The Brain Vault (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 3) (19 page)

L
ido had just joined us.
“Are you alright?”

“Take a look inside the closet. It’s really creepy.”

Lido took a look for himself, returning quickly. “That’s a hell of a lot of bugs.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You didn’t warn me. You just said it was creepy.”

“Don’t be so technical; creepy is creepy. Bugs are creepy; connect the dots.” Lido knew that he was being teased. Still, my skin was beginning to crawl. It was time to get Zugg’s assessment and move on.

Zugg put on protective gloves that covered him up to the elbow and immediately drove his hand into the tank of beetles, exploring to see if anything was in there with the colony. What he found was not a surprise. He withdrew his hand, holding onto a section of a spine.

He studied the specimen for a moment before speaking, doing his best to assess with insufficient light. “These are the first five spinal vertebrae, the uppermost portion of the cervical spine, beginning with the atlas and running through C5. The atlas is fractured at the point where it articulates with the skull, and C5 is scored. It was most likely sawed through between C5 and C6.”

“The Medical Examiner’s report on Kevin Lee stated that his spine was severed just above the sixth cervical vertebra.”

“That’s right, Chalice,” Zugg said. “There’s little chance that this section of spine belongs to anyone but the late Kevin Lee.”

“Can you tell us anything else?” Lido asked.

“Yes,” Zugg replied. “This beetle colony is cool. They’ve had nothing to eat for quite some time. Most have left the tank in search of a new source of food.”

“Explain what you mean by cool,” Ambler said.

“We speak of beetle colonies in terms of temperature as it relates to their activity. If this tank had a large supply of rotting meat, the colony would be ‘hot’, highly active and consuming the meat. This colony is cool, you understand.”

Ambler nodded.

“We can draw a correlation between the colony’s temperature and the time it will take them to consume the specimen that’s been introduced into the tank,” Zugg said.

“It’s been deserted, like the apartment where John Doe was held captive.”

“Very reasonable conclusion,” Zugg said. “I’ll snoop around in here. I suggest that the rest of you push on.”

Zugg’s suggestion was music to my ears. I couldn’t wait to put as much distance as possible between those disgusting bugs and me. We left him in the utility closet to collect any forensic evidence that might have been left behind, while the rest of us continued to search the subway platform. We’d found the perp’s bone cleaning tank. We’d found his torture chamber as well—smart money would say that our perp was long gone. Still, we had to investigate the subway thoroughly to find a clue that might lead us to his new location. What else was down here?

I continued to explore the platform, but didn’t find very much of anything, so I turned my attention to the tracks. There was a huge heap of debris at the far end of the tracks, so I moved in for a closer look. “Oh my God, come look at this.” Sitting on the tracks were the remnants of Beach’s original subway car. It had been constructed of wood and had not held up very well. Still, it was an amazing find. I looked within. The upholstered seats were still in tact. It was like taking a step back in time. I got down onto the tracks to find a better vantage point as Sal, Ambler, and Lido hurried over.

I heard them ooh and ah as they examined the small subway car. I was now behind the train at the very end of the tracks. I turned my searchlight, expecting to see a brick wall. What I found was completely unexpected. “Sal, over here.” Before me was a metal door.

Sal was next to me in an instant. “Why I’ll be damned. Where the hell do you think that leads to?” He tried the doorknob. “Locked.”

I had a good idea of what was on the other side. Much of the tunnel was excavated using Devlin’s Clothing Store at 260 Broadway to secretly move materials in and out. Devlin’s site was now home to the Nine Circles Restaurant. Got the picture? “We’ve got to get in there.”

Sal looked at the door and the surrounding area. “It’s embedded in bedrock. We’ll knock it down.”

I got on my radio and called for the battering ram.

T
he air conditioning cycled back on.
He drew a deep breath as a fresh supply of cool, dehumidified air began to move past the air vent into the tiny space he occupied in the sealed off staircase.

He had grown quite fond of his tiny hiding space. There was barely enough room for him to sit comfortably, but he did not find it claustrophobic. To the contrary, he found it comforting, in the same manner that an infant enjoys the security of its crib. His only light was that which had migrated through the spaces in the air vent. He came here on most nights, to ogle the diners, listen to their conversations, and encroach upon their privacy. It is a world in which he had never found acceptance, a world he would give anything to be a part of. He took keen interest in the handsome men, especially those that dined with enticing partners. He imagined himself in their place and used them for his vicarious fantasies.

He still had a keen interest in the good looking man that was eating his noodles with chopsticks. The man’s hair was so short that it resembled sandpaper. His dining partner was exotic looking, with dark almond shaped eyes and teal eye makeup. He found her quite fetching, just the kind of woman he had longed for, the kind he had never known.

He stared again at the man’s perfectly smooth skull, and then bravely ran his fingertips over his own forehead, noting each and every imperfection. Frustrated, he quickly ended the comparison. His adenoid breathing grew heavy.

Thirty feet away from him, the abandoned staircase he sat within ended somewhere beneath the ground. A riveting thud echoed through the old stairwell. He clutched his chest and turned to look down into the darkness.

Paola jumped. “What the hell was that?”

Bennett was busy sucking an oyster off its shell. “Maybe something wrong with the air conditioning—they probably need a new compressor.”

“I know what a bad compressor sounds like. My father repairs cooling systems for a living. Trust me that was no compressor.”

“Maybe it’s one of those old steam pipes. You know the old part of the city. Those things go all the time.”

“Steam pipe, my ass.”

Bennett picked up the bottle of white Chablis that Pakpao had recommended to them and refilled her glass. “Drink up. Don’t let some silly little noises ruin our evening. If you don’t like it here, we can go someplace else for drinks afterward—maybe your place.” He smiled pathetically.

Paola leaned across the table and gave him another long kiss. Their lips were still together when a second loud thud hit their ears, this one several decibels louder than the first. “
Fuck
, what was that? Look me in the eye and tell me you think that was the air conditioning.”

“No, I don’t know what that was.”

The sound of wheezing and frightened breathing began to penetrate the restaurant.

Paola jumped from her chair. “Holy shit, what the hell was that? We have to get out of here.”

“I’ll get the check.”

Pakpao saw them from his usual spot by the bar, the spot where he kept an eye on the cash register, and raced over to them. “Everything okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” Paola said. “I heard a really disturbing noise coming from that air vent.”

“Yeah, we want the check,” Bennett said.

“That’s nothing,” Pakpao said. “It’s just the old building. I move your table. You stay. I bring you a round of drinks on the house.”

“I don’t think so,” Paola said.

Bennett took out his wallet.

Another loud thud reverberated through the air vent, followed by another, drawing the attention of most of the diners. The sound of distressed moaning was now impossible to deny.

“We are so out of here,” Paola said. “Tell me that’s the fucking air conditioning. It sounds like there’s an animal trapped back there.”

Pakpao chuckled to make light of the disturbance. “Animal, you say animal? There no animal behind the wall—you very funny.”

A loud crashing sound filled the restaurant. Bennett stuffed his wallet back into his back pocket and turned to Pakpao. “Dinner’s on you. We’re leaving.” Ah, the advantages of knowing the law. Bennett knew exactly what he could get away with.

Just a few feet away, just on the other side of the vent, he grew into a panic. He would normally have escaped through the upstairs air vent in the hallway of his apartment, but the police were still there, collecting evidence. His breathing became labored and his heart began to pound. He heard voices coming from below ground, and the sound of people approaching, ascending the stairs. He looked through the air vent at the altercation taking place. “Trapped,” he said in his adenoid voice. “I’m trapped.”

The restaurant filled with the sound of a jarring thud, sending the diners to their feet. Pakpao approached the vent just as a second jarring thud sounded. This time plaster dust flew from around the large air vent and the wall cracked around it. He got closer to the vent, trying to see within. A third thud sent him reeling backwards, away from the wall. He turned to face his patrons, just as frenzied screams filled the air, emanating from the air vent. “Beautiful night for outdoor dining—we bring tables outside.” Pakpao approached a large table of diners. “Complimentary desserts—no reason to leave.”

The sound of loud footsteps climbing the stairs filled the restaurant. The diners began to move toward the exit just as the wall fractured and the large air vent fell to the ground.

W
e were on our way up the stairs when I heard a pounding noise above us.
“Something’s going on here—hurry.” We began racing up the stairs. They were old and rickety, so I could only move so fast, but I was certain that something important was happening just in front of us. The air in the stairwell was stale. It was damp and had a heavy odor of cigarette smoke.

I heard a crash and then light filtered into the stairwell. A small man was standing at the top of the stairs, looking out through a large opening in the stairwell wall. He was facing away from me, but I could tell from his body language that he was about to flee. “Stop, NYPD.” He turned back to look at me. What I saw turned my blood to ice. The man’s face, it honestly frightened me.

In the next instant, he was gone, ducking and squeezing through the hole in the wall. I needed a moment to mentally regroup. The man’s appearance was terribly disturbing. I tried to convince myself that it was just the shadows playing tricks on my eyes, but I knew better.

“Did you see that?”

Lido was just behind me. “Someone just ran out.” It didn’t sound like Lido had seen the man’s face—now was not the time to tell him.

“Right, hurry.”

I heard several people screaming as I approached the top of the stairs. I dove through the opening in the wall and found myself in the Nine Circles Restaurant. The restaurant was in chaos. Women were screaming, the crowd parting to permit the exit of the man I had seen, frantically racing to the exit. He turned back toward me to check, and my heart froze again. The restaurant’s lighting was more than adequate and I was able to see this man’s disfigurement in all its horrible detail. I could see that he was Asian in appearance, but his forehead was grossly deformed, with a large bulbous protrusion that drooped down and covered his left eye. Other smaller protrusions were visible through his hair. His upper lip and nose were severely disfigured. He tried to cover his face as he turned away from me, but that split second’s exposure to him was enough. His image would remain etched in my mind forever.

“Oh my God.” This time Lido had seen him as well.

The man was pushing his way toward the door. I could hear him wheezing from where I stood, his severe heavy wheezing—it was haunting. And his odor, it was stale, stale like the underground tunnel, and heavily laden with cigarette smoke.

I was just scant steps behind him when he hit the restaurant’s door. “Stop,” I repeated, “police.”

He pushed through the door and was out on the street. I was the first to reach him. I got my hand on his shoulder. He looked back at me with severe panic on his face, as if he were a wild animal that had never before faced captivity. He began screaming, loud indecipherable noises, more beastly than human.

Lido and Ambler had him now. They were looking at one another as they attempted to subdue him without causing him harm. Their expressions needed no translation. The man continued to struggle, his wheezing growing louder and louder, his struggling becoming more desperate. Lido and Ambler were attempting to calm him down when I heard a buzzing noise that I had heard many times before. The man shuddered and collapsed into Lido’s arms.

Doyle was standing behind them, holding a Taser.

S
aint Vincent’s was the closest hospital, but Shearson was able to pull a few strings and so we were able to redirect and take the disfigured man to Lenox Hill under police supervision.
Lenox Hill was in our primary jurisdiction; Saint Vincent’s was not. We felt a lot more comfortable having our suspect on our own turf.

Speaking of our suspect; what the hell was he doing in that sealed off stairwell, and was he the man responsible for Kevin Lee’s murder, Paul Liu’s disappearance, and the torture of John Doe? He certainly didn’t look capable. He was quite small, almost frail, and of course, his vision was occluded. His fists had been clenched during the apprehension, something I would have thought of as normal, but they were still clenched in the hospital under sedation. He didn’t seem like he had the wherewithal to take three men prisoner, but hey, you never know what anyone is capable of when they get truly desperate. I wasn’t about to pass judgment—not for now anyway.

He had already been swabbed for DNA and his specimens were on their way to the crime lab for comparison to the forensic evidence found in the apartment above The Nine Circles Restaurant.