My mind began to drift. I thought about Diane. I thought about Beverly. I thought about the alligator. I thought about Standish. I thought about Chase and his long search for the Bell. I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed what was going on around me.
Abruptly, my machete sliced through the wall. The boundary collapsed in a heap of rock and I stumbled forward. Dust curled into the air, blanketing everything. Particles stung my eyes and slipped into my throat. But I refused to turn my head. Instead, I peered through the dust cloud. I saw a small tunnel, lined with rusted tracks.
But that was it.
There was no
Omega
.
No Bell.
Nothing.
It was empty. Completely, utterly empty.
Chapter 42
Two hours and all I’ve got to show for it is an empty tunnel.
Exhaling, I stood up and stared into the small, dark space. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. I felt irritated. Annoyed.
Downright pissed-off.
I’d wasted two hours locating and unearthing the hidden passage. Two, long, tiring hours. It was an utter waste of time.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Beverly glanced at me. “Let’s check it out.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but it’s empty.”
“But the fact that it even exists tells me that you were right all along. At some point, this passage contained the
Omega
. And the Bell.”
“A lot of good that does us now.”
“We might find some clues inside. Clues that could lead us to the Bell’s final resting place.”
“I doubt it.”
She shook her head. “I get it. You feel like you wasted your time. But feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
Before I could respond, she stepped over the crumbled cement and vanished into the small passage.
I was wrong and I knew it. Coupled with Jenson’s statement, the passage’s existence constituted significant proof. And the skull and pickaxe button, even though it didn’t open the wall, was impossible to ignore.
I walked over to the bellmouth and climbed into the passage. The bright glow of my flashlight illuminated the space. It was about the same height as the main tunnel and about two-thirds its width. However, while the Lexington Avenue Line ran for miles, the passage only penetrated about a hundred feet into the bedrock.
As my frustration ebbed, I found myself fascinated by the passage. But something about it also bothered me. Kneeling down, I examined the trackbed. Piles of gravel separated long planks of dark wood. Two metal rails ran across the boards, extending the length of the tunnel. Overall, the configuration looked normal for a typical subway tunnel. There was just one difference.
One big difference.
“No third rail,” I remarked.
“Maybe the Sand Demons removed it after they disconnected the tracks from the main tunnel.”
I nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.”
“Let’s back up for a second. What happened here?”
I shrugged. “It looks pretty cut and dried to me. The Sand Demons once stored the
Omega
in here. Now it’s missing.”
“But why is it missing? Did someone else take it?”
I shone my flashlight to the side of the passage, casting light upon several armfuls of wadded up material. “Maybe.” Walking over to the pile, I noticed that a thin concrete-like substance covered one side of the material. “Or maybe the Sand Demons only used this passage as a temporary storage area. Once the coast was clear, they moved the
Omega
to a permanent location.”
“But why would they go to all that trouble?”
I thought for a moment. “They originally planned to wall it up in here. But then Jenson showed up. They didn’t like him knowing about the Bell’s location. So, the first chance they got, they hid it somewhere else.”
We lapsed into silence. For the next few minutes, I scoured the space, searching for evidence that could lead us to the
Omega
. Unfortunately, I didn’t see much in the way of clues.
But I pressed on, passing by discarded tools, a workbench, and building supplies. It wasn’t until I reached the far end of the passage that I found something interesting.
The flashlight illuminated a couple of gouges in the wall. My heart skipped a beat. “Beverly. Come over here.”
She appeared at my side. “What’s up?”
“Take a look at this drawing.”
“My God.” Her voice became hushed. “It’s a map. A detailed map of Manhattan.”
“And it’s accurate. Right down to the block.”
She pointed at the wall. “That deep line, the one on the east side, is probably the Lexington Avenue Line. But I don’t recognize the other one that connects to it.”
I stared at the map. A single line began at the southern tip of the island and extended north to Union Square. From there, it branched out into two lines, one of which continued straight up the east side while the other one angled to the west before traveling up the west side.
“Actually, I don’t think it is the Lexington Line.” I traced my finger along the map. “It travels straight up Park Avenue. The Lexington Line, for the most part, runs to the east of this one.”
“So, the Sand Demons made a mistake.”
“The rest of the map is accurate. Why would they mess up the subway tunnels? Heck, they worked down here.”
“Well, I…”
Her voice trailed off. I stared into her face for a second, waiting for her to finish. But she just stood still.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She lifted a finger and pointed it toward the mouth of the passage. I shifted, following her lead.
Then I froze.
Something was moving south just outside the tunnel.
Something big.
Something alive.
My feet pounded against the trackbed. Simultaneously, my hand flew to my holster, yanking out my pistol. I hadn’t caught a full look at it yet, but I knew what was out there.
And I was going to kill it.
At the front of the tunnel, I vaulted over the broken concrete wall, landing on top of a pile of debris. My flashlight shifted to the flooded trackbed.
And then I saw it.
The brownish-green mass was over twelve feet long. Its body was thick and scaly. It moved in crazed fashion, twisting and thrashing about from one side of the tunnel to the next.
“Good lord,” Beverly whispered. “It’s huge.”
Adrenaline completely consumed me. All I could think about was the horror the beast had unleashed upon the city.
Upon Javier Kolen.
I aimed my gun into the darkness, trying to target its head.
“Don’t be a fool,” Beverly hissed. “If you fire that thing, Jack will hear it.”
My finger tightened around the trigger. “It needs to die.”
Suddenly, the alligator reared upward. The movement was so fast I didn’t have time to react.
Its head turned toward me and I saw its eyes. They were red as blood, yet dark as night. As I stared into them, I felt like I was looking into the soul of the devil himself.
The gator lunged at me. My instincts took over and I dove to the south. As I rolled through the water, I seized the machete from my waist with my free hand.
I rose to my feet. The gigantic alligator was just a few feet away. I backed up, trying to get some breathing room.
It followed me.
I backed up farther. It continued to follow me, gnashing its teeth in the process. Looking down, I studied the small puny objects in my hands.
I’m going to need some bigger weapons.
Suddenly, it lunged at me.
I thrust my machete at its head.
But nothing happened.
Abruptly, the alligator reared to the side. As I watched it struggle, I realized that thick ropes were wrapped around its neck and attached to long sticks. My eyes traced the sticks back to their origins and for the first time, I noticed numerous shadows in the darkness.
Chase’s guys. This just gets better and better.
But as the seconds passed, I began to doubt my initial impression. The shadows were quiet and still. They didn’t try to kill or capture me. They just seemed to watch me.
I heard frantic whispers from Beverly, imploring me to return to the relative safety of the passage. But the alligator dominated my focus.
My pistol lifted into the air.
I took careful aim.
“Stop right there.”
Startled, I turned to the side and saw a man pointing a shotgun in my direction. A thick cigar dripped from his lips, its end burning a reddish hole in the darkness.
He was a walking contradiction. He stood tall, yet hunched over. His body was strong, yet withered. He stared at me with a face that was at once both handsome and haggard. He looked a little like a former professional wrestler who’d fallen on hard times.
Very hard times.
But one look into his menacing, angry eyes told me that he wasn’t the sort of man to be overlooked.
“That thing’s a killer,” I replied angrily. “It deserves to die.”
He chewed on the cigar. “I know she’s a killer. That’s the whole point.”
“I…”
“If I were you, I’d shut up. You’ve got ten guns trained on you as we speak.”
I glanced at the shadows and then back at him. “What do you want?”
“I want you to get out of the way.”
Slowly, I maneuvered away from the man and the alligator. After reaching the passage, I climbed back over the crumbled concrete. As I joined Beverly, the other shadows started walking south through the tunnel, propelling the gator ahead of them.
The man kept his shotgun aimed at me. As the others vanished into the darkness, he slowly edged away, following their path. “Leave these tunnels now. And don’t ever come back.”
“I’m not leaving,” I replied. “Not yet. Not until I find something.”
He stopped and chomped his cigar for a moment. “I know why you’re here. And I know what you hope to find. So, let me give you a piece of advice. Stop looking. If you don’t, you’ll die.”
Chapter 43
What the hell was that? Some kind of urban alligator wrestling league?
I exhaled deeply through my nose. My body sagged and I realized that I’d been holding my breath for over a minute.
A strong whiff of smoke caught my attention. I turned it over in my mind, trying to place it. It seemed familiar yet distant.
I glanced at Beverly. “That’s definitely not something you see every day.”
“Wow,” she muttered. “I mean, wow. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light but…wow.”
I sniffed again. “Do you smell that?”
She didn’t respond. Glancing over, I saw that her head poked out of the passage with her face turned south.
“Did you hear me?”
She withdrew her head. “That’s the biggest alligator I’ve ever seen. It must’ve been…”
“Just pay attention to me for a second. Do you recognize that smell?”
“Smoke,” she said after a minute. “It’s cigar smoke.”
“My thoughts exactly. I smelled the same thing after we woke up on that island. I guess we know who kept us from drowning.”
“I wouldn’t mail your thank-you cards just yet. That is, unless you want to shower your appreciation on a bunch of murderers.”
“Murderers?”
“In case you didn’t notice, they seemed awfully familiar with that gator.”
“How does that make them murderers?”
“They don’t want to kill it. Otherwise, they would’ve already done so. Maybe it’s their pet.”
“No one keeps an alligator as a pet.”
I looked out into the main tunnel again, but the alligator and its wranglers were long gone. Why were they keeping the gator alive? Did they know about it before it started to attack people? And most importantly, where did they intend to take it?
Turning around, I headed for the rear of the passage. Stopping just short of the wall, I knelt down. The beam from my flashlight illuminated the carved map of Manhattan. The deeply etched lines that ran across its surface captured my attention. I traced their path, beginning in Battery Park City and extending north. At Union Square, I studied the line as it branched into two separate lines. One continued past Central Park to East Harlem while the other one veered off to the west before turning north again.
Seeing nothing, I leaned in closer and shifted my beam backward, following the lines back to Battery Park. When I reached Union Square, where the two lines joined, I noticed a bit of tiny lettering carved out beneath the space.
“Beach’s Tunnel,” I read aloud. “Beach. You don’t suppose it refers to Alfred Ely Beach?”
“Who?”
“I studied him while researching these tunnels.” I rubbed my jaw, deep in thought. “He was an inventor of some renown. In 1869, he unveiled an invention that shocked the world…New York City’s first subway tunnel.”
“You know way too much about these tunnels.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you just know too little.”
She glanced at the map. “Do the lines match his work?”
“I’m afraid not. Beach’s tunnel was short, more a curiosity than an actual means of transportation. It started on Warren Street, and curved around Broadway, eventually reaching Murray Street. All told, it ran three hundred feet with a nine foot diameter.”
“Did it use a third rail?”
I shook my head. “The tunnel was a giant pneumatic tube. A large rotary fan blew a railcar from one end to the other. Then, the fan was reversed, sucking it back to the original station.”
She smiled. “Its hard to imagine New York before subway tunnels.”
“It was a nightmare. Streetcars and carriages raced down crowded streets at reckless speeds. You can imagine the number of accidents. So, after London opened its subway in 1863, New Yorkers started clamoring for one too.”
“And Beach got the honor to build it?”
“He did it on the sly,” I replied. “Back then, Boss Tweed ruled Manhattan like a king. Beach knew Tweed would never give him a chance, especially since Tweed got kickbacks from the streetcars. So, he got a permit to build a pneumatic mail tube under Broadway. But instead of a skinny tube, he constructed one big enough to fit his subway car.”