Seneca wasn’t pleasant, but it was large. With several poorly ventilated labs, a small warehouse for chemical and drug storage, and long rows of bunk beds for its workers, the place was a full-fledged narcotics factory. This Lindsay learned as she was led handcuffed along with Jack and Reggie through the corridors, past room after room where empty-eyed, emaciated people ate, slept and slaved under the watchful eye of Teco guards.
“Place is a lot bigger than when I was last here,” Reggie said, out of the side of his mouth.
“Profits must be up,” Jack noted. “Let’s hope they’re not recruiting.”
King’s office was at the far end of the complex, a grubby room filled with cheap furniture where the smell of cigarette smoke barely overlaid the more noxious fumes of the labs. He sat behind his desk like a poisonous toad, his pale skin a sickly green hue in the fluorescent lighting. He had them cuffed to three weighty metal chairs, then dismissed the Teco guards.
The sentries exchanged looks, hesitating, slowly complying after King yelled at them to get the fuck out. The fat man turned to his guests, his lips still curled into a feral snarl. “Did you see that? Only orders those fucking bastards take is to go on a fucking coffee break. Which,” he added, as if it needed clarifying, “I don’t fucking give.”
He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes settling on Lindsay for a long full draw of his cigarette. His free hand disappeared under the desk, and adjusted his crotch area, and then stayed down there. Lindsay balled her hands into fists and glancing to the side, saw that both Jack and Reggie had done the same, their knuckles white.
King’s gaze drifted to Jack. “So, I hear you’re one serious badass. A fucking Mole-killer. That right?”
Only Jack’s mouth moved. “I did escape them. That much is true.”
King rubbed his chins. "So you want to rescue some poor bastard from those freaks, huh?"
Jack nodded. “That’s right.”
“Who?”
“A topsider.”
“Why?”
“Friend of a friend.”
“Must be quite the fucking friend,” King said. "I wouldn’t go down there to save my own mother.”
“I believe you.”
The greaseball gave a genuine laugh. “I’d be thrilled to help the esteemed Jack-fucking-Cole, only I got fucking headaches of my own right now. Built this place up with my own two hands, and now those Aztec motherfuckers think they’re my fucking partners.”
“Um…Mr. King,” Reggie said. “We only came by to see if we could hire some backup here. We don’t want to be getting in your way or nothing.”
King trained his beady eyes on Reggie. “And who exactly the fuck are you?”
“Name’s Reggie Watkins. I got the gate at Grand Central.”
“Right. I remember you. I paid you protection way back, didn’t I? How the mighty have fucking fallen.”
Lindsay saw the muscles in Reggie’s face convulse, even as he gave an indifferent shrug.
“So who’s she?” King continued, addressing his question to Jack. Lindsay hardly blinked at the chauvinism. On King’s long list of character flaws, being a sexist pig was probably the least serious.
“Lindsay,” Jack replied.
King stared, obviously expecting more. Jack looked impassively back.
The man dropped his cigarette butt into his cup of coffee where it hissed and died, and took in Lindsay again. More adjustments were made under the desk. “She yours?”
Jack’s expression was closed, unreadable. “Yes.”
“Well then, I think we can come to a fucking arrangement.”
Jack remained silent so long that King was forced to carry on unprompted. “I’ll send Tocat and a few of his men down to The Pits with you, while your woman stays here as my guest. Wouldn’t want her getting hurt down there, would you?”
Lindsay shot Jack her “Don’t-you-even-think-about-it” glare. He didn’t look at her. “What do you want in return?”
“It’s not what I want, Cole. It’s what I don’t want. And what I don’t fucking want is the people I give you making it back alive.”
“You’re asking us to kill your own men?” Reggie’s voice was hard with disbelief.
“I don’t care if it’s you or the fucking Moles. I don’t want to see them again.”
Lindsay watched Jack’s white-knuckled fists convulse. “How do you propose we do that? There’ll only be two of us against at least five or six of them. And their guns look well cared for.”
King shook his head, his loose jowls flapping like a bloodhound. “Well, looks like you got yourself a fucking challenge there, Cole. I’m sure if you outran them Moles, you’ll think of something.”
“I was thinking we could leave and not trouble you any further.”
King grinned. “Yeah? Then maybe you should think again. I mean, this can be a fucking win-win situation for us. You get the men you need for the rescue, and I get rid of the little steroid pumping fuck who’s trying to muscle in on my operation. Or—”
Again Jack waited him out.
“—or the alternative is a lose-lose proposition. My fucking problem doesn’t get solved, you two get shot and your woman winds up with a lifetime contract here in Seneca.”
Both men jerked simultaneously against their handcuffs. Lindsay wished she could tell them that it was okay. Assure them that she’d tear King’s balls off before she became a Seneca slave.
She stretched her hands toward Jack and he glanced down at them. He drew a long, steadying breath. “And what if we tell Tocat and his crew about your little plan?”
“Go right fucking ahead. You think that fuck doesn’t already know I’m planning to off him? You tell him, he’ll thank you, then put a fucking bullet through your face. No sense in him waiting around for you to do the same. He’d kill me in a fucking heartbeat if he didn’t need me to run this fucking show. Seeing as he does there’s not much for me to lose in trying, hmm?”
King pressed a button on his desk. “Why don't you take some time to think about it? I'm guessing you’ll come around.”
The doors of the office opened, and the Teco escorts stepped inside.
“Take these two fucks to a guest room. Feed them, but I don’t want them going anywhere or talking to fucking anyone. Get it?”
“What about her?” one of the men asked.
“Leave her,” King replied. “I’ll look after her myself.”
Jack’s amber eyes burned as the guards uncuffed him from the chair. “Lay a finger on her and there’ll be hell to pay.”
Seneca’s mayor chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Cole, we’re already in fucking hell. Now it’s a question of who gets to be the devil.”
* * *
Lindsay watched as Jack and Reggie were led to the office door, trying her best to disguise her fear at being left behind. Jack didn’t take his eyes off her, and in them she read worry and—something more.
She lifted her chin. “I’ll be okay, Jack.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. He gave one short nod, as he was dragged out. The guards shut the thick office door behind them, and turning back, Lindsay found King was settling his bulky backside on the corner of his desk. His pants zipper was half-open.
“Alone at last.” His gaze dropped to her chest. She wish she’d left her jacket zipped.
“Mr. King, I’m sure you’re right about Jack coming around to your way of thinking,” she lied. “But you heard what would happen if I’m harmed.”
The man touched her bruised cheek. “Looks to me like he’s gone lax on that. Fucking shame, too, with what a beautiful woman he’s got. Looking at you is a nice fucking change from the burnt-out whores and tunnel scum I got working for me. A really nice change.” He smacked his flabby lips, and Lindsay’s stomach lurched.
One touch from him and she’d vomit. Best keep him talking. “I’m sure a man with your wealth could have any girl he wanted.”
He fished a pack of cigarettes and a
lighter from his shirt pocket. "There was a time when you’d have been right. I used to fuck a woman as pretty as you every night, and some nights two or three. It took a lot of fucking planning and elbow grease to set this operation up. Once it was, this place made me so much money I was living in a fucking Manhattan penthouse with a first-class city view. I was a V.I.P. at the hottest clubs, drove a Rolls-Royce and had enough cash to pay off any cop that got near me. Fuck, I had more money than I could spend, and believe me I could burn through it.”
“So what happened?” she asked.
He lit up his cigarette and took a long draw. “The cops turned out to be fucking smarter than I thought. Their homicide team, anyhow. I wound up with three warrants for my arrest and a case against me so strong even Johnnie-fucking-Cochrane couldn’t have got me off. I’m facing at least one life sentence if they find me, and all because some stupid whore had to go and steal from me. Yet another fucking waste.”
“So you hid out down here,” Lindsay finished.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Stuck down here with all these sub-human fucks, breathing carcinogenic air and forgetting what the sun looks like. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?”
There was justice in the world.
Then he turned philosopher-King. “Funny thing is that everybody here is in the same boat. If Tocat or his buddies showed up on the surface they’d be in even worse trouble. All of them fucked with their gangs in one way or another, and upstairs that’s at least a fucking death sentence. So we’re all prisoners down here. Even the guards and warden. What do you think of that?”
“I think that’s very sad.” She was going to have to do a lot of lying with the man.
King took another drag on his cigarette, then reached for her cheek. She flinched involuntarily, and his hand stilled.
“You’re worried about what I’m going to do to you, aren’t you, sweetie?” He blew a jet of smoke in her direction like some blubbery dragon.
She managed to keep her voice even. “Should I be?”
He withdrew his hand, cupped his crotch and gave it a suggestive hitch. “I've learned that what I want and what I get aren’t the same fucking things.”
Lindsay sucked in her breath. That’s what she’d been thinking about Jack. “You’re a fighter, got pride, even if Cole knocks you around a little. You’re tough, and quite frankly I don’t have the fucking energy to beat you down.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”
“Take it any way you like. But the Tecos…those assholes are a whole other fucking story,” he continued. “There’s a dozen of them in all, and I think they’re the kind of men who might like a woman like you. Someone who’d put up a bit of a struggle, you know? It’s a power thing with them. A challenge.”
Lindsay forced herself to look him in the eye. “Why are you telling me all this?”
He leaned in, his stale breath almost gagging her. “I’m telling you because I’m going to send you back to your boyfriend now, and I want you to convince him to cooperate. If you don’t then you’re going to wind up getting fucked by the men that he refused to kill, and then you’ll be living as pathetic a fucking existence as I am, won’t you?”
Lindsay’s lips tightened. King could be very convincing.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Good girl.” He gave a painful pat to her cheek. “I always knew you blondes were just playing dumb.”
* * *
Seneca’s ‘guest’ room featured electric lighting, two bunk beds and even a small bathroom. They were granted a meal of topside food: microwave dinners of pasta and three cans of cola. From Lindsay’s experiences so far, this would be the underground’s version of the Ritz, if it weren’t for the fact that the door locked from the outside.
When she’d been escorted there after her chat with King, Jack had reached for her but she’d stiffened at the thought of what she was expected to make him and Reggie do. Jack must’ve connected her discomfort with him, and had stepped back. She was certain that he knew she had learned about Tasha from Gali, and figured she was angry with him, and without a doubt she was. That didn’t stop her from needing him. She found herself sitting down beside him on the lower bunk, seeking his presence. Even if he was a dirty, rotten, lying bastard.
“It could be worse,” Lindsay suggested, referring mostly to the situation with King.
“If death is worse,” Jack said to the floor.
“Don’t think we got too much in the way of choices,” Reggie said, from the upper bunk. “Guy’s holding all the cards.”
Jack set his elbows on his knees. “I should never have let you two come down here with me. Stupidest thing I ever did.”
“Don’t think that was an option,” Reggie reminded him.
“We’ll get out of this mess,” Lindsay said.
Jack turned to her, his expression bleak. “And how do you know that?”
She didn’t know. “I just do.”
The bunks shook as Reggie made himself comfortable. “I'd say King’s right when he said to think on it,” he contributed. “What with all the excitement at Agharta we haven’t got any shuteye since we left Grand Central.”
“I suppose so,” Jack agreed, not making any move to lie down. Was he wondering like her where they’d sleep? If things were different between them, the single bed would be the clear winner. But then she never did know where she stood with him, did she?
Lindsay shed her boots and jacket, and flipped off the light switch. Aside from the narrow strip of illumination from beneath the door, all was dark, and fumbling, she slipped behind Jack to stretch out on the narrow mattress.
Jack stayed hunched. It wasn’t his fault that they’d wound up in the mess they were in, though by the looks of him he was taking it onto his shoulders. Nothing down in the tunnels made sense, and nothing reflected that maddening confusion more than her feelings for him. Despite how close they seemed to have become so soon, and the undeniable warmth that flowed through her every time she was with him, he was still a mystery to her.
Why hadn’t he told her about his wife? Was it that he had intended to hide that fact from her, or was there some more understandable reason for his secrecy? It could be anything at all because in the end he hadn’t shared with her.
And yet it was clear that he wanted to open up. He’d made her vow that she would fix him, would knock down the cold, hard barrier between them. So dammit, she’d keep battering away.
Reggie had begun to snore—a surprisingly gentle sound considering the man’s size, and still Jack sat there.
“Jack?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“None of this is your fault.”
“Who’s to blame if not me, Linds?”
“King. The Tecos were hearing us out, so it certainly wasn’t Najib or Reggie that led us down the wrong path. Tocat might have agreed to let us hire them. It was King that decided to play this game.”
“I suppose he’s got to keep himself amused somehow,” Jack said humorlessly.
“You should get some sleep now, Jack. You’re not going to do us any good if you’re exhausted.”
“Don’t worry about me. Get some rest yourself.”
“I will when you do.”
He sighed. “You never let up, do you?”
The way he said it, all soft and resigned, made her smile. “Remember? We have a pact.”
She saw him hunch over, then heard the subtle rasp of boots being unlaced. Had he decided where he was sleeping? “Jack…” she began, then paused.
“Yes?”
“You know Gali told me about your wife, right?”
She sensed more than saw Jack lower his head to his hands. “Yes.” The single word was muffled.
He was in pain and she wanted to take it away. If only he would trust her enough. “I won’t push it. However,”—this was outright blackmail she was pulling here—“I never said anything about Reggie. Maybe he and I could have a conversation when he wakes up.”
It was a safe threat. She wanted to hear the story from Jack and Jack alone, and she knew Reggie would never betray his friend’s confidence. It was a way of showing, once again, that she wasn’t giving up on him.
Jack pulled off one of his boots. “The man would have to be asleep first.” He heaved his size eleven to the upper bunk.
It tumbled back as Reggie knocked it aside. “Shit,” he said, obviously embarrassed at having been caught out. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve slept in the same room as me before. I know—hell, the neighborhood knows—what you snore like. You’re going to have to crank the volume if you’re going to fool anyone. Now goodnight, you two.”
“Goodnight,” Reggie grumbled.
Jack yanked off his other boot and made to move away. Not thinking, Lindsay hooked a finger in his belt loop and tugged. That was all it took. He stretched out beside her, his arm coming around her to tuck her back tight against his front. Every single bone and muscle in her body softened and sank into him.
His mouth came to her ear. “I’ll tell you, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered back.
She felt him bury his face in her hair, felt him breathe deeply. And hearing him, she breathed too, deep and long, and it felt like her first real breath since leaving topside. She didn’t remember drawing a second one before she fell asleep.
Jack gave the rubber ball a gentle push, its dim shape rolling across the floor to the little Mole. It seized the toy, claws clenching around it, worried it like a cat with a mouse, then slowly rolled it back.
From the corner of his eye, Jack watched as two other youngsters dangled a pigeon leg in front of their pet, a boy given by their elders to keep them entertained. He was probably about fourteen years old, and after thirty sleeps in his new home, was already quite mad. He snatched at the meat through the bars, whining like a whipped dog when his masters pulled it a little beyond reach.
Jack caught the ball and sent it back, continuing the game. The Moles were slowly starving the boy to death, curious about how long he could survive on how little. Though Jack had snuck some of his own food between the bars, the boy wouldn’t last much longer. Thin when he’d arrived, he was now a living skeleton.
Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles) Page 18