Chaos (17 page)

Around the same time, Jenson attempted to pawn a bar of Nazi gold but fled before he could be questioned. The story got back to Chase. Shortly after, the Chairman of the MTA died an untimely death, allowing Chase to take temporary control of the system.

He hired Standish to find the trove. Standish, in turn, hired Kolen and Adcock. The alligator attacked and killed Kolen and Adcock, among others. Then Chase hired me and staged his phony lockout to give me breathing room.

Three things struck me as important. First, Jenson. It seemed probable that he set the entire chain of events in motion. He must’ve entered the laboratory, stolen a gold bar from somewhere, and accidentally knocked over the cylinder.

Second, Chase was a lying, manipulative, driven bastard. Most likely, he’d killed the former MTA Chairman to carry out his plan. Who knew what other crimes he’d committed as well?

And third, Standish indicated that
die Glocke
, and not the gold bars, was his main priority. Why? What made it so important?

“You did well,” Standish admitted. “Without you, we might not have found those bodies. The chemicals we discovered on the remains matched up perfectly with what we knew Hartek stored in his laboratory. It didn’t take long to realize there was an underground river at work.”

“And that led you here.” I frowned. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Chase knew about the laboratory for a long time. A very long time. He just didn’t know where to find it. Is that why he joined the MTA’s board in the first place? So he could keep an eye out for it?”

Standish shrugged and I saw a bored look in his eyes.

My time was almost up.

I scanned the room, making observations. The laboratory was quite dark, despite the light fixtures in the other tunnel. The closest large object was the desk, which stood several feet away. Most importantly, Standish was alone, with no signs of immediate backup.

“So, tell me,” I said casually. “How do you like being at Chase’s beck and call? Do you even think for yourself anymore?”

His eyes burned with hatred.

“You’re a joke,” I continued. “Nothing but a yes-man with a gun. If you weren’t so pathetic, I’d almost feel sorry for you.”

“Shut up.”

I grinned, throwing even more kindling on the fire. “And the worst part is, you know I’m right. You owe everything to Chase. Without him, you’re nothing.”

His face clenched and wavered. He struggled to keep his gun hand steady but it refused to cooperate.

Steeling my body, I prepared to leap toward the desk.

“Ryan!”

The shout, which originated from outside the passageway, caught me off guard. I froze for a split second and by the time I realized what had happened, Standish’s gun was steady again.

The light coming from the subway system dimmed and a shadow flitted across the room. A second person, a woman I didn’t recognize, emerged from the passageway.

“What?” Standish asked.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I heard the shouting from outside.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to take care of him for you?”

“Oh no, Cyclone’s all mine.”

A small smile crossed his face.

Suddenly, distant gunfire crackled through the air.

All traces of light vanished.

I heard shouts and screams. Scuffling. Running footsteps. People crashing into things. People crashing into each other.

I dove behind the desk. As I removed my pistol, I felt the pain in my head resurge. Ignoring it, I scanned the room, trying to pick out Standish and the woman.

I heard scraping sounds to my left. Rotating my body, I fired three shots into the darkness. A feminine yelp followed and then a thud.

Gunfire spat right back at me and I took cover behind the desk. I knelt there for a minute, breathing softly. My thoughts briefly turned to the sounds emanating from the subway tunnel.

What’s going on out there?

I didn’t wait to find out. Lowering my head, I began crawling across the room. I moved quietly, like a slithering snake.

A wooden table leg appeared in front of my face and I pulled up, barely avoiding a noisy collision. I paused for a moment, taking stock of the situation.

Part of me wanted to fight Standish. Yet, I was outnumbered and outgunned. Even if I managed to defeat him, Beverly and the others would kill me the moment I emerged from the laboratory.

I needed to escape. And the chaos outside provided me with the necessary distraction.

That is, assuming it lasted long enough.

Cautiously, I reached up and felt around the table. My fingers closed around something. It felt like the purse I’d searched earlier.

I launched it across the room. A moment later, it smashed against the concrete floor, bounced, and skidded. I cringed. It was supposed to sound like something falling off a table due to a sudden jostle. Instead, it sounded like a diversion.

A poor diversion.

An easily traced diversion.

An idea popped into my brain. Immediately, I slid across the floor to the southwest corner. Upon reaching the purse, I hung a right and headed straight along the wall.

I gained confidence as I approached the passageway. No doubt Standish heard the noise, guessed it was a diversion, and acted accordingly. The last thing he’d expect was for me to head toward the diversion.

But as I neared the passageway, I saw a shadow looming in front of the opening. All along, I’d assumed that Standish was reacting to my actions. Instead, he’d merely positioned himself in front of the only exit, knowing that eventually, I’d have to come to him.

Before I could stop myself, a frustrated grunt escaped my lips. Standish turned his head. Jumping to my feet, I hurled myself at him. His gun hand shifted in my direction. I chopped down on it and the weapon dropped to the ground.

His fist slammed into my jaw with the force of a jackhammer. My vision blurred and I saw colors around the edges. My headache returned with a vengeance and I knew I didn’t have long before I experienced another incident.

Ducking under his arm, I swept his leg and he fell on his back. Before he could recover, I sprinted through the passageway.

As I exited into the subway tunnel, I saw darkness, interspersed with frantic movements.

“Cy.”

The familiar, feminine voice rang in my ears like a discordant note. Spinning to the side, I pushed Beverly against the wall and placed my arm against her windpipe. “Why the hell did you do this to me?”

“We don’t have time for this,” she gasped. “I knocked out the lights and fired a few bullets. They’re confused now, but it won’t take long before they’ve got this area back under lock and key.”

“That was you?”

She nodded.

It only took me a second to decide. She’d ordered me to leave Manhattan in the first place. And now that I found myself in trouble, she’d come to my aid. It wasn’t enough to make up for her role in the whole affair.

But it’s a start.

I removed my arm from her neck. “Which way?”

“Follow me.”

Crouching down, I followed her through the tunnel. At the end, she hoisted herself onto the concrete ledge and angled north, heading along the Lexington Avenue Line.

I followed suit and as I darted after her, I heard the lapping of water below me. It sounded deeper than I remembered.

My emotions roiled. My headache worsened. My sense of balance diminished. Gritting my teeth, I forged on, determined to put as much distance as possible between Standish and us.

Subway stations and maintenance tunnels blurred as we raced north. My headache spread until it encompassed my entire body. My vision clouded over in endless colors, leaving me nearly blind.

I heard a dull rushing noise. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or something else. Either way, it sounded familiar. Familiar and intense.

Stumbling, I fell onto the ledge, scraping my hands on the concrete.

Beverly swiveled around. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just another one of these damn episodes.”

“Do you hear that?”

“It sounds like water.”

“More like a flood.”

I looked down. Despite the colorful blurriness, I saw several feet of water churning through the bottom of the tunnel. It looked like a canal, albeit one with serious water flow issues. The sight of it stunned me into silence.

“We should get to a platform.” My words slurred at the end of my sentence. I felt my muscles give way.

I never saw it coming. Abruptly, a wall of water ripped into my body, sweeping me right off the ledge.

I toppled toward the track bed.

The third rail.

I hit the water.

My brain exploded into colors.

And then I lost consciousness.

Chapter 28

As he stalked across the laboratory, Standish cursed his stupidity. He’d made a foolish mistake by not killing Cyclone Reed. And very shortly, he’d have to answer for it.

He forced himself to look on the bright side of things. The hidden laboratory, missing for over thirty years, had finally come to light. And Reed’s escape wasn’t really his fault. The blame belonged to that turncoat, Beverly Ginger.

He stopped and turned in a circle. After two hours of work, the laboratory had been completely transformed. Yellow caution tape wound around the room, forming walking lanes and blocking off areas of interest. Light fixtures hung from the ceiling, covering the space in a bright glow. Masked workers concentrated on the two corpses, examining them carefully. Later the corpses would be bagged and toted to the surface for more tests.

Meanwhile, two photographers roamed the room, taking pictures of every detail. Other workers followed them around, carefully securing and bagging all items for later examination. A third set of workers followed the second set, vacuuming and sweeping up the mounds of dust.

A small smile crossed his face. The operation was neat and well organized. If the room held answers, he would uncover them.

“Hello, Ryan.”

As Standish turned around, he felt his stomach muscles clench. “Hi, Jack. Was it difficult getting down here?”

Chase shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I saw some of my people are wounded. What happened?”

“Cyclone happened. He just showed up out of nowhere. I was about to kill him when all hell broke loose. Someone turned out the lights and fired a few bullets. In the confusion, Cyclone escaped.”

“Who helped him?”

“Beverly Ginger.”

Chase frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Some of the workers noticed her fiddling with the lights. And at least one person saw her and Cyclone running away.”

“Where are they now?”

“Our guys are tracking them through the tunnels. It shouldn’t take long to find them.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

Standish felt a twinge of annoyance.

“So, where is it?” Chase continued. “Where’s
die Glocke
?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure? It looks like a bell, a giant bell. Six feet tall. Four feet wide. Even a moron would recognize it.”

“I know what it looks like.” Standish glared at him. “It’s not here.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’ve been in this lab for over two hours now. If
die Glocke
was here, I would’ve seen it.”

Chase’s face tightened and lines emerged. Standish felt the man’s eyes lingering on him. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and his hands started to shake. Taking a deep breath, he hiked across the room and stopped in front of the strange metal rigging.

“We may not have
die Glocke
,” he called out. “But we have its holding structure.”

Chase walked over to join him. “That’s definitely the right size and shape.”

Standish stepped back and took a long look at the rigging. His eyes swept across its surface, looking for anything that might hint at
die Glocke’s
current whereabouts.

The floor underneath the rigging was swept clean of debris and dust. As such, he could see that the concrete was heavily smeared and cracked in multiple places. It was an impressive sight and told him everything he needed to know about
die Glocke’s
power.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Chase said. “Where could it have gone?”

“Don’t know. But I’ll find it.”

“You’d better find it.”

“There’s another option though.”

“Is that right?”

Standish waved his hand at the desk. “We found those papers. They might contain Hartek’s blueprints for
die Glocke
.”

Chase studied his face. “It sounds promising. But you’re hiding something from me. What is it?”

Standish sighed. “One of your scientists already looked through them. He told me that for the most part, they contain unreadable gibberish and strange equations. He might be able to decipher them. But it will take time.”

“Did you find a journal?”

“Journal?”

Chase nodded. “Back in 1976, my contact told me that Hartek recorded his discoveries and breakthroughs in a journal. It was his life’s work, contained in the covers of a small leather book. If we find it, we might be able to use it to duplicate Hartek’s research.”

“We haven’t found it yet.”

Chase walked over to the desk and began searching drawers. At first, he merely shifted through their contents. But his movements became increasingly frantic.

Standish watched his actions with distaste. A controlled environment, strong organization, and smart, educated decisions. That was the formula for success. Ultimately, Chase’s haphazard search would only make things harder on everyone.

Chase pulled out the top drawer on the right hand side. He flipped it over, dumped its contents on the floor and scanned them with his steely eyes.

Breathing heavily, he yanked out the second drawer and repeated the process. Then he grabbed the last drawer and tried to jerk it out of the desk. It didn’t move.

Looking to the side, he noticed the key in the lock. After turning it, he removed the drawer and started to flip it over. Then he stopped. His face turned bright red.