The Ghost of a Chance (Krewe of Hunters #38.7)

Chapter 3

Jackson understood how people could work in the sewers and not know about the sewer tunnels built to use the deep channels in the earth that had long ago been part of the Underground Railroad.

Time—and waste matter—could do a number on the earth, no matter what.

But down here…

Well, the captain was right. They had followed a main line for about a block. Then there was a small break in the wall—one Jackson had barely managed to squeeze through. That had led to an overflow tunnel.

And the fetid water had risen past his waist.

But then they reached a hole in the old wall. Jackson had to hold his breath and soak himself to get through it, but then David pointed.

A slope led upward, and there was no water at what appeared to be the top—and solid roofing.

“There,” David had told him. “It’s been years—years and years—since anyone tried to get through. But these days, it just looks like shelves built into the wall on the other side. You’ll have to push hard and then hike yourself up into the space. There’s a small opening, like a supply closet, that will take you behind the bottom of the office shelving.” He paused, studying Jackson. “You look like you can manage it. I want to go ahead. That way, I’ll know what’s happening now, and if…”

If anyone has been killed.

“It’s a good plan, David, thank you. You need to know, Angela will be able to see you. I need you to tell her to keep playing it the way she’s been doing. That help is on the way. She’ll understand you’ve reached me or another Krewe member—”

“Krewe?” David said, sounding puzzled and a bit worried.

Jackson shook his head. “It’s the professional title for our unit of the FBI. According to most people, we’re the ones sent in whenever something about a case hints at the occult, witchcraft, or anything strange. Some of the other agents call us the ghostbusters . Our scientists have figured out that it’s a genetic talent in only about two percent of the population. We can see the souls who have remained on Earth for whatever reason, whenever they want to be seen.”

“Ah. So…yes. That makes so much sense,” David said. “Some people shiver, and some—through the decades—have seen me. I tried earlier. I tried and tried until I found you. I guess I found the right person. But I wonder if…”

“Yes?”

David smiled and shook his head. “I wonder if that’s why I’m still here. I’ve seen others go. I wasn’t murdered, my descendants have lived good lives, and…well, I’m still here. But we’ll talk later. Let me get up there and talk to Angela.”

“Go. I’m right behind you,” Jackson said. “And I’m in decent shape—it’s required for my job. I should be able to manage the physical part of it, but then we’ll have to figure out the best way for me to proceed once I’m in there.”

“I’m gone,” David told him.

And he was.

Jackson continued through the sludge.

He hesitated once, noting there were two ragged holes in the wall. He knew which way he was going, yet he couldn’t help but allow a few seconds of curiosity as he regarded the other hole.

Where did it lead?

It was stygian within, yet he couldn’t help but notice that his phone’s light seemed to glint off something white.

Like bone.

Maybe he’d been doing his job for too long.

He forged on, heading up the ramp that led to the old entrance to the bank from the tunnels.

Once upon a time, the bank had probably been something else. Maybe a home, a business, or someplace else where those who had escaped slavery could enter the world and become masters of their own destinies. It was something the world continued to work on to this day.

Time did a number on all things. Jackson struggled to see just where the latch to the secret entrance might be. When he discovered and pulled on it, it left him in dismay.

Even metal rotted and gave way with time.

But he could see where the opening was supposed to be and wedge his fingers into a tiny gap.

And…

He looked around at the residue of soot and…other stuff…left behind when the water rose and receded and found a couple of pebbles.

He got them wedged in and pressed and pulled, warning himself not to waste his energy on frustration but to keep trying, seeking…

Life itself might depend on his ability to gain entrance.

Angela was good.

But no matter how good she was, she might fail if someone in the bank wasn’t there for the money but because they were excited by the prospect of a kill.

He forced himself to be calm and work at what he was doing.

Finally… finally…

The ancient wood began to give way. It broke apart and fell around him.

But that didn’t matter.

He pushed with all his strength against the modern wood paneling within the office and felt it suddenly give way.

After all, it had been built against an ancient trap door, leading to what once might have been the unknown, except to those who had so desperately created the tunnel, the doors, and the path to freedom.

Maybe, just maybe, history and time had created a path for him to the incredible freedom of life itself.

But he had to be careful. Careful and quiet. He managed to slide his legs through the opening, grip with his calves and hands, and hike himself up. He understood how no one in the office knew about the strange entrance into what was now the bowels of the sewer. Once opened, it was little more than a cubby at the base of the floor behind the shelving, covered until he had broken the old latch, the wood, and the insulation.

But now he was in the assistant manager’s office. He had managed to get in without sounding the alarm.

He stood still, listening. Nothing. Of course, he didn’t know where those who had been in the bank were now.

David would find him here and give him an update.

Now…

He just had to hope his stink wouldn’t alert anyone to his presence.

David came in as Jackson surveyed the room, contemplating his next move.

“I know you can’t speak out loud, but I’m decent at lip reading,” the ghost assured him. “At this moment, everyone is all right. The people—including the guards—are in the safety deposit box vault. Angela is in the back with Billy Mendelson, packing bags with the right bills. Apparently, Kenneth wants twenties and fifties, and none with sequential serial numbers.”

“ What is this Kenneth doing ?” Jackson mouthed.

“Watching. Just watching. He has the gun. Billy isn’t armed right now. He’s working with Angela to get the proper bills he wants to steal into the suitcases. When I first entered…” David paused, frowning.

“What?” Jackson whispered.

“He was on his cell phone.”

“A burner phone, I’m sure,” Jackson murmured.

David shrugged. “It can’t be just the two of them. There must be someone outside waiting. Maybe with a getaway vehicle—a car, van…truck. Probably a car. Something that can disappear into traffic.”

Jackson nodded, indicating for David to watch the door. He moved to the back of the office, the farthest from the door, and dialed Bruce McFadden.

Bruce answered immediately. “Standing by a pole across the street,” Bruce told him. “Everyone’s aware that hostages’ lives are at stake. They’ve given our unit lead, but we have the local police out here, too. Nicely scattered. No one is obvious.”

“Good. I’m in,” Jackson told him. “And a friend is in here with me—a great guy you’ll need to meet. He’s reporting to me on what’s happening. He said he believes there has to be a third person—or maybe even a couple of people—involved in this on the outside. Someone ready to take off when they finish the robbery.”

“My eyes are open. And Will Chan and Kat are in the rear. They’re pretending to be on a date, enjoying shakes while sitting on the hood of a car just outside that ice cream shop down the street. If there’s a getaway car in the back, they’ll see it, and patrol will get a roadblock going,” Bruce told him, then hesitated. “You haven’t been able to get to Angela yet?” he asked.

“David is watching her—the guy I mentioned,” Jackson told him.

“And,” Bruce added quickly, “she knows what she’s doing.”

“Right,” Jackson agreed. He took a breath and glanced at Captain Clancy’s ghost. The man vigilantly watched the door, and Jackson found himself wishing he had known him in life. He must have been a force: a strong man against the odds of his time, but one who fought for those who needed help and was kind to the innocent.

Jackson made a decision. He had to lure Kenneth to the office.

And make him disappear.

He wondered dryly if his smell alone was enough to kill.

* * * *

Angela heard the tapping sound that seemed to be coming from the front of the bank.

But it wasn’t like someone knocking on a door.

It sounded like drapery moving in the wind, or as if something caught on a cord had slipped or fallen and was just lightly tapping against a desk or a floor or something.

She kept at her task, sorting cash as she had been directed, taking the piles that Billy approved of and setting them in one of the cases.

Kenneth had been keeping a close eye on her.

And his gun was still aimed her way.

Almost as if daring her, Billy had set his weapon down, but he’d done it near the door.

Near Kenneth.

Naturally, both Billy and Kenneth heard the sound. Billy paused and stared at Kenneth with a frown.

“What is that?”

Kenneth shook his head. “Probably nothing.”

“And we’re certain no one has tried to get in yet?” Billy asked him.

“Hey, we’re not the only eyes on the place,” Kenneth said. “No one is trying to get in. A few people have come by, but walked away when they saw the sign. They’ll find another branch.”

“But we need to hurry. We need to get out—”

“Fill the cases. Remember, no new currency, no easily traced serial numbers, and no big bills,” Kenneth snapped.

“Move faster!” Billy yelled at Angela.

“I’m trying,” she assured him.

The tapping noise had stopped. Then, it started up again.

“What in the hell is that?” Billy demanded.

“Nothing, just a dangling cord or some shit,” Kenneth snapped back at him. “Get your gun. Watch her. I’ll check it out.”

Billy did as he’d been ordered. He picked up his weapon and aimed it at Angela.

Kenneth left them, walking the hall and pausing by the vault with the boxes to make sure everything was secure before moving toward the offices at the front of the bank.

They saw him step into a room.

“Billy,” Angela said quietly, “you know this bank—or your friend Kenneth does. There’s one door in front and one in back. And if anyone touches either of them, an alarm goes off. Thank God no one has tried anything. You two can get your money and get out—”

“With you. You do realize that, right?” Billy asked her.

“If I’m a human shield, then so be it,” she said.

“You’re awfully accepting. But you know, this is a bank, not a home. People value money way more than they do human life. If the cops come after us, it won’t be me who shoots you. It will likely be a cop.”

“I’m going on faith, Billy. I’m going to believe that we’ll leave here and drive away. And when we’re far enough away—”

“We’ll let you go? Is that what you’re thinking?” he asked her.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Angela asked him.

“Oh, come on. You can’t be that na?ve. You can tell the cops what we look like—you can even tell them who I am.”

She might have pointed out that everyone in the bank could probably do that, but there was no sense in putting the other hostages in any worse danger than they were already in.

“I won’t tell.”

“Don’t you watch TV? Everyone says that—in every crime show known to man. And they never mean a word of it.”

“Okay.” She put the money she’d been gathering back on the table.

“What are you doing? Hurry it up!”

“Why? If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I help you?”

He frowned for a minute and waved the gun at her. “Hope,” he snapped, then shook his head, his voice a bit broken when he added, “hope. Don’t you think I hoped that someone would come and save my parents until the very last minute? I mean, that’s only human, right? You hope something will happen, and that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be saved.”

She stared at him, trying to keep him distracted.

She knew something now that he didn’t.

She had help. Jackson knew exactly what was going on. She knew her husband and partner. He’d realize they’d be risking the lives of everyone in the place if they burst in with guns blazing.

He was planning something.

And she knew they also had help that Billy and Kenneth couldn’t even begin to imagine. She didn’t know who the strange ghost was, but she knew he was helping them.

Keep packing money! she told herself. Keep at it, keep at it.

She picked up another pile.

“You know, Kenneth was right. That note on the door was brilliant. I mean, everyone knows computers can have glitches. And, boy, when they do… They can really mess things up. The note was smart. People might be aggravated because they just wanted to run into the bank, but they’ll believe the note. You know that whole thing…technology is great. When it works.”

“Yeah, that’s Kenneth,” Billy muttered. “Flippin’ genius.”

He looked down the hall.

Angela couldn’t see what was going on, but since Billy was looking, she thought maybe he could see Kenneth—see where he was, what he was doing.

“I guess he checked the front,” Angela said. “But seriously, I mean, think about it. People see the sign and walk away. We all know there’s a front and a back door, and both doors have major alarms if anyone tries to jimmy them.”

Billy shivered suddenly as if a cold blast of wind had hit him.

Angela quickly realized it wasn’t wind. Billy Mendelson had what they referred to at the Krewe as sensitivity. He couldn’t see or speak with the dead, but he got enough strange senses to know when a spirit was around.

The tall, handsome man in what appeared to be Victorian dress, had come down the hallway, entered the room, and walked right by Billy, thus giving the boy that strange shiver.

“We need to get out of here,” Billy snapped. “Get going with the money. Come on. Please, hurry. Look, I really don’t want you dead. But Kenneth will kill you. We need to get out of here and safely. If we can get far enough away, make the right connections…maybe, just maybe I can figure out a way for you to live.”

“I’m hurrying,” Angela said, frowning slightly at the ghost, making a pretense of working with the money as she looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

“It’s Jackson,” the ghost told her. “Jackson is in here. And he’s trying to lure Kenneth to him. Hopefully…well, right now, the guy is wandering around, searching for the sound. But I believe there will be a way… I believe Jackson will get Kenneth. But he wanted you to know what was going on so you’d be prepared.”

She nodded slightly and quickly asked Billy, “You are a good man, Billy. You’ve had a brilliant past. Yes, you dealt with unimaginable pain, but this isn’t you. How on earth did you wind up with a monster like Kenneth?”

“You don’t understand. You’d never understand,” Billy said.

“I’d like to try,” Angela told him.

He shook his head. “People like Kenneth…even when you do what they say, you may not live.” He looked straight at her. “It’s a miracle you got him to let those people live by locking them in the vault.”

“No one fought him. No one was doing anything but obeying him,” Angela said. “I take it he really wants all this money. I assume you plan on heading out to an island somewhere, or a country without extradition to the United States,” Angela said.

Billy shrugged.

She wondered if he knew what Kenneth’s end game was.

The ghost spoke softly to her again.

“Kenneth is going to head into that office any second. I’m going to tell your husband that I’ve let you know what’s happening.”

She’d have given her eyeteeth to understand how Jackson had gotten into the bank, but this wasn’t the time to ask.

The ghost slipped away.

Seconds after he did, Billy looked down the hall, frowning as if confused.

And it seemed as if he’d forgotten about Angela.

He turned and took a step toward the office.

Jackson was in that room.

Seconds, just a few more seconds…

Angela knew if she was going to act, it was now or never.