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“No, once the order’s canceled, it’s canceled. But you can call and get back in at the end of the line. With any luck, we’ll be back before Christmas.”
“Christmas? That’s over a month away!”
“Tell me about it. Our backlog is crazy. Oh, almost forgot.” Bauer removed a pen from his pocket. “I need a name.”
“A name?”
“That’s what my boss tells me. If a customer turns us away, I need the name of the person who told us to leave. That way, if the customer calls back and complains, we can prove we were here and identify who told us not to do our work.” He poised the pen over the work order. “Your name?”
The tall brownshirt considered this. “Fine, just come in. The service entrance is around the corner.”
Here we go, Bauer thought as he returned to the van and brought it around to the service gate. Don’t screw this up.
36
THOMAS BAUER DROVE THE truck through the wide gate, and the guard closed it behind him, effectively locking him inside the property. Bauer killed the engine and grabbed a toolbox from the truck’s side panel.
The guard slipped a key into the service door and turned the knob. Bauer followed him in.
“You are beginning a service appointment this late?” the guard asked.
“We’re working day and night,” said Bauer. “This is our high season. Let’s start with the boiler.”
The guard led Bauer down a long set of stairs. The basement was a stone tunnel, the walls painted a garish yellow. The scent of fried food and grilled meat filled the air. The Brown House had its own cafeteria.
“My name’s Goran, by the way,” said Bauer.
“Karl. Here we are.” Karl the guard removed a key ring latched to the left side of his belt. He found the correct key and slid it into the lock.
With Karl’s attention focused on his keys, Bauer crept closer, his focus on a different ring of keys latched to the right side of the guard’s belt. “You guys lock your boiler room?”
“We lock everything here.” Karl turned the key with a loud jolt and shoved the heavy door open, just as Bauer squeezed the latch and liberated the smaller key ring from the guard’s belt. He shoved the keys into his pocket.
Inside, the heat was nearly overpowering. The room held three identical steam boilers, each as tall as Bauer, each in the approximate shape of a pentagon. The arrangement of the various valves and center latch gave the impression of three ugly metal faces staring back at him.
“You think the problem is with the boilers?” asked Karl. “They sure seem like they’re working.”
“That’s where you always start.” Bauer set down his toolbox. “You look at the rotator and crossover valves, you check the pressure pump for efficiency, then you have the circulator pipes—”
“That’s fine. I’ll wait in the hallway.” The guard fanned his face with his clipboard. “I don’t know how you guys can stand working in this heat.”
“You get used to it.” Once the door was closed, Bauer removed from his pocket the small key ring. He slipped off one particular key—bearing the engraving A.H.—and placed the key ring, minus the one key, on the floor.
Then he angled between two boilers, shuffling his feet until he reached the back of them. He removed a cigarette case from his left pocket. But there was no tobacco inside. The case was lined with modeling clay.
He placed the key carefully but firmly into the modeling clay and made three impressions of it, each side and a vertical. He wiped off the key with his shirt and returned to the entrance area of the boiler room. He gently placed the A.H. key back on the key ring, laid the key ring back on the floor, and squatted down by the gauges on the front of the boiler.
A moment later, Karl burst back into the room. “Did you—oh. Oh, never mind. How did that happen?” The guard picked the key ring up from the floor.
“How did what happen?” Bauer asked without looking up from his work.
“Nothing.” The guard latched the chain back onto his belt.
“I can already tell this is going to be the rotary valve,” said Bauer. “You know what a rotary valve is?”
“I have no idea.”
Good, because neither did Bauer. He’d heard the term before, something to do with gas pipes. “It ensures the induction pipe circulates the steam into the proper valves,” he said, which sounded good enough. “But I don’t have one in the truck. I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”