Blood Lust: A Supernatural Horror (43 page)

He was proud that he did not
allow
th
is
sudden surge of confidence in his abilities go to his head.
He realized Washington was a fickle mistress and what was offered one day could be withdrawn the next.
H
e still had the
blood
of three
dead
agents
staining his hands as proof of
his fallibility.
Their ghosts acted as
Caesar’s
slave riding
on the chariot
behind a triumphant
Caesar
reminding him
that
he was only human.
Faber realized
he was only too human but his task seemed beyond frail human capabilities.
Nevertheless, failure was not an option.
The
key to capturing a creature was Thackery Hardin.
Hardin and the creature were joined at the hips like a pair of macabre psychic Siamese twins.

The Alvarez woman had dropped out of sight
after the fiasco at the monastery. Faber
suspected
that
she was involved with the creature more deeply than
she admitted. There were just too many coincidences where she and the creature were concerned. He knew she
would show up
eventually
, either
near
the creature or with Hardin.
She seemed to have the detective wrapped around her little finger
, not that he could blame Hardin
.
Dr. Alvarez was a real looker.
He had some serious questions for her.

“Helen,” he called
out
hardly above a whisper
.
Ghost-like
,
she
materialized
at his elbow almost before he could look up
, the ever-efficient secretary
. “Have Owens and Jones keep tabs on Hardin
and I mean stick to him
this time
as if their jobs depended on it
, which they might
. We can’t let him out of our sight.”

She smiled at him. “
Simmons
has sort of taken it upon himself to keep tabs on Mr. Hardin.
He reported Hardin check
ed
into a hotel
after leaving his apartment
.”

Faber was
pleased
by Simmons’ initiative
but
somewhat
surprised. “I didn’t authorize the overtime.”

“Simmons isn’t on the clock, sir.”

“Hmm. Be sure to adjust his record to show that he was.”

The corners of her mouth turned up as she covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a smile
. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Faber paused a minute. “Yes.
Have him report to me as soon as possible.”

As Helen left,
Faber leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head
, smiling
. He admired
Clad
Simmons
,
had been
certain he would prove a valuable asset when he
had hired him
.
His
terrible
ordeal in Iraq would have
severely
damaged
most
men. Simmons had come through
the torture
stronger for it.
He had taken a personal interest in Hardin after Hardin had killed the adult. Simmons
was like
the proverbial
bulldog: He
just couldn’t let go. Now it seemed his instincts
had proven right
.
Faber
wished he had more men like Clad Simmons.

2
2

At
the offices of the Metro Area Rapid Transit
, I
flash
ed
my badge
and secured an immediate meeting with
Oliver McNeil, the
manager
. As he ushered me into his office, I
discreetly
checked him out
, noticing
he was
carefully looking me over
as well.
His eyes bore an unspoken question – Why was I there? McNeil
looked to be in his mid-fifties with the broad shoulders
and
beefy hands
of a man who had started as a laborer and had worked his way up.
His
strong grip
as we shook hands bore
this out.
In spite of his office job, h
e had only a slight paunch around his waist.

His office was a veritable museum of memorabilia from a bygone age of transportation – photos of early subway cars, the city as it
looked
fifty years ago,
photos of
rough looking men with shovels and pick axes
thrown over their shoulders
,
shelves with
rusty lanterns, subway station signs
hanging from the walls
. He seemed a man who kept at least one foot in the past.
A
framed engineering degree h
ung
on the wall behind his desk.
He ushered me to a chair and sat back in his, grabbing a
large
cigar from a wooden humidor on his desk.
I noticed his
well
-
manicured
hands
still
bore some
fine
scaring and calluses from
past heavy labor.

“Care for a cigar
, Detective Hardin
?” He asked
with a slight Irish lilt
as he lit his with a match, the only way to light a good cigar
I’m told
.
As he inhaled, h
e looked like a man who enjoyed his cigars.

“No thank you.”

He
squinted and
eyed me
with suspicion
as he
slowly
exhaled a cloud of smoke
. “Now, Detective Hardin, how can I help you?
”

I leaned forward in my seat. “I need someone who can
tell me something about the subway lines that run beneath the old
monastery on Bay Street
.”

He spat a piece of tobacco into his trashcan
and paused to look at me
. “The old
monastery
, eh?” His eyes lit up. “Say, you’re not the detective that was on the Midnight Monster case, are you?” He laughed. “The press really rode your ass on that one.”

I leaned back, ready for a verbal assault, but he surprised me.

“I hate the dodgers myself. All lies.” He looked me in the eyes. “I don’t know how much of what I heard is true, but thank God you got the bugger who was killing those poor girls.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s not over, is it?

“No.” I decided not to confuse him with details. “The, ah, creature that killed the girls is still out there. I believe it’s hiding in the subway tunnels. I have to go in after it.”

He pointed his cigar at me
like a
n extra finger
and squinted
. “You? Alone?”

I gritted my teeth and nodded. “It’s personal.”

He chuckled.
“I understand vendettas, Detective. The Sicilians don’t have anything over the Irish on that accord.
Hell, we’ve carried a grudge against the English for 800 years.
” He pushed his seat back and walked over to a
large
yellowed map on the wall. “This is the only surviving map showing all the tunnels
in detail
. As you can see,
some areas
are penciled in. These are a bit ‘iffy’. As far as I know, no one’s been down there in
parts
of the
old tunnel
since
it was
abandoned
sixty
years ago
.” He traced a line with his finger. “This is the Bay Station line. It runs almost
directly
beneath the monastery
.” He glanced at me. “We had to do a little shoring up after the
building
collapsed
in the fire
.”

I tried to look sufficiently chastised but I doubt he was buying my act.

“This older original tunnel ran into some faults that made digging too dangerous.” 

“Faults?”
I asked, curious.

“A series of caverns. They abandoned the line and started the new one
a
hundred yards south, avoiding the fault lines.”

I got up
, walked over to the map and followed the red line
of the old tunnel
with my finger
.
I ignored McNeil
as he
scowl
ed
as if I was manhandling a sacred relic.
“If this creature is using the old tunnel, what exits and entrances are available to it?”

He chuckled. “Unless it’s got a monthly pass, there are only two ways in and out that aren’t
sealed
– the Bay Station tunnel emerges above ground a quarter mile
west
of
Bay
Station. It could use that tunnel
, I suppose
.
It’s
secluded.
There’s nothing nearby but warehouses
. Or, it could use this air shaft.
” He pointed to a dot on the map. “
It
drops
one hundred and
thirty-five
feet straight down to the ventilator system.”

I pondered the situation
,
noting that the warehouse where I had killed the adult was within a mile of the
Bay Station
tunnel exit.
“If we were to seal up the airshaft, it would have only one way in and out, the Bay Station tunnel.”

“That’s right, unless it wants to go to one of the down line stations.”
He chuckled. “That would cause quite a commotion.”

“Is there any way to stop the trains for a while during the day and seal both ends of the tunnel?”

He looked at me grief stricken, as if I had suggested
putting a torch to
his precious trains.
“Stop the trains? In the daytime?” He shook his head. “
Impossible,” he blustered. “
We transport over
50,
000 people every day on that line
,
1
0,000 an hour at peak hours
. The Mayor would have my head if I even suggested shutting it down.”

It seemed McNeil and Captain Bledsoe both had felt the Mayor’s wrath
, I thought.
“Even a few hours would help,” I pleaded.

He shook his head.
“It
i
s impossible.”

I went back to my chair and collapsed, defeated before I
had
started. Shutting
down
the tunnel
at night
after peak service
would only serve to keep the creature out. I needed it inside and trapped
during the daylight hours when it was most likely to be there
.

“There’s one other option,” he said
, piquing my interest
.

I jumped up, a touch of hope surging in my chest
as I returned to the map
.

“There are
three
points where the old tunnel
connects
to the new
line,
t
he
main
ventilator s
haft
and two emergency
access
tunnels
.
They, well they provide
d
emergency
a
ccess to the o
riginal
tunnel
while
digging
the new one in case of cave-ins.
The
doors are heavy
steel and can be sealed, but with the budget cutbacks we
’re
experiencing
, who knows.
They haven’t been inspected in some time
.
”