Quinnell gave him a look that Jack interpreted as puzzled.
“We see if my faith in you keeping your word was justified.”
Another stare, and then Quinnell held out his wrists. Jack nodded and unlocked the left manacle. But when he went to replace it around the pipe, Quinnell snatched it back.
Uh-oh. Don’t do this…
They stared at each other.
“Really?” Jack said, edging his hand toward the Glock in his belt.
Quinnell shook his head.
“I get it,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t want to go back to being chained up either. But we have a deal. And we need to talk about a heavy decision you’ve got to make.”
More unreadable staring, then Quinnell extended his left hand toward the pipe. Repressing a sigh of relief, Jack quickly snapped the manacle around it.
For someone only partially human, Quinnell was more of a mensch than too many full-blooded Homo saps Jack knew.
Quinnell slumped to a sitting position on the floor. Jack did the same, leaning against the opposite wall.
“Much as I hate to say it—and surely not as much as you hate to hear it—you’ve got to go back, David.”
A violent shake of his head.
“There’s no place for you out here in the everyday, workaday world… except maybe as a circus freak. Hell, they’re shutting down the circuses, so even that’s not an option. And even if it were, you know the people behind Plum Island will be coming after you. Not just Hess and Monaco, who think you’re key to a cure for cancer—”
A growl.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want anything further to do with those two low-life scumbags either, but it’s not just them who’ll be after you. They’ve got the Department of Defense and Homeland Security behind them. We’re talking major heavy hitters there. So, I don’t see any other option. One way or another you’re going to wind up back on Plum Island, or wind up dead.
Another growl…fainter.
“And…maybe you do carry a cancer cure. That’d be one helluva legacy.”
Quinnell didn’t respond.
Jack waited. He hated the thought of turning him over to Hess and Monaco, but no way could he let him run free. He’d already killed three people. The two kids… maybe they’d asked for it by burning him, but hell, they were just kids. The perv, well, okay, he’d been put down to protect Cilla, but no one but Jack knew that. As soon as the city became aware of the deaths and the existence of a creature called H3, he’d be hunted down and killed.
Easy enough for Jack to hit Quinnell with a couple more tranq darts and call the two Plum Island clowns to come and pick him up. But he wanted Quinnell to make the decision himself.
Jack kept waiting for a response, but Quinnell remained quiet and immobile.
“Hello? You still with us?”
Quinnell tapped the side of his head.
“You’re thinking about it? Well, I can see that.”
He pointed to his mouth and then his stomach. He began to drool. Not a pretty sight.
“Hungry?” Jack realized he was starving—nothing since those Egg McMuffins. “Yeah, I could use some food too.”
He wondered if the Stop & Shop was still open. Doubtful. Midnight had just passed.
“Happy Christmas Eve,” Jack said.
Quinnell’s head snapped up as if that meant something. But the subject was food. When Jack had eaten at the Cross Bay Diner the other day, the signs had said the place was open 24 hours. He doubted the late shift had made it in, but just the same, the middle shift probably couldn’t make it home.
“I hope you don’t insist on raw meat.”
Quinnell shook his head.
“Good. Because I think the diner might be open. I’ll grab you a steak.”
A vigorous nod.
The Cross Bay Diner was less than a mile away. Jack might grab a couple of burgers for himself. And then once their bellies were full, they’d have to come to a decision.
2
Tier eased the explorer’s door closed and stood for a moment, reveling in the solitude. Trapped in that car with someone, anyone, for so damn long, was torture for him. But when that someone was Poncia…
Then add to that the stench of ketchup and the whole front of the car littered with empty packets…
He shook it off. Time to move.
As he edged along the shoulder toward the Jeep, he stuck close to the line of bushes buffering the chain-link fence, making sure to fill his tracks by shaking the snow off the branches after he passed.
He stopped a half dozen feet from the Jeep and checked it out. Someone had exited on the passenger side as well as the driver side. The two of them met on the passenger side, then slipped through a hole in the fence and took the steps down to the train station.
Stepping into the existing tracks, Tier flashed his light into the Jeep interior. Typical of a rental, it lacked the clutter of a personal car. No sign of a Bagaq-size object.
He followed the tracks through the fence, down the steps, through another fence, and onto a huge, windswept parking lot. He stopped and gave the tracks in the snow a closer look. Something odd about them. He faced away from the grandstand and spread out his coat to either side to hide the quick shot from his flashlight. Which only served to increase the odd factor.
One set was just what he’d expect from the heavy work boots he’d spotted on Jack’s feet back at the gas station. But the other… worn sneaker soles landed at an odd angle—like the wearer was walking on his toes—and then other marks that looked like… hands? But strange hands. Was Jack’s companion walking on his hands and feet? Like an ape?
No-no-no. You can’t go there.
The snowfall had tapered off to flurries, but that had happened before. It meant either the storm was finally moving off or just another gap between snow bands. The light filtering through the air from the surrounding human hive revealed a vague remnant of disturbed snow stretched across the lot like a fresh scar. The pavement lay bare in some areas but no question where the tracks headed: straight toward the dark, empty grandstand.
Why? Tier wondered.
Nothing going on here. The racetrack equivalent of a ghost town. At least for the time being. Totally deserted.
But maybe that was the attraction.
He needed to learn what had brought Jack here. A hiding place for the Bagaq? Tier had to be honest—Aqueduct Racetrack was the last place he or anyone else would look for an ancient artifact. Which meant he had to check it out. But he needed to take a more circuitous route to the grandstand.
He started walking the periphery, hurrying across the bare spots when they presented themselves, and slogging through the drifts when he had no other choice. He figured if Jack decided to return to his Jeep, he’d follow his old, more direct path: the diagonal across the lot. Tier’s tracks would be invisible from out there in the middle. But right now, he was highly visible. He tended to wear dark clothes, all the better to blend into the shadows, but out here, against all this white, he felt totally exposed and obvious. Like a fly on a wedding cake.
When he completed his long way ‘round to the looming flank of the grandstand, he saw the other tracks entering its dark underbelly. Stepping cautiously, keeping to a low crouch, he crept into the shadows and stopped, listening as he searched the darkness for signs of life or light. But no flashlight beam pierced the gloom.
The tracks dragged snow onto the dry shielded pavement and trailed away into the black. Tier made sure the snow he tracked in landed with the rest as he followed to… where?
He couldn’t see, and he feared to risk his flash. So, he started feeling along the wall. Had to be a door here somewhere. Jack couldn’t simply vanish into thin air. He—
Tier froze at a sound to his left. It seemed to be coming from… the ground? Some sort of tunnel or drainage pipe below. Of course—the only explanation for how Jack had seemingly disappeared.
It sounded like someone approaching from below. Here was where Tier’s da
rk clothing would serve him well. He was skilled at blending into the background, and here he’d blend with the shadows. He took a deep breath and held it as someone come out of an opening in the floor and took off across the parking lot without a look back.
Jack. Tier recognized his parka.
He waited until he was well on his way before releasing his breath and moving to the opening. Jack had not arrived alone, yet he’d been the only one to leave. That meant…
He aimed his flashlight into the opening and flicked it on and off. Rungs in the wall. Much as he hated the idea, he had to go down. If Jack had hidden the Bagaq down there…
He checked Jack’s whereabouts again: Three-quarters across the lot. He pulled out his backup phone and called Poncia.
“Jack’s on his way. If you’ve got the engine running, turn it off and hunker down so he won’t see you. If the Bagaq is here, we’re done with him. If it’s not, we go after him.”
He killed the call before Poncia could respond. The less he heard from that man, the better.
Tier pulled his .38, slipped through the opening, and clambered into the down-below. As his feet hit bottom, he spied dim light off to his right. Revolver out ahead of him, treading as softly as he was able, he headed for it. He heard a growl as he rounded a corner and—
“Holy—!”
Something not human but wearing an overcoat thrashed by the wall but didn’t charge him. And then he saw the handcuffs and knew why.
“What the fuck are you?” he said in a low voice.
The creature rattled the cuff against the pipe and swiped at him with its free hand. Tier had never seen anything like it. All his primal instincts screamed that this was wrong-wrong-wrong and pushed him to get the hell out. But he had to make a search.
But first he took a closer look at it. Was it a dog-faced man, or a man-faced dog? Its body had human proportions but its teeth were all wrong and its fingers were stubby and ended in claws.
What corner of hell had spawned this thing?
An even bigger question: What was Jack doing with it? The toys, the lights, the mini-Christmas tree… totally surreal and unsettling.
Okay, okay…eye on the prize. The thing, no matter what it was, couldn’t get to him. So… focus. Did any of this have anything to do with the Bagaq? That was what mattered—all that mattered right now.
Keeping his distance from the creature, he made a quick search of the space. Very quick. The angled concrete walls and ceiling provided zero hiding places. He did find a strange little air gun with syringe darts. He’d never seen a tranquilizer gun, but what else could this be?
Had Jack used it on the dog man? Most likely.
Tier pocketed the pistol and the darts. Might come in handy to use on Jack. Or maybe even mad-dog Poncia, for that matter.
He took a last look at the creature and noticed it digging one of its claws into the keyhole of the handcuffs. Trying to pick the lock?
How much intelligence? he wondered
It hadn’t made a single sound that remotely resembled speech, but its eyes… the eyes had a knowing look.
Jack’s problem, he thought as he headed back to the exit. Not mine.
As soon as he’d climbed topside, he called Poncia again.
“What’s the story?”
“He showed up and took off.”
“I’m on my way.”
He ran back in Jack’s tracks and found the Explorer sitting and idling. He slipped in behind the wheel.
“Is he still on the map?”
“Yeah. Headed across the Belt.”
Tier put the car in gear and started rolling. “Not onto the Belt but across it?”
“Ain’t that what I said?”
If he didn’t need him to monitor the tracker, Tier would be delighted to pop Poncia with one of the tranquilizer darts right now.
“Looks like he’s taking Cross Bay into Howard Beach.”
Tier banged on the steering wheel. “Excellent!”
“Why’s that excellent?”
“Because there’s water on three sides. Unless he’s headed across Jamaica Bay, we’ve got him cornered.”
3
Well, no surprise, the Stop & Shop was closed.
Jack noticed a landscaper’s pickup plowing the parking lot, so he made a sharp right and pulled in. After a quick, tight U-turn he stopped and faced the street, waiting to see who would pass.
Cross Bay Boulevard remained empty. Pretty much what he’d expected at one A.M. on Christmas Eve at the tail end of a major blizzard.
But dammit, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed. Obviously, he was wrong, but the feeling persisted.
Shrugging it off, he pulled back onto the street and continued south to the Cross Bay Diner’s lot. The sign was lit up, including the boxed OPEN 24 HRS—WE DELIVER.
Yeah, you say you deliver, but will you deliver to the tunnel under the Aqueduct grandstand?
He wouldn’t bet on it.
The lights were on inside but all the cars parked in the lot were under mounds of snow. The front steps, however, had been shoveled. A good sign.
He parked and trotted up to the front door. As soon as he stepped inside, he was greeted by cheers from the five workers, three men and two women, seated at the counter.
“What’s up?” he said.
“A customer!” someone cried. “Been hours since we seen one.”
“I need a steak and burgers to go. Can you handle that?”
More cheers.
“How do you want that steak?” said a woman on the end.
“I’m thinking rare. Very rare.”
4
“He’s going to a fucking diner?” Poncia said.
They’d been hanging back, way back. Good thing too. Jack had pulled into the parking lot of a closed grocery store for no good reason Tier could see other than to scope out whether he was being followed. Did he suspect? No way could he have seen them.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Tier said.
Maybe he was going to bring back food to feed that thing he had chained in the underground.
Tier hadn’t mentioned the creature to Poncia. Not worth the effort to explain. Hell, he couldn’t explain it to himself. How was he going to make a cretin like Poncia understand?
He killed the headlights and turned into the diner’s north lot where he pulled up close to the side of the building. Jack had parked in the south lot.
Off to the left, behind the diner, sat the boat basin. It ran most of the length of Howard Beach and was crammed with boats all summer. Empty now. Had a funny name that eluded him at the moment. Shellbank… that was it: the Shellbank Basin.
Tier watched the big diner windows. They’d been painted with seasonal images like giant green holly leaves with red berries. He didn’t see any sign of customers inside. Jack was either eating or picking up food to go. Best case scenario: He’d head back to Aqueduct and they could grab him on that isolated street where he’d parked before. Worst case: He’d drive back to Manhattan where he’d turn in the Jeep and disappear.
“We’ve got to take him here,” Tier said.
“You mean go inside and drag him out?”
What an idiot.
“Too many witnesses.”
“So? That’s why they invented guns. Corpses tell no tales. Can’t have much of a crew working the graveyard shift on a night like this, so we’re talking, what?—three losers at the most.” He grinned and made a soft heh-heh sound. “Graveyard shift. We can make it a real graveyard shift.”
Tier looked at him. What was it with this guy?
“They’re innocent working people, with families. And it’s Christmas Eve.”
“So, you’d rather leave them to get together with an Etch-A-Sketch cop and have our faces all over the place in a couple hours?”
“Don’t you have any sort of code?”
“What’re you talking about? You mean like Morse code?”
Talking to this guy was like… like… like talki
ng to a houseplant.
“I mean a code of behavior. You know, like I’ll do this, this, and this, but I won’t do that.”
Poncia made a face. “You mean like that Meat Loaf song? Are you talking about a fucking Meat Loaf song?”
“Forget it.”
Hopeless!
“No, let’s not forget it. We’re getting philosophical here and that’s good. I like that, ’cause I’m a philosophical kinda guy. I just need a better clue as to what you’re talking about.”
…a philosophical kinda guy…was he serious?
Okay. One more try.
“I’m talking about self-imposed obligations to behave in a certain way. Like in my Army unit, we had a rule—part of our code—that we never left anyone behind. If someone got hurt or even killed, we’d do everything in our power to bring them back with us.”
“Oh, I getcha. Yeah, for me, it’s do whatever Mister Apfel tells me. He wants something done and I do everything in my power to get it done.”
“No matter what he tells you to do?”
“Yeah. That’s my job. He pays the bills and I do what he wants done.”
“What if he told you to kill a mother and child?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah, sure.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, I assume he’s got a good reason and they probably deserve it. So y’see? I do have a code.”
More like an obedient dog. No, wait. Even dogs had a better set of ethics than this… this fucking automaton.
Tier pulled out the dart pistol and inspected it.
“The fuck’s that?”
“Shoots tranquilizer darts.”
Poncia pulled out a semiautomatic. “This shoots bullets—nines.”
“This doesn’t kill. We—”
“Is that it? You’re afraid of killing someone? How can an ex-army guy be afraid of killing?”
Tier did a slow count to three as he thought about the crowd of Taliban up there with Allah who were wishing he’d been afraid to kill.
“If you’d let me finish: We want information from him, remember?”
“I can shoot him in the legs.”
“And make one hell of a racket in the process.”
The Last Christmas: A Repairman Jack Novel Page 26