The four steel harpoon cables sang in the freezing rain.
It was a terrible, high-pitched vibration, like piano wire tightened until the bronze core began to stretch.
Across Old Ferry Road, the yellow diesel crane truck revved its six-cylinder engine, belching oily grey exhaust into the mist. Anchored to the truck’s bed was a massive hydraulic winch, its geared spool winding four two-inch braided steel cables tight against the upper cornice of Starlight Mart #04.
Creak-groan.
Red brick dust showered down from the parapet, washing into the gutters like dried blood.
High above the front doors, the green-and-gold OPEN 24 HOURS neon sign hummed, its glass tubes shivering in their rusted brackets. If that winch drum turned another half-rotation, the entire front facade of Store #04 would peel off like wet cardboard.
Behind the plate-glass window of Register 1, Julian Vance, Lin Mei, and Dr. Beatrice Hahn were on their knees. They had the counter drawers pulled onto the floor, thumbing through stacks of brittle 1996 title deeds under the beam of a UV lamp.
“They’re tearing down the brick!” Mac barked, kneeling behind the front left tire of the Route 04 Night Bus.
