Michael Baden - Skeleton justice

Hours-days-seemed to have passed in getting themselves untied. She had no idea how much time she had left until the lock sprang open, or if she could work on the bars while keeping her fingers away from those jagged teeth.

When the rope finally fell off her wrists, Manny grabbed it and ran straight at the cage. She slid to her knees in front of it, inches away from the dog's rolling eyes and snapping jaws. He barked furiously, lunging so hard at her against the bars that the entire cage rocked.

Manny fumbled with the rope. She had acted so quickly, she didn't have time to notice that her arms and fingers were numb from being tied behind her for so long. Clumsily, she threaded the short length of rope through the bars. The dog snapped at her fingers, but she pulled them back in time. The rope dropped and she started again.

"Hurry!" Travis called to her.

Not helpful. Really not helpful at all. The dog continued barking, high, staccato yelps of fury and impatience. Every time he barked, Manny flinched reflexively, and the tying process stalled again. Finally, she got one knot tied, and she set about threading the rope through the cage again to reinforce her work.

Ting.

Such an innocuous sound, like playing the highest note on a piano. The lock clicked and released. The dog lunged against the cage. The door popped open partway. Manny slammed it shut and frantically tried to tie the second knot.

The dog reared back and hurled his broad chest against the front of the cage. The door flew open, and the rope came free in Manny's hand. The dog bounded right over her, heading straight for Travis.

Jake could barely register the words coming into his ear through the phone, because his eyes were mesmerized by the action on the computer screen. The dog had Travis cornered.

The director of the police K-o unit was on the line, claiming the greatest danger lay in struggling against the dog. Once his teeth clamped down, nothing short of death would get him to release. Struggle would provoke his fighting instinct. He would attack, biting and tearing, until his prey was vanquished. Playing dead might cause him to lose interest.

And then what? Move on to his next victim-Manny.

Normally, Jake found strength in knowledge, but what good did knowing this do? He couldn't get the information to the people who needed it.

Jake slammed the phone down and his eyes returned to the computer screen. What the hell was Manny doing? She was running toward the dog. Oh God-she was trying to save Travis. • • • Manny scrambled to get her feet under her, rubbing the long scratch on her leg where the dog's nails had dug into her flesh as it bounded out of the cage. Across the room, Travis pressed himself against the wall, in the vain hope the plaster might open up behind him.

The dog reached the boy in five strides and immediately went up on its hind legs. Instinctively, it sought Travis's throat, but it wasn't tall enough and snapped instead at the elbows Travis had raised to protect himself.

Manny reacted as she always had when a bully terrorized someone small and defenseless. She ran up and kicked the dog's rear hard, just as she had once kicked Johnnie Appleton in the ass when he was pounding little Barry Neufeld on the playground.

The dog swiveled and snapped at her, but Manny was prepared now that she knew how fast the thing could move. She tore across the room toward the one spot that offered a chance of refuge-the window with its metal grille.

She managed to climb up on it just as she used to scale the chain-link fence around the town pool when she was a kid. The dog arrived, enraged that she was just out of his reach. The metal cut into her fingers. She couldn't hang here like Spider-Man for long.

She looked down. The dog lay right beneath her, its eyes riveted on her legs. It exuded some prehistoric evil. But it wasn't evil; it operated on pure Darwinian survival instinct. Kill or be killed.

Not reassuring.

"Travis, get up slowly and get both pieces of rope. Tie them together. Maybe it'll be enough for us to use to subdue him."

But Travis didn't answer. He sat against the far wall, shaking.

Manny was in this alone.

"What about this?"

Sam had been calling out random bits of asbestos-related information while Jake sat transfixed by Manny's predicament. He was astonished and impressed that she had managed to distract the dog from Travis. Her maneuver, whatever it was, had been out of the camera's range. All he'd heard was screaming, growling, a thump, and a yelp. Then Manny appeared, streaking across the room and climbing up that metal window grille. His joy at seeing her safe didn't last long. The opening in the window grille wasn't big; her toes kept slipping out. Manny was supporting most of her weight with her arms, and he knew her upper-body strength wasn't that great. Inevitably, she would fall off that grille, right onto the waiting dog.

"Jake, does that sound likely?" Sam asked.

"Huh? Say it again."

"I really might be onto something here. Asbestos was used in the manufacture of fire-retardant work clothes up until the 1960s. Then they started to realize that wearing asbestos next to your skin might be more dangerous than getting burned, so they switched to chemical retardants and other materials."

"Uhm…" Manny's toes slipped off the grille and she flailed for a moment, then pulled herself back up.

"Jake, seriously, listen. There's an old factory in West New York called Fireproof Apparel. Here's a story in the Business section of the Times: 'Redevelopment of West New York Waterfront Stalled by Fireproof Apparel.' It turns out the factory is so contaminated, they're afraid to tear it down or remodel it because of the dust it will release. So it's been abandoned for years. According to the article, even homeless people won't squat there because it makes them cough."

For the first time in ten minutes, Jake's eyes turned away from the live streaming video. "West New York is near Hoboken and Club Epoch," he said.

"Exactly. And not far from Paterson. And look at this picture. The building's big enough that no one would hear them, or the dog. And look at the windows."

"All covered with metal grillwork." He grabbed the phone. "Vito can have guys over there in two minutes."

Manny couldn't hang on much longer.

The sharp edges of the grille cut into her fingers. She could have borne that pain if not for the terrible ache in her shoulders and biceps. Somewhere around age thirteen she'd lost her tomboy sinew, and it wasn't coming back. She pumped only enough iron to look good in a strapless dress, not to support her entire body weight for what seemed like hours.

She needed a new strategy, but she had precious little to work with. Somehow, she needed to distract the dog without redirecting its attention to Travis. Then she could get down and… what?

Distract and get down. That's all that mattered at the moment, because if she waited one more minute, she'd simply fall into the dog's jaws.

Calling up the last ounce of strength in her right hand, Manny used her left to remove her large turquoise and silver earring. Clinging to the grille with one hand, she tossed the earring low and far. The dog reacted as predictably as Mycroft, chasing down the skittering object.

Manny let go and jumped. The sweet relief chased every other fear from her mind-but only for a moment. She knew the dog would realize the earring held no interest as prey and would turn its attentions back to her. When it did, she had to be ready.

She had already dismissed the rope and the cage as too far away to be useful. In one fluid motion, Manny grabbed the hem of the sundress and pulled it off over her head. Quickly, she twisted it into a long coil.

Attracted by her movement, the dog spun around and charged toward her. Manny stood still, with the window behind her, watching the dog's muscular legs propel it closer. At the last moment, she sidestepped.