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I shone my flashlight on the back wall of one of the bedroom closets. Tabby poked and prodded.
“It’s been plastered over,” she said. “The bottom half used to hinge down. There are rungs on the wall that lead up from below, like a ladder. Scramble up, crawl through, out the window onto the fire escape and drop to the building next door. It was something of a lark to us.”
She sighed softly. I tapped the wall.
“It doesn’t sound like very thick plaster. There may be laths behind it, but we could break through if we had a hammer or mallet.”
“And bring somebody running with the racket,” Tabby said.
I was thinking.
“Do you have a watch?”
Tabby blinked at me. “Yes, of course.”
From one of what I now could see were numerous pockets on her jacket, she produced a man’s wristwatch. It had a dial that glowed in the dark.
“There’s a train due in ten minutes, assuming yesterday didn’t throw everything off,” I said. “A long one with freight.” I knew because it also passed within a block of my office, and I’d watched it a time or two. “As close to the rail yards as this is, it’s bound be noisy.”
“Yes! I’d forgotten. Some of those freight trains made such a racket they’d drown out the band.”
“And somewhere I saw a hammer. On top of a crate, maybe down on two.”
“Look for it. I’ll be behind these cartons sketching a schematic of the passage so you’ll have an idea what you’re going into.”
***
Trying not to feel like a duck in a shooting gallery amid the mirrored walls of the second floor, I made my way quickly through rows of benches and boxes. I spotted the large wooden crate. Not only was there a hammer on its partially open lid, a crowbar lay on the floor beside it. The crowbar could serve multiple uses. I took both tools.
When I got back, Tabby was sitting cross legged behind the cartons. One hand held her flashlight, the other a stub of pencil. I crouched beside her.
“Here’s the back of the closet.” Her finger began to trace what she’d drawn on the pasteboard. “The rungs are set close to the wall, so make sure your foot doesn’t slip. They’re iron, not wood, thank goodness, but some may have rusted. Test before you put your weight on.”
If we were discussing breaking down a wall to get to the ladder, I knew it couldn’t lead directly into the hidden space behind the bar.
“What’s at the foot of the ladder?”
“A space big enough for two or three people squashed together. Facing the ladder is a sliding panel. It opens directly into the hiding place.”
“The place where we saw light.”
“Yes. There’ll be a hand grip on the left with a latch that lifts up.” She hesitated. “At least that’s how I believe it works. I never actually had occasion to go in this way, only to come up.”
We looked at each other.
“If it means surprising whoever’s inside, it’s worth a try. How much time?”
“Until the train?” She checked her watch. “Two minutes.”
“So I’ll be coming straight into one end of the narrow room. The entrance at the opposite end is the sliding panel?”
“Yes.”
“So that entrance faces the bar.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning I’ll come in at right angles to a guard or guards.”
“If they’re facing what they believe is the only entrance. At least that’s what I’d do.”
“Me too.” I got to my feet. “How wide’s the room?”
“Four feet, maybe five.”
She’d meant it when she said narrow. No matter where Tremain was, he’d be in the line of fire if there was shooting. My guess was he’d be at the end where I came in. I hoped to heaven he wouldn’t be right where I’d lose precious seconds getting around him.
Faint, but growing in volume, there was the sound of a train. I went into the closet and picked up the hammer. When the train noise was too loud for conversation, I swung the hammer. Bam-bam-bam-bam.
A half-dollar sized chunk of plaster fell out. I swung harder. Bam-bam-bam-BAM. Another chunk, a small hole, and maybe the feel of something giving. That was all. I needed a sledge, not an ordinary carpenter’s hammer. Panic set in.
Tabby reached for the hammer. I shook my head. I motioned for her to step back and picked up the crowbar. Holding the shaft like a bat, with the solid part of the crook turned toward the wall, I swung. My batting aim hadn’t been great in softball, but when I connected, I connected hard. I did now. Again and again.
Palm sized holes appeared as chunks of plaster fell. A lath was visible. My next swing splintered it. I wasn’t making fast enough progress, though. Top volume from the train wouldn’t last long. I jammed the crook of the crowbar under the lath and hooked it around, then slid it up so its middle was in back of the lath.
“Grab the other end,” I shouted at Tabby.
She gripped the shaft. We tugged and rocked. The lath gave way. Falling plaster exposed one ten inches below it. I clobbered it a couple of times to weaken the middle. Then the two of us attacked it too and it snapped.
I battered away at a third, but had to stop for breath. Tabby picked up the hammer. Bam-bam-BAM. Bam-bam-BAM. She whaled away at one side of the crack I’d made in the wood and a piece broke off. She repeated it on the other side: Bam-bam-BAM. Bam-bam-BAM. As the noise of the train began to diminish, she was matching the sound of the rails. I made the crowbar into a bat again, nodded for her to step clear, and picked up her rhythm.
We took turns, whittling away weakened edges, widening what we’d begun. By the time further work became risky, we’d made a hole large enough for me to squeeze through. We both sat down panting.
“When you’re down, flick your light off and on. Then I’ll come down,” Tabby said.
“No.” I flexed my hands. The spot where I’d dug the splinter out that morning burned. “Once I have my footing on the ladder, I want you to leave.”
“No.”
“You said I could call the shots.”
“Sometimes I lie.”
Maybe we were alike.
“A space as small as we’re talking about, you’ll get in my way. If you want to help, leave, wait ten minutes, and call the police.”
“And if you go down and the latch down there doesn’t work? You have no idea how to trigger the one at the bar and get in that way.”
I could have slugged her. Instead, I stood up and checked to make sure the .38 was secure in my pocket since I would need both hands going down.
“Fine. Wait for me behind the bar in case I need to get in that way, then. But if you hear shooting, clear out and get the police. Agreed?”
She didn’t respond.
“Agreed?”
“Yes, fine.”
I got on my knees by the hole in the wall and stuck one leg through. The angle was awkward, but finally my toe found a rung of the ladder. I got my other leg through and managed something that passed for a foothold. With Tabby holding my shoulders, I drew an arm through and caught onto a rung. Then, testing my weight on every step, I started down toward a door that might or might not open.
Cobwebs caught at my legs.
Lots of cobwebs.
I’d had my fill of cobwebs.