He left his sled in the green quartz chamber where he always stored it and headed for the surface as swiftly as possible. He was really on fire this time. He had been forced to use the blue stuff. The afterburn was tearing through him in hot, thrilling waves.
He had to find a woman before the crash came. He couldn't have her, not yet at any rate, and the other one was out of town.
He would have to make do with a street whore, he thought, climbing swiftly up the steps to ground level.
He found just what he was looking for a short time later in a twisted little lane. She was a cheap-looking blonde in a skimpy red dress, huddled in a dimly lit doorway, pulling on a synch-smoke cigarette.
He was desperately thankful for the fog, which was so heavy now that even if someone noticed him talking to the woman, he could not possibly be identified from a distance.
With a supreme effort of will he managed to summon enough control to conceal the feverish lust beneath his public mask. It wasn't easy.
"You look cold," he said, walking toward her.
She lowered the cigarette and gave him a professional perusal.
"You want to warm me up, handsome?" she asked.
"It would be my pleasure."
"It'll cost you seventy-five bucks. Cash up front."
He reached into his pocket for a small packet. "Got something better than money."
She took the packet, opened it, and inhaled gently. In the pale light of the vestibule he could see the sudden anticipation that animated her once-beautiful features.
"The chant will cover it, all right." She rose and opened the door. "What do you say we go upstairs to my place?"
"I'm in a hurry," he said, following her through the doorway.
"I know. They all are."
*****
HE BARELY MADE IT BACK TO HIS HIDING PLACE BEFORE he collapsed. The effects of the bad afterburn made him feel like a vampire. After the initial euphoric rush of heated lust came the inevitable crash into a deep, heavy slumber that could not be denied.
When he awoke the next morning, he reached for his journal. It was time to make another modification in the elaborately detailed plan he had constructed several months ago.
But first he made a careful note of the two recent deaths. He put a little question mark beside Bertha Newell's name because, although he was certain that she would not make it out of the catacombs alive, he had not actually seen the body. He liked to be precise.
He had no doubts about the fate of the hooker, however. The dose of chant that he had given her had been especially prepared by the chemist to be used in case of just such an emergency. No one could have survived it.
Chapter 6
ELLY REZZED IN THE CODE OF THE HIGH-TECH LOCK THAT Bertha had installed on the concealed steel door. There was a faint snick of sound as it released.
"I'll get it." Cooper shifted the flashlight to his left hand, grasped the heavy handle with his right, and pulled the door inward. The hinges groaned. "This thing is old. Looks like it might be Early Colonial."
"My rat hole dates from Colonial days, too," she said. "All the buildings on Ruin Lane were put up around the same time."
They went through the steel door and down another long flight of steps. At the bottom a familiar green glow rimmed a jagged opening in the green quartz wall of the tunnel.
Elly knew that nothing human had created the rips and tears in the nearly indestructible green quartz. Some experts assumed that the openings had been made by the aliens themselves, using the same machines that they had used to construct the catacombs. The other theory was that at some point in the planet's past, massive earthquakes had done the damage.
An invisible current of psi energy flowed out of the opening. It whispered across all of her senses. On her shoulder, Rose stiffened with anticipation.
Cooper examined her curiously in the emerald light. "You can feel it, too?" he asked. He sounded surprised.
"Of course. I can sense psi power when there's a lot of it around," she said briskly. "Most people can. Why do you think the Old Quarters of the cities have all the most popular nightclubs, casinos, and restaurants? Tourists love the little buzz they get from psi energy."
"Is that how it feels to you? Like a little buzz?"
"No," she said, reaching into her tote for an amber compass. "If you want to know the truth, it feels like I'm looking through a dark mirror. I can sense shapes and shadows moving on the other side, but I can't quite see them. It's frustrating. That's one of the reasons I haven't used my own hole-in-the-wall very much. I've gone into the tunnels a few times with my friend, Doreen, but that's about it."
"You never talked about what it was like not having the same kind of strong para-psych profile that everyone else in your family has."
"There were a lot of things you and I never discussed, Cooper." She started toward the rip in the wall.
"I'll go first." Cooper eased her aside and moved through the opening ahead of her.
Typical hunter, she mused. Get one underground, and he immediately took charge. Then again, that's what they were all trained to do, she reflected. The safety of the exploration and excavation teams depended on the strong-willed hunters who, in an emergency, could deal with the impressive egos and the research fever that often overtook the academics they were hired to protect.
She followed Cooper into the dimly lit green hallway.
Cooper contemplated the seemingly endless corridor that stretched out in front of them, assessing the multitude of vaulted openings and branching passageways.
"Let me see that frequency number that your friend gave you," he said, drawing a small, palm-sized amber-rez locator out of his pocket.
No hunter worth his amber went anywhere without an amber compass and an amber-rez locator, Elly thought wryly. Her father and brothers even carried them when they dressed for formal occasions.
She handed the slip of paper to him and waited while he coded the frequency of Bertha's utility sled into the device.
"I'm not getting anything," he said, frowning. "Are you sure about the frequency?"
"Yes. But maybe the sled's locator was disabled for some reason." She rummaged in her tote. "Bertha also gave me the code for her personal amber."
"Let's try that."
She read the second frequency number to him.
He entered it and nodded once, looking satisfied.
"Got a fix," he said. "Not too far away."
"Thank goodness."
"Let's go."
He went forward, all business now, moving so quickly that Elly had to hurry to catch up with him.
The jagged opening in the wall behind them vanished after they made the first turn. Elly looked back over her shoulder, startled, as she always was when she went underground, to realize how quickly the catacombs became a disorienting maze. The softly glowing labyrinth distorted all sense of direction. Even though they had only traveled a short distance, the odds were good that, without amber, they would never be able to find their way back to Bertha's cellar or any other exit for that matter.
In spite of the stimulation of the psi energy that emanated from the tunnel walls, a shiver tightened the skin along her spine.
"Whenever I get a chance to come down here, the experience always makes me think about that children's book, The Adventures of Alice in Amberland," she confided.
Cooper checked his compass and turned a corner. "Never read it."
"You're kidding. It's a classic. It's supposed to be based on an old Earth story. It's about a little girl who falls down a dust bunny hole and winds up having lots of adventures in the catacombs. Didn't your mother read the book to you when you were a boy?"