David Morrell - Creepers

"So fucking what?"

"Maybe the extension on this side is as wide as this passageway. Maybe the passageway continues all the way to the edge of the roof." Balenger studied the six-foot-wide section of wall at the end of the passageway. At shoulder level, a screw projected from the right and left. Without asking permission, he walked along the corridor and tapped the wall. "Sounds hollow." Again, he studied the screws. "With my hands taped, I can't pull at these."

"Stand back." Tod aimed the pistol.

When Balenger was an unthreatening distance away, JD stepped between upright two-by-fours and approached the end wall. He gripped the screws on each side and pulled, but nothing happened. "Those screws are in solid."

"Tug harder. I think they're handles."

JD yanked, then stumbled back as a partition broke free. Headlamps and flashlights pierced the dark continuation of the passageway.

"And there's your vault," Balenger said.

It was about ten feet farther along, occupying the height and width of the passageway. Its borders were black metal while its door was brass, now tarnished green. Balenger imagined how it had once gleamed. In the middle, the door had a handle and a dial. Imprinted at the top was CORRIGAN SECURITY, the name of what Balenger assumed was a no-longer-existing company.

"We had to tear down the wall to get in here," Vinnie said. "How could Danata have reached this?"

Balenger noticed an alcove to the left. He stepped back to where JD had removed the partition that hid the continuation of the passageway. The partition had been in line with the wall that faced the boardwalk and the beach. A bookcase occupied the right corner of that wall. Balenger hadn't tried to move the bookcase because it seemed obvious that nothing could be behind it.

Now he went back to the room and tugged at the bookcase.

"Vinnie, give me a hand."

But both of them were unable to budge it.

"I'll get the crowbar," Vinnie said.

"Carefully," JD said.

"Wait a second." Hampered by his taped wrists, Balenger shoved aside books on the right of the middle shelf, pawed along the inside of the case, and touched a metal catch. He flipped the catch upward and pulled at the case. It swung open. The space behind it was the alcove Balenger had seen.

"The extension that goes to the edge of the roof must have a box in this corner," he said, "some kind of decorative effect, probably with flowers or shrubs in front, so Danata didn't have to look at just a plain wall when he sat outside. The box and whatever's in front disguise the exterior of the alcove."

Balenger stepped through the open bookcase, entered the alcove, turned right, reached the passageway, and turned left to face the vault.

"Okay, that explains how Danata went from his living room to the vault," Tod said. "But it doesn't explain the staircase. Wouldn't it have bugged him? Wouldn't Danata have started wondering what kind of creep Carlisle was that he needed a hidden staircase?"

"I don't think Danata knew about the staircase," Balenger said. "All the construction was outside on the patio. The workers didn't have a reason to break into the interior wall."

"All I care about is the vault," Tod said. "Open it."

Balenger pushed down on the handle and pulled. The door didn't move. His spirit sank. "Locked."

"You begged us not to kill the old guy. You said he knew how to get into the vault."

Now we come to it, Balenger thought. The moment for which they kept us alive. In a sweat, he recalled the Iraqi insurgent threatening to cut off his head. The question again insisted: How do I make now last a little longer?

Balenger crossed the room toward the professor, who continued to lean back in pain.

"Bob."

Conklin moaned.

"Bob, do you know the combination?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Tod asked. His tattoos seemed like creatures rippling across his cheeks.

"Concentrate, Bob. This is really important. Tell us how to get into the vault."

"A guess."

"A guess?" Tod said angrily.

Conklin breathed with effort. "The diary."

"Yes, tell us about the diary," Balenger said.

"Carlisle used one of his peepholes to watch Danata unlock the vault. Carlisle saw the combination."

"And?" Mack asked. "What are the numbers?"

"Carlisle wrote in his diary that Danata used his name for the numbers."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Bob, was he talking about some kind of alphabet-number transference?" Balenger asked.

"Think so."

"'Think so' isn't good enough." Tod aimed.

Balenger saw an end table next to the sofa the professor lay upon. He drew a finger along its dusty surface.

"This is the alphabet." He wrote in a fury. "I'll match a number with each letter. A is 1. B's 2. C's 3."

"We get the fucking idea," Mack said.

"Danata. D is 4. A is 1. N is 14. A is 1. T is 20. A is 1. If we put them in a sequence, we get 41141201. That's the combination: 41,14,12, 01."

"You'd better be right," JD said.

Balenger rushed into the exposed passageway and reached the vault. Trying to steady his hands, he dialed 41 to the right. "The other numbers! Can't remember. Vinnie, read them to me!"

Vinnie did.

Balenger continued, dialing 14 to the left, 12 to the right, and 1 to the left. Pulse racing, he turned the handle and tugged at the door. It resisted.

No!

"Let's cap 'em all and grab as many of these thousand-dollar ashtrays and candleholders and shit that we can carry," JD said.

"But we don't cap the girl right away," Mack said. "Sweets and I have a date."

"I started in the wrong direction!" Balenger insisted. "I should have started left instead of right!"

He dialed 41 to the left, 14 to the right, 12 to the left, and 1 to the right. Praying, he yanked at the handle, pulling. The door remained solidly in place.

No!

"End of story," Tod said.

"Please! Give me a chance to think! The theory makes sense!" What am I doing wrong? he thought.

The professor murmured something. Balenger only caught the last word. "… name."

"What?"

"Wrong name." Conklin strained to speak louder. "Not Danata."

"He's delirious." JD walked over with the crowbar, ready to swing it. The youngest of the group, he craved the most violence, Balenger realized. "Let's put the old bird out of his misery."

"While I show Sweets the bedroom," Mack said.

"First name," Conklin said.

"Carmine!" Balenger said. "Wait!" He moved to another table and wrote CARMINE in the dust. "C is 3. A is 1. R is 18. M is 13. I is 9. N is 14. E is 5. The sequence is 3118139145. That's the combination! Five sets of numbers: 31, 18, 13, 91, 45."

"Five sets?" Tod asked. "A little while ago, you were sure there were four."

"Just leave the professor alone! He gave us a direction! If this works, he earned the right to live a little longer!"

Balenger's throat cramped. That was all he worked for-the right to live a little longer. But this time, despite the rumble of thunder that sounded so much like approaching explosions, there wouldn't be a Ranger unit to rescue him.

"Show us." Mack's hands slid along Cora's shoulders.

She was oblivious, her eyes staring at infinity.

Balenger ran to the vault and tried to steady his shaking headlamp. "Vinnie, read me the numbers!" This time, he started to the left: 31, right 18, left 13, right 91, left 45.

Flashlights blazed toward him as Tod, Mack, and JD stepped into the passageway. They shoved Vinnie ahead of them.

"Turn the handle, hero. Pull the door," JD said.

Please, God, please, Balenger thought, and pulled.

Suddenly, JD screamed.

Whirling, Balenger saw a dark specter crash into JD and knock him down.