Crush - Alan Jacobson [148]
They took off in that direction, trying to keep an eye on Mayfield while watching for hidden ruts, low barriers or other structures that would lay them out face down on the ground.
Dixon pointed. “Over there, by the opening in the wall—”
They ran forward, across the grass and through the stand of thick-trunked trees. In the shadows of the dim lighting hanging from various points of the castle wall, the trees looked eerie, like witches ready to pull their roots from beneath the grass and start walking.
They pulled up against the high, rough hewn brick wall. Vail peered around the edge. “Clear.”
They fell in, through the opening, which was a back lot of the castle, with machinery and stainless steel white wine casks arranged against the far wall of the large square. To their left was another building constructed of the same materials and architecture. By the looks of it, it was a miniature castle all its own, perhaps a private residence for the winery’s owner.
Vail and Dixon moved into the square and squatted to get a better view of the area. There were only a few places where someone could be hiding. Mayfield didn’t have enough of a lead on them to sprint across the lot to the stainless steel casks. And he couldn’t have made it to the residence. But to their right, twenty feet away, was a service entrance into the castle.
Two heavy, ornate wood doors were swung fully open, inviting them in. As they approached cautiously, Dixon’s phone rang. Dixon mouthed “Brix” to Vail, who pressed forward.
Dixon remained where she was and answered the call. “We’re at the castle, around back,” Vail heard as she moved into the room. More stainless containers stood on thick metal stands, hoses coiled on the cement ground beneath them. Metal steps led up to a catwalk, where workers could presumably monitor the huge vats of Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc.
Vail knelt down and swept the area, then proceeded forward up a couple of steps . . . into the castle. Immediately to her left was an ornate plaza, with dim lanterns providing enough light to be romantic—and authentic—but far from useful when conducting a foot pursuit of a serial killer.
Clearly, that was not in the original designers’ plan when they sketched out the lighting requirements for the facility. Shame on them.
Vail heard a noise behind her—swung around hard—and saw Dixon.
She leaned in close toward Vail’s ear. “Brix and Agbayani are here. They’re coming in through the front. Cruisers are in the lot, making sure he doesn’t leave with his car.”
“I wish that was comforting, but there’s a lot of rural real estate out here. I’m not sure we caught a break when that cruiser forced him off the road.”
Dixon’s head was turned, taking in the area in front of them. “There’s an iron fence that surrounds the property, so if we don’t get him in the castle, it’s not likely he’ll be able to get away without going past one of our people.”
“Even armed, I’m not sure a one-on-one confrontation will be to our advantage.” Vail pointed with her Glock. “You go left. Into the plaza. I’ll go right.”
Dixon nodded and Vail headed down a stairwell that sported slightly improved lighting—but opened into what appeared to be a gift shop. A large armored knight exoskeleton stood guard to her right, against the wall. To her left was a series of catacombs, all illuminated with mood lighting. Filling the main space and directly ahead was a well-camouflaged sales counter and tasting area. Two women stood there, one pouring wine for a husband and wife and the other exchanging a charge slip with a customer.
Vail stepped forward, her pistol by her right thigh and her badge now clipped to her belt. She unfolded her credentials, held them up and played show-and-tell. “FBI. Have any of you seen a bodybuilder come through here dressed in gym clothes?”
The two women and the couple shook their heads. “Okay, leave what you’re doing and get out of here. Move to the