Blood Orchid

58

Holly walked through the woods with Daisy, keeping roughly parallel to the road, toward where she remembered the building to be. There had been two floors of administrative offices, she recalled, then the basement with vaults.

She saw the building through the trees and brush sooner than she had expected, and she realized that she was approaching it from the rear. She began to work her way to her left, in order to circle the building and see what was happening on the front side. Noise became a factor now, and she made her way slowly through the woods, keeping Daisy on a short leash and being as quiet as possible. Soon, she could hear voices.

There wasn’t much in the way of conversation, just grunts and a word or two here and there about work. Holly turned more to her left, lest she come upon them too quickly and be spotted.

Finally, she moved past a corner of the building and could see what was taking place out front. Two men were unloading the van and moving the contents inside the building. This time there were no boxes, but an odd collection of old briefcases, suitcases, and trunks, all strapped shut with duct tape. Some could be carried by one man, others required a hand truck.

The unloading was going slowly, and this was what was causing what little conversation there was, mostly complaining. Holly wanted to see inside the front doors of the building, so she continued to work her way to the north, giving the parking area a wide berth. Once she had covered some ground, she could see three cars parked in the lot, all of which had been screened from her view by the van. She could see through the open doors of the building, too.

Not that there was much to see. The two men were loading the cases and trunks into an elevator. Then one of the men got on with them and pressed a button. The doors closed, and the lights above indicated the car was going to the basement. That left one man dealing with the remaining cargo.

Then Holly saw something that interested her. Half a dozen cases had been unloaded from the van and were waiting to be carried inside. The one man left was struggling with a footlocker-sized trunk that seemed to be very heavy, and next to the rear of the van sat a good-sized plastic briefcase-like the others, taped shut.

Holly turned to Daisy. “Down, Daisy,” she said, and the dog lay down. She dropped the leash on the ground and, holding up a hand, said firmly, “Stay. Stay, Daisy.”

The dog looked at her and waited for a further signal.

Holly turned back toward the van; five yards of woods and twenty yards of parking lot separated her from it. The man was still struggling with the footlocker-the hand truck must be in the elevator, she reckoned, and the other man would be unloading the elevator in the basement. She worked her way left, until the van was between her and the second man, then she moved as silently as she could through the brush and ran for the van.

Reaching it, she stood beside the left rear wheel of the vehicle so her feet would be hidden from anyone on the other side who happened to look under it. She could hear the man dragging the trunk into the building. She darted her head out a foot, then back again. Through the window of the rear door, she caught a glimpse of the building’s doorway, and the man could no longer be seen.

She got down on her knees and peeked again; he was still inside the building. Quickly, she crawled under the open van door and grabbed the briefcase. As she did, she could hear footsteps from inside the building, and they were coming toward her. The man had taken his burden inside and was returning for more. Holly flung herself and the briefcase back under the door and behind the van.

She sat by the rear wheel, hugging the briefcase and pulling her knees up as far as they would go. She felt the van move as the man went inside for more cases. Now was her best chance. She got to her feet and ran for the woods, lugging the briefcase, which was surprisingly heavy.

“Hey!” a man’s voice yelled.

Holly dropped to the ground, holding out her hand, signaling Daisy to stay.

“Hey, give me a hand with this trunk, will you?” the man called again.

“Just a minute,” came the reply.

“What’s the holdup?”

“I thought I had another piece here, but I can’t find it.”

“What do you mean, you can’t find it?” The first man’s voice was louder now; he was coming out of the building.

“It was right here at the rear of the van, a briefcase. I know it was here.”

Holly inched her way toward Daisy, who waited four or five yards from her. Then she heard a very unwelcome noise-an electronic chime. Her cellphone was letting her know that its battery was low. She dug into her pocket and got it free just in time for it to chime again before she could hit the off switch.

“What was that?” one of the men said.

“What?”

“I heard something, like a little bell.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shut up and listen.” Both men were quiet for a minute.

Holly had stopped moving, afraid of making even a tiny noise. Her left hand had fallen across a trail of ants, and now they began to bite. She rubbed her arm as much as she dared to get them off.

“I swear to God I heard a little bell-like thing,” the first man said.

“Do you hear it now?” his companion asked.

“No.”

“Do you hear angels singing?”

“What?”

“If you do, it’s because I’m about to kill you if you don’t start unloading again.”

“Oh, all right, here-take this one.” The normal noises of moving the luggage resumed.

Holly began to crawl toward Daisy again, rubbing her arm against her clothes to kill the ants, who were stinging like crazy now. “Stay, Daisy,” she whispered as she crawled past the dog, putting yardage between herself and the van, moving the heavy briefcase before her.

She moved another five yards before she chanced a look over her shoulder. The van was no longer visible. She got to her knees and signaled Daisy to come. The dog trotted to her, dragging her leash, which made noise.

Holly hugged the dog, catching her breath, then took her leash in one hand, the briefcase in the other, and, in a crouch, put some more distance between herself and the van.

Finally, when she reckoned she was sixty or seventy yards away, in deep woods, she stopped. She lay the briefcase on its side and reached into her pocket for a miniature Swiss army knife she always carried.

She opened the large blade and slit the duct tape, then holding a hand over each, opened the latches. She raised the lid and looked inside.

“Good God,” she said.