1,000 word excerpt for COBWEBS AND CONTRABAND
So, Tucker had been doing reconnaissance in these cellars on his own yesterday; before hed been drugged in the storeroom. I wondered what hed found down here, whom hed talked to, what decisions theyd made before hed drunk that drugged wine. I also wondered if hed been working for all of us at The Granada, or for his own benefit.
His face was a tortured mask of thought. He stared absently at the cold, empty room. After a moment he whirled and went out the door, going right, toward rooms I hadnt seen since Id been back. I kept very close behind him. Its the unknown that scares you.
Tucker checked every grey cement space. Some he expected to be empty. Others, also empty, made him utter presumably awful things, too low for me to hear. I looked wherever he looked. Every single room was clean, no clutter, very little dust. With some surprise I realized that I felt cheated. Even though I wanted whatever contraband had been stored here to be gone, I also felt a powerful curiosity about it. What had it been? How had it arrived? And whowho had controlled it? Who was the boss mentioned by the two voices in the storeroom?
We were moving quietly now, subdued by the hollow, echoing emptiness. Tucker had become calmer with each successive room, and finally turned to give me a blank look, as if hed forgotten I was with him. Then he walked on toward the final ballroom-sized warehouse room. It connected to the boathouse. I tagged along.
Scraps of sound began to edge into my consciousness. I stopped, yanking on Tuckers shirt, clapping a hand over his mouth when he opened it to spout a nasty comment. I tapped my ear and mouthed, Listen! For a wonder, he did. From somewhere ahead of us there were thumpings and scrapings and muffled voices. I felt Tucker stiffen. He dropped the hand that had pincered my elbow and crept forward.
The door to the warehouse was open just a crack. Inside, two men struggled with the block and tackle attached to a massive roof beam. They swung the heavy iron hook, snagged a roped box, raised it, moved it, and lowered it through a hole in the rough concrete floor. I stared. It was Mutt and Jeff, totally concentrated on the job before them.
I knew what they were doing. There were three ways out of that warehouse. We were standing in one. On the opposite wall was a second door. It led to a dark, musty underground stairway and corridor which ended in the boathouse. The third was the yawning black hole over which they were working. Below it was a water tunnel big enough to take a good-sized rowboat, no oars. It could be poled, pulled, or motor-driven. And that tunnel also ended in the boathouse. It was my grandfathers system and had been well known to the police at one time. I thought theyd probably forgotten all about it. Except for Tucker, and he wasnt acting like any policeman.
I turned from the crack in the door and watched him, feeling oddly uneasy. What was he going to do? He didnt have any weapons that I could see, and I bet Mutt and Jeff did. But that didnt seem to be giving him a bit of worry. He looked like the cat that just ate the cream. And I thought, suddenly disgusted, that he was just going to let them slip away. I turned my eyes back to the warehouse room, aching for a blowgun and some tranquilizer darts.
As we watched, Mutt and Jeff lowered the last box through the floor, picked up their electric lantern, then stepped down the iron ladder to whatever getaway boat was underneath. We heard an engine start, then fade away into nothingness. Tucker eased the door open and pussyfooted to the square hole. He listened for a time, head cocked to one side. His figure, in the uncertain light of one bare bulb hanging from a long cord, was shadowed and grotesque, his eyes black holes, his mouth bisected by the ugly shadow cast by his nose.
I moved into the room and stood with my back to the wall, feeling an unreasoning aversion to him. What on earth was the matter with me? It was just Tucker. But it was just Tucker locked into some sinister-looking being that I couldnt identify with.
He seemed to have forgotten about me. I was the one in shadow now, feeling oddly protected by the dark. And when he suddenly jerked his head up and looked toward the door, he missed seeing me. His expression was intent and listening. Did he think Id run away? Why didnt he call out then? It was strange. I couldnt make myself speak.
He moved back toward the doorway, lightfooted as before, as if he wanted to surprise someone. Me? Ridiculous! WhydidntIspeak? I couldnt imagine why I felt such sudden dread.
Tucker got to the side of the door and stopped, then moved quickly through. I heard an instant thump and my heart leaped. A hand reached around the corner and slapped off the light switch, putting out the single bulb in the center of the room. Then the door was pushed shut and I heard the unmistakable sound of the bar being dropped. And that was that. I was shut in here with no hope of going back the way I had come.
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