“What happened to the tunnel?” she asked.
“Beach closed it up and it was lost for almost forty years. Transit workers rediscovered it in 1912. The tunnel and wooden train were still intact, as was the tunneling shield. Unfortunately however, the workers dismantled the whole thing.”
She sighed, frustration evident in her tone. “Good story, but a waste of time.”
I looked at the map, between the lines that represented Warren and Broadway streets. “You know, this part here looks a little like the original tunnel. As I recall, it didn’t run straight with Broadway. It was angled to the east, just like this line.”
“Who cares?”
“Beach did everything to avoid government interference.” I rubbed my jaw. “He wasn’t the type to let a bunch of politicians stand in his way.”
“I still don’t see…”
“What if Beach got frustrated with the politics and decided to expand his original tunnel, counting on public opinion to force New York’s hand?”
“Then why didn’t he ever make it public?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he ran out of funding. Maybe the project turned out to be an embarrassing boondoggle. Or maybe he worried that New York would punish him for building tunnels without permission.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice turned skeptical. “If you’re right, why was it never discovered?”
“Maybe workers just never stumbled on it. After all, if Beach expanded his original tube according to these lines, it would’ve drifted away from the modern subway system.”
“But you’re forgetting those other workers from 1912,” she countered. “If Beach built a tunnel that extended throughout Manhattan, they would’ve found it.”
“Not necessarily.” I felt a surge of excitement. “When they blasted their way into Beach’s tunnel, they could’ve triggered a cave-in that blocked any extension from view. It’s also possible that Beach left the original walls of the demonstration tunnel in place. He might’ve worked behind them to keep the extension a secret.”
“I don’t know. It seems like a long shot.”
“But you have to admit, if an extension actually exists, it would make an excellent place to hide the Omega. The chances of someone finding it by accident are slim to nothing.”
“Maybe. But it’s still a long shot.”
My flashlight caught sight of an etching on the map. It looked a lot like a microscopic X. “Some long shots are worth the risk.”
“You actually want to do this? You actually want to search for a tunnel that might not even exist?”
“I don’t want to search for it. I want to find it.
Chapter 44
Diane’s face appeared in my mind as I strode south through the Lexington Avenue tunnel. I felt guilty I wasn’t searching for her. But on a deeper level, I also felt something else.
Turmoil.
Diane served as a painful reminder of all I’d given up while trying to escape my inner demons. A part of me regretted leaving New York, leaving her. But at the same time, I wouldn’t have traded the last three years of my life for anything in the world. I’d hunted for treasure, made a few friends, and helped out many others. I knew I couldn’t leave that behind me. If only there was a way to take the good things from my former life and meld them into my new one.
But that was impossible. My two worlds were different from each other. Diane was different. Her attachment to the ideals of archaeology conflicted with my chosen profession. No amount of prodding would change that part of her.
At the Union Square platform, Beverly touched my shoulder. “What’s the closest station to Beach’s demonstration tunnel? Spring Street?”
“Canal Street’s a better approximation. We’ll start there and work our way north.”
“Not south?”
I shook my head. “The X on the map was north of Canal Street.”
“But that might represent the Omega’s final resting place. If the map is accurate, then the expansion should extend both north and south from the original tunnel.”
“Honestly, I doubt Beach built his tunnel to the south. You have to remember that he caused a massive stir with his original tunnel. The public would shrug if he merely added on a few blocks south to Battery Park. The only way to make a splash, to really raise the stakes, was to build a tunnel that dwarfed his old one. And to do that, he’d have to go north.”
“How long do you think it would’ve taken him to expand the tunnel as far as say, Union Square?”
“It took him fifty-eight days to build his original tunnel.”
She frowned. “At that pace, it would’ve taken him a year to build out six blocks. There’s no way he could’ve expanded the tunnel across Manhattan.”
“Nice try, bright eyes. Much of that time was spent building the station, the system, and the railcar. Expansion would’ve gone much faster. And anyways, he didn’t need to build the entire system to get attention. He just needed to prove underground transportation was feasible and that he was the man to do it.”
“I still say this is crazy.”
Pipes banged nearby. I strode past them before looking in Beverly’s direction. “We’re searching for a three-decade-old device that can be used to build a hydrogen bomb. We’re racing the head of a respectable PMC to find that device. Oh, and there’s a group of strange men wandering around here with a giant alligator. And you think a lost subway system is crazy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then bear with me for a little bit. If I’m wrong, you get to say you told me so.”
“It’s a deal. By the way, as long as we’re walking in this direction, shouldn’t we look for this lost subway system of yours?”
I shot her a grin. “I’ve been looking for it ever since we started walking. Haven’t you?”
She returned my grin with a sheepish one of her own. “Uh, no.”
“Well then, less talking, more looking.”
We walked a little farther. Soon, another bellmouth appeared out of the darkness.
“Want to check it out?” she asked. “Or should I?”
“Don’t waste your time.”
“What do you mean? The other tunnel was behind a bellmouth.”
“If Beach actually built his expansion, it pre-existed this tunnel. So, we won’t find a bellmouth this time.”
“What should I look for then?”
“The Sand Demons would’ve needed a way to access Beach’s tunnel from this one. I’m guessing they created their own hole. So look for concrete that’s a different color or texture than the surrounding walls.”
Beverly turned and without another word, continued to walk south. As I followed her lead, I kept my beam focused on the east wall. I saw a couple of places where the concrete texture or color appeared to change. But upon closer inspection, these anomalies proved to be nothing more than tricks of the light.
At the Canal Street platform, I leapt off the ledge and sloshed my way through the water. After climbing up on the opposite ledge, I began to retrace my path.
The tunnel was almost silent and I could hear the faintest of noises as we walked north.
Skittering claws.
Beverly’s soft footsteps.
Hissing noises.
My ears perked. I stopped and lifted my face to the ceiling, listening carefully.
I heard gurgling water. Making as little noise as possible, I slid off of the ledge and back into the cool water.
I stepped onto the trackbed and my boots gripped the hard, wooden ties that supported the metal tracks. Following my ears, I cut a path through the water, heading north. Soon, the tunnel dipped and the water got deeper, extending all the way to my thighs. But my gaze stayed firmly locked on the submerged western wall, right where it met the ground.