My cause seemed worthy. Destroying the Bell would save lives. But every second I spent searching for it was another second I didn’t spend trying to find Diane.
I knew Chase wouldn’t kill Diane until he obtained either the Bell or the journal. I couldn’t let either of those things happen. I needed to destroy them both. Then I’d rescue her.
But what if something happens to her first?
Ignoring the thought, I continued to press on through the tunnel. I couldn’t afford to doubt myself. Not now.
It was early morning, yet I didn’t feel rested. I lacked sleep and still suffered from my injuries. But I was too restless to recuperate. I needed to work. I needed to search the Lexington Avenue Line for signs of a hidden tunnel.
I glanced over my shoulder. Beverly walked behind me, her eyes locked on the ground. She looked tired. I didn’t blame her.
Earlier that morning, we’d taken a roundabout path following the Eighth Avenue Line to the Sixth Avenue Line. After another long walk, we popped out around the Broadway — Lafayette Street station, transferred to the Lexington Avenue tracks, and began walking uptown.
It was a long, exhausting walk. I just hoped it paid dividends.
Suddenly, the ledge cracked under my foot. Small chunks of concrete broke loose and fell into the track bed, sending ripples through the quiet water. I stumbled about clumsily for a second before regaining my balance.
“Nice moves,” Beverly said. “Did you ever consider a career on Broadway?”
“Well sure. But I could never contain my talents to one city. I prefer to spread my awkwardness as far as possible.”
She chuckled. “Are you sure we’re looking in the right place?”
“Jenson knew where to find Hartek’s laboratory. That means he most likely saw the Bell being loaded onto the Omega. I’m betting the Sand Demons arrived at the same time. After they seized the train, Jenson started following them.”
“But why would they take it this way?”
I sensed the doubt in her voice. “Necessity. As they left the lab, the only tracks available to them were the southbound ones.”
She shrugged. “They could’ve veered off somewhere or even taken it farther south, all the way into Brooklyn.”
“Maybe. But remember, Jenson followed them on foot. And I doubt he could’ve kept pace with the Omega for more than a mile or so. As I see it, that makes our search area the southbound tracks between Grand Central Terminal and Union Square.”
After more walking, we passed through the Union Square station. My eyes scanned the area for signs of Jenson’s tunnel. For a couple of blocks, I saw nothing but ordinary walls, occasionally covered in subway script or graffiti.
But a few minutes later, I noticed something interesting. “See that?”
She followed my pointing finger. “See what?”
“The eastern wall continues in a straight line. But the western wall gradually slants farther and farther to the west.”
“I see what you mean. The tunnel gets wider.”
“Only temporarily. Farther ahead, the western wall returns to its original heading.”
“It’s not a perfect line. So what?”
“So the enlarged space allows the tracks to split.”
I lowered myself into the water and waded over to the area. As I turned around, I found myself staring at a concrete wall, notched in such a way that it looked like a sealed, bell-shaped tunnel entrance.
Great. I’m seeing bells everywhere.
“This thing is called a bellmouth,” I said. “Someone planned to build a connecting tunnel here once upon a time.”
“Too bad they didn’t actually do it.”
“Maybe they did. It’s possible that a tunnel existed here some thirty to forty years ago. The Sand Demons could’ve steered the Omega inside it and then sealed off the tunnel to make it look like an ordinary bellmouth.”
Reaching into my satchel, I removed my flashlight and studied the wall. I allowed my hands to drift over its surface, noting each fissure and crevice.
“What do you think?” She gave me a puzzled look. “Is this it?”
I removed my hand. “I don’t think so. The concrete’s color and consistency match that of the rest of the wall. This bellmouth hasn’t changed since the original construction of the tunnel.”
I marked the position in my mind and then climbed back onto the ledge. If we failed to find any other bellmouths in the rest of the tunnel, we could always return and give it a closer look.
We continued to walk, passing the 23rd Street station and then the 28th Street station. And as we drew closer to Grand Central Terminal, I began to wonder if I was making a mistake.
There’s a tunnel although it doesn’t look that way.
Jenson had been half out of his mind when he told me that. And slurring too. I couldn’t even be sure I’d understood him correctly.
After another two blocks, I saw the western wall branching out again. I walked a little farther and then lowered myself back into the flooded trackbed.
I traced my beam around the space. This bellmouth looked different from the other one. The sealed concrete surface was cleaner and less marked than the surrounding walls.
I sloshed over to the bellmouth and removed my machete. Carefully, I knocked the end against the concrete. It banged softly and then reverberated in the air for a couple of seconds before fading away.
Beverly arched an eyebrow. “It sounds hollow.”
I shifted my light back and forth across the surface. Then I noticed something etched into the bottom, right hand corner of the wall, just beneath the water line.
I leaned down and studied the marks.
A skull.
Two pickaxes, the tools of the sandhog.
The symbol of the Sand Demons.
A smile creased my face. It was time go to hunting.
Train hunting.
Chapter 41
Reaching out, I pressed the skull and pickaxes symbol.
But it failed to depress.
I pressed again but it refused to budge. I tried another few times before finally giving up. The door-opening mechanism had seemingly been disabled.
Lowering my shoulder, I drove it into the wall. I heard a soft thud. My shoulder started to hurt.
As I yanked myself away from the wall, tiny pieces of concrete came with me, leaving a small gap in their wake.
“Maybe we should look at the rest of the tunnel first,” Beverly said. “I’d hate to see you injure yourself trying to find something that’s not here.”
“It’s here.” I jabbed a thumb at the wall. “You can see the concrete for yourself. This section’s different.”
She sighed. “I guess I’m not sold on your theory. How could the Sand Demons just cover up a side tunnel? Wouldn’t other people notice that it suddenly disappeared?”
“If there’s a tunnel behind this wall, it’s nothing special. Most likely, it was only partly excavated and never used. The kind of tunnel that wouldn’t attract much attention.”
She knelt down and felt around in the water. “I don’t feel any tracks leading to the wall.”
“If you were trying to eliminate all evidence of a tunnel, would you leave the tracks behind?”
She removed a knife from her waistband. “Good point.”
For the next ten minutes, Beverly and I hacked at the bellmouth with ferocity. Her knife and my machete moved like perpetual motion devices, swinging forward and backward, forward and backward. It was almost hypnotic.