Super Pulse (Book 4): Defect Page 20

  “I don’t think they guard anyplace but the bridges,” Levan said. “They never thought of it. They’re a bunch of amateur clowns. All show, but they don’t know what they’re doing, except for shooting and beating up defenseless people. I’m right on the bay in the Water Factory all the time and I never see anybody.”

  “So maybe that’s the place to do it,” Nick remarked.

  “No, it ain’t,” Levan said. “What I mean is I don’t see anybody guarding the shore of the bay. But they’re on the bridge right next to my shop. And they’re always watching the water.”

  “Now I’m lost,” Lou said.

  “Is Matt in there a lot?” Nick asked. “Your Water Factory, I mean.”

  “He was only there once that I know of,” Levan told him. “But he’ll probably be there more after we get started. I wouldn’t try to cross there, though.” He looked at Lou. “See, my factory’s practically under the Albany Avenue drawbridge, which is crawling with guards. Or thugs, that’s what I call ‘em.”

  “Okay, so first things first,” Squid said. “We need some boats. They shouldn’t be hard to find on the mainland side of the bay. Then we need to pick a place to cross. A place where we can set up a beachhead on the other side.”

  “A what?” Nick asked.

  “A safe place to hide out once we’re across,” explained Squid. “A base camp, I guess you could call it. A place where we can protect ourselves if it comes to that.”

  “Got it,” Nick said.

  “Levan, we could really use your help on this,” Squid said. “None of us know the lay of the land in there. And we surely don’t know what we’d be dealing with once we got across. Or who. Are you in?”

  Levan thought it over for a moment. “At first I was gonna’ say ‘No.’ I’m back in my hometown now, even though there’s not much left of it. But they killed my brother, and he died ugly. If I can get some payback for that, I might be interested. Besides, I do have a lot of friends in there. Can we help ‘em get out, too? ‘Cause then I think I’d go along with this. I got nothing to lose anymore.”

  “They’re, like, holding people against their will?” Dewey asked.

  “No, not exactly. They don’t care if these people stay or go,” Levan said. “Or if they live or die.” He paused. “But the ones I’m talking about have no way of getting out. They don’t have any boats. And if they ever showed their faces at one of the bridges to get out that way, well, the bodies would be hittin’ the pavement left and right. So these people are trapped. It’s not cool.”

  Squid nodded slowly, and then patted Levan on the shoulder. “I’m going to take that as a ‘Yes.’”

  ~~~

  Levan drove carefully up to the barrier on the Albany Street drawbridge, not sure what to expect when the guards, who watched him depart with Chappy earlier in the day, saw that he was coming back alone. They had to know there’d been trouble just by the condition of the van, which was charred and scorched on the passenger side. His story was credible, but he wasn’t part of the ruling class in Atlantic City by any means. There were several different ways this could go.

  “Where’s Chappy?” the first guard said after circling around to the driver’s side window. “In the back, coppin’ some Z’s?”

  “He’s not here,” Levan said, immediately wishing he’d simply answered “Yes.” “We got attacked. He was outside the van, and he got shot.”

  “What?” the guard asked. “Say again?”

  Before he could repeat it, a second guard rapped on the passenger side window with the barrel of his pistol. “Hey!” he asked, gesturing at the damage to the side of the van. “What’s this all about? It didn’t look like this when you left!”

  “Why don’t you get out and tell us what happened,” Guard One said. He waved at somebody from the other side of the bridge, but nobody appeared. Somehow Levan was relieved at that. He had enough to deal with. That self-inflicted bump on his head hadn’t been fun, but it was about to pay dividends, he knew as he exited the van and employed an affected limp as best he could while moving across the bridge to join the two guards.

  “It was simple,” he said. “We found all the water we could want, over in Egg Harbor. Then, when we were coming home, somebody took a shot at us. I was driving, so I pulled over. Chappy jumped out and they burned him up with some gas bombs.” He pointed at the side of the van. “They hit the van with some of them.” Only now did he begin to embellish, his voice becoming taut and higher-pitched. “Then they started comin’ at me. I could see Chappy was gone. He was burned to a crisp. All I could do was get out of there myself. And save the van, too, you know?”

  “I thought you said he got shot,” Guard Two said skeptically. “Gas bombs? What the heck is that?”

  “I don’t know!” Levan said. “I could smell gas burning. Like gasoline for a car.”

  “Sounds like a Molotov cocktail,” Guard One said. He’d already inspected the side of the van. “It looks like that’s what hit you. Probably got Chappy with it, too.”

  “They’re not gonna’ like this,” warned Guard Two.

  Levan wasn’t sure who “they” was, but it didn’t sound good for him. “Nothing I coulda’ done different,” he said with more self-assurance than he felt. “They should be glad I saved the van. And we found water, too. That’s what we were after in the first place.”

  “They’ll probably wanna’ get your story on this,” Guard Two said.

  “Bring it on,” Levan told him. “I got nothing to hide.” He looked back at both men, who finally had nothing more to say. “So, like, what, do I leave the van here? Or where should I take it? I don’t want to keep it with me, but I gotta’ get back to work.”

  The guards looked at each other. “We’re on duty,” Guard One said. “You’ll have to deal with it yourself. You know where the lot is?”

  ~~~

  Once they gave him some directions, Levan knew exactly where the lot was. It turned out they stored the vehicles, or at least this one, at the former Municipal Center. Besides the Atlantic City Police Department headquarters, the building had housed the city courts back in the day. Levan had been forced to make several visits there over the years. Most of the time he’d deserved it. Under other circumstances, he’d have laughed out loud if somebody had asked him if he knew how to find it. Right now, though, he wasn’t in the mood for humor.

  As he drove up Atlantic Avenue he thought about how his destination was in the shadow of The Tropicana, same place where the new water guy was being held. His family, too, if they’d been part of the deal. That was no surprise; it was turning out that for whatever reason, the Trop was the new seat of government in Atlantic City. This was the kind of information his new friends were interested in. Since he hadn’t mentioned it earlier, he filed it away and kept his eyes open for anything else that might be of use. Because even though he wasn’t sure what they were planning, he was all in.

  There was nobody in the lot when he pulled in, but he saw eight or nine trucks and vans parked in a row. He wondered how many of them still ran. After parking, he stepped out onto the pavement and nearly crashed into a small man who’d appeared out of nowhere. “Sorry, man,” Levan said. “I didn’t see nobody when I pulled in.”

  “You the guy who went out with Chappy?” the man asked. “I thought he’d bring it back in himself. He’s the one who signed it out.”

  Levan didn’t see any reason to say any more than necessary. As luck would have it, the man hadn’t even seen the burned side of the van, so there was no need to explain that. “The guards on the bridge told me to return it,” he told them truthfully. He held out a key. “Here you go.”

  “Just slip it back into the ignition, will ya’?” the man said. “That way we don’t lose them.”

  That was definitely the kind of information Squid, Nick and their gang was looking for, Levan knew as he reentered the van long enough to slide the key back into its slot on the steering column. The lot wasn’t exactly unguarded, but kno
wing they wouldn’t have to seek out the keys was going to make recovering their property a lot easier. His mind was racing as he left the lot. The next time he met up with them he’d have plenty to tell them, and he knew they’d be interested. He hoped it would be soon.

  There was one more stop to make. Getting into the Tropicana and talking with Matt and his family wouldn’t be a problem, he didn’t think. All he had to do was tell anybody who tried to stop him that it was official Water Factory business. After he quietly updated Matt and asked him what he wanted to do, he’d send word back to Squid and Nick. Matt’s response would go a long way to determine what events would fill his next few days for Levan.

  ~~~

  Upon returning to the Water Factory after meeting with Matt, Levan fired up the stoves and prepared to cook another batch of water. It was all about keeping up pretenses. Nobody would be suspicious as long as the water kept flowing, even if there was still salt in it. A few hours later he had a few barrels ready. The timing was close. Too close. But when his delivery boys came a few hours later, they had something to take with them when they left. And that meant that he’d bought himself and his new friends some precious time.

  Twenty-three

  “Yeah,” Nick said, “Of course I’ll bring ‘em across to the mainland if that’s the plan. But after that I’m going back to take care of some business. That’s not negotiable.”

  “Why would you go back?” Squid asked.

  “Because everybody back at Tabernacle blames me for—just about every bad thing that happened,” Nick answered. “And maybe they’re right. All I know is the people across that water stole from us. I’m gonna’ get some of it back, or die trying.”

  “Like, they won’t take you back anyway, dude,” Dewey said. “Just an FYI.”

  Nick laughed. “Thanks, buddy,” he said sarcastically. “But seriously, that doesn’t change things. If I screwed up, I’ll try to fix it even if it doesn’t do me any good.”

  Squid nodded his approval. “Okay. I understand that.”

  “How about you?” Nick asked. “You have even less skin in the game than I do. Why do you care enough to risk yourself for this? None of this has anything to do with you.”

  “I already told you I’m looking for somebody,” Squid said.

  Lou looked over without a word when she heard this. She and Plankton had been probing unsuccessfully for weeks about what Squid’s intentions were, and what motivated him. Now, in a single sentence he’d revealed as much to somebody he’d met just a day earlier as he’d ever said to either of them. She could be resentful later; now she only wanted to satisfy her curiosity. Squid and Nick were only a few feet away. As she listened, she wondered if Squid had forgotten she was there, or if he no longer cared about keeping his secrets. Somehow that mattered.

  She was sitting on a plastic milk crate next to the fire they’d built in the parking lot of a strip mall where they’d set up camp. Technically speaking, they were actually in Ventnor, in the mainland portion just across the bay from Atlantic City. Chosen by Squid, it was an ideal headquarters from which they’d launch their rescue mission in the coming days. It was close enough to the shoreline, but not visible from across the water. When bedtime came, they would all cram into the aisles of the looted ACME grocery store and open up their bedrolls. It would be the first time in a while sleeping with a roof over their heads. She was looking forward to it. As exhausted as she was, however, she was glad to be in just the right spot for eavesdropping and wasn’t going anywhere yet.

  “And you think he’s in there?” Nick asked, waving generally towards the city.

  Squid shrugged. “Well, I don’t honestly have a clue,” he replied. “But it’s the only place around here where I know there’s a concentration of people. So it’s a good place to start. At least I might find somebody who knows something.”

  “Seems like a longshot,” Nick said.

  “It’s all I got,” Squid answered. “Hey, everybody’s back, right? Did we get everything we need? I’d like to have one last meeting tonight to go over our plans.”

  ~~~

  Two days later, in mid-afternoon when there usually weren’t many guards around, Matt led his family out the door of the room they’d occupied for several weeks. If the guards had looked closely they’d have noticed that each of them was wearing nearly every article of clothing they owned, with every pocket bulging. But they hadn’t looked closely at all. Their only concern was that they were all leaving the apartment together, something they’d never done before, but Matt had an answer for that.

  “The kids need to get out and breathe some air,” he told them. “They haven’t been outside for weeks. We’re gonna’ check out the Boardwalk.” As he spoke, he waved his family along to the stairway door, hoping to give the impression that he wasn’t asking for permission.

  “Hey, wait,” one of them protested. “Nobody told me nothing about this. You can’t—”

  “Talk to Rollie about it,” Matt interrupted. “He’ll tell you. We’re not prisoners. I’m here to help, but I’ll take my family out for a few hours if that’s what I want to do.”

  Two others had stood up when the Shardlakes appeared, but the first guard, who appeared to be in charge, put his hand up to keep them at bay. “You bet I will,” he growled at Matt. “And you better stay close by. We’ll be coming after you before long.”

  Matt knew that wouldn’t happen. Despite appearances, security in the building was lax. Attention spans were short. Unless Rollie could be tracked down within three minutes, nothing would happen. All he had to do was get out the door.

  The timing was important. Matt knew that around five o’clock a new shift of guards would go on duty throughout most of the building. None of them kept records; sometimes he wasn’t even sure they knew how to read or write. The toughest part of all of this was getting the family out of the building. After that it would be easier.

  “I don’t hear anybody following us,” Ellie said after they were in the stairwell, each holding the hand of a son.

  “Me neither,” Matt said. “And it’s not like they can call downstairs and tell them to grab us. I think we did it. But we might have to put on the same show when we get all the way down.”

  There was nobody at the bottom to interfere, though. In fact, there was nobody there at all. Matt led his family through the faux Cuban market square and outside, and then to Iowa Avenue, which ran from ocean to bay. “So far, so good,” he said. His eyes combed the debris in the street looking for a weapon. He settled on a jagged metal pole that was a little too long for his tastes but was the best he could find.

  They walked only a block, to the Baltimore Grill at Atlantic Avenue. “This is it,” he told Ellie. Getting inside was a simple matter, given that most of the glass had been bashed from the doors a long time ago. Matt led the way, maneuvering his would-be lance through the doorway and into the restaurant. He wanted to reassure Ellie that Levan had vouched for their safety in this place, but decided not to. They’d already had that conversation, and she’d accepted it. “How do you think we get upstairs?” he asked instead.

  Before long, after wandering cautiously around the deserted restaurant, they were safely ensconced upstairs in one of the apartments. They chose the unit with the door that still locked, just in case it wasn’t as safe as Levan had thought. Matt wanted to stay longer, but he couldn’t afford the time. He had to get to the Water Factory, exchange some information with Levan, and then get back to the Trop at his regular time so as not to arouse suspicions. It would take minimal effort to conceal the absence of his family in the apartment, he was sure. The ruse only had to last for one night.

  ~~~

  “What are you doing here?” asked the grumpy man who came out the front door of the Municipal Building. Levan was glad it was the same Neanderthal he’d returned the van to the day before. At least he didn’t have to explain who he was, even if there was no affection between the two men.

  Levan was going off-sc
ript with this one. He didn’t see how it could do any harm, except he might lose his life if it didn’t go as expected. But who really cared about that? He wasn’t sure that he himself did anymore. “I need the van back,” he said. “I told Rollie we found some fresh water, so he told me to go get some and cook up a clean batch.”

  “Nobody told me nothin’ about this,” the vehicle attendant said sharply. “But nobody ever tells me nothin’. Can you get Rollie over here to, you know, tell me in person?”

  “You wanna’ wake him up?” Levan asked. “I don’t. It’s not even six o’clock yet.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “The only thing worse than wakin’ him up would be not lettin’ me have the van,” Levan said. “You wanna’ go against his orders?”

  “No, but—”

  “Hey, you know I’m not jivin’ you,” Levan said. “I just returned it myself the other day, remember? Come on, we’re wasting time here!”

  Minutes later, after badgering the attendant into submission, Levan pulled onto Atlantic Avenue. The key had been in the ignition, right where he’d left it a day earlier. After driving a few blocks he pulled off onto a side street, cut the engine and popped the hood. He didn’t have a lot of time. That attendant hadn’t been convinced that everything he’d been told was above board, and he was going to talk. As quick as he could he walked around to the front of the van, where he propped the hood up. Working mostly by feel, he located the wire that supplied power to the left headlight and yanked it out. Had he not been able to unplug it, he’d have either snipped the wire or simply smashed the headlight with the heel of his boot.

  When he was back behind the wheel he made sure to turn the remaining headlight on before resuming his journey. That, one headlight on and one off, was the identifier for his new team. There was no guarantee that it would keep him safe, but with any luck it would at least protect him from friendly fire.

  There was nothing left for him in Atlantic City now. He’d sold out, and a lot of powerful people knew it. Not that he had any regrets. He hated the people who ruled the city, and he’d be glad to get out. Hopefully he still could. With any luck he could take a few of the city bosses out along the way. Short of that, at least he was leaving with one of their most prized possessions, one that he was about to return to its owners.