. We'd just have to walk through wet sand to get to the
beach. If we can even get a boat." She jerked her head in Cabe's direction.
"No, it would be easier to hike around the point. So I need my gear."
"Okay. We'll go get your gear." She raised an eyebrow at his statement but
just nodded and headed toward the door. Toby followed after her.
"Wait," he said as he walked outside. "You have hiking gear?"
Paige woke up when her stomach grumbled too loudly to be ignored. Then she
became aware of a constant jiggling of the mattress. She sat up and watched
as Walter appeared to be struggling with something behind his back.
"What are you doing?"
He turned to look at her as he stopped moving. "Unraveling the cord strand
by strand. If I can shred it thin enough, I should be able to break free."
He took a deep breath then winced.
Alarmed, Paige moved so she could get a good look at his face. He was pale,
sweaty, and his breathing was noticeably shallower.
"You're hurting," she stated. "What are you not telling me?"
Walter slumped against the wall. He should have known she would figure it
out eventually. He described the extent of his injuries, adding, "The guy
who hit me was wearing a glove with enhanced metal knuckles."
"Like brass knuckles?"
"Same principle. Only in glove form." He tried to smile to reassure her,
but it became more of a grimace as pain shot through him.
"You shouldn't be moving," she said, her voice full of concern. "You might
be driving a piece of your rib deeper into your lung."
"I gotta get us out of here," he said, his words slurring as the edges of
his vision grew dim. "Gotta make sure you're safe." He shook his head to
stave off the darkness, but it kept coming.
"Dammit, Walter, I'm not some pathetic damsel in distress." He could hear
her shouting at him, but her words were growing distant. "We need to think.
. .we both can do. . . I'm not helpless. . ." Then the blackness overtook
him.
Oh, God, was he. . .? Paige began to panic, cursing her hands weren't free
so she could check for a pulse. She stared at him until she could see the
rise and fall of his chest. Thank God, he was still alive. She sagged with
relief against the wall.
Maybe he was onto something though, she thought as she felt the nylon cord
binding her wrist. She tried picking at it, but it was so tightly woven,
it felt like some kind of metal instead of fiber. Her fingernails made no
impact on it. Much to her chagrin, one of them broke when she tried to use
it like a saw. She needed something harder. Something with more strength.
. .
An idea popped into her head. One which made her pray she was still limber
enough to do a trick she learned during her cheerleading/gymnastics days.