We’re trapped,” Junior said.
“We have to get out of this room, or we will be,” Gunny said.
Gunny, Junior, and Delia dashed out of the room. “How will we get down?” Delia whispered. “They’ll see us if we use the stairs.”
“The elevator shaft!” Gunny said.
“But there’s no elevator,” Junior hissed.
“Who needs an elevator?” Gunny said with false bravado. He had no idea how he was going to get them down safely, but Junior and Delia were counting on him.
He peered down into the shaft. The metal sleeve had been installed and the sides were sleek. Nothing to grip there. He glanced around and spotted a coil of rope. He wasn’t sure how strong it was, but it would have to do.
He raced over to the rope and wrapped an end around one of the exposed beams, tying several strong knots. He yanked hard. The knots would hold even if the rope didn’t. It was a start.
He uncoiled the line as he raced back over to the shaft, then dropped it down. It didn’t reach all the way, but it would get them close enough to the ground.
Junior sat at the edge of the shaft, about to go down the rope when Gunny stopped him. “Let me test it first.”
There were voices now on the stairs. The gangsters were heading their way.
“No time!” Junior disappeared down into the shaft.
The sudden weight made the rope go taut, but it held. Gunny guided the rope to keep Junior from smacking into the metal sleeve of the shaft. Junior quickly made it down.
“Climb on,” Gunny told Delia. He knelt down so she could wrap her arms around his neck and hang on his back.
He gripped the rope and slid over the side, just as the first of the gangsters reached their floor. He hoped the gangsters didn’t spot the rope, but with all the materials strewn about, he thought they might not notice. At least, not right away.
Gunny clutched the rope and planted his feet against the shaft walls, trying to take some of his weight off the line. Delia gripped his neck so tightly he was afraid she’d strangle him, but he didn’t want her to slip. Even so, her body dangled and swung as he moved down the shaft, keeping him off balance.
Then he felt his load lighten.
His heart caught and his head whipped around to look for the girl.
Panic turned to relief as he saw that Junior had reached up and grabbed her, and they’d made it safely down to the ground. Now they just had to make it out of the building.
Gunny ran over to where they had hidden Jed. “You okay?” he whispered.
Jed looked pale, but he nodded. Gunny worried that perhaps more than his ankle had broken.
“We have to get you to a hospital,” Gunny said. With Junior’s help he should be able to carry Jed out of the site and into a taxi.
“Where’s Junior?” Delia whispered.
Gunny turned and peered into the dark space. She was right. Junior was gone.
He’d gone in pursuit of Ambrose.
“Delia, you go for the police. I’ll stay here and make sure Junior and Jed are okay.”
Delia looked uncertain.
“It’s the most important job of all,” Gunny told her. “Hurry! Get them here as quick as you can.”
Delia gave a sharp nod and ran out of the construction site.
“One child safe, one more to go,” Gunny muttered.
He dashed back up the stairs and stumbled to a stop. Junior had pulled Ambrose onto one of the beams jutting out beyond the edge of the building. There was nothing but the night sky behind them. Junior held the gun to Ambrose’s head. Which explained why the two thugs stood backed up against a wall.
“Junior,” Gunny said evenly. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing!” Junior raged. “I’m getting a confession out of this good-for-nothing.”
Ambrose licked his lips. Fear obviously made his mouth dry. “Calm down, sonny boy—”
“Don’t call me that,” Junior snapped.
“All right, all right.”
“Confess!” Junior insisted.
“Yes! I did it. I killed your father.”
“But why?” Junior moaned.
“To send a message to Marvin, who was in much deeper.”
Junior’s face quivered. Gunny couldn’t tell if the boy was about to weep or explode. Probably a little of both.
“You killed my father!” Junior said, his words a stream of barely contained rage. “You terrified my mother and my sister. You were probably planning to kill Delia and me! You have to die.”
Junior cocked the gun.
“Wait!” Gunny shouted. He wanted to talk Junior out of this, but he knew the moment Junior faltered, the gangsters would shoot. How to get them out of this alive?
“Send your goons away,” Gunny told Ambrose. “Then we can all have a talk.”
“We’re not leaving the boss—”
“Go,” Ambrose ordered. “Don’t want to make the boy more nervous…”
Reluctantly the gangsters began to move. “You stay where I can see you,” Gunny told them. “Or I’ll tell Junior to shoot Ambrose myself. Head downstairs. In plain sight. Shouldn’t be too hard with all that open space and no floor.”
Gunny waited until the goons had placed themselves where he’d asked. He knew they weren’t out of the woods yet—with all the open areas, they could easily still shoot, but at least they would have a tougher time hitting Junior.
“So, we good?” Ambrose asked nervously. “You gonna let me go back over to that nice floor over there where there’s a wall?”
“Shut up!” Junior shouted. ”“You’re never going anywhere again!”
“Junior, listen to me,” Gunny said calmly, taking tiny steps along the beam toward Junior. “Your dad didn’t want you hanging around with Ambrose because it was a mistake he made himself. It was because of Ambrose that your father got himself into trouble.”
“Another reason to kill him!” Junior said.
“No!” Gunny inched forward. He stepped onto the girder. Don’t look down, he told himself. He couldn’t help it. The gangsters on the floor below peered up, shocked expressions on their faces.
Gunny wrested his eyes from the floor below and forced himself to sound calm, as if balancing on a twelve-inch beam stories above the street were something he did every day. “Don’t let Ambrose force you into making bad choices. Don’t let Ambrose turn you into someone like him. Someone who settles scores and kills without thinking.”
Another step closer. Another step. Another.
“Let the cops handle this,” Gunny continued. “We all heard the confession. It’s over for Ambrose. Your life is just starting—don’t let Ambrose steal it from you.”
He was only an arm’s length from Junior and Ambrose now.
“Be the man your father knew you could be.”
Junior wavered. His arm slowly lowered. He looked down at the gun in his hand. He looked up at Gunny.
Then he handed Gunny the gun.
The moment he did, there was a movement below. The gangsters were pulling out their weapons!
Gunny crouched on the beam, gripped an edge for balance, and took aim.
But he couldn’t pull the trigger. The same as when he’d been in the army. He just couldn’t shoot!
With frustrated fury he hurled the gun as hard as he could into the stack of aluminum pipes stored beside the gangsters. The impact knocked the lightweight pipes out of their stack. They spilled out all over the floor, knocking over the gangsters.
Sirens suddenly wailed. Ambrose’s head whipped around at the sound, and it threw him off balance.
“Yeeeah!” he shrieked. His arms windmilled as he struggled to keep his balance.
“No!” Junior reached out to grab Ambrose.
“Junior!” Gunny cried.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but Gunny knew it was only a matter of seconds.
Ambrose fell backward off the beam. Junior stumbled as he tried to save him and fell face forward onto the beam, then lost his grip and dangled over the side. Gunny lurched toward Junior, landing on his stomach, and gripped Junior’s ankles.
And felt himself being dragged closer and closer to the end of the beam.