Infinite Loop - Chapter 37

Making a Plan

Chapter 37

Retrieving the trunk with the statues went smoothly. Warren acted like Amber’s driver and carried it from the warehouse. Soon they were traveling to Rowe’s Wharf area. Old and empty warehouses filled the street, stretching along unused docks. In their discussion about a place to meet Cassidy, Amber told him about the area. Her father mentioned the old buildings were a problem for the police. The police and private security guards constantly ran the hobos out of the area. As they drove the desolate street, they realized the warehouses were a good place for their plan.

The long street of empty brick buildings sat next to the water. He noticed each building carried elaborate architectural details from fifty years before. Amber felt like she was going back in time. She could almost see the horse and carts lining the street. On this day, however, the area was nearly empty of cars. Many of the buildings they passed held small signs warning people to stay out. Larger signs out front revealed many of the structures were for sale. She turned the Hudson into an alleyway. Midway between the buildings, Warren directed her to pull into a back lot which faced the harbor. A docking ramp rose from the gravel lot, leading to the large double doors of the warehouse. A set of stairs leading to an office door was next to the ramp. Warren climbed out of the car.

“Are you just going to bust in?” She asked him while standing by her car door.

He nodded as he climbed the short set of stairs to an office door. Warren tested the locked door before breaking out a pane of glass near the door handle with the steel grip of Harry’s gun. Soon, he was inside. A brief inspection of the area showed him long rows of timber racks, some still filled with lumber. Large doors at either end of the building convinced Warren the place would be the perfect spot.

Together, they took the trunk inside, placing it between two stacks of lumber and partially covering it with a dirty tarp. They walked back to the car after Warren made sure the two large entrance doors to the building were unlocked.

“I’m hoping any guards who might check out this warehouse aren’t actually testing those entrance doors,” he explained. “There are a lot of areas to cover along this street. That little pane of broken glass shouldn’t be too noticeable, either. I saw broken glass on some of the other buildings.”

“Yeah, if our luck holds,” Amber sounded doubtful. “So what’s next?” She went to the car as Warren followed her, his head hanging down as he tried to guess how his trap might unfold.

“We find a place to wait, and then I make some phone calls this evening,” Warren told her with a thin smile. “I guess the fireworks start after that.”

She remained quiet. She realized he was worried, but he would never admit it.

~~~

Gerald Fane received a phone call later that day in his office. His expression turned dark as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Wait a minute, you can’t talk to me like that,” he spoke into the receiver. “No one would believe such a thing.” The voice at the other end got louder, causing him to hold the receiver away from his ear. Finally, he replied.

“Ok, I understand, but I don’t have any idea where she…”

The caller hung up before the man got the remaining words out.

Running his hands through his gray hair, the district attorney thought about the caller’s message. He got up from his desk and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. Pouring a double shot of bourbon, he drank it down. The caller demanded the impossible from him. He couldn’t do such a thing, even at the risk of his exposure.

He took a deep drink as he thought about his plight. Yes, he might have let Warren Baker out of the country. Despite the pending charges that could have put the young man in jail, there were other considerations, he told himself. Mainly because of the political clout that Tony Krupin once carried with certain circles around city hall. On top of that, a few heavyweight friends of Mrs. Florence Baker pressured him through the mayor’s office.

Just because a few nightclub owners donate money doesn’t mean I’m corrupt.

The gray hair man consoled himself that he was a good district attorney, respected by the police and others in Boston. His phone rang again as he took another sip of his drink.

“Hello father, it’s Amber,” the voice told him through the receiver.

The man nearly choked on his drink.