CHAPTER 40
Tyler ran as fast as he could, trying to relax his body and control his breathing, the way he did on the treadmill at the gym. His adrenal gland was already secreting the hormone into his system, stimulating his muscles for a sustained burst of action.
The killer, still a long way in front, had almost reached the large building up ahead, which Jack figured was a disused warehouse complex. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, and this made Jack wonder if he had his escape route planned.
Jack thundered along the narrow path, gaining on the fugitive with every step. A few seconds later he emerged onto an uneven concrete strip that ran parallel to the river. He would have to watch his step here or he’d end up taking an unplanned swim.
Through a gap in the fog, he spotted a converted barge berthed against a small pier that jutted out from the Wharf. A solitary light illuminated the living quarters; the distinctive sound of big band jazz came from within, carried by the still night air. The occupants were completely oblivious to the drama being enacted just a few short yards from their waterfront home.
The killer ran along the side of the derelict building. He stopped by an arched entranceway that contained two large wooden doors, each secured by a chain and padlock. Jack watched as the killer pulled a couple of slats loose, exposing a hole big enough for a small man to climb through. He shot Tyler a last, hateful glance as he slipped awkwardly inside and disappeared from view.
Tyler reached the door five seconds later, lungs searing, legs aching. There was a huge sign pinned to the door. It read: WARNING! DANGER OF DEATH! DO NOT ENTER.
He tried to squeeze through the gap but he was too big. Stepping back, he angrily kicked the adjacent slat several times until it came away.
He quickly looked around for a weapon, something he could defend himself with if it became necessary. He hadn’t forgotten the menacing knife he’d seen in the killer’s hand. There was nothing obvious to use, and he couldn’t waste time looking.
Treading carefully, conscious that he could be walking into an ambush, he eased himself through the jagged hole in the door into the cold, dank interior of the warehouse.
It was pitch black inside, and he stepped straight into a deep puddle.
Shit!
Something dripped onto his shoulder from high above and he quickly stepped to the side. The smell of damp, decaying wood permeated the air around him.
He guessed that the building had been empty for many years and was, if the sign was to be believed, fraught with hidden dangers. It was the sort of place that kids would find irresistible, a wonderful place to explore and make secret camps in. Until that is, the roof collapsed on them or the floor gave way, or any one of a hundred other tragedies occurred.
Tyler cautiously moved through a short winding corridor until he reached another door. This one opened out into the main body of the building. He pushed it warily and stepped back, half expecting to be jumped.
Nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, he moved through the door quickly, hoping to surprise the killer if he was waiting on the other side.
He wasn’t.
Tyler let out a small sigh of relief and edged away from the door, where he presented too easy a target. It was lighter in here; isolated shafts of moonlight penetrated the gloom in several places. Shadows flickered constantly in the distance, creating false impressions of movement.
He pressed his back into the wall and held his breath, listening intently for the slightest noise. All he could hear was his heartbeat, which sounded like a drum roll. He wished he had a pair of night vision glasses.
Something scuttled across the floor in the middle distance, heard rather than seen, and all the more sinister for it. It meant rats, the one thing he’d hoped not to encounter.
His eyes slowly began to adjust as he stood there, and he was able to make out that he was in a large storage area that seemed to go on forever. Large concrete support pillars were positioned at regular intervals throughout the main building. Tyler was conscious that the killer could be hiding behind any one of them, just waiting to pounce.
Tyler looked around. The central, domed, ceiling was impressively high. His eyes moved down from that to a network of metal walkways that linked one side of the building to the other. The walkways, about thirty feet above ground level, disappeared into big square holes in the walls.
Jack spotted a set of stairs off to his left, directly beneath the first gantry, but he was sure there would be more. He could also make out the shapes of several fire doors scattered along the wall, doors that could lead anywhere.
Searching this place single-handed was going to be virtually impossible. There had to be other entrances at various points around the perimeter. If the one he’d used was accessible, it was likely the others were too.
He couldn’t give up, but where did he start? That was the question. With a team of officers, all linked by radio, he would have posted people at every exit and then searched each floor methodically until he caught the bastard. On his own, he’d just have to wing it. He began to move towards the centre of the warehouse, giving the pillars a wide berth.
“Looking for me were you, Jack?” The hate-filled words shattered the silence like machine gun fire, echoing off every wall. Tyler spun around, trying to figure out where they had come from. At least he knew the killer was still in here somewhere.
Making a final stand, Jack wondered?
Or just plain trapped?
Suddenly, something heavy fell from above, missing him by mere inches. It was a wooden crate of some sort, and it shattered as it hit the floor next to him, sending slivers of wood flying
