Ghost of a Chance

27 The Prize

Hurry up and wait.

Alex looked around the cavernous room and felt like he was the only one who was anxious. Uniformed police officers sat on the floor, leaning against shelves and boxes, their hats down over their eyes. To a casual observer, it looked like they were sleeping.

Every now and then, scattered throughout their ranks was a detective in a suit, but they were just as relaxed. Most smoked quietly, the tips of their cigarettes glowing and fading in the semi-darkness.

To be fair, Alex supposed that part of a cop’s life was the hurry-up-and-wait game. Stakeouts and paperwork were exercises in patience.

Alex hated patience. That was one of the many benefits, in his opinion, of being a private detective runewright. He set his own hours and if he wanted to know where someone went, he could plant a tracking stone on them and link it to his map and a duplicate stone. Then all he had to do was sit in his comfortable chair, drink bourbon, and watch the map. Which, now that he thought about it was still waiting, but in much more pleasant surroundings and with a readily available bathroom.

Sitting in the dark and waiting simply wasn’t on his list of fun things. His mind kept drifting back to Jessica, to that fiery kiss that had smeared her lipstick so agreeably. Every time he smiled, however, the more cynical part of his brain reminded him of where he was, and more importantly, what was at stake.

“Lockerby,” Andrew Barton whispered from his left. The sorcerer lay in a hammock he had conjured out of thin air that hung, suspended in the aforementioned air. It swung gently by itself as Barton lay with his ankles crossed and his hand behind his head.

Most of the beat cops avoided looking at the sorcerer. Everyone knew sorcerers were temperamental and used to getting their own way. Nobody wanted to run afoul of one. As a result there were only three people crouched, hidden, behind the shelf that concealed the magical hammock.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“I’m starting to revise my opinion of you,” he said.

Alex wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Thanks?” he said quizzically. “What brought that on?”

“You seem to have a real eye for beauty,” Barton said. “Not to mention a way with the ladies. First, dear Sorsha, and now that luscious creature you had on your arm tonight. I’m starting to think you’ve made it your mission to involve yourself with all the beautiful women in the city.”

“This isn’t the time, gentlemen,” Captain Rooney growled from the semi-darkness.

Rooney’s presence was one of the things currently giving Alex heartburn. When the Captain had first heard Alex’s idea, he’d wanted to run Alex out of his office on a rail. The presence of Andrew Barton, the most prominent of the New York Six, however, made him a bit more cautious. Too cautious, as it turned out. With Barton endorsing Alex’s plan, Rooney wanted to come along.

It was a blatantly political move as far as the Captain was concerned. If Alex was right, he could take the credit, if Alex was wrong yet again, no one would blame the Captain for going along with a plan endorsed by the great and powerful Andrew Barton. For the Captain it was a no-lose proposition.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Barton said, swinging easily in his hammock. “We aren’t likely to be taken by surprise.”

Rooney didn’t answer that, and Alex grinned. There were some advantages to having the Lightning Lord around, though Alex wondered how the sorcerer would take it if this all turned out to be for nothing.

It won’t be, he assured himself. Everything fit this time. He was right.

“What did you mean about Sorsha?” Alex asked. She’d made her feelings quite clear a year ago.

Barton chuckled.

“Some detective you are,” he said. “She’s still smitten with you. Won’t even give me the time of day.”

“As I recall, that was her position long before I met her,” Alex said.

“Alex,” Barton chided. “You wound me. Things with Sorsha were coming along just fine until you showed up and made her fall in love with you.”

Alex scoffed at that.

“Sorsha Kincaid is not the kind of woman who would sit up in her flying castle and wait for a man to come to her,” Alex said, keeping his voice low.

Barton sat up in his hammock.

“You’re right,” he said. “I doubt you rejected her, you’re too smart for that. So,” he said, turning to stare intently at Alex. “What is she waiting for?”

Alex tried not to wither under that intense gaze. He noticed a faint blue nimbus of energy glowing around the outer ring of the sorcerer’s irises. It gave him a disturbing, other-worldly look.

Almost on cue a low, grinding rumble filled the room. It started faintly but in the quiet, everyone heard it.

“Get ready,” Callahan growled in a voice that was soft enough not to be loud, but forceful enough to carry. “Sorenson, wake up O’Mally.”

All around the storage room policemen and detectives roused themselves, checking their sidearms and crushing out their cigarettes.

“Saved by the bell, eh, Lockerby?” Barton said with a sardonic smile. He snapped his fingers and the hammock vanished, leaving him to float down to the ground as if he were no heavier than a feather. “This is actually rather exciting,” he said. He opened his hand and arcs of blue energy danced between his fingers.

“I’d rather you stayed here with me, Mr. Barton.” Captain Rooney said. “The governor would have my hide if anything happened to you.”

“He’s got a point, sir,” Callahan said. “This might get dicey and I can’t have you distracting my men.”

Barton closed his hand and pouted.

“All right,” he said in a way that reminded Alex very much of a five-year-old. That ability to switch between corporate tycoon and petulant child seemed prevalent in all sorcerers, if the stories were to be believed. It was what made them so dangerous.

Alex smiled at the thought of Sorsha behaving that way. She simply didn’t have it in her.

Maybe it only applies to men.

As the grinding sound got loud enough that Alex could feel it in the floor, he moved from his cover next to Barton and scurried up to where Danny crouched behind a box.

“You ready for this?” Alex asked.

Danny smiled and nodded.

“Looks like you were right.”

Alex held his breath as the words washed over him. He’d believed he was right, he knew he was right all the way down to his core. Everything fit. But he didn’t realize until that moment just how much he needed to hear someone else say it.

It had been obvious to him the moment Jessica had asked him to take her to the museum. The same museum that had stored a king’s ransom in salvaged gold in its vault, thanks to a court case.

According to the papers, the treasure of the Almiranta was worth over one hundred million dollars. A far greater prize than any mere bank. On top of that, literally, was Andrew Barton and John D. Rockefeller’s elevated crawler station, connected by electrified rail directly to Empire Tower. All the thieves had to do was tie the electric motor to it with the copper cable they stole, and they were in business. From there the operation was simple, dig through into the museum’s secure storage room from the abandoned subway tunnels, steal the gold, and use their stash of stolen trucks to get it out of the city.

Since Alex and Danny found their trucks, they would have had to make new plans, but with the court case being thrown out, they were out of time. If they didn’t move on the gold tonight, they’d lose their chance.

Alex smiled with satisfaction at figuring it all out.

Finally.

A crack appeared in the far wall of the storage room and the wall bulged out slightly.

“Douse the light,” Callahan said. “Stay hidden. Nobody move until I give the word. Remember, they’ve got a hostage with them.”

The single magelight on the ceiling went out, plunging the room into inky blackness.

Alex’s smile at his own cleverness faded when Callahan mentioned Leroy. If the thieves had been delaying, looking for another way to get the gold away, they might have already finished their tunnel. If that had happened, they wouldn’t need Leroy any more.

Alex figured they’d want to keep him around for the last push into the vault.

Or rather, he hoped they did.

A chunk of masonry fell out of the wall and a massive boring bit as big around as dinner plate pushed into the room. Light bled through around it, making it look like a glowing rune circle. A moment later, the bit was pulled slowly back, and light flooded into the storage room.

Alex and the police all ducked out of sight. A few minutes later they heard sounds of someone pulling debris away from the hole.

“We’re in,” a Jersey-accented voice said.

Alex smiled. He knew that voice, and it explained one of the few pieces still missing from this puzzle.

“Hit it again,” the voice said.

A moment later a humming sound came through the hole, followed shortly by the grinding noise of the boring bit. It took a few more minutes, but it punched another hole in the back wall, sending bits of broken masonry and debris scattering across the floor.

The sounds of sledge hammers came next as the thieves broke open the hole.

“That’ll do it,” Jersey accent said. Alex could hear him enter through the hole. “Bring the flashlights and spread out. Focus on the small stuff and find the entropy stone.”

Men began to move into the room, opening the nearest crates full of ancient American gold. Danny flexed his hand, tightening his grip on his service .38. Alex wondered if Callahan could see what was happening. He’d deployed his men well back from the wall that faced the subway tunnels, but if he let the thieves get too far in, they were bound to stumble across some of his men.

“Hands up!” Callahan’s voice boomed through the room. At the same moment all the lights in the room were turned on. “Stay where you are.”

Danny and the other officers and detectives rushed the room, leveling their weapons at the startled men with flashlights.

“Cops!” Jersey yelled, still in the back by the hole.

A couple of the thieves rushed the cops and gunshots erupted in the space. Jersey turned and ran.

“Where are you going, Jimmy?” Alex yelled.

The man turned back, and Alex confirmed that it was Jimmy Cortez, the big floor manager for Barton Electric. Alex had wondered how the thieves knew enough about the traction motor to steal it.

Jimmy snarled, but his eyes went suddenly wide and he darted away through the hole. An instant later a bolt of blue energy raked the wall where he’d been.

“Traitor!” Barton yelled in a voice that echoed unnaturally off the walls.

“After them,” Callahan yelled, charging toward the hole at the back.

Danny took off running, with Alex right behind him. They reached the hole right before Callahan and a dozen cops, pushing through into the crude tunnel beyond. It had been dug out tall enough for a man to stand comfortably and wide enough for two men to pass each other. The walls and ceiling were supported by beams made of two-by-fours that had been lashed together and placed every four or five feet.

The tunnel ran straight for about twenty yards, then opened out, into a dark space that had to be the abandoned subway.

“Which way did he go?” Danny shouted, as they neared the end of the tunnel.

“Left,” Alex answered. “Watch yourself.”

Danny skidded to a stop and ducked around the corner for a quick look around.

“It’s clear,” he shouted, running out into the tunnel.

Alex followed.

The tunnel was lit with magelights that had been hung along one curving wall. Barton’s traction motor, mounted on a wheeled cart and sporting the massive boring bit, sat just outside the tunnel. Farther away to the left, Alex could see half a dozen men taking cover behind piles of dirt that they’d obviously removed when they made the tunnel.

As Alex looked for cover of his own, a man in a pair of dirty overalls stepped out from behind a stack of empty crates. Alex recognized the round magazine and forward grip of a tommy gun as the man leveled it at Danny.

“Get down,” he yelled, charging forward as the gun spat fire. Alex caught Danny by the shoulder, throwing himself in front of the detective. Pain tore through his left hand and he felt the impact of bullets against his back as his shield runes did their job.

He and Danny went down in a heap and Alex put his arm up to cover his head as best he could with his reasonably bulletproof coat.

Assuming you didn’t just use up all your shield runes.

“You all right?” he whispered to Danny as the tommy gun barked again, and cops behind them began to return fire.

“Not really,” Danny gasped. His breathing was shallow and rapidm and his face was pale.

The firing continued over their heads and all Alex could do was act as a human shield.

“Where are you hit?” he asked.

“Side,” Danny gasped.

Alex tried to hold himself up, so his weight wasn’t on his friend.

“Enough!” Barton’s voice boomed down the tunnel.

The tommy gun fired again, but this time it was met with a crackle of electricity, and the gunman screamed. A moment later the tunnel went silent and the smell of ozone filled the air.

Alex rolled off Danny and reached for his handkerchief, intending to press it down over the spreading bloodstain on the detective’s side. He stopped when he saw the red handprint on Danny’s lapel. Blood ran freely from Alex’s left hand where one of the bullets from the machine gun had passed right through the back of his hand and out his palm.

Cursing, Alex tied his handkerchief around the wound, using his teeth to pull the knot tight.

“Come out of there with your hands up,” Callahan roared. “Or we’re coming in to get you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Jimmy Cortez said. He stepped out from behind a mountain of dirt. He held a lighter in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

“Everybody hold it,” Callahan barked.

Alex pulled Danny’s handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressed it down over the bullet wound in Danny’s side.

“This rune is linked to another that’s just over our heads,” Jimmy said. “If I light it, it will blow up the tunnel and kill us all.”

“Lockerby,” Callahan called. “Is that possible?”

Alex looked up. Attached to the ceiling was a box with the word, Explosives, clearly printed on it. One of the strange, face-like glyph runes had been painted on the outside. Alex could see a bit of fuse running from inside the box into the paint that made up the rune.

“Maybe,” Alex said.

“You know it is, Alex,” Jimmy said. “You’re too smart to doubt it. Now I want all of you to back off,” he said. “Or I’ll bring down the roof and kill us all.”

“You gonna be all right for a minute?” Alex whispered to Danny.

Danny grunted and nodded, his breathing shallow.

“I need to go talk to the nice man who wants to blow us up,” he said, digging through Danny’s pockets until he found the detective’s cigarettes. “I need to borrow these,” he said. Then he picked up Danny’s .38 and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

“Get moving,” Jimmy yelled.

“Just a minute,” Alex said. He was tired, sore, and hurt, and it took him a few seconds to get to his feet. “I have a few questions first.”

“You think I’m kidding, Alex,” Jimmy said, bringing the lighter close to the paper. “You know how this works. Once it starts, nothing on earth can stop it. Now back off.”

“Just a minute,” Alex said, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Alex—” Jimmy threatened.

“Hang on,” Alex said, digging a cigarette out of Danny’s pack and sliding it out with his lips on account of his wounded hand.

“I mean it, Alex, stop right there.” Jimmy’s voice had risen a bit, he was starting to panic. Alex felt a surge of pride; he must have made quite the impression on Jimmy Cortez for him to actually be afraid.

“Lockerby!” Callahan warned. Clearly he’d heard the same notes of desperation in Jimmy’s voice.

Alex stopped and slipped the cigarette pack into his shirt pocket. He held up a placating hand and tried to get into his left jacket pocket with his good right hand. Eventually, he gave up and gingerly slipped his left hand inside.

“I’ve really only got one question,” he said, pulling out the silver lighter and passing it to his good hand. “Well, that’s not true,” he amended as he flicked the lighter to life and lit his cigarette. That first puff was wonderful and reminded him that he hadn’t been able to smoke regularly for the better part of two months.

“First,” Alex said, blowing out a long trail of smoke. “Where’s Leroy Cunningham?”

“Is that what you’re thinking about at a time like this?”

“His wife hired me to find him,” Alex said with a shrug. “So, where is he?”

Jimmy nodded off into the darkness of a side tunnel.

“He’s down there, alive,” he added when Alex’s look hardened. “Once we’re gone, you’re welcome to him. Is that all?”

“Well no,” Alex said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth so Jimmy could see the grin spreading across his face. “I want to know why, if you thought I was so dangerous, you let me get this close.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide as Alex flicked the cigarette right at him. It hit the paper clutched in his hand, igniting it, and the paper vanished in a puff of flame and smoke. When the flash vanished, however, there was no glowing glyph rune left behind.

Jimmy stood, staring at the explosive box attached to the top of the tunnel, his eyes wide as saucers. Alex used the time to snap the cigarette lighter closed with his left hand, extinguishing its flame and the obfuscation rune powered by it. With his good hand, he pulled Danny’s gun out of his pocket.

“Now get on the ground, Jimmy,” he said, pointing the gun at the man’s chest. The sound of running feet grew louder behind Alex, and Jimmy put up his hands, glaring in furious disbelief. Alex just grinned back at him.

“Looks like you lose,” he said.