by Hopkin, Ben
But sometimes you shouldn’t share your toys. Like if a stranger-danger grownup comes over and wants to play with you. That was not a time to share.
So there were times that you weren’t supposed to follow the rules that were important rules. So even though it was good that Darc cared, maybe this was not a good time to listen to him when he told them to go away.
Besides, even though Darc was learning things, sometimes he still needed help. Janey was a good helper. Her mommy and daddy had always told her so. Mala did too. Even Mrs. Kingston, who sometimes got disappointed in Janey, told her she was a good helper. So it only made sense that she should go and help.
Now she just had to find a way to tell Mala.
There was one way that might work.
Janey started drawing badges all over the windows. She drew one after another after another and then tapped Mala on the shoulder and pointed to them.
Mala turned her head and saw the drawings. Even though they were kind of drippy and messy, Janey could tell that she knew what they were.
“Oh, Janey. He doesn’t want us there. And we shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be there.”
Popeye said that he had told her so, and besides, he wanted a bedtime story. Janey told him to hush and it was way too late for a story anyhow. Once Popeye realized he wasn’t getting a story out of it, he changed his tune pretty fast.
But looking back at Mala, Janey just asked using her eyes. She was pretty good at it. Sometimes Mala knew exactly what she was asking without Janey even drawing a picture. And right now she was telling her that Darc needed their help.
She was also telling Mala that she would be good and stay in the car, but she wasn’t saying that as loud, because she wasn’t really sure she was going to. If Darc needed her help, there was no way she was staying put.
But Mala knew that.
“I know, Janey, I know, but…” Mala scrunched her face up. “It’s hard to explain, but I just want to make sure that we stay together.”
Janey knew that, but it wasn’t the right answer. Mala understood it wasn’t the right answer. So she just kept looking at Mala, and pointed at the badges again.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Mala asked.
Janey smiled and shook her head no. Mala was super smart. Almost as smart as Darc. What was even weirder was that Popeye seemed excited to go. That never happened.
Now she had to show Mala where they were supposed to go. Pulling out a piece of paper, Janey began drawing a picture of where Darc and Trey were.
She just hoped they got there in time.
CHAPTER 19
The fabric of glowing logic wove itself about the landscape around them. Darc could see clearly that there were several victims, including the Mayor, all trapped somewhere within those boxcars. Five marking each of the points of the star in the pentagram, one in the center.
Just as clear was the fact that this was a trap.
It was a trap that was unapologetic. There was no hiding that detailed piece of information. It had been clear in the office. It was clear here in the train yard.
Darc knew. The killer knew that Darc knew. That had been his intent. He knew that Darc would recognize the danger and come anyway. And Darc understood that there was little chance that they would be able to evade every part of that threat.
Darc calculated the probability of him and Trey coming out alive at 37 percent. The likelihood of them coming out unscathed was a statistical zero.
This killer was intelligent. He planned things out with precision, but remained flexible enough to change when things were not following the path he had laid out. He had help, possibly in the form of multiple disciples who were willing to follow his orders no matter how grisly they might become.
What’s more, based off of the information Darc had gleaned from the Mayor’s office, the killer was here. If not within sight of the area, close enough to be able to both monitor and shift the pieces that were in play.
Because as brazen as the invitation had been, the killer had left out anything that might help Darc ascertain the exact nature of the trap and neutralize it. He was operating with a plethora of information, but a dearth of useful intel.
The logical assumption would be that the center car would hold the Mayor. But something about that assessment rang false, the logic threads glowing a dark orange. The Mayor would be in one of the outer cars.
As they neared the first of them, Darc could see that every section of train was a typical boxcar. The one that they were approaching was not on a track.
Getting even closer, small indicators around the car swirled into Darc’s consciousness, brining with them bits of gleaming information. The boxcar was suspended on blocks, one positioned on each of the corners.
But there was something else that demanded Darc’s attention, a thread that shone a brilliant red. There were depressions in the earth surrounding the boxcar, ones that made no sense when put in the context of a railway.
Trey started to approach the car, holding up his flashlight in one hand, his pistol in the other. Darc put out his arm to halt his partner’s progress.
“Stop.”
Trey ceased moving with no hesitation. “Hey. Don’t have to tell me twice.” He glanced from Darc to the car and back again. “Is it booby trapped?”
Darc nodded his head once, and from what he could tell, Trey stopped breathing. It would be unfortunate if his partner were to lose consciousness, so Darc clarified.
“Do not get any closer to the car.”
“Right.”
Darc bent down, examining every inch of the bottom edge of the boxcar. It appeared that he had found the nature of the trap, but ascertaining the trigger was the most important part of the operation.
There. Along the side of one of the blocks, almost obscured by the machinery, was a thin metallic filament. Either through the use of a trip wire, or possibly a pressure plate, as soon as Darc and Trey entered the boxcar, it would trigger an electric charge that would lead… somewhere. The paths tangled up, searching for the elusive clues.
Darc crouched down, looking for a way to detach or sever the filament to prevent any charge from passing through it. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, knowing the wood would not react in any way to the metal wire. It would take steadiness of hand to do this properly. But as he peered closer, another stray thread of logic washed across his mental pathways, alerting him to an unseen danger.
This filament was a decoy.
Following the wire back, Darc traced it to a large pack of C4. If Darc had pulled the wire out or cut it in any fashion, the entire trap would have sprung, destroying the boxcar and anything in the near vicinity. Including Darc and Trey.
It also would have set off a chain reaction that would have detonated the additional explosives in each one of the depressions around the car. Whether or not that would then spread to the other five containers was not clear.
Trey’s eyes followed Darc’s movements, landing on the brick of explosives. “Is that what I think it is?” he groaned. “Seriously? Could we not have a serial killer that likes flowers or something? Why is it always blades and blood and things blowing up?” He threw up his hands. “Why can’t it ever be good stuff? Surprise! You hit a trip wire and released a litter of puppies!”
Darc continued following the trail of wires leading from the C4 up to the doorway of the boxcar. Whether it was attached to a trip wire or a pressure plate was irrelevant at this point. Severing the wire should allow them to enter without fear of explosion.
As long as they survived the severing, that was.
Darc pulled out a pocketknife and cut the wire without hesitation. Trey followed the movement and barked out, “Hold on! Was that dangerous?”
“We are intact and the C4 did not explode,” Darc answered. “Therefore, it was not dangerous.”
“But it could have been? Did you really just cut a wire that could have blown us to hell?”
“I calculated the ri
sk at 14.7 percent.”
“That’s a pretty high percentage when death’s on the table, dude,” Trey answered, his volume increasing. Seeing as how they were not in a place that would require additional decibels for Darc to hear him, it was feasible that Trey was upset. Perhaps more information would calm him.
“The probability of death if we went in with the explosive intact was 99.9.”
“So how about we don’t go in? What about that option, huh?” Trey grabbed his hair and paced back and forth. “Or, I don’t know, maybe we wait for backup. Like with the bomb squad or something?”
Darc squatted back down and pointed to the C4. Back behind the explosive, a timer counted down. It currently read four minutes and eighteen seconds.
“Sonofa…” Trey breathed. He looked around at the other cars. “Does that mean…?”
“All of the cars are more than likely similarly rigged. We do not know which ones contain corpses and which houses the Mayor.” The lines continued to writhe around, looking for additional clues to add to the computations. But behind it all was a pulsating urgency. They had to move. Now.
Darc sprang to his feet, running up to the entrance of the car. The sliding door was rusty and the metal screamed as Darc and Trey moved it to the side.
The car was empty.
“What the hell?” Trey shouted, peering into the dark metal rectangle, dimly lit by the flashing beam of his handheld light.
But the pathways of logic had already begun to congeal. Darc knew why this container had been left empty.
It was not a good thing.
* * *
Mala raced to the Industrial District, shooting down the 5 as fast as she could without risking attention from the highway patrol. She might be able to get out of a ticket with her ID, but it would result in losing precious seconds.
Glancing in the mirror to make certain Janey had her seatbelt on, Mala’s conscience pricked her once more. Taking Janey to a crime scene was bad enough. Taking her there at two o’clock in the morning was another thing entirely.
And yet, there was something there in the back of her mind that told her she needed to be there. Not only that, but she needed to be there fast.
Janey certainly seemed to be of that opinion. She alternated between bouncing up and down in her seat, almost as if she could propel the car forward with her movements, and drawing more badges in the moisture on the windows.
There was one point where Janey thrust her ratty old bear over the seat, shaking it in Mala’s face. It was hard to be sure, but Mala had the feeling that she’d just gotten chastised for being slow by a child’s toy.
Regardless of the consequences to her and to Janey, they were headed out to the train yard. Not a place for women and children to hang out at night. Mala reminded herself to ask Captain Merle about getting a gun.
She pulled out her cell phone, ready to call Darc. Janey’s picture had shown her where to go, and it had also stressed her out. There were lots of places in that drawing where things seemed to be going really bad, really fast. Explosions, people weeping, and red. Lots of red.
Seemed like information that Darc would want to have. But as she called, it went right through to voicemail. Darc’s voice, even more inflectionless than normal, flooded her ear. If you have reached this recording, I am on another call, chasing a suspect, in an area with limited coverage, asleep or otherwise occupied. Or it is possible I have no desire to speak with you. Leave a message.
If it had been anyone else, Mala would have assumed it was an attempt to be humorous. With Darc, he was probably just covering all of his bases.
But it did leave her with the problem of trying to figure out how to get in touch with the tall detective. She had a basic location for where they were, but the stretch of railroad tracks was fairly extensive. Without speaking with Darc, there was very little chance she would be able to find them.
Unless…
Janey seemed to have developed or learned some of Darc’s savant capabilities. Mala had assumed that there would be no way for the little girl to do much beyond drawing a picture, but they hadn’t actually tried anything else.
Mala spoke over her shoulder to Janey. “I can’t get a hold of Darc. Do you think you could point to where we need to go?”
A pensive look came over Janey’s face. It was as if the idea had never occurred to her either. She gave Mala a tentative nod.
Maybe. Maybe this could work.
As they neared an intersection, Mala looked into Janey’s face for an indicator, but she shook her head. No. Not the right street.
There was a slight hesitation at the next. First Janey pointed to the right, but then pointed to the left. The stutter start worried Mala a bit. She had no desire to get lost down in the Industrial District. But hey, that’s what GPS was made for, right?
As she took the left-hand turn, Mala could see within seconds what the confusion had been. The road curved around, taking Mala back in almost the opposite direction. For a little girl who didn’t drive, that kind of complicated directionality would be tricky.
And then, somehow, impossibly, Mala caught sight of Trey’s Land Rover. It was parked in sight of the railroad tracks. Mala stared at Janey through the mirror.
“Did you know they would be parked here?”
Janey just smiled.
* * *
Trey pumped his arms and legs faster, trying to keep up with Darc as he raced through the middle of the huge open area, heading toward the car in the center of the circle. As per usual, there hadn’t been much of a heads up in terms of what they were doing. It was just up to Trey to follow.
Sometimes it felt to Trey that he’d spent his entire time working with Darc running. Just running and running and running.
And not just that, but running behind.
There was never a point at which Darc and he were sprinting somewhere and Trey was ahead. That simply never happened.
Come to think of it, that wasn’t just a physical thing. Darc was always ahead of Trey mentally as well. Didn’t seem fair. Shouldn’t the brainiac be the one that was always falling behind? If Trey knew anything from his years of sneaking copies of Sweet Valley High in Catholic school, it was that smart people were not supposed to be good at this kind of stuff.
And in this case, he had no idea if they were running toward danger or away from it. He was hoping for toward, since that meant that Darc would get there first.
He continued hoping that until the railroad car behind them exploded, throwing Trey headlong into the side of one of the tracks. He sat up, his ears ringing, and held his hand up to his forehead. It came away red.
Great. He was bleeding.
Glancing up to check on Darc, Trey could see that either his partner had been outside the blast radius, or he had just gotten up a lot faster.
Dammit.
He pulled himself up to standing and started running once more. By this time, Darc had increased his lead to an uncomfortable distance. Bad things happened when you were stuck in a death trap away from Darc. Actually, spending a moment on that thought, bad things happened when you woke up in the morning and Darc was your partner.
“Darc!” he panted. “Wait up!”
“You saw the timer,” was the only reply from his partner.
“Yeah, I saw it,” Trey called out. “Didn’t mean I understood it.”
By this point, Darc had passed the next boxcar and was moving past it to the one on the far side. What the hell? Was there something here Trey was missing? More than usual, anyway?
“What about this one?” Trey said, pointing to the boxcar that was up on what looked like hydraulic jacks as he neared it. “I mean, it’s right in the middle.”
“The Fibonacci sequence,” Darc answered. Well, he said it, at least. Didn’t mean it was much of an answer.
“Seriously, Darc! Can you just give me a straight answer for once?” Trey panted, stopping for a moment and leaning his hand against the car.
“Move away!” Darc bar
ked at him.
Oops. Trey felt a click, and then the boxcar shifted out from underneath him. So did the earth underneath Trey’s feet.
Somehow, the entire car was being swallowed up in the ground. And Trey was being taken right along with it. He pushed backward with all his strength, but it was clear he wasn’t going to make it.
Until he felt a fist grip the back of his jacket and pull. Hard.
Falling to the ground, Trey landed in the dirt, kicking up dust and pieces of gravel that lodged themselves in the gash on his forehead. Man, that sucker hurt.
Rolling over, he saw that Darc had fallen alongside him, his partner’s chiseled face streaked with grime. At least Trey wasn’t the only one getting beat up here.
From behind them, there was a whoosh and a blast of heat.
Twisting around, Trey saw that the car had been perched precariously on the edge of a huge pit. Inside that pit was some sort of viscous fluid that was now aflame.
“Crude oil,” Darc answered his unspoken question.
“See, Darc. Was that so hard? I needed information, you gave it to me.”
But the tall detective was already back on his feet. “We have less than three minutes left.”
Okay, the ticking clock was more important than Trey’s unanswered questions. Even he got that. He raced off after Darc once more.
They ran for the rail car that was almost directly opposite the first. As they ran, another explosion rocked the open area.
It was the railcar directly next to the first one they had approached.
Trey glanced around, ticking off the cars in his head. Okay. There were three remaining cars. The one they were headed to looked to be the last in the line, if that’s how the explosions were happening.
The second blast had come about thirty seconds after the first.
So, instead of the three minutes they thought they had, it looked like it was closer to a minute and a half. Trey wondered if there would be two explosions, or if the one would be enough for this sicko.
How much more could you be killed once you’d been blown into a million bits?
* * *
Mala held Janey’s hand as they ran out into the middle of some kind of apocalyptic nightmare that felt like it was straight out of one of the end-of-days sections of the Bible. The twisted metal remains of what looked like it was once a railroad car squatted right in front of their path, a grim reminder of what awaited them farther in.