by Sean Wallace
“. . . Fine,” I sigh.
“Good. Sit up straight and don’t touch a damn thing.”
And with that, he turns and walks out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Immediately, I start looking around for anything that could help me out. The desk is fairly empty – a lamp, an ashtray, an ornate paperweight sat over some gold leaf stationery. I glance around the room. Filing cabinets, a liquor cabinet, a potted orchid, nothing. I peak around the desk, wondering if I have enough time to search through the drawers, and something on the floor catches my eye. Caught between the stout legs of the desk and the shag of the area rug, there’s a tortoise-shell fountain pen.
I can hear footsteps approaching again, so I act fast. I slide out of my seat, snatch up the pen, and yank myself back up. The doorknob turns just as I slide it up into my sleeve.
I turn around to look at the door and a woman walks in. She’s wearing a short, form-fitting black dress, and a long string of pearls cascades down to her waist from her slender neck. A mink stole is draped around her shoulders, and she wears a dark cloche hat with white silk roses embroidered on the sides. Her face is pale and striking – red lips and emerald eyes – and her short black bob frames it perfectly.
She slowly walks across the office, her heels clicking against the floor as she does. I keep my eyes pinned on her as she walks past me and behind the desk, settling daintily into the seat. She leans up and adjusts her hat.
“Lloyd Williams,” she nods over to me in a smooth, elegant voice.
“. . . How did you know my name?” I ask warily.
“The boys found your license in your satchel,” she says. “They said you made quite an entrance. Would you mind explaining to me how it was you came across my tunnel?”
“. . . Your tunnel?” I ask.
She stares at me and blinks.
“It is now,” she says.
She doesn’t say it curtly or with an edge. She says it like she’s just stating a fact. Like the sky is blue or the grass is green. It catches me off guard. Her calm demeanor, her appearance, all of it. I sigh and slump back in my seat.
“Look,” I say. “I have no idea what’s going on here. I’m drilling for gold one minute and the next I’m falling through an underground cave and Al Capone out there is waving a gun in my face.”
The woman blinks again.
“And you’re not working with anyone? No cops?” she asks.
I snort.
“You think if I was lookin’ for some underground tunnel I’d come at it at a steep angle and risk falling in like I did? I enjoy my neck in its current trajectory, not for lack of trying,” I say.
The woman glances off to the side for a moment, as if weighing what I’ve said.
“All right. I believe you,” she says with a nod. “I do apologize for the misunderstanding and the brutality on Robbie’s part, but this is a very delicate operation we’re running here, easy to get jostled. Let me introduce myself – Jacqueline Watts.”
She sticks a hand out and with a moment of hesitation, I reach forward and shake it. She has a strong grip.
“Can I get you anything? Smoke? Martini?” Jacqueline offers.
“. . . I’m fine, thank you,” I say.
“If you change your mind, offer still stands,” she says with a nod. “Moving on, you must be wondering what’s going on here. Do you have any idea what this all is?”
I’m wary to speak up, but I find myself shaking my head.
“You seem to be an intelligent man, Mr Williams. We’re deep underground, in a massive tunnel only accessible by drilling through the earth. Use your deduction skills,” she says.
I sigh and rub my temples before it clicks.
Only accessible by drilling.
“This is an abandoned tunnel from the Pacific Railway,” I realize out loud. Jacqueline snaps her fingers. “Now you’re on the trolley,” she says.
“I didn’t know they made it to Illinois before they shut down. Shoot, I didn’t think they even made it past Colorado.”
“Not many people do,” Jacqueline nods. “That’s our main advantage.”
“So . . . what is it you all are doing down here?” I ask.
Jacqueline raises an eyebrow at me, and I can tell she wants me to use my deduction skills once again. I look around the office, trying to find some clues. My eyes trace across the room, around the desk, the filing cabinets, and finally, on the liquor cabinet.
Holy shit.
“You’re rumrunners,” I say.
“Well done,” she says. “Though personally I don’t care for the word. It has so many negative implications attached to it. I run a world-class operation here. This isn’t a bunch of rubes carting panther piss they made in their garages. You ever get a drink down in Twin Pike?”
“Um . . . yeah. I was down there yesterday.” I nod.
“That’s our supply you’re tasting, and we get it imported from all over the world. Finding my way into these old tunnels wasn’t even the most difficult part. Before we could begin, we had to find a covert way to get the alcohol off the airships before docking, without being seen by air traffic control. It took a great deal of time and money to orchestrate, but I’m not the kind of person who gives up easily. Once we found our blind spot, everything slipped into place. It’s been a large success. And I make quite a lot of money off of it.”
She stops talking and waits, staring at me with unreadable eyes. Finally, I do the only thing I can.
I whistle.
“That’s pretty brilliant,” I say.
“Thank you,” Jacqueline nods. “But I’m not telling you all of this to impress you.”
The sobriety of her tone gives me goosebumps at this point. Jacqueline breaks eye contact with me to fish in her desk, and she pulls out a cigarette case and a box of matches. She removes a cigarette and brings it to her lips, the pulls out a match and strikes it.
“Sure you don’t want a smoke?” she asks.
“. . . I’m fine, thank you,” I mumble.
“Just let me know if you change your mind,” she says as she lights up.
I look down at the desk and tap my fingers. I’ve got this terrible, sinking feeling that things are about to go from bad to worse.
“So . . . why is it you’re telling me all this?” I ask.
I look up and Jacqueline meets my eyes again before removing the cigarette from her red lips and exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“That drill you have. Where did you get it?” she asks.
“. . . It was in disrepair. I fixed it up myself.” I say slowly.
“Hmmm. That must have taken a while. The boys said they found some gold in it. That what you mine?” she asks.
“Not very often . . .” I say.
“I’m not interested in your gold, don’t worry about that. But I am curious, how fast does she go?”
I don’t like what she’s getting at. Not one bit. I keep quiet, and Jacqueline takes another drag of her cigarette.
“The boys said the speedometer went up to a hundred and ten miles per hour. That true?” Jacqueline asks.
“. . . I’ve never driven her that fast. I keep her at ten an hour,” I say.
“Ah that’s right. You’re looking for gold, after all.” She nods.
“. . . Right,” I murmur.
“You know, I’ve considered looking for a mobile drill,” Jacqueline says. “This tunnel runs halfway across the country and throughout most of the state, but there are only certain access points. Now, I’ve been quite complacent the way things are. I make a substantial amount of money doing what I do, but not so much that I was willing to gamble it away trying to track down a piece of lost history. Imagine my surprise when Robbie comes and tells me a drill’s fallen right into my lap?”
I’ve got this sinking feeling building up inside of me. I open my mouth, but I can’t say a word. Jacqueline regards my state for a moment before continuing.
“With a drill, I could expand my emp
ire exponentially. I could triple my clientele in a matter of weeks. It would be worth a great deal to me,” she says.
“Mmhmmm,” I nod.
I’m not a stupid man. I can see exactly where this is going.
But that doesn’t make it any less torturous.
“So. If I asked you how much your drill was worth to you, what would you say?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t. It’s priceless,” I say firmly.
“And I can understand why,” Jacqueline says, taking a puff of her cigarette. “Now, when it comes to my business dealings I can be exceptionally fair and generous. But in order to get to where I am today, I had to break a lot of laws, and twist a lot of arms. So I’m going to level with you. You have something I want, and I am not a good person. What do you think’s going to happen next?”
I look down at the table and try not to shake with rage. I’m suddenly very aware of the fountain pen in my sleeve. It may be pathetic, but it is sharp.
I wonder if it’s sharp enough to defend me against a tunnel full of armed gangsters.
“So what are you going to do with me after you steal my drill?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice from sounding spiteful. I don’t want to make this any worse for myself.
“You insult me. I may be a criminal, but I wouldn’t steal from you,” Jacqueline says.
“Then why don’t you explain to me exactly what is going on,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Certainly,” she nods. “You’re going to show us how to operate your drill. You’re going to give us a series of demonstrations of its capabilities until we’re certain we can run it on our own. Then I am going to have you sign a contract transferring ownership to us, and I’ll cut you a more than reasonable check.”
I have to wrestle every fiber of my being to stay calm. I can see how Jacqueline operates. She wants to pay me so I’ll be less likely to go to the cops afterwards, and if I do, she’ll have proof we did business together and drag me down with her. She’s clearly cunning. I tell myself to tread carefully around her. To keep my wits about me and not do anything rash.
But for the love of god, they’re trying to take Jules from me.
I clench my fists.
“Hypothetically speaking. What would happen if I told you to go fuck yourself?” I ask.
Jacqueline raises an eyebrow before leaning forward. I find myself flinching and drawing back, but she flicks the ash of her cigarette into the ashtray.
“I’d say that’s extremely unfortunate, and I’d be forced to let Robbie step in. I’d warn you though; he can be very cutthroat when it comes to negotiations. He’s developed a bit of an obsession with his cigar cutter lately,” she says.
I swallow, and gently retract my hands from the desk.
“Anyway, I’ll let you think about it overnight, we need to replace your cracked window before we start anyway. I hope you can forgive your impromptu accommodations, we don’t usually hold people in this facility. I’ll have the boys bring in a cot for you and something to eat. Any requests?” Jacqueline asks.
“. . . No,” I mumble, looking down.
She leans forward again, this time, putting her cigarette out on the tray.
“All right then, I’ll have them surprise you.”
And with that, she reaches up, readjusts her mink stole and stands.
“It was a pleasure speaking with you Lloyd. I look forward to doing business with you tomorrow,” she says.
She walks around the desk, over to the door and steps out. The door closes, and weight of the entire world comes crumbling down around me.
When I was a kid, I used to use my mother’s hairpins to try to pick locks on doors. Just to see if I could. On a few occasions, it actually worked.
Trying to pick a lock with a fountain pen is much harder.
After Jacqueline had left, a few of her workers came in with a cot like she said they would. They cleared out a bit more space in the closet before sticking it in and jamming me in there with it. I won’t lie, it took me a while to calm down. Even longer to try to figure out a plan. But by the time Robbie opened the door to chuck a lunch bag with a sandwich into my face, I had a rough idea.
If I could wait long enough, night would fall, and there will have to be less activity, or at least a shift change – either less people to observe me, or people who haven’t seen my face yet. This closet is full of work clothes. Maybe, just maybe, I can get out there without being noticed. They’ll be guarding Jules, no doubt about it. But I can get out of this tunnel. I hate the idea of leaving Jules behind with these people. I hate it so much it makes me feel sick. But there’s nothing I can do from here. I’ll get out of this tunnel. Go to the authorities. Tell them everything, show them where to go, conduct the search with them, hell, I can take them down to the speakeasy in Twin Pike and they can watch me beat answers out of the barkeeps. I’ll get Jules back, no matter what it takes. It will all turn out okay in the end.
If I could only find a way to pick this damn lock.
Suddenly from outside the door, I hear footsteps approaching.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
I quickly pocket my pen and throw myself back into the cot, facing the wall. The door opens soon after.
“Get up,” Robbie barks at me.
“Aw gee Mom, Can’t I get another five minutes?” I whine, turning over to glare at him.
“I’ve had just about enough of your attitude, miner. Get out of the closet now or I’ll go outside, get a rock and bash all your teeth out of your skull.”
I sigh and pull myself out of the cot.
“I don’t have time for any shit. Just follow me.”
He leads me out of the office, out into the cavern. There are fewer workers here now than there were before, but they’re all hard at work, carting crates I now know must be filled with liquor.
“How long did you lock me in there?” I ask, glancing around.
“Not long enough. Keep moving,” he says.
“Jacqueline told me we weren’t starting until tomorrow. It can’t have been a full day yet,” I say.
“Maybe she did, but I had the windows repaired, and she doesn’t want to waste time. I don’t either, so keep moving.”
We walk out into the tunnel, and I take the time to glance around. There really aren’t that many workers, and none of them are looking at me.
“Don’t try anything,” Robbie growls at me. “I’m keeping my gun holstered because Jackie told me to show you some courtesy. So let me indulge you in some privileged information – out of common courtesy – I’m the quickest draw in the state. You take off, and I’ll fill you full of lead before you get two yards away.”
“Thanks for the warning. Awful decent of you to tell me how good you’ll be at killing me,” I say.
“Who said I’d kill you? Jackie wants you alive. I’m sure you can operate your drill with one good leg – especially if getting to keep your other one is your incentive.”
I open my mouth, but I decide not to say anything. There’s no point to it. I keep my trap shut for the rest of the walk through the tunnel, and before long, I can see Jules’s silhouette in the dim light. There’s a fleeting moment where just seeing her intact is enough to make my heart flutter – seeing that she wasn’t damaged in the fall, that her window is no longer broken. Jacqueline and several workers come into view as we walk over to them, and that feeling dies almost instantly.
I’ll never have that feeling again.
“Thank you, Robbie,” she says as we walk up. I see that she’s changed her clothing. The dress has been exchanged for an embroidered blouse and a pair of sports pants tucked into boots, no doubt in preparation for our journey through the tunnel. Her mink stole has been pinned in place around her shoulders with a broach, and I can see she’s wearing a holster beneath it, two guns at the ready. I focus in on the blank glass eyes of one of the minks on her stole, its little terrified face, frozen in the fear of its last moments alive. It makes me feel uneasy.
“Lloyd,” Jacqueline says, turning to face me. “It’s good to see you again. I hope you got some rest. I apologize that this meeting had to be moved forward, but we’re running on a tight schedule here. Were you able to come to a decision?”
I stare daggers at her. Decision. Oh yes, the big decision. Either I do what they want or they’ll torture me until I do.
This is it. I have no other choice.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper, my heart breaking as I do.
“Attaboy,” Jacqueline says, and turns to the two workers by her side. “Louis, George, go inform the others we’ll be taking the drill out for a test run. I trust you two will be more than capable of overseeing operations in my absence.”
The two men nod and walk off down the tunnel, and Robbie prods at me with his elbow.
“Okay miner, get in.”
With heavy feet, I trudge over to Jules, trying to detach myself as much as I can. I climb up and twist open her hatch, lower myself down and settle into her seat. Robbie comes in after me and as he sits down, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his gun.
“That’s not necessary.” Jacqueline says, sliding inside and taking her place next to him.
“Jackie, what if he—”
“What if he what? Tries something funny? Then you can pull your gun out then. But he’s been cooperative so far, so let’s not reward his compliance by making him drive with a gun to his temple. He needs to be calm and level headed so he can drive.”
Robbie sighs and then turns and glowers at me.
“Well?! What are you waiting for?” he snaps.
I stand up, close the hatch, and slump back down. Jacqueline passes over a map.
“For the first demonstration, I want to see how fast this drill can go. Take us north-east,” she nods.
I barely glance at the map. I don’t care where we go. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Instead I just focus on prepping Jules. The key is already in the ignition. I turn it, pull her lever and she lurches forward, and with a quick glance at the compass built into her dashboard, I turn her east and drive her over to the walls of the tunnels.
I turn the lever and grip onto the wheel. Jules bucks as her drill roars to life, grinding against the stone and dirt of the tunnel wall. Dirt and gravel sprays out of the way, and after a few minutes, I push on the pedal and let her drive ahead.