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“We do have weapons, but they’re for a good reason,” she insisted. “Please open the door and we’ll explain everything.”
The guy grunted.
“If you’re really here for a legit reason, you’re both gonna have to prove that it’s safe to open this door. And there’s only one way I can think of to satisfy me of that.”
Kat looked over at Gila, who had an expression of disgust on her face. Nonetheless, they both removed their guns and placed them by the door.
“Now step back about twenty feet and turn around,” the guy said.
They did as instructed. Moments later, Kat heard a bar slide and the giant door creak open. They turned around to see the man step out and grab the guns. He was huge, easily six and half feet tall and likely over 275 pounds. He even made Mitch look like a normal-sized guy. He was bald but had a long, red beard that reached down to his mid-chest. If he wasn’t a bouncer, he should have been.
“What now, Red?” Kat asked.
“My name is Harvey, not Red,” he told her as he placed the guns on the ground inside the door. “And now you tell me why you’re really here. If I buy it, I frisk you, then maybe let you in. But before any of that happens, I want to know if you're cops. If you are, you have to tell me. And if so, you’re not allowed in without a warrant.”
Kat briefly considered just telling him the truth. Hunting for a serial killer was good justification for wanting entry. But the truth was often hard for people to believe. Even if Harvey accepted her story, she doubted he’d just let her wander through an underground clinic, suspiciously eyeing everyone in sight. She needed a grittier, more credible reason.
“We’re not cops,” Kat assured him, taking a step forward. “I’m a private detective. This is my associate. That’s why we have weapons. My client’s daughter ran away with her boyfriend the other day, but she called her mother last night, saying he had beaten her, and she wanted to come home, but he wouldn’t let her. He was going to take her to an off-the-books clinic to check her arm, which she thought was broken. I did some asking around and heard this might be a place they’d go. I just want to check for her and see that she’s safe. I’m worried the boyfriend is holding her against her will. We just want to do a walk-through to see if she’s here.”
“I didn’t see any girl with a broken arm in there,” Harvey told her.
"Were you here last night?" Kat asked, taking a few more steps forward. "Because unless you were here when she came in, how can you be sure if she's around? Maybe her mom got it wrong, and it's a shoulder or a wrist. Maybe she had other injuries and isn't walking around with a cast on. Maybe she's in bed. You could be right. She might not be here. But there's only one way to make sure."
“Stop right there,” Harvey instructed.
“Yes, please stop right there,” Gila growled at her.
But Kat kept walking. She sensed that the guy wasn't going to let them in, and if he shut that door, they'd be out of luck. This was her best shot to locate Haddonfield, and she wasn't going to let it slip away.
“I mean it, lady,” Harvey barked. “I’ve kicked the ass of women smaller than you.”
"You would really assault a woman trying to help an abused girl?" Kat demanded, now only steps from the guy. There was no way he could close the massive door before she got to him. Instead of trying, he stepped out toward her and put a huge, meaty hand on her shoulder, freezing her in place.
“I said stop,” he snarled.
Kat was tempted to make a move but got the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t need to.
“You too,” he ordered to Gila, who was clearly moving as well. Kat couldn’t see what the bodyguard was doing behind her, but based on Harvey’s eyes, she was getting close.
“Take your hand off her,” Gila instructed, her Israeli accent more pronounced now that she was obviously angry.
“Step back—,” he started to shout but before he could finish the sentence, Kat saw a palm extend, popping him sharply in the throat. As one of his hands went to the pain point, the other loosened on her shoulder and she instinctively knocked it away and stepped to the side, sensing that Gila wasn’t done. She wasn’t.
The bodyguard stepped forward just as Harvey seemed to be regrouping and kicked him hard in the shin. He howled in pain as he reached out in an attempt to wrap his immense arms around her. She dropped down, rolled elegantly under his hands and past him. Now behind him and on her butt, she kicked him in the back of the knee. It buckled and he dropped to the ground just as she popped back upright. He was on his knees when she gave him a palm punch to the kidney, sending him slumping forward, barely able to get his hands out in time to stop himself from collapsing face-first on the ground.
“Get the guns,” she ordered as she lifted up his shirt and pulled out the handgun in his waist holster. Then she gave him a swift kick in the rear that actually did send him sprawling onto the asphalt.
Kat picked up their weapons off the ground as Gila pulled the metal door shut, then dropped the barricade bar into place. She tried to look through the window opening in the door but had trouble, even on her tiptoes.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” she suggested.
Kat handed the woman her gun, then stepped over to the window. At five-foot-seven, she had a good four or five inches on her bodyguard and was able to see out, where Harvey had rolled over and was now struggling to gather himself before getting up.
“Just hang out there for a bit, Harvey,” she said. “We don’t intend to cause any trouble. Like I said, I just want to check on this girl. Then we’ll be on our way. But please don’t send anyone else after us. It won’t end well.”
Gila nodded.
“We better hurry,” she said. “I didn’t grab his phone and he will be calling inside any moment.”
