The tunnels. The map that made up the last two sides of the box could only be of the steam tunnels beneath the campus.
He looked back up at the building in front of him. Finding this number should have excited him, but instead the discovery disturbed him. The number on the plate was so absolute, so distinctive, that there was no denying that it was exactly where the box was leading him. Where else would he find 1005T? But the clues leading up to it were so subtle. Sure the first four words spelled out song titles, even titles all belonging to a single band, a very popular band, no less, but it seemed like such a leap of faith to jump from related song titles to the campus music building. Why did it not occur to him instead to check the music store at the mall, or to look the Beatles up on the Internet? Or why not find those three songs and listen to them, or look up the lyrics to see if they had anything in common? He was very talented at solving puzzles and riddles, so why was his only thought the campus music building?
The initials, he thought. G. N. J. Every building on campus was named after someone. The Craw Building was named after William Craw. Wuhr was named after Daniel Wuhr. His dormitory was named after Walter Lumey. Initials led to a name, a name led to a building, a building having something in common with music…
No. It was too much of a leap, too doubtful. If the location of this metal cover was actually meant to be found, whoever encrypted it had placed an enormous amount of faith in his ability to make such a connection. After all, when he thought of the music building he didn’t think of songs so much as instruments. He thought of marching bands, not rock bands.
And presuming he did actually make the connection, it took an even greater leap of faith to expect him to spot the number twelve from the back door of the building, especially when he was looking for a Z.
Maybe that was precisely the point. Maybe whoever sent the box intended for the puzzle to be too difficult to solve.
Albert frowned at this idea. That made even less sense. Why send the box at all then? No, that wasn’t logical in the least. He looked up at the clock face. Perhaps whoever carved the number into the box did not think about his two being mistaken for a Z. Would the number twelve have been such a hard thing to find if he’d known what he was looking for? Somehow he doubted it. Twelve was a relatively common number. It probably appeared dozens of times in and around the building. Room twelve was one example.
Most unlikely of all, he realized, was the understanding that one needed to actually stand in front of the post with the number on it and recognize the seven o’clock digit as an arrow pointing away from the center of the clock face toward an inconspicuous metal plate set into the sidewalk several yards from the nearest corner of the building. Shouldn’t his first thought have been to try and find a way into the clock tower to look for the final clue? Or to make some sort of numerical or symbolic connection with the number seven or the seven o’clock hour?
He remembered the strange double-take he’d done to recognize the panic button, as if something had whispered into his very brain. He tried to remember exactly what it was that made him look again, but he couldn’t quite recall.
This wasn’t how he usually thought his way through a puzzle. The solutions came in logical steps, not gut feelings. He followed a path, unlocked the clues…
He forced the idea out of his head and stuffed the box back into his backpack. That was stupid. He’d just gotten lucky, that was all. He’d found the solution quickly instead of turning up a hundred dead ends before locating the tunnel entrance. But all the way back to Lumey, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, half expecting someone to be watching him.
Chapter 4
The creepiness that Albert felt that evening behind Juggers Hall was gone before he fell asleep that night and by the next morning he couldn’t wait to see what was in those tunnels.
He spent the morning planning, trying to decide the best way to proceed. He needed some supplies. Flashlights for sure, with plenty of extra batteries, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a plan to keep from getting lost.
It was maddening. He grew more and more eager to see what mysteries waited beneath the sidewalks. If the map on the box was true, then it was certainly more than just a simple steam tunnel stretching out from the power plant. It would have to be connected directly to the city sewer system, and even then the tunnels would have to be much more complicated than a city this size would really require. The map itself was simply a set of lines depicting only the path he would be taking, but along the way there were dozens of short lines branching off the main path, suggesting intersections that could lead anywhere. It seemed like so much for a city where the college made up a fair percentage of the population. He wondered if there was something hidden down there, something fantastic.
He drove to the local Wal-Mart and purchased his supplies, preparing himself for what he was sure would be a fantastic adventure. And later, before lecture, he told Brandy of his discoveries, only to be brought back to earth with a resounding crash.
“The sewers?”
“Well, not sewers,” Albert replied, already sure of what she was thinking. “They’re some sort of tunnels. They’re probably connected to the sewers somewhere, but I think they’re mostly service tunnels running from the power plant. Steam tunnels, probably.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Maybe. But who knows.”
Brandy did not reply. She was searching the contents of her purse for some lip-gloss.
“You in?”
She turned and looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “What do you mean am I ‘in’?”
“I mean I’d like to go down there and look around. I want to see where the map takes us.”
She gave him a look that was all she needed to say, her eyes narrowed, her nose wrinkled, a genuine “are you nuts” expression if ever he’d seen one. “No way.”
Albert looked down at his notebook. She’d succeeded in making him feel perfectly silly.
“I don’t care if there’s a million dollars in gold and jewels down there, I wouldn’t wade through sewage for anything.” She went back to looking for her lip-gloss. “Besides, what makes you sure there’s anything down there anyway?”
“Maybe there’s not. Maybe there is. Weirder shit’s happened.”
“Touché.”
“I bought some supplies. I think it’s worth a look.”
“You’re crazy. Somebody gave us that box to get us to go down there. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t care much for the thought of being underground in the dark, maybe too far down for anyone to hear me screaming, and knowing that somebody I don’t know knows I’m down there.”
Albert nodded. He couldn’t really argue that logic.
“This isn’t the world’s safest campus, you know. Remember a couple of years ago when two students disappeared?”
“I hadn’t heard about that.”
“One in the winter, one in the spring. Never found. Somebody else was murdered a year or two before that, too. A girl. Raped and strangled. They found her in the bushes near the Cube.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. They all could have received a mysterious box, too.”
Albert could think of no reply. She was right, of course. He remembered that weird paranoia he’d felt after he located the tunnel entrance. He wondered again at the odds of correctly solving the clues in such a short amount of time.
Brandy had been speaking to him, but not looking at him. Now she turned and looked directly at him, her blue eyes brilliant. “Just stay above ground, okay? You’re a nice guy. Don’t get yourself killed.”