Dark River (8 page)

“I’ve thought about you a great deal in the last few months, Gabriel. What’s been going on here in New York?”

“I’m all right. I guess…” Gabriel lowered his voice. “You taught me how to cross the barriers, but I still don’t know how to be a Traveler. I see the world differently, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to change things.”

“Have you done any more exploring? Did you reach the other realms?”

“I met my brother in the Realm of the hungry ghosts.”

“Was it dangerous?”

“I’ll tell you about it later, Sophia. Right now, I want to know about my father. He sent a letter to New Harmony.”

“Yes. Martin showed it to me when I went to his house for dinner. Your father wanted to know how the community was doing.”

“Was there a return address? How did he expect Martin to contact him?”

“There was an address on the envelope, but Martin was going to destroy it. All it said was, ‘Tyburn Convent. London.’ ”

Gabriel felt as if the shadowy loft was filled with light. Tyburn Convent. London. His father was probably living there. All they had to do was travel to Britain to find him.

“Did you hear that?” he told the others. “My father is in London. He wrote a letter from a place called Tyburn Convent.”

Maya handed the .45 automatic to Hollis and took a handful of bullets for her revolver. She glanced at Gabriel and shook her head slightly. “Let’s get to a safe place and then we’ll talk about the future. Is everyone ready?”

Reverend Hernandez agreed to stay in the loft for one more hour, using the stove and the lights as if someone were home. The rest of the group crawled out the window to the fire escape and climbed up onto the roof. It felt like they were standing on a platform above the city. Clouds drifted over Manhattan, and the moon looked like a smudged chalk mark in the sky.

They passed over a series of low walls and reached the roof of a building farther up Catherine Street. The security door had a dead-bolt lock, but Maya didn’t see that as an obstacle. The Harlequin took out a thin piece of steel called a tension wrench, inserted it into the keyhole, and turned the plug slightly. Then she forced a locksmith’s pick in above the wrench and used it to push the upper pins into the housing. When the last pin clicked into place, she pushed the door open and guided them downstairs to the ground floor of a storage building. Hollis opened the door and they stepped into an alleyway that led to Oliver Street.

It was about ten o’clock in the evening. The narrow streets were filled with young men and women who wanted to eat Peking duck and a few egg rolls before they spent the night dancing at clubs. People got out of taxis or stood on the sidewalk examining the menus displayed in restaurant windows. Although Gabriel and the others were concealed in the crowd, he felt as if every surveillance camera in the city were tracking their movements.

The feeling got stronger when they followed Worth Street to Broadway. Naz led the way, Hollis beside him. Vicki was next, followed by Sophia and Alice. Gabriel could hear Naz explaining how the subway system was being converted to a system that used computer-controlled trains. On some lines, the motorman spent his entire shift sitting in the cab of the front car, staring at the controls that worked without him.

“A computer in Brooklyn makes the train start and stop,” Naz said. “All you gotta do is punch a button every few stops to show that you’re not asleep.”

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder and saw that Maya was about six feet behind him. The straps of her shoulder bag and the sword carrier crossed like a black X in the middle of her chest. Her eyes moved slightly back and forth like a camera that was continually scanning a danger zone.

They turned left onto Broadway and approached a triangular park. City Hall was a few blocks away— a large white building designed with a wide stairway leading up to Corinthian columns. This fake Greek temple was only a few hundred feet from the Woolworth Building, a Gothic cathedral of commerce with a spire that reached into the night.

“Maybe the cameras have been tracking us,” Naz said. “But it don’t make no difference. The next camera is down the street. See it? It’s on the lamppost near the stoplight. They got us walkin’ up Broadway, but now we disappear.”

Stepping off the sidewalk, he led them through the deserted park. There were a few security lights on the asphalt pathways, glowing with a feeble energy, but their little group remained in the darkness.

“Where are we going?” Gabriel asked.

“There’s a deserted subway station right beneath us. They built it a hundred years ago and closed it down right after World War Two. No cameras. No cops.”

“How do we get up to Grand Central Terminal?”

“Don’t worry about that. My friend is gonna show up in about fifteen minutes.”

They passed through a cluster of scraggly pine trees and approached a brick maintenance building. A ventilation grate was on the west side of the building, and Maya smelled the dusty odor of the underground. Naz led them around the building to a steel security door. Ignoring the various warning signs— DANGER! AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY!— he pulled a key ring out of his knapsack.

“Where did you find that?” Hollis asked.

“In my supervisor’s locker. I kind of borrowed the keys a couple of weeks ago and copied them.”

Naz opened the door and led them into the building. They were standing on a steel floor surrounded by circuit boxes and electrical conduits; an opening in one corner led to a staircase. The door closed behind them and a loud boom echoed in the small space. Alice took two quick steps forward before controlling her fear. She looked like a half-wild animal that had just been returned to a cage.

The circular staircase went downward like an enormous corkscrew to a landing where a single lightbulb burned above a second security door. Naz sorted through his stolen keys, mumbling to himself as he tried to open the lock. Finally he found the right key, but the door still wouldn’t move.

“Let me try.” Hollis raised his left foot and aimed a front kick at the lock. The door popped open.

One by one, they entered the abandoned City Hall station. The original light fixtures were empty, but someone had attached an electrical cable to the wall and run it to a dozen bulbs. A token booth was at the center of the entrance lobby; it had a little dome-shaped copper roof and looked as if it belonged in the sort of old-fashioned movie theater that had ushers and a red velvet curtain. Beyond it were wooden turnstiles and a concrete platform by the subway tracks.

A layer of grayish-white dust covered the floor; the air was stale and smelled like machine oil. Gabriel felt as if he were locked inside a tomb until he gazed upward at the vaulted ceiling. It reminded him of a medieval church— an interior of high arches that rose from the ground and met at central points. The tunnel itself was another set of arches, illuminated by tarnished brass chandeliers that held frosted-glass globes. No advertisements. No surveillance cameras. The walls and ceilings were decorated with white, red, and dark green ceramic tiles that formed intricate geometric patterns. It made the underground environment feel like a sanctuary, a place of refuge from the disorder above them.

Gabriel felt warm air move across his skin, and then heard a distant rumble, growing in power. Seconds later, a subway train came around the curve and raced through the station without stopping.

“That’s the number six local,” Naz said. “It loops through here and heads back uptown.”

“Is that how we get to Grand Central?” Sophia asked.

“We’re not riding on the six. It’s too public.” Naz glanced at his watch. “You get a private train with nobody watching. Just wait. Devon should be here in a few minutes.”

Naz paced in front of the booth, and then looked relieved when a pair of headlights appeared in the tunnel. “Here he comes. I need the first thousand— right now.”

Vicki handed a wad of hundred-dollar bills to Naz, and their guide passed through a wooden turnstile to the platform. He waved his arms as a single subway car rolled into the station pulling a hopper car piled high with trash bags. A slender black man— well over six feet tall— was operating the controls in the front cab. He stopped the subway car and opened the double doors. Naz shook hands, exchanged a few words, and then handed the money to his friend.

“Hurry up!” he shouted. “Another train will be here in a minute.”

Maya led the group into the subway car and told them to sit at either end, away from the windows. Everyone obeyed her— even Alice. The little girl seemed completely aware of everything that was going on, but she never showed any expression.

Devon stood in the doorway of the closet-sized cab. “Welcome aboard the trash train,” he said. “We got to change tracks a couple times, but we’ll be up at Grand Central in about fifteen minutes. We’ll stop at a maintenance platform because there aren’t any TV cameras in that area.”

Naz was grinning as if he’d just performed a magic trick. “See? What’d I tell you?”

Devon pushed the control lever down and the train jerked forward, picking up speed as it left the abandoned station. The car rocked back and forth, and then they were heading north beneath the streets of Manhattan. Devon stopped at the Spring Street station, but didn’t open the doors. He waited until a green light flashed in the tunnel, then pushed the lever again.

Gabriel got up from his seat and stood next to Maya. The window in the door was open a few inches and warm air pushed into the car. As the train shifted onto a new track, it felt as if they were traveling through a secret part of the city. Light appeared in the distance, reflected on the tracks; there was a clattering sound and then they glided slowly through the Bleecker Street station. Gabriel had traveled on the east-side line several times before, but this experience was different. They were safe within a shadow land, one step beyond the scrutiny of the Vast Machine.

Astor Place. Union Square. And then the door to the control room popped open. The train was still moving, but Devon wasn’t touching the controls.

“Something’s going on…”

“What’s the problem?” Maya asked.

“We’re a maintenance train,” Devon said. “I’m supposed to be running it. But the computer took over when we left the last station. I tried to contact the command center, but the radio’s dead.”

Naz jumped up and raised both hands as if he were trying to stop an argument. “It’s no big deal. There’s probably another train up the line.”

“If that was true, then they would have stopped us at Bleecker.” Devon stepped back into the control room and moved the lever again. The subway car ignored his efforts and passed through the Twenty-third Street station at the same moderate speed.

Maya drew the ceramic gun she had taken from Aronov. She kept the weapon pointed at the floor. “I want the train stopped at the next station.”

“He can’t do that,” Naz said. “The computer is running everything.”

Everyone was standing now— even Sophia Briggs and the girl. They held on to the poles in the middle of the car as lights flashed through the windows and the wheels clicked like a ticking watch.

“Is there an emergency brake?” Maya asked Devon.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it will work. The computer is telling the train to keep moving.”

“Can you open the doors?”

“Not unless the car has stopped. I can release the safety lock and you can open them manually.”

“Good. Do that right now.”

Everyone looked out the window as they rolled through the Twenty-eighth Street station. The few New Yorkers standing on the platform looked as if they were frozen within that instant of time.

Maya turned to Hollis. “Push the door open. When we reach Forty-second Street, we’re going to jump.”

“I’m staying on the train,” Naz said.

“You’re coming with us.”

“Forget that. I don’t need your money.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the money right now.” Maya raised the gun slightly, pointing it at Naz’s kneecap. “I want to keep away from the cameras and get on that train at Grand Central Terminal.”

Devon switched off the safety lock as they left the Thirty-third Street station. Hollis forced back two of the side doors and held them open. Every few yards they rattled past a steel I-beam holding up the tunnel ceiling. It felt like they were traveling down an endless passageway with no way out.

“Okay!” Devon shouted. “Get ready!” There was a red lever with a T-shaped handle mounted on the wall of the car’s control room. Devon grabbed the handle, pulled down hard, and there was a screeching sound of steel scraping against steel. The subway car began to shiver but the wheels kept turning. As they approached Forty-second Street, the New Yorkers waiting in the station backed away from the edge of the platform.

Alice and Sophia jumped first, followed by Vicki, Hollis, and Gabriel. The train was going slowly enough that Gabriel managed to stay on his feet. Looking up the concrete platform, he saw Maya pull Naz out the open door. The wheels of the train kept screeching as it disappeared into the tunnel. People on the platform looked startled, and one man punched out a number on his cell phone.

“Come on!” Maya shouted, and they started running.

** CHAPTER 8

The van drove around the concrete security barrier and stopped at the Vanderbilt Avenue entrance to Grand Central Terminal. A National Guardsman standing in front of the train station approached them, but Nathan Boone motioned to one of his mercenaries, a New York City detective named Ray Mitchell. Ray lowered the passenger window and showed the soldier his badge. “Got a call about a couple of drug dealers doing business in the terminal,” he said. “Someone said they had a little Chinese girl with them. Can you believe it? I mean— come on— if you’re selling crack, get a babysitter.”

The Guardsman grinned and lowered his rifle. “I’ve been in the city for six days,” he said. “Everyone here is a little crazy.”

The driver, a mercenary from South Africa named Vanderpoul, stayed behind the wheel as Boone got out of the van with Mitchell and his partner, Detective Krause. Ray Mitchell was a small, fast-talking man who liked to wear designer clothes. Krause was his opposite: a large, awkward cop with a flushed face who seemed to be permanently angry. Boone paid a monthly retainer to both police officers and gave them occasional bonuses for extra work.