through the framework. There wasn't much to see. Beyond the bleachers were rows of floor seats. Essentially, all that they had was the view of legs and the backs of chairs.
"I want a better look," Heron said and Smith nodded in agreement. Together, the two men moved forward until the scaffold like structure pressed down too far for them to walk. Then they cut to the left where there was a break in the structure a few feet away. Like the spot in which they'd entered, there was no passage forward here. Their only way out would be to climb the supports and lever themselves up into the audience. Heron reached up and lifted himself. As he poked his head through the break, he saw two men, one on either side, looking down at him. The first man was a stock broker if he was anything at all. He was wearing a brown suit with a funny red tie. He stared at Heron in surprise, his eyes bulging behind the lenses of his glasses. The other guy was much larger and scowling. There wasn't much room for Heron and Smith to squeeze in.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Just watch the show," Heron answered, pulling himself all the way up. A moment later, Smith's head appeared through the crack.
"What is this, a fuckin' party?" the man complained.
Heron pulled out his badge and showed it to him.
"Is that supposed to scare me?"
"It's supposed to remind you to show a little respect. After all, we're here to protect you."
There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to find Smith trying to get his attention. He was pointing at the ring. They were pretty far down, which left them only a few rows from the floor. There were several rows of chairs, but they were all below them, giving them a clear view of the ring. On their end, facing away from them, was a line of zombies, each bound and gagged. Four zombies, unbound, were in the ring attempting to square off against a man in what looked like pajama pants and no shirt. At first, Heron's view of the man was blocked, but as the zombies cleared the way and the fighter took his first strikes, he could see very clearly that it was Francis Culph.
"I'm not really surprised," Smith said.
Heron scowled. "He said he needed money. I wonder how long he's known about this place."
"What do you want to do?"
Heron looked at the ring, then looked around the arena. There was so much that he wanted to do, but he wouldn't be able to do all of it. Once Culph knew there was a police presence in the building, he'd clear out quickly. If they went straight to Culph and tried to arrest him, then the ringleaders of the operation would clear out just as quickly. Which was more important?
"Do you see that?" Heron asked, pointing behind them to the second floor. "I want to check that out."
"You're sure?" Smith asked, looking longingly back at Culph. He hadn't liked Culph. Few of the men had. He'd been friendly enough at first, but as time went by, the layers had stripped away. Truth to tell, Heron probably should have seen the end of that road long before they reached it. But he had chosen Culph and he had adopted him as a surrogate partner. His own attitude had blinded him to Culph's most obvious, and most dangerous flaws. And now here he was with the opportunity to, in some small measure, make it right. But still he felt a loyalty to the young man. So, in response to Smith's question, he nodded his head, and turned his back on the murderer.
***
TOBY was in the corridor waiting impatiently when Arrick appeared with the four zombies in tow. Arrick could sense Toby's apprehension. It was a bit contagious.
"You better take off," Toby said to him.
"Hmm?" Arrick asked. "Why's that?"
Toby nodded at the zombies. "Exit strategy. Didn't Marcus tell you?"
"He told me there was an unscheduled fight."
Toby laughed. "I'll say. Crowd versus
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland