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“Melvin, help me with these shelves.”
Together the two big men moved the heavy shelves out of the way with the food still stacked on them. When they were done, they were staring at a seemingly blank wall.
Decker hit every angle and corner of the wall with his light. He got down on his hands and knees and felt along the bottom where the wall met the floor.
Lancaster was shivering. “Can we hurry this up before I get hypothermia?”
Decker stood and faced the wall. “I don’t see a button or anything like that. That would be too risky anyway. Someone comes in here, sees it, and pushes it to see what happens. Your secret is out.”
“Like the floor, I don’t see any break in the wall, Decker,” observed Mars. “If there’s a door hidden in here I just don’t see it.”
Decker looked back at the shelves they had moved. “With those shelves in front and food stacked on them, no one would be able to even get close to the wall.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
Decker put his palms against the wall. “It means that maybe the wallisthe door.”
He set his feet and pushed. The entire wall easily rolled back. Revealed off to the left was a door. He opened the door: there was a set of narrow steps going down.
“Open sesame,” quipped Mars.
They went single file down the stairs and came out into a darkened space. Decker shone his flashlight around, as did the others.
The space held desks, maps on the wall, computers, telephones, racks of clothing, thick binders, and other pieces of equipment. On one side of the room, a long curtain had been drawn around a space about six by ten feet. The lights suddenly came on and Mars and Decker looked around to see Lancaster standing by a light switch.
“I don’t like the dark,” she said, turning off her flashlight.
Mars and Decker put away their flashlights and gazed around.
“Holy shit, what is this place?” asked Mars.
Decker strode over to a desk and looked down at the items lying there, next to a piece of machinery.
“They’re making IDs here.” He picked one up to see a young man staring out from what was a Virginia driver’s license. The name on the license was Frank Saunders. Born in 1993 and with an address in McLean, Virginia.
“This guy I saw working at the restaurant as a wait staff ‘trainee.’ Only his name, I was told, was Daniel, not Frank.”
Mars held up a stack of credit cards in one hand and sets of American passports and birth certificates in the other. “Okay, I’m no expert, but these damn things look genuine.”
Lancaster had drawn back the curtain to reveal what looked like a rudimentary operating room and was now standing next to a gurney. She pointed to an array of surgical instruments lined up on a table. Next to that was a portable high-intensity light. And next to that were oxygen tanks and an IV stand with empty bags hanging from it. Lined up against the wall were a variety of medical monitoring instruments.
Lancaster exclaimed, “Okay, this is freaking me out. They’re operating on people down here?” She pointed to the large sink set against the wall. “Maybe that’s where they scrub up before doing whatever the hell they do.”
Mars was looking at the racks of clothes. “They got everything here, for both men and women.” He picked up a wig. “Including these.”
Computers were set on each desk. Stacks of paper sat next to the computers. Decker picked up the top page of a stack.
“What is that?” asked Lancaster, coming over to him.
“It’s a list of forty cities across the country. There’s an X next to each city.”
He pointed to the maps on the wall. “These documents might correspond to the red and green pins on those maps. Looks like they have pretty much every major metro area covered.”
He picked up another piece of paper. “This reads like someone’s bio. Birth information, background. Work experience. Marital status.”
He looked down at the bottom of the page. He read off, “Gardiner and Associates.”
Lancaster said, “Brad Gardiner?”
