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“Not saying that’s what it was,” he replied. “Just what I heard.”
While Remi and the guard talked, Sam quickly looked around, taking everything in. If nothing else, it confirmed in his mind that this was not an operation that an old man with memory problems could handle on his own. Three men following him, however . . . “You seem to have a good grasp on everything around here. If it was an inside job, how do you think they set it up?”
“Couldn’t say for sure. Interesting thing is, we had a couple of alarms go off more than once the nights leading up to the theft, including last night. If they stole the car that quick, why not take it last night when no one was here?”
“Convenient,” Sam said. “You think they were setting things up?”
“Figured that at first, but what went off was a pressure alarm beneath the car. The car wasn’t moved.”
“Maybe figuring out how to move it?”
“Possibly. The first night that alarm went off, they came in through the north door, on the other side of the building, then back out the same way. Whatever those blokes were doing around that car, it had nothing to do with timing the theft from here.”
“Maybe because they already knew how long it’d take?”
“About as long as it took to bring it in. Roll these walls back, roll the car out, open the bay door. Not a lot to think about there.”
His cell beeped and he pulled it out, reading a text message. “Sorry, but I’ve got to cut the tour short. Duty calls.” He walked them back to the side door, opening it for them. “I’m sorry about your cousin’s uncle. I’ll keep an eye out. Still, I’m going to have to ask you to head up front. The back here is closed to the public.”
“We appreciate your help,” Sam said, leading Remi that way. The moment the guard disappeared inside, he and Remi made a beeline for the back.
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As they left the convention center, Sam said, “It’s highly possible that Albert was kidnapped, because he went back to the car as it was being stolen.”
“Possibly,” Remi said. “Or maybe he saw it and tried to follow.”
“If we can figure out how they got it from the premises without being seen, maybe we can find him. If we’re lucky, they took him with the car, let him out somewhere nearby.”
Sam stepped away from the building for a better view of the surrounding area. The fire trucks were long gone, and the crowd milling near the building had thinned considerably. He and Remi walked toward the far side of the arena, where a truck was backing into one of the loading docks, the sign on the side reading Charles F. Goodland Trucking. A moment later, they saw the same security guard coming out the door, holding a clipboard, his attention on the driver, not them. The service road that circled the convention center widened near the loading dock, allowing the trucks to back in and out. A high razor-wire-topped fence separated the property from the outside neighborhood. There were also four similarly topped gates leading to streets in the neighborhood, the chain links woven with slats to block the view. If he had to guess, they were strictly for emergency access and kept locked at all times. He and Remi walked to the closest gate and he peered through its slats, seeing rows of garbage cans lined up against it. On the other side, a thick rusty chain with a padlock hanging from it secured the gate. Although both lock and chain looked intact, the space was too narrow for them to reach through and make sure it hadn’t been tampered with.
“If they got out,” Sam said, “it was through one of these gates.”
They turned back, walking toward the convention center’s entrance, still crowded with people waiting to get into the car show. When they reached the entrance, Remi nodded toward the road on the left. “I know we discounted this road earlier because the fire trucks were blocking it, but Albert could’ve walked in that direction on his own.”
“Good idea.” Judging from the direction of the rooftops, the road appeared to go in the general direction of the convention center’s service area. “Maybe we’ll figure out which gate that truck used and which direction it took off in.”
They followed the stretch of road, the buildings on either side mostly industrial, the doors shuttered, and no cars anywhere. From the looks of it, this area closed up tight on the weekends, and for a while the only thing they heard was their own footsteps. After several minutes, though, they picked up on an odd echo, and Sam unzipped his jacket for easy access to his gun.
Remi looked back, seeing nothing but the empty street. “Sounds like we have company.”
“Since we turned the corner.”
She linked her arm through Sam’s, glancing behind her once more, before casually leaning her head on his shoulder. “Lovely.”
“Whoever it is, they’re not worried about anyone hearing them.”
“Good news or bad?” she asked, as they walked faster.
“Considering that they seem to have picked up the pace? I expect we’ll soon find out.”
The road forked in front of them.
Sam scanned the street on both sides, searching for a position of defense. A catwalk between two buildings on their left caught his eye, and he took Remi’s hand, leading her that direction.
As he and Remi neared the alley, he looked back, seeing one of the men from the train following. They emerged into the alley behind the buildings. On their left was the high razor-topped gate leading to the back of the convention center, the rusty chain cut, merely hanging there, but the fence appearing secured. On their right, two more men from the train walked quickly toward them. The good news: they now knew how that truck got off the grounds without being seen. The bad news: they were trapped.
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