Ghost of a Chance

Alex adjusted the colored filters on the oculus’ lens until he could see the caramel-colored light. The fact that it was early afternoon and the sun was high in the sky didn’t make it easy to see, but he’d manage.

As he looked at the truck, Alex could see almost invisible lines coming away from it and going back up the street the way he and Danny had come. They showed how the truck had moved to get her from wherever it had been.

“This way,” he said, holding his lamp out in front of him. “And grab my bag.”

* * *

Almost an hour later, Alex followed the faint lines of the truck’s passing along a waterfront street on the south side of the rail yards. The path had led them into the Middle Ring, to a hardware supply shop, then back out toward the Hudson. Now, as Alex walked along the street, the faint lines turned and flowed up against a carriage door set into the side of a dark warehouse.

Alex closed his right eye and opened his left, looking up at the building. There was no sign that anyone worked there. No doors were open, no windows were lit, and there was no noise or commotion.

“I think this is it,” Alex said over his shoulder.

Behind him, Danny and the six beat cops had been following in Danny’s car. He pulled over and they piled out.

“Check the door,” Danny told Johansson.

The big, blond cop walked over to a service door in the side of the building and tugged on the handle.

“Locked,” he said.

Alex tried the carriage door and it budged a little.

“I think this one’s open,” he said, putting his shoulder against it and pushing. A moment later he wished he hadn’t as his still cracked rib exploded in pain. Alchemy could speed up healing, but it still took time.

“Ah! That was stupid,” he gasped, clutching his side and stepping back so that Johansson and two other officers could take his place.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, stepping up beside Alex.

“Bad guys,” Alex said, giving their long established code phrase. They both knew there were parts of Alex’s job that a straight arrow police detective was better off not knowing about. Now, anytime Alex was involved in something that might put his friend in an awkward position, like being the victim of attempted murder, Alex blamed it on bad guys and Danny let the matter drop.

The doors of the warehouse creaked as the officers pulled it open, revealing a cavernous space beyond. Light streamed in from third-story windows, revealing an open floor with blocks and bolts and concrete pads arranged in rows that must have once supported machines on an assembly line. Whatever this factory had been, however, someone had turned it into a garage. No less than twenty trucks of all different shapes and sizes were parked inside. They sat, silently in four rows of five, just gathering dust. Other than the trucks, the warehouse was completely deserted.

Danny stepped up beside Alex and whistled.

“Would you look at that,” he said. “Why would people steal all those trucks and then just leave them sitting here?”

Alex shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he said, stepping into the cool space beyond the carriage door. He moved over to the first truck in line and pulled open the back door. The inside space was empty except for some tools and a broken crate.

Moving to the next one, Alex pulled the rear doors open. This time the truck wasn’t empty. A row of full crates lineed one side of the delivery truck’s cargo space and there were tied bundles of something that looked like cotton.

“Danny,” Alex called. “You’d better take a look at this.”

The detective and several of the officers came hurrying over. Danny took off his hat and stared at the nearly full truck.

“Check the other trucks,” he said to Johansson. The officers each took a truck and soon they began calling out their findings. When they were done, only six of the trucks were empty, and the rest had cargo left in them. Some of them had obviously not been touched.

“I don’t get it,” Johansson said, scratching his blond head. “I mean I’d get it if the guys who stole all this stuff wanted to use the trucks, but why steal a truck and just park it with everything still in it?”

Alex had a thought and pulled out the list Callahan had given him. Scanning through it, he found the rolls of denim, bales of cotton, cans of lamp oil, a crate of cast iron toy cars, paper napkins, and other things that didn’t seem to have any real value. There were, however, some things that stuck out. A dozen spools of heavy gauge copper wire, a truckload of magelights, assorted construction equipment, and building supplies.

Folding up the list again, Alex walked along the rows of trucks, looking at the company names. He stopped when he got to one labeled, Masterson Tool & Die.