"Excuse me," said Cassandra, "but I'm lost. I've only lived in Chicago for a few years. You're not talking about subway tunnels?"
"Those were constructed years later," said Jack. "These tunnels preceded them by decades. They were narrow passageways, just wide enough for a railway handcar. Barely lit, they were not intended for commuters but for commercial goods."
Jack paused, putting his thoughts in order. "At the end of the 19th century, traffic in the Loop was so bad that merchants were having difficulty getting their goods from the railroad yards on the south side into downtown. The abundance of wagons, carriages and trolley cars on the streets made deliveries nearly impossible. Goods could only be transported late at night, which made most store owners quite unhappy. That all changed when a system of underground tunnels were built, linking the railroad yards with the Loop.
"Goods were unloaded from the incoming freight trains, transferred to handcars, and then sent from the train station to a central receiving depot deep beneath the central commuter railroad station downtown. There, the products were sorted and forwarded to their final destinations, again by handcar, through branch tunnels that snaked all through the Loop. Nearly a hundred different buildings were serviced by this unique underground delivery service. Each stop had its own receiving dock, located in the subbasement of the structure.
"The network even ducked beneath the Chicago River and supplied stores on the near north side as well. It stayed in service until the early 1930's, when shipping by trucks replaced most railroad deliveries."
"The tunnels were closed and abandoned," said Hazel. "The owners shut off the power, but otherwise left the system intact and undisturbed. During World War Two, I recall talk of opening them up and using them for POW camps. What a crazy idea. Later, in the 1960's, an alderman proposed they be converted into giant bomb shelters. Happily, no one took him seriously."
"A few years ago," said Jack, "as a result of a series of bureaucratic blunders centering around bridge repairs, a hole was punched in the top of the tunnel passing beneath the river. Water rushed into the system and flooded the basements of half the buildings in the Loop. It knocked out electricity throughout the near north side. The accident nearly shut down the entire city, and things didn't return to normal for weeks. Among other problems, the flood forced the closing of the subway."
"That I remember," said Cassandra. "I thought they plugged up the system with cement."
"Not really," said Jack. "The city engineers closed off the section beneath the river, but the rest of the network remains open. And von Bern and his captives are down there."
"Any idea where?"
"Megan mentioned a huge chamber. The only place that fits that description is the old central shipping depot. According to the city librarians, the center resembles a gigantic amphitheater a hundred feet beneath the streets. Doesn't that sound like the perfect arena for conducting a blood sacrifice to an ancient God?"
"I'm convinced," said Cassandra. "How do we stop it?"
'Tonight we raid the campus and get the necessary equipment for my secret weapon," said Jack. "It's all stuff available only in laboratories. Tomorrow, we go shopping. There's a bunch of things I want to buy for additional protection.
"After that, we head underground. The sacrifice is scheduled for May Day Eve. We'll attack during the daytime, when the forces of darkness are at their weakest. Still, I suspect von Bern and his Border Redcaps are expecting us to show up. They'll be ready and waiting no matter when we arrive. But this time, we're going to be the ones with a few surprises."
Chapter 34
THEY ARRIVED ON campus shortly after midnight. Cassandra drove, with Jack in the other front seat and Simon and Fritz Grondark in the back. Dark clouds hid the moon and stars, shrouding the laboratories in blackness.
"You two know exactly what I want?" Jack asked Simon for the tenth time.
While he trusted his allies, there was no time left for mistakes. After the affair at the math building, he suspected Benny Anderson had tightened campus security. Stealing what they needed might prove to be difficult. There definitely wouldn't be a second chance.
"Nothing to worry about," said the changeling. "We're looking for the battery pack belts used in the film classes run by the photography department. The type that the TV news stations power their minicams with. I never used one, but some of the girls I dated produced their own films for class, so I'm real familiar with the belts.
"It shouldn't take us too long to find them in the photo lab. They keep the expensive equipment locked up but Fritz assures me that he can open anything."
The dwarf flexed his huge fingers. "One way or another, we'll manage the task."
"Try not to cause too much destruction," said Jack. "Dealing drugs on campus is old news. Nobody cares much. Stealing college property gets you in trouble with the Dean's office. That's a black mark on your transcript you can't erase. Someday, I still plan to obtain my degree."
"Stealth is my middle name," proclaimed Simon. "Where are you heading?"
"Cassandra is going to park the car by the chemistry building," answered Jack. "Then the two of us will visit the labs upstairs. I'm pretty sure they have what I need in one of them."
"Which is?" asked Simon.
"Order to fight chaos," said Jack, smiling. "Light to battle the darkness. You'll find out soon enough."
Simon and Fritz, resembling a very odd Mutt and Jeff, departed a few minutes later. Neither of them carried a weapon, though Fritz's monkey wrench dangled from his belt. The dwarf, who had trouble entering doorways unless he turned sideways, didn't need anything else. Though Fritz refused to brag about his fighting prowess, Cassandra respected Grondark's skills, which was testimony enough for Jack. Once Simon and Fritz obtained the battery belt pack, they planned to rendezvous with Jack and Cassandra in the chemistry building parking lot in forty minutes.
Watching the pair amble down the path to the photography department, Jack murmured a silent prayer. Simon meant well, but his mischievous nature played havoc with the best-laid plans. Tonight, they couldn't afford any mistakes. The fate of civilization rested on their shoulders. Jack's back ached from the weight.
A padlock on the front door of the chemistry building made it quite clear that security on campus had been tightened. After checking carefully for wires indicating alarm systems and finding none, Cassandra casually snapped the lock with her new staff. Von Bern had cut one walking stick to kindling, but the Amazon had a half-dozen replacements in reserve.
"There's no way of protecting a building this size," she said to Jack, walking into the main hall, "without using trenches, barbed wire and extensive electronic surveillance equipment. And, even then, a trained, determined professional can, in most cases, infiltrate and compromise any location."
Smiling, Jack nodded his head. It required no guesswork to substitute Cassandra's name for that of a trained, determined professional. Over the course of history, he suspected the Amazon had experienced enough adventures to fill an encyclopedia.
With four chemistry labs on the second floor, they decided to split up to save time. Jack described in great detail to Cassandra the objects they were hunting. After agreeing to meet in the center in twenty minutes, they started searching.
Jack found the device five minutes after he walked into the first lab. He also discovered trouble. Benny Anderson, armed with a police special, was hiding in the shadows of the room, watching and waiting for Jack to make a wrong move. Picking up lab equipment obviously met that requirement. Seconds after Jack pulled the long tube off a storage shelf, the security chief stood up, making his presence known simply and effectively.
"Freeze, drug-scum," he announced, his voice a harsh whisper. Though the lawman's body trembled with emotion, his gun hand never wavered. It remained fixed in a direct line with Jack's crotch. "Make one false move and I'll blow off your balls."
Jack froze, the black rectangular tube clutched close to his chest. "Take it easy, chief," he said
loudly, hoping Cassandra was within the sound of his voice. "I'm unarmed. And this isn't as bad as it looks."
"Sure," said Anderson, motioning with the gun for Jack to lower his prize to the shelf. "First it was selling drugs. Now you're stealing school property."
The chief's voice rang with contempt. "Your kind make me sick, Collins. Always whining how unfairly you've been treated. Damned pampered rich kids don't know how tough life really is. Try earning a living the hard way—honestly. Then tell me stealing isn't as bad as it looks."
"I'm neither pampered nor rich," began Jack, then closed his mouth, realizing he was wasting his time. No matter what he said, the chief wouldn't believe him. Anderson had made up his mind and there was no way Jack could convince him otherwise.
"I figured you probably used the chem lab to brew up those artificial narcotics so popular with the rich suburban punks," said Anderson, sneering. Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, he stepped closer to Jack, the gun steady as a rock in his grip. "So, I personally staked out this building ever since you disappeared. Sooner or later, I knew you would show up again."
"The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime," said Jack. "That's nuts."
"Sure it is," said Anderson. "But look who's here. Put your hands out in front of you, Collins. Real slow, now."
"Don't bother, Jack," said Cassandra from the front door of the lab. The Amazon moved so quietly that she had approached completely undetected. Her staff lashed out like a snake, its silver tip kissing Anderson's hand. Bones cracked like peanut brittle. The security chief yelped in pain and dropped his gun. But he refused to give up.
Lurching forward, Anderson slammed his body into Jack's. Together they tumbled against a lab table. Not bright, but tough, the security man knew exactly what he was doing. A raised knee caught Jack in the groin, bringing tears to his eyes. Shielding his broken hand with his body, Anderson whipped his other arm around Jack's neck. Straightening, he wrenched Jack upright, so that the two of them stood facing Cassandra.
"Do anything stupid, sister," said Anderson, "and I'll break your boyfriend's neck."
Jack gasped for air, feeling lightheaded. He wished the security chief hadn't used the term "boyfriend" with the Amazon.
Cassandra, her walking stick aimed like a spear at the security chief's head, hesitated. "Let him go," she finally declared, "before you make me really mad."
Anderson laughed. "I'm shaking." With a snarl of rage, he tightened his grip around Jack's neck. "His windpipe can't stand much more pressure. One more twist and your druggie friend is in the obituary column. Time for you to drop the stick. Now!"
Her eyes burning with anger, Cassandra lowered her staff to (he floor. For a second. Jack suspected she planned to launch the stick like a spear at Anderson. Evidently, the same thought occurred to the security chief. Carefully, he shifted his position so that Jack's body completely shielded him from the Amazon. Raising her empty hands to indicate her compliance, Cassandra backed away from the wood staff.
"Smart girl," said Anderson. Grunting with effort, he slowly started to shuffle to the door of the lab, dragging Jack along with him. "Stay right where I can see you. Benny Anderson knows all the tricks in the book, and then some. Twitch funny and Collins's neck goes snap."
They were less than five feet from the exit when an unexpected figure filled the doorway.
"What is the meaning of this disgraceful conduct, Mr. Anderson?" declared Darrell Quiggly, Dean of Students. A tall, thin man, with iron-gray hair and distinguished features, Quiggly filled many roles on campus, including that of Anderson's boss. "Release that young man at once."
"But, Dean..." began Anderson, swinging around to confront the official. "This is that drug..."
"No excuses, Anderson," interrupted Quiggly, his voice raised in anger. "I said release him. Violence against students is strictly forbidden, no matter what the reason. Immediately, if you value your job at this university."
The Dean's appearance and the confusion he caused was all the diversion Cassandra needed. Jack sensed rather than saw her grab her walking stick, position it correctly, and thunk the security chief across the head in the span of mere seconds. Silently, Anderson released his grip around Jack's throat and collapsed to the floor unconscious.
Swallowing and rubbing his neck, Jack stared at the Dean, waiting for Quiggly's reaction. Surprisingly, a broad grin crossed the school official's face.
"Fooled you too," he chuckled, his features already twisting like Silly Putty. "Damn, I'm good."
"Simon," said Jack, barely able to speak. "You're the best."
"Lucky we found those battery packs as soon as we entered the photo department," said the changeling. "I sent Fritz to the car with them and came to lend a hand here. Anderson's ranting and raving cued me in on what was happening and I reacted accordingly."
Gingerly, Jack touched the unmoving security guard with his foot. "What do we do with Benny?"
"Leave him there," said Cassandra, with a shrug. "The tap I administered should be good for an hour or more. That's plenty of time for us to disappear. Considering your reputation already, a few broken bones and stolen equipment won't change anything,"
"It might add a few more years to your sentence," declared Simon. "Assuming your case ever makes it to trial. I figure fifty years to life at the moment."
"Maybe longer," said Jack, grinning. "We better save Merlin, because there's no way in hell I can salvage my reputation on my own anymore."
Stepping over Anderson's body, he walked over to the storage shelves. Carefully, he lifted the long black rectangular tube from where he had placed it only minutes before.
"See if you can find another one of these," he said to his companions. "The one thing I've learned from reading hundreds of fantasy novels is that it never hurts to have a spare super-weapon when dealing with the forces of darkness."
Chapter 35
ROGER HATED ANIMALS. He considered them dirty, stupid, and useless creations, placed on Earth for one purpose and one purpose alone—to serve as food for people like him. Not surprisingly, he had never visited the municipal zoo. If asked to list a hundred places in the city he wanted to visit, the zoo undoubtedly would be number one hundred, following even hospital emergency rooms at midnight, unsupervised kindergarten classes, and hare krishna festivals. Yet, despite his inner revulsion for the surroundings, he found his trip to the zoo on May first strangely fascinating.
His "uncle," as he named The Crouching One for those few mortals who encountered the demigod, had insisted on the excursion. Ever since learning of the existence of the zoo from a newspaper article a week before, the Lord of the Lions had pressed Roger to schedule an afternoon sojourn at the wildlife preserve. It seemed singularly appropriate that they visit the park on what was scheduled to be the day of the ancient god's greatest triumph. Or, as Roger secretly hoped, his greatest failure.
Dressed in a bright yellow shirt adorned with red flowers, loose-fitting slacks, and sandals, the Crouching One appeared a typical senior citizen out for a day of sun and relaxation. Dark sunglasses kept hidden its blazing eyes. It walked slowly and carefully, avoiding human contact as much as possible, and remained surprisingly polite considering its godlike pride. Even Roger, expecting a disaster of near biblical proportions, was impressed by the Lord of the Lions's demeanor.
They spent most of the day at the lion enclosure. A warm spring sun had lured the beasts outside, and they rested on the rocky perches and grassy knolls of their huge compound. The zoo tried to duplicate their animals' original habitats as closely as possible, and the lions appeared quite comfortable in their savanna-like surroundings. A high concrete wall and wide trench separated them from the idle and the curious.
The Crouching One stared at the huge beasts with a single-minded concentration that after a few minutes Roger found disturbing. Though he knew the origins of the demigod's title, the Lord of the Lions, for the first time he realized exactly how true was that name. The shape and
form of the Crouching One's skull uncannily resembled that of a jungle cat. Even the way the demigod stood unmoving, as if ready to pounce, approximated that of the huge beasts.
"Talking to them?" asked Roger, only half in jest as he noticed the Couching One's lips mouthing words without sounds.
"Of course," replied the ancient God, turning its head for a second to stare at Roger. Even the dark glasses could not hide completely the glow of its eyes. "Though men worshipped me, these here," and it gestured with gnarled fingers at the lions, "are my children."
The Crouching One returned its attention to the beasts. "These few are much different than the great killers of my time. Instead of hunting, they are content to be fed. They are lazy, preferring to spend their time resting in the sunshine instead of searching for prey. Civilization has ruined them, made them weak."
The Lord of the Lions smiled its unpleasant smile, the smile that twisted its face into a shape not the least bit reflecting humanity. "All of that shall change shortly. When my rightful powers return, I will shatter their cages. And the hunting cry of my children will once again echo through the land."
Not wanting to irritate the demigod, Roger decided not to mention that these days, half the citizens in California owned enough legal and illegal firepower to stop a herd of rampaging elephants, much less a pride of old and near toothless lions. There were certain truths about modern civilization that the Crouching One was not yet ready to accept.
Roger looked down at his watch. "Only a few more hours till sunset in Chicago. According to the last call from von Bern, everything is running on schedule."
"As I predicted," said the Crouching One. "Exactly as I predicted."
"Maybe," said Roger, treading on dangerous territory. "Still, the German never caught Jack Collins or his friends. The computer news service from Chicago reported a robbery last night at Collins's college. The security chief's account of the affair was pretty garbled, but it sounded like our enemy. And he took some pretty fancy scientific equipment."
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