“We got seven hours and no warrants,” I said.

“Just out-of-town badges and an expectation of cooperation.”

“Okay then,” I said. “We go light and fast. You split up the list of buildings as I drive. When we get to Atlanta, let’s be sweet as pie to any building security.”

35

By six-forty a.m., I had checked six buildings off my list, starting with SunTrust Plaza, at the tallest.

I’d badged security and night watchmen, and so far, each had shown me the roof, or their security center. Some had even helped me search it.

As I walked out of the W Hotel, I thanked the guys in charge and told them to keep up their vigilance.

My phone rang and it was Remy, who had taken the structures along Centennial so she could work on foot, going building by building, while I explored the places that were farther away and required the truck.

“I’ve cleared six so far,” I said to Remy on the phone. “I’m heading down near you, by the plaza. Check the Coca-Cola building and the parking garage by the aquarium.”

“Ten-four,” Remy said. “I’m walking up to Ivan Allen Jr. Blvd.”

There was a crest of orange on the morning horizon, and I was thinking what I’d thought the night before when I got Abe’s note about the shooter being in Alabama. That it would be good to be wrong. That I’d rather be tired from searching these rooftops in Atlanta than sorry that we hadn’t explored them and something bad had happened.

When I got down near the Coca-Cola building, I talked to security and they inspected my tin.

They assigned me this old-timer named Cecil, bone thin and white with wavy hair.

“How long have you worked here, Cecil?” I asked as we walked. The guy was older than dirt.

“This location, ten years,” he said. “But for Coke—a half century.”

Cecil moved like a turtle, and I pulled up alongside him. He smiled at me, but didn’t accelerate. He’d been around so long he probably knew the secret recipe for Coke.

We took a freight elevator up to the roof.

The top of the place was enormous, but I could immediately see that there was no one up there.

“Where to next?” he asked.

“What about the parking garage?”

“That’s not technically part of Coke, but we can go over there. It’s closed now, you know.”

“Let’s do it.”

Cecil’s left leg started getting gimpy, and it slowed us down more. We walked what seemed like a football field before getting to another elevator. Took it up to the fourth floor. Another cavern.

There were no cars parked in the lot, but we weren’t at the top level. “What’s above here?” I motioned at the concrete ceiling.

“It’s closed off right now.”

“Can we check?” I asked.

Cecil found a stairwell, but he looked at me. “The alarm’s gonna go off if we push this open.”

“Will it turn off after we close it?”