Dattar was pleased to see that the canvas screen functioned well, shielding the work area from prying eyes. He stepped behind it and found a man sitting on the fire hydrant and smoking a cigarette. He snapped to attention when he saw Dattar.
“Where’s Rajiid?”
“Down. Waiting for the short.”
“Any civilians on the platform?”
“None.”
“What about the elevators?”
“We’ve strung some more tape on either end. They break so often, no one seems surprised.”
“And employees?”
“One. We disposed of him already.”
Dattar waved at Khalil.
“We’ll enter off Broadway. Bring her. She can plant the bacteria.”
He headed to the station entrance on Broadway. His men had strung yellow caution tape across the entrance. Few people were on the street and none used the subway entrance. Those that came close took one look at the yellow tape and veered off.
Dattar climbed over it and headed down a short stairway, ignoring the connected ramp, and into a long, narrow, dark tunnel with arched ceilings and dirty yellow walls marked with graffiti. The walls were marred by gang symbols, crudely drawn flowers and words, including a long quote by some writer that Dattar didn’t bother to read. Fluorescent light fixtures spaced evenly along the tunnel’s ceiling created pools of harsh illumination followed by sections in shadow. The tunnel continued for three city blocks. His shoes rang on the concrete floor. The tunnel smelled musty and felt damp.
Dattar reached the turnstile and clambered over it. The air was heavy with humidity, and steam hung in the area around the tracks. The entire group walked to the edge and looked down.
The platform stood about four feet above the bottom of the rails. Water filled the tunnel, most of it simmering, and some nearest the third rail was beginning to boil. Dattar glanced left and saw Rajiid at the platform’s end crouching next to Manhar, the one who was so quick to sell out Khalil. This should be interesting, Dattar thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Khalil straighten. He’d spotted Manhar. At the same instant Manhar looked up and an almost comical expression of dread crossed his face.
“What are you doing here?” Khalil said.
Manhar stood. “Helping.” He looked at Nolan’s swelling black eye and mangled still-bleeding hand and his face turned an even lighter shade. “I’m glad to see you survived Smith’s attack,” he said to Khalil, almost as an afterthought.
“No thanks to you,” Khalil said.
Rajiid looked at Nolan, and Dattar saw a small smile cross his face.
“As you can see, Rajiid, all our problems will soon be solved,” Dattar said. “She’s going to return to me what is rightfully mine, and then I think she should be the one to place the bacteria. Along with that one.” He pointed at Manhar. “Since you are so busy helping.” Manhar looked sick, and Khalil snickered.
“What’s happening at Seventy-second?” Dattar asked Rajiid.
“MTA shut down the rail. It flooded fast, just as I predicted. Our crew said that the MTA is there already, crawling all over the station, removing passengers from trains. That should keep them busy for a while.” Rajiid smiled.
“So? When does this one go off?”
“Soon. It’s almost flooded. When it does, I expect a second, much smaller crew to be dispatched here, but I think we’ll have time. Twenty minutes at the least.”
Dattar heard a small, explosive sound and the station signals blinked off.
Rajiid stood with a triumphant expression on his face. “The third rail is down. Tell them to shut the hydrant and bring the pump.”
Khalil waved at Rajiid. “Let him do it.”
“Not unless you want to place the bacteria, eh?” Dattar said.
Khalil frowned and sauntered off to deliver the news. Through it all Nolan stood to the right of Manhar, her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. Dattar walked over to her.
“Tell me where the money is.”
She raised her head. He could see the pain on her face, but also something else. Dattar had chosen her as his investment advisor due to her single-minded focus on all things financial. She’d come highly recommended as a market wizard, one of Wall Street’s finest. It was said that she had nerves of steel and remained composed even as the worldwide markets gyrated wildly. She would trade her way out of a morass that sucked others down with it. Now he saw her preternatural intensity at work and it made him nervous. So, he did what he always did when someone made him nervous; he hit her. His fist landed in the same place as before and her body swayed back. She stumbled and fell. Manhar stood to Dattar’s right and watched. Rajiid, looking slightly bored, returned his gaze to the third rail.
“I said, tell me where the money is.”
She raised her head.
“No,” she said. Manhar’s mouth fell open and he gaped at her. Rajiid shifted on his feet so that he faced them, but remained in a crouch, staring. “Not until you prove to me that Smith is still alive.”
Dattar felt a slight thrill at the idea of using some of his torture techniques on her. No one, male or female, had ever held back on information after he’d started and no one survived them. He took a step toward her.
“Before you start, let’s place the bacteria,” Rajiid said. “I know she’ll be in no condition to do anything afterward.” Dattar reined himself in and nodded. Rajiid went to the first cooler and opened it. He sucked in a breath.
“What is it?” Dattar said. Rajiid pulled out a flask containing a cloudy, viscous liquid.
“The color is off. This batch could be dead.” He reached across and opened the second cooler, removing another flask.
“And?” Dattar said.
Rajiid shrugged. “This looks better. Obviously I can’t be sure without a microscope, but I assume it’s still alive.”
“Is there enough in the one cooler?”
Rajiid nodded. “It will have to do. And remember, once it starts, it spreads. Rapidly.” Rajiid pointed to Manhar and Nolan. “Put on some gloves.”
Nolan looked grim. “I won’t put your bacteria anywhere except down your throat,” she said.
Dattar was done with her. He pulled out his knife and stepped in, getting close. Rajiid grabbed his arm before he could stab her.
“Leave off,” Rajiid said. Dattar paused, but he could feel a vein in his head pulsing. Rajiid looked at Nolan. “Either place the bacteria or we kill Smith.”
She shook her head. “‘Either place the bacteria or we’ll kill Smith.’ ‘Tell me where the money is or we’ll kill Smith.’ Sounds like you are both planning on killing him no matter what. Do you expect me to believe anything you say? I won’t help you. You want to implement some grand scheme to kill thousands, you’ll have to do it yourself and die along with them.” Dattar jerked toward her and winced as Rajiid tightened his grip.
“I’ll kill you,” Dattar said to Nolan. She looked him straight in the eye. Her own was turning purple with some black edges.
“And I’ll die with all your money safely tucked away. Then who’s going to pay for the guns and ammo and that huge estate in Pakistan? For all the wives? You forget that I know what it costs to be you.”
“Once this bacteria is placed and my plan is working, I’ll have enough money to buy and sell the world. The accounts will be returned to me as well as my country. My mine alone has enough stones to pay for all that and more.”
She snorted in derision. “If it works. You’ve emptied the Redding mines, so there won’t be any more coming from that quarter, and you managed to kill the only man who knew how to operate the utility facility. Your men can’t get it to work. I don’t know what plan you have going here, but it had better be simpler than running a utility company, or it won’t work either. Whatever happens, you’ll be out your two hundred million. Kill me and it will take a long while to replace that sum. You need me, Dattar. And I’ll make you a trade.”