The Cold Road (Book 1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

James mounted the steps of the sawmill, one hand holding onto his flashlight while his other held his Glock. A walkie-talkie sat clipped to his shoulder, the receiver on low. He whispered into it as he crept up to the door. 'Franks, get a squad and head over to Belberra's house right now. Forget about coming here. Send Heinrich and one or two cops. Lindsey Perette was murdered in the sawmill and I believe a suspect is still inside. The rest of the groupmustbe at Belberra's. Over and out.'

He turned the radio down and pushed at the front door. It swung open, the blackness within swallowing him whole. Cautiously he turned on his flashlight and shone it around. The entrance was deserted. Nothing had changed since his last visit all those years ago. Except someone had taken pains to sweep the sawdust from the floor. The floor glistened in the light from the remains of the water used to mop it clean.

James stepped in, turning his light this way and that to secure the area. His face was a tight mass of determined muscles set into a scowl. Around him, giant machines loomed, casting darker shades. He wound around them, following a path through the maze where the floor still glistened. Ahead of him lay a set of stairs leading up to the control deck. Just past them lay another leading to a basement he remembered was used as storage for spare parts. He headed straight ahead. Checking the door of the control room. It was locked.

The door to the basement swung open and he descended the stairs. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. Along the wall sat stubs of candles. There was the strong smell of blood. James could taste it when he opened his mouth and breathed in. He closed his mouth and swung the light around. A metal bed sat in the middle of the floor, it lay in ruins.

The floor was covered in sawdust. A mass of shuffled footprints, indistinguishable, covered the floor. Here and there were scattered droplets of blood, leading from the bed and up the stairs. None of the room had yet been cleaned. James froze, his body stiffening as he held his breath. Someone was slowly going through the building and cleaning it of evidence. The only exit was the door at the top of the stairs. Despite having a gun, the room was not a safe place to be. It was a trap, one way or another.

Quickly, taking the steps two at a time, and being careful to be quiet, James hurried back up and retreated away from the basement. Someone was still in the building.

In the silence of the mill, a gently tapping could be heard when James focused. A metal against wood. It came from above, taping gently as if swaying. With each tap, it came closer, moving along the catwalk. James dived into the shadows. He had to wait for back-up, but what back-up was safe? Franks? He was to go to Belberra's and guard it. Heinrich was a scientist; did he even know how to fire a gun? James supposed he did, everyone knew how to fire a gun in town. Would he carry one though?

The tapping stopped and James could hear his blood pounding through his body as he waited. The tapping stopped halfway across the catwalk. James peered up into the dark, trying to make out who was the source of the noise. It was too dark. There was too much light at his feet.

James's breath caught in his throat. His light was still on. Even from behind a machine, the light would have been visible from above. Cursing his stupidity. He swung the light up, his glock resting on top, and shouted, 'Damascus PD, put your hands up and stay where you are!'

The light illuminated the empty catwalk above him. A mop leaned against one of the rails. James swore again, swinging the flashlight back and forth. The upper floor was deserted. 'Fuck!'

He rushed from his spot, hit the stairs with one foot and tumbled up them in his rush. The empty mill echoed with the noise and he jumped in surprise at the loudness of it. He hurried along the catwalk, feet stomping on the grates towards the door at the far end.

He passed through the doorway and heard the sound of footsteps pounding away in the dark. They stopped at the far end of the building. As James hurried towards them, he was suddenly blinded by a bright burst of light. He stumbled as he snapped his head back and closed his eyes at the pain. He opened them to a blinding, fuzzy room. Someone had turned the lights on. Disorientated he tried to jump to the side to cover and found himself falling to the floor. He hit the top of a machine, crawled off the edge and dropped low behind the massive bulk, blinking hard. Seconds later his eyes adjusted to the change.

Turning his light off, he slid up the side of the machine and peeked around the corner. The room was quiet. It stretched away in front of him. A large square. Lined on either side by two log presses that took in the trunks of trees and split them in half. On his side of the room sat the remains of trees that had been brought in, already stripped from their branches inthe previous room. Once the trees were cut in half, they would be separated and sent off to be sawed into their respective planks or different sizes.

'Damascus PD!' James called out again. 'I know you're in here. Come out with your hands raised above your head where I can see them.'

Silence. Shit. What did he expect would happen?

A roar to his left cut off his thoughts as the machine next to him sprang to life. The sound was deafening, and James clamped his hands over his ears. He hurried backwards, around the other side of the machine, one hand clamped to his ear while the other held his gun straight ahead. He swung around the machine and hastened along the wall towards the control panel at the end. It had been broken open and all the switches had been turned on. He flicked off the ones for the machines and was satisfied to hear them wound down, grinding angrily as the rusted gears rotated for the first time in years.

With a sigh, James stepped quietly forward, heading around the machines until he had covered the whole floor. It was empty. His suspect must have made a break for it while he was distracted with the machines. He had to return to the catwalk.

He stopped at the top, overlooking the floor. There was a flash between the machines and James spun, following the movement he saw from the corner of his eyes. The figure rushed into the downstairs offices and James gave chase. Behind him, the machines roared back into life. All of them. He reached the office and looked down. The floors were in sudden chaos. The machines that had rested so long shook the building. Dirt and sawdust spat up and swirled in a mini storm. The trunks of trees that had been placed in the machines before they had been turned off now chugged through. They came out the other end, spitting out even more sawdust that made it almost impossible to see anything.

The noise was deafening. James felt his ears throbbing as he searched the room for a spare set of protective glasses. The only pair he found, one of the glasses was so scratched it was impossible to see through. He put them on anyway; they would at least keep the dust out of his eyes and help a little.

As he turned from the locker, a body barrelled into him and they both went flying into a desk. They smashed through, hurtled against the door, and collapsed in a heap.

James's walkie-talkie slid across the floor and stopped under a bench. He pulled himself to his feet, hands empty, his gun and flashlight gone. The lights in the office turned on and James barely had time to react as the body slammed into him again, arms around his waist in a tackle.

James hit the floor, the wind knocked straight out of him. He lay gasping on his back, stars blurring his vision. The arms around him released as the man jumped up. The man lashed out with a kick to James's side. James cried out, curling his body to protect his sides. The man came down with another kick to James's unprotected back. Turning, James tried to protect himself from the flurry of kicks brought down on him.

The man stepped back, breathing heavily. Through blurred eyes, James stared up at the masked figure above him. The man removed the mask and Belberra stared down, a sneer on his face. 'You came sooner than expected, boy.'