by David Meyer
Buzzing.
Cutting.
Pounding.
It sounded like somebody was building a house on the other side of the wall. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I bellowed as loudly as my lungs would allow. “Can you hear me?”
I put my ear back to the wall. The noises continued without pause.
I turned my attention to the wall itself. Using my beam, I scanned it for a lever or a button or anything out of the ordinary.
Nothing.
I expanded my search. But no matter where I looked, the wall appeared flat and unadorned.
Frustrated, I braced myself and rammed my shoulder into the concrete. Pain shot through my upper body. I turned the flashlight back to the wall and studied it.
Nothing.
It hadn’t budged an inch.
Lowering my shoulder again, I drove it back into the wall. A stinging soreness ripped through my body. But still, the concrete surface refused to move.
Rearing back, I smashed my shoulder into the wall again and again. My mind started to slip away. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel pain.
Six straight times I drove my shoulder into the wall.
Six times.
And yet, nothing.
I paused for a moment, panting. The situation didn’t call for brute strength. It called for intelligence.
I expanded my search to the nearby walls. I scoured the concrete on one side of the passageway and then on the other.
Finally, I saw something that brought a weary grin to my face.
A skull and pickaxes.
The symbol was small and etched out of concrete above my head. I stared at it for a few seconds. What did it mean?
I pushed the center of the etching. It resisted my pressure for a few seconds. Then, it slowly depressed into the concrete.
The wall clicked.
The ground rumbled.
Dust shot into the air.
I heard slight scraping as the door opened toward me. Intense relief formed in the pit of my stomach.
Bright light burst into the hidden passageway. I shielded my eyes, stepped forward, and looked out onto the non-pedestrian track that connected the 42nd Street Shuttle Line to the Lexington Avenue Line. Amazement crept through me, twisting my facial features into knots.
No more than two hours had passed since I’d first entered the laboratory. And in that brief amount of time, the subway tunnel had undergone an astounding transformation.
Overhead fixtures shone blinding light down on the space, eliminating all signs of darkness. Temporary concrete dams blocked both ends of the tunnel. The track bed, once covered with nearly a foot of water, had been completely drained thanks to two separate pump hoses. Battery-operated fans whirred, drying the tunnel’s last remnants of water.
Directly in front of me, a recently constructed twenty-foot long temporary platform, built from thick wood planks and other materials, rose into the air. It appeared to line up with the concrete ledge, creating a sizeable elevated workspace. Three workers knelt on the platform with their backs to me, examining a couple of handheld hammer drills.
Slightly dazed, I looked around. My eyes caught a glimpse of Beverly Ginger standing off to the side, just beneath the platform. She wore slim-fitting cargo pants, a tank top, and a hardhat. Two women and a man surrounded her and they appeared to be engaged in a heated conversation.
I walked onto the platform and knelt down. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Beverly froze. Then, she waved the others away and ever so slowly, peered up at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same question. You told me you were going to abandon your search. Well, wait until you see –”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Something in her voice gave me pause. “What do you mean?”
“You have to get out of here. Don’t ask questions. Just go.”
“But…”
A new voice sounded. One I recognized.
One I despised.
“How are you, Cyclone?”
I shifted my glance. Ryan Standish stood several feet away on the platform. He wore a hardhat and a cocky expression on his face.
I went numb. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t work for ShadowFire. He didn’t know Beverly.
All of a sudden, I realized that the cacique retrieval job in Colombia had been a set-up. From the very beginning, Chase, Standish, and Beverly had conspired to manipulate me. But for what purpose?
Lights flashed in my eyes. A severe headache raged inside my skull. I tried to keep my emotions from raging out of control. “I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m surprised to see you here. I guess ShadowFire doesn’t believe in hiring standards.”
He stepped forward. “I’m the one who should be surprised. Beverly said you snuck out of town.”
Instinctively, I stepped backward, vaguely aware I was reentering the passageway. “Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you.”
Standish stopped at the mouth of the passageway and leaned up against the concrete wall. “Oh I’m not disappointed. In fact, I’m thrilled.”
He looked over my shoulder into the laboratory. Then, he smiled. “You’ve done good work down here, Cy. Great work even. I’m impressed. Really, there’s only one more thing I need you to do.”
“What’s that?”
Suddenly, his hands flew to his belt, a blur of speed and force.
He yanked out a gun and pointed it in my direction.
“Die,” he said in a cold tone. “I need you to die.”
Chapter 27
Stall!
The thought raced through my mind, like a runaway subway car. I needed to buy time.
Time to think, time to strategize.
Time to curse my stupidity.
I should’ve known something was wrong. But now, thanks to my lousy instincts, I stood in the front half of the sealed-off laboratory. Standish’s large, burly form occupied the passageway, blocking the only exit. Nothing but floor rested between us. There was no place to hide. No cover.
Nothing.
I thought about reaching for my weapons. But Standish’s gun caused me to rethink that strategy. The moment I moved, I knew he’d kill me.
“I always knew you were an asshole,” I said. “I just never figured you for a corporate asshole.”
He laughed. “During the Iraq War, Jack Chase realized he could pad his profit margin by appropriating things from local museums and archaeological sites. He needed someone to manage his various digs and fence his artifacts. So, he hired me. We’ve been working together ever since.”
“A match made in hell.”
“Call it what you like. But it’s been a big success.”
“So, when Chase found out about the Nazi gold, he hired you to find it.”
A slow smile spread across Standish’s face. “That’s just the consolation prize. I’m after something else.”
I took a stab in the dark. “Die Glocke?”
“Very impressive. How do you know about it?”
“Lucky guess,” I replied. “That explains why you needed me. You’re not a treasure hunter. Heck, you’re not even an archaeologist. You’d never have found this place on your own.”
His face darkened. “Kolen and Adcock worked for me, although they didn’t know it at the time. After they vanished, we searched every inch of these tunnels for them. When they failed to turn up, Chase decided to bring in outside help.”
“In other words, he lost confidence in you and decided to bring in a real expert.”
“Actually, you were my choice. I knew you’d studied the tunnel system and your experience as a treasure hunter seemed useful. But Chase was wary. He’d already lost two people to his little venture. He didn’t want to risk losing more and bringing on unwanted publicity. So, he insisted on a test.”
“Which I passed with flying colors.”
Facts and memories spiraled through my head, as I sought to understand the situatio
n. But without organization, I found myself more confused than ever. Shifting gears, I began to establish a timeline.
People broke into Hartek’s laboratory in 1976. They murdered the two scientists and stole a large bell-shaped object, known as die Glocke.
I flashed forward to the present. Somehow, the large cylinder in the laboratory toppled over, spilling unknown chemicals into an underground river. The poisoned water injured or killed members of the colony as well as the fish that inhabited the waterway. An alligator subsequently emerged, looking for food.
Around the same time, Jenson attempted to pawn a bar of Nazi gold but fled before he could be questioned. The story got back to Chase. Shortly after, the Chairman of the MTA died an untimely death, allowing Chase to take temporary control of the system.
He hired Standish to find the trove. Standish, in turn, hired Kolen and Adcock. The alligator attacked and killed Kolen and Adcock, among others. Then Chase hired me and staged his phony lockout to give me breathing room.
Three things struck me as important. First, Jenson. It seemed probable that he set the entire chain of events in motion. He must’ve entered the laboratory, stolen a gold bar from somewhere, and accidentally knocked over the cylinder.
Second, Chase was a lying, manipulative, driven bastard. Most likely, he’d killed the former MTA Chairman to carry out his plan. Who knew what other crimes he’d committed as well?
And third, Standish indicated that die Glocke, and not the gold bars, was his main priority. Why? What made it so important?
“You did well,” Standish admitted. “Without you, we might not have found those bodies. The chemicals we discovered on the remains matched up perfectly with what we knew Hartek stored in his laboratory. It didn’t take long to realize there was an underground river at work.”
“And that led you here.” I frowned. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Chase knew about the laboratory for a long time. A very long time. He just didn’t know where to find it. Is that why he joined the MTA’s board in the first place? So he could keep an eye out for it?”
Standish shrugged and I saw a bored look in his eyes.
My time was almost up.
I scanned the room, making observations. The laboratory was quite dark, despite the light fixtures in the other tunnel. The closest large object was the desk, which stood several feet away. Most importantly, Standish was alone, with no signs of immediate backup.
“So, tell me,” I said casually. “How do you like being at Chase’s beck and call? Do you even think for yourself anymore?”
His eyes burned with hatred.
“You’re a joke,” I continued. “Nothing but a yes-man with a gun. If you weren’t so pathetic, I’d almost feel sorry for you.”
“Shut up.”
I grinned, throwing even more kindling on the fire. “And the worst part is, you know I’m right. You owe everything to Chase. Without him, you’re nothing.”
His face clenched and wavered. He struggled to keep his gun hand steady but it refused to cooperate.
Steeling my body, I prepared to leap toward the desk.
“Ryan!”
The shout, which originated from outside the passageway, caught me off guard. I froze for a split second and by the time I realized what had happened, Standish’s gun was steady again.
The light coming from the subway system dimmed and a shadow flitted across the room. A second person, a woman I didn’t recognize, emerged from the passageway.
“What?” Standish asked.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I heard the shouting from outside.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to take care of him for you?”
“Oh no, Cyclone’s all mine.”
A small smile crossed his face.
Suddenly, distant gunfire crackled through the air.
All traces of light vanished.
I heard shouts and screams. Scuffling. Running footsteps. People crashing into things. People crashing into each other.
I dove behind the desk. As I removed my pistol, I felt the pain in my head resurge. Ignoring it, I scanned the room, trying to pick out Standish and the woman.
I heard scraping sounds to my left. Rotating my body, I fired three shots into the darkness. A feminine yelp followed and then a thud.
Gunfire spat right back at me and I took cover behind the desk. I knelt there for a minute, breathing softly. My thoughts briefly turned to the sounds emanating from the subway tunnel.
What’s going on out there?
I didn’t wait to find out. Lowering my head, I began crawling across the room. I moved quietly, like a slithering snake.
A wooden table leg appeared in front of my face and I pulled up, barely avoiding a noisy collision. I paused for a moment, taking stock of the situation.
Part of me wanted to fight Standish. Yet, I was outnumbered and outgunned. Even if I managed to defeat him, Beverly and the others would kill me the moment I emerged from the laboratory.
I needed to escape. And the chaos outside provided me with the necessary distraction.
That is, assuming it lasted long enough.
Cautiously, I reached up and felt around the table. My fingers closed around something. It felt like the purse I’d searched earlier.
I launched it across the room. A moment later, it smashed against the concrete floor, bounced, and skidded. I cringed. It was supposed to sound like something falling off a table due to a sudden jostle. Instead, it sounded like a diversion.
A poor diversion.
An easily traced diversion.
An idea popped into my brain. Immediately, I slid across the floor to the southwest corner. Upon reaching the purse, I hung a right and headed straight along the wall.
I gained confidence as I approached the passageway. No doubt Standish heard the noise, guessed it was a diversion, and acted accordingly. The last thing he’d expect was for me to head toward the diversion.
But as I neared the passageway, I saw a shadow looming in front of the opening. All along, I’d assumed that Standish was reacting to my actions. Instead, he’d merely positioned himself in front of the only exit, knowing that eventually, I’d have to come to him.
Before I could stop myself, a frustrated grunt escaped my lips. Standish turned his head. Jumping to my feet, I hurled myself at him. His gun hand shifted in my direction. I chopped down on it and the weapon dropped to the ground.
His fist slammed into my jaw with the force of a jackhammer. My vision blurred and I saw colors around the edges. My headache returned with a vengeance and I knew I didn’t have long before I experienced another incident.
Ducking under his arm, I swept his leg and he fell on his back. Before he could recover, I sprinted through the passageway.
As I exited into the subway tunnel, I saw darkness, interspersed with frantic movements.
“Cy.”
The familiar, feminine voice rang in my ears like a discordant note. Spinning to the side, I pushed Beverly against the wall and placed my arm against her windpipe. “Why the hell did you do this to me?”
“We don’t have time for this,” she gasped. “I knocked out the lights and fired a few bullets. They’re confused now, but it won’t take long before they’ve got this area back under lock and key.”
“That was you?”
She nodded.
It only took me a second to decide. She’d ordered me to leave Manhattan in the first place. And now that I found myself in trouble, she’d come to my aid. It wasn’t enough to make up for her role in the whole affair.
But it’s a start.
I removed my arm from her neck. “Which way?”
“Follow me.”
Crouching down, I followed her through the tunnel. At the end, she hoisted herself onto the concrete ledge and angled north, heading along the Lexington Avenue Line.
I followed suit and as I darted after her, I heard the lapping of water below me. It sounded deeper than I remembe
red.
My emotions roiled. My headache worsened. My sense of balance diminished. Gritting my teeth, I forged on, determined to put as much distance as possible between Standish and us.
Subway stations and maintenance tunnels blurred as we raced north. My headache spread until it encompassed my entire body. My vision clouded over in endless colors, leaving me nearly blind.
I heard a dull rushing noise. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or something else. Either way, it sounded familiar. Familiar and intense.
Stumbling, I fell onto the ledge, scraping my hands on the concrete.
Beverly swiveled around. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just another one of these damn episodes.”
“Do you hear that?”
“It sounds like water.”
“More like a flood.”
I looked down. Despite the colorful blurriness, I saw several feet of water churning through the bottom of the tunnel. It looked like a canal, albeit one with serious water flow issues. The sight of it stunned me into silence.
“We should get to a platform.” My words slurred at the end of my sentence. I felt my muscles give way.
I never saw it coming. Abruptly, a wall of water ripped into my body, sweeping me right off the ledge.
I toppled toward the track bed.
The third rail.
I hit the water.
My brain exploded into colors.
And then I lost consciousness.
Chapter 28
As he stalked across the laboratory, Standish cursed his stupidity. He’d made a foolish mistake by not killing Cyclone Reed. And very shortly, he’d have to answer for it.
He forced himself to look on the bright side of things. The hidden laboratory, missing for over thirty years, had finally come to light. And Reed’s escape wasn’t really his fault. The blame belonged to that turncoat, Beverly Ginger.
He stopped and turned in a circle. After two hours of work, the laboratory had been completely transformed. Yellow caution tape wound around the room, forming walking lanes and blocking off areas of interest. Light fixtures hung from the ceiling, covering the space in a bright glow. Masked workers concentrated on the two corpses, examining them carefully. Later the corpses would be bagged and toted to the surface for more tests.