“Maybe?”
“Remember what Jenson told us? He said the Sand Demons couldn’t or wouldn’t destroy the Bell.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“So, if it’s the former, maybe we should keep the journal around. If we find the Bell, the journal might help us figure out a way to destroy it.”
I exhaled loudly. A single brush against the flint would send tiny sparks hurtling toward the journal, igniting it instantly. Tiny, golden flames would lick the air, adding light to the dim station. It would take just a moment. And then, I could forget all about Hartek’s journal.
Do it. Do it already.
With a deep sigh, I shoved the machete back into the sheath. As I picked up the book, I glanced at Beverly. “We’ll keep it. For now.”
She nodded. “So now what?”
“Chase is searching for us. There’s no question about that. But he’s not the type to place his eggs in a single basket.”
“You mean he might go after the Bell itself?”
“Exactly. And if he finds it before us, he’ll kill Diane and half the city of New York. Our best bet is to beat him to the Bell and destroy it. Then we’ll figure out a way to rescue Diane.”
“But how are we going to find the Bell?
“Jenson told me Rictor used the Omega to remove it. According to Chase’s files, the Omega was a subway car.”
“That only tells us how he removed the Bell. It tells us nothing about where he took it, let alone what the Sand Demons did with it.”
I stared at the ground, trying to focus. Every little movement caught my attention. The slightest sounds perked my ears. But my mind wandered. I knew I was missing something. I ran the facts through my brain.
Rictor stole the Bell. He placed it into the Omega. The Sand Demons stole it. They, along with the Omega, vanished.
So, where did they go?
I thought about Jenson’s final words. There’s a tunnel although it doesn’t look that way.
What tunnel? What was he trying to tell me?
Then it hit me.
“The Sand Demons never removed it,” I said slowly. “It’s still here. The Bell and the Omega are still in these tunnels.”
Chapter 39
Chase rose to his feet, picked up the Smith & Wesson Victory Model from his desk, and aimed at Standish’s forehead. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
“Put the gun away, Jack. This is ridiculous.”
“You let Cyclone escape.”
“None of this would’ve been a problem if you’d left the guards in the lobby. Calling them up your personal elevator was foolish.”
Chase breathed rapidly through his nose, so rapidly that he thought he might snort flames out of it. “Watch your tongue. You’re stepping on dangerous ground here.”
“I knew something like this would happen.” Standish shook his head. “Cyclone is like an annoying gnat. He just won’t go away. You should’ve let me kill him while I had the chance. Why the hell did you want to have a private chat with him anyway?”
Chase slammed his other hand down on the desk. “He’s the only person who knows where to find that damn journal,” he shouted. “I thought I could talk him into turning it over to us.”
Standish lifted an eyebrow. “I guess you were wrong. And while we’re on the subject, Cyclone told me something strange. He said that you were planning a nuclear attack on Manhattan.”
“Why in the blazes would I do that?”
“I’m just repeating what he told me.”
“Did it ever cross your idiotic mind that he was trying to weaken your resolve? That if he put a few doubts in your mind, you’d crumble?”
Standish shrugged.
“Of course not.” Chase sneered. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let him escape.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
Chase placed his gun back on his desk and happened to catch a glimpse of the broken lamp in his trashcan. Anger roared through him and he broke into trembles. He’d always prided himself on his ability to overcome anyone, no matter how big or powerful. His entire sense of self was wrapped up in his ability to dissect people, to ascertain their weaknesses, and to exploit them on the field of battle.
And then, this disgraced urban archaeologist…this treasure hunter…this nobody…had entered his life. When he looked into Reed’s eyes, he thought he saw a man at the edge of his limits. He thought he saw a man looking for a way out. And so he offered one in exchange for Hartek’s journal. It was a bogus offer of course. There was no way in hell he’d have let Reed survive.
But now, Chase realized the error. Reed wouldn’t accept a deal. He wouldn’t let limits constrain him. Even worse, he was reckless, daring, creative, and unrelenting. In short, Reed was a major threat.
A threat to ruin everything.
Deep down, Chase blamed himself. It was his inability to judge Reed’s character that allowed the man to get the best of him on his own turf. It was a humiliating defeat. He wanted to forget it, but knew that would never happen. It would linger on, under the surface, like some kind of festering wound.
In a way, that was a good thing. The next time he saw Reed, he’d be prepared. Next time, there would be no chatter. No deals. Next time, there would be only death.
Chase sat down. “Let’s talk about something else. What’s the latest on Ms. Blair?”
“Our people took charge of her a few hours ago. She’s currently being held in the Jersey City facility.”
“How did she handle the extraction?”
“Not well,” Standish admitted. “She put up quite a fight. Even took a cheap shot at one of our guys with a frying pan. The poor bastard’s got a black eye the size of a pancake.”
“Sounds like everyone’s having a bad day today.”
“When it rains, it pours.”
“Still, it’s good news. With her under our control, we have some negotiating leverage with Cyclone.”
“We have to face facts.” Standish crossed his arms. “The journal’s gone. No doubt he destroyed it the first chance he got.”
Chase frowned. “If that’s the case, it’s over thirty years of work down the drain.”
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?”
“Cyclone didn’t break into your office just for kicks. He had a reason for coming here.”
Chase glanced at his desk and saw the Operation Die Glocke binder. He began thumbing through it. “You think Cyclone’s looking for Hartek’s original Bell?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“But where would he look? My men combed the world for years looking for Rictor and his brothers. They never found a thing.”
“That’s because they didn’t think like treasure hunters.”
Chase stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Treasure hunters know that when the pressure’s on, thieves don’t always take their loot with them. Sometimes, they leave it behind.”
“You mean like pirates burying chests of gold?”
Standish glanced at the picture of the Omega. “That’s exactly what I mean. Now, you told me that Rictor removed the Bell with a subway car. What happened to that car?”
Chase shrugged. “We never found it. We figured that they scrubbed the train and dumped it off in one of the yards.”
Standish stood up. “Call your men together. We need to search every inch of those tunnels. Unless I miss my guess, they didn’t get rid of the train. They hid it.”
Chapter 40
Mixed emotions swirled within me as I maneuvered my way across the thin concrete ledge. The idea of locating a long-lost subway car, buried deep under Manhattan, carried with it a certain romanticism I found difficult to resist. It was every treasure hunter’s dream, the underground equivalent of finding a sunken ship or a forgotten city.