The Janus Reprisal (29 page)

S
MITH FOUND HIMSELF
once again in a drugstore, though not the same one he’d been in the last time when he bought first aid. He moved through the aisles collecting flashlights, batteries, and two pairs of rubber gloves, one for Russell and one for him. Russell was in a separate aisle looking for water bottles and aspirin. They met in the middle.

If anything, Russell looked worse under the drugstore’s fluorescent lights. Her skin remained pasty and slick from sweat, her lips were chapped, and her hair lank. She had pulled it into a ponytail and wisps fell around her face. She’d insisted on coming despite her weak condition, and Smith knew better than to try to stop her.

“What’s the tape for?” she said, indicating the duct tape in his grocery basket.

“To tape the lights to our waists. Allows for freedom of movement.”

She nodded. “Think Klein will be able to come up with some more weapons?”

Smith shrugged. “Maybe, but we can’t wait for it. Every minute that goes by, the bacteria spread.”

“If we’re right.”

“If we’re right, yes. And I’ve got to hope that we are. I don’t want to be the one who missed the ball so completely.” She turned toward the cash registers and he followed.

“We have it right. I can just feel it.”

He didn’t reply. The clerk behind the counter didn’t seem to notice Russell’s condition, or perhaps working the late shift meant that he was used to seeing dreadful-looking people buying aspirin. They left the store and climbed back into the rental.

Ten minutes later, Russell pulled within thirty feet of the 181st Steet subway stop and killed the engine.

“Klein’s going to orchestrate a partial blackout,” Smith said. “We’ll have thirty minutes from when it starts.” He had his bulletproof vest on, but Russell had none.

“We need better equipment. You take the vest. I’ll take the rifle.”

Russell shook her head. “Not a chance. You’re the one we need to address removing the bacteria. I’m just the hired muscle.”

“I hardly think of it in those terms.”

“Well, you should. We need your expertise to get through this thing. Mine, not so much.”

“I’ll make you a deal. When we get closer to the target, you walk in front. You draw their fire while I work on the track. For that, you’ll need the vest.”

She held out her hand. “Fine. Give it to me.”

They both opened their doors and slid out of the car. Smith shrugged out of the vest and handed it to her. As they did, a shadow emerged from behind two buildings. It was Howell.

“Out for a stroll?” he said.

Smith clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad to see you. Klein fill you in?”

Howell nodded. “All the gory details. Where’s Beckmann?”

“In FBI custody.”

“Shame,” Howell said. “So what’s the plan?”

Smith turned to the subway stop. “This is the next station down from the target. We go in, jump down to track level, and make our way to the 191st Street platform.”

“Subway crawling.”

Russell nodded. “Beats dying.”

“That it does,” Howell said. He showed them his sniper rifle. “I’m armed and ready to take someone out. Lead on.”

Before he did, Smith spotted a black man in his early thirties with long braids and a soft-sided guitar case slung over his shoulders like a backpack. He kept a steady eye on Smith and Russell as he walked toward them. He stopped when he reached Smith.

“Nice night for some rat hunting. Special delivery. My friend, Mr. Klein, asked me to give you this.” He shook one shoulder out of the pack’s straps and then the other. Smith took it from him and nearly dropped it in surprise at the sudden weight.

“Heavy for a guitar,” Smith said.

The man smiled. “I agree but it’s the best. Good luck.” He nodded at Russell and Howell and sauntered off.

“What’s in it?” Howell said.

“My weapons, I presume. I asked for an AK-47, two Berettas, and some tear gas bombs. You know, just in case.”

Howell nodded. “Of course. May I suggest a pincer movement? I will approach from the Dyckman station, you approach from this one. They try to run through the tunnels at least then we’ll catch them. Drive them toward me. I’ll be up on the platform ready to ambush them when they come even.”

“Good. We’ll give you twenty minutes to get into place. That work?”

“Yes, it does.”

“The streetlights will go dark first. Remember, that doesn’t affect the third rail, which is on a different system. I’ll wait until you’re in place and then give the signal to cut power to the third rail. Good luck,” Smith said. Howell jogged away and as he did, the streetlights went dark. Smith kept a close eye on his watch. After twenty minutes, he sent a text to Klein.

“Thirty minutes,” Smith said. He headed down the stairs.

Smith was surprised at the depth of the blackness, both on the street and in the subway. He dodged a woman heading upstairs and mumbled an apology that he doubted she heard. Two more people slogged up the stairs with resigned looks on their faces. A young man wearing skater pants and a graphic T-shirt and carrying a backpack with a skateboard lashed to it waved at him.

“Lights went out. Don’t think the trains are coming.”

“I’m MTA and you’re right. Many people waiting?”

“Nah. Only me, those two, and that lady.”

“Good. Hope you don’t have too far to go to get home.”

“I got the board. It’ll be cool.”

Smith joined Russell at the bottom.

“New Yorkers are a resilient group, aren’t they?” he said.

“Yes, they are.” She headed to the turnstile and vaulted over it. Smith followed, jumping up onto the support, swinging his legs, and landing on the other side. He switched on his light and kept moving. The light was taped to his belt at his hip and faced forward, throwing a beam that was easy to follow. The platform was empty.

“Let me get the AK out of this guitar case.” Smith carefully removed the case from his back and unzipped it halfway. He felt around inside and his fingers closed on a metal weapon. He pulled out an AK-47 with a carry strap. He felt around again and found a pistol that he shoved into his waistband. He reached back inside and pulled out a small bulging nylon bag. It had carry ropes to make it a backpack. He ran his fingers over it, found the opening and pulled it wider so that he could put his hand inside and figure out what was there. He felt a cylindrical portion that held the filter of a gas mask. He smiled when he realized that it contained two. He transferred the tear gas from the larger pack to the smaller and left the guitar bag on the ground. He put the smaller nylon bag over his shoulders. They jumped down onto the tracks, and water splashed upward.

“The flooding’s going to slow us down.”

“Wish we could fan out. I hate to be stuck single file if we come upon Dattar and his crew,” Russell said.

“I’m equally afraid of the third rail. It’s mostly covered, but there are small open sections. If somebody gets the idea to switch the electricity back on, I don’t want to be anywhere near it,” Smith said.

He continued forward, with Russell behind him. The tunnel smelled of mildew and dust, but overall it wasn’t as foul as he’d expected. The tunnel’s ceiling was made of jack-arch concrete and the walls were tiled. The sound echoed, as if he were in a shower, so they maintained silence.

Smith figured it would take them 15 minutes to walk it. The water, with its tendency to splash and make noise, slowed them a bit, but they still kept a brisk pace. Smith felt the dirt beneath his feet begin to suck at his shoes, and his feet and calves were soaked. He felt something squish under his sole. It felt dense, like the body of a small animal.

Mouse or rat, Smith thought.

After ten minutes they came upon a recessed opening. Smith turned his hips so that the light shone into the area, but he found nothing. He waved Russell on. After another five minutes, he thought he heard a sound ahead of him. He stopped and switched off his flashlight; Russell did the same. Smith stayed perfectly still. The sound of another soft splash, this one closer, made his skin crawl and his heart start racing. Someone or something was in the tunnel with them.

D
ATTAR, KHALIL, MANHAR,
and Rajiid had taken three steps toward the exit, when the lights went off.

The blackness shocked Manhar and, for a moment, he thought the world had come to an end. He heard shuffling and a smothered oath from Khalil.

“What did they do? Shut the rail down again?”

“The lights are on a different system.” Rajiid’s voice came from Manhar’s right. “This is more extensive than just the station.”

“You have a flashlight?” Dattar’s harsh voice grated on Manhar’s ears. He thought he heard a soft splash from behind him, and it made his skin crawl. The rats were jumping in the water.

“There’s one in the cooler. Let me get it.” Manhar heard Rajiid making his way to the trash bin. The total dark was disorienting. He heard the sound of a siren far in the distance and the steady drip of water that still fell from the hose. A hollow sound and then another oath, this one from Rajiid.

“What’s the problem?” Dattar’s voice came through the dark.

“I stubbed my toe on the damn cooler.”

I hope it’s broken, Manhar thought.

After some scratching noises, a light blinked on. Rajiid ran the beam over the area, highlighting Khalil, Dattar, and Manhar.

“Where is she?” Dattar said.

Rajiid moved the light all around the platform. Nolan was gone.

“She has my money,” Dattar shrieked. Manhar couldn’t see Rajiid’s face, but he heard the man make a small, irritated sound.

“She must be in the tunnel. Khalil, could she have gotten past you and up the stairs?”

“Not at all,” Khalil’s voice came from the area near the stairs.

“Find her. Now. She has my money,” Dattar said. “Manhar, into the tunnel.” Manhar tried to think of any possible reason not to enter the tunnel.

“We don’t know which way she went. You need two, maybe more, to go in both directions. And flashlights.”

“She’s in there in the dark and if she can go there, you can too,” Dattar’s voice was harsh. “Rajiid, give him the flashlight. Khalil, go with him. Find her.” Manhar started toward Rajiid, who still held the flashlight. When he got to the man, Rajiid handed it over with a grimace.

“How long before the bacteria sour the tunnel?” Manhar asked.

“Forty minutes if the rail is off, less if the rail is still on.”

“And then?”

“Ten minutes will see it double. At that stage you’ll still have to stand directly over the areas where you applied it. At twenty, it will reach fifteen feet in every direction. At forty it will reach ninety feet each direction.”

“What does it carry?”

“Mutated virus of H5N1. Pandemic strength.”

“Does anyone survive it?” Manhar said.

“Three percent do. Ninety-seven percent do not. If you get it, don’t bother going to the hospital. They can’t help you. Only time will tell if you survive or not.”

“Get moving!” Dattar yelled.

“I will, but first I need a weapon.”

“I want her alive, you idiot,” Dattar said.

“Give me your knife. I won’t kill her.”

Dattar made an irritated sound and shoved the knife and a gun in Manhar’s direction. He took both, and snatched the flashlight from Rajiid. Cowards both of them, Manhar thought. They won’t go into the tunnel to do their own dirty work.

Khalil walked up. “Let’s go. I’ll use this.” He turned to Dattar. “You’d better not leave. Anything happens in the tunnel and I’ll expect you both to jump in and provide backup.”

Dattar waved a second gun in the air. “I’m not leaving without her. I thought I made that very clear.”

Khalil grunted and switched on a stick lighter. The flame flickered. Manhar thought it was ridiculously weak, but Khalil was an expert tracker and huntsman and he presumed the meager light was enough for him. He jumped down onto the track, splashing water as he did. He focused the flashlight down to his left, in the direction where they had discarded the body, and saw nothing. He swung it right and again saw nothing.

“We both go left,” Khalil said. “She’s headed that way.”

“How do you know?”

Khalil pointed to the edge of the platform. A few drops of red glistened in the light beam.

“Ah, you’re right. I’d forgotten she was bleeding.”

Khalil shot him a smirk. “You first,” he said.

Manhar didn’t want to go first. He didn’t like the idea of Khalil at his back with a gun in his hand.

“We walk together,” he said.

Khalil shook his head. “I’m not walking near the third rail. Who knows when it will switch back on?”

“Then I’ll take that side.”

“As you wish.”

They started forward. Manhar didn’t bother to cover the sound of his feet splashing through the water. Let her hear him coming, he thought. As he trudged, he flashed the light from side to side, covering the area. There was nothing. No sign of the woman and no noise of her either. In the distance he heard sirens. They came even with the dead body. Khalil didn’t glance at it. They took a few more steps and Khalil stopped. He held up a hand and Manhar stilled as well. From somewhere in front of them came the noise of splashing. For an instant, then all was quiet.

Khalil stepped to his left and hugged the wall.

S
MITH AND RUSSELL KEPT MOVING
. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Me first,” she said. “When they start shooting, you need to be behind me. Remember?”

Smith backed off, and she slipped past him. He lined up behind. Every so often the tunnel wall was cut away, either with a narrow archway that looked like a window that had been cemented up, or to a small alcove with a metal staircase that led upward. Graffiti covered the walls. The taggers must have run into the tunnel between arriving trains. Russell slowed before each opening, making sure that no one was waiting to ambush them before taking the risk of stepping even.

They had advanced twenty feet when Smith got the overwhelming sense that someone was in front of them. He put a hand on Russell’s shoulder. She paused. He put his mouth to her ear.

“Someone’s out there.”

He felt her nod. She turned her head to whisper into his ear. “I’m going to lay down rifle fire. Let’s head to an opening and get low.” He crouched down with Russell, moving in tandem.

“I’m ready. Tell me when. I’ll switch on the light.” He moved flush against her left side and prepared to flick on his flashlight.

“One,” she whispered. “Two. Three.”

He turned on the flashlight and Russell started firing the Uzi. He felt her body vibrate with the weapon’s recoil and the noise pounded his eardrums. The light gave a gray glow and her shots pierced through the tunnel. Smith saw bits of her muzzle flash and two men standing about fifty yards into the tunnel.

Seconds later they returned fire. He could see muzzle flash only from the one on the right. The plaster in front of Russell’s face exploded and he heard her grunt as bits hit her face. He switched off the light and used his body to push her into an opening to the right. A bullet winged past his ear.

“How many did you see?” Russell said.

“Two. But only the one on the right was shooting.”

“Let’s continue to lay down fire in spurts and take it in sections. This time run to the left and when we reach the next opening get inside. We need to get to the bacteria. The station is behind them.”

Russell nodded. “One, two, three.” She stepped back into the tunnel and laid down some more fire, racing across to the left side. This time Smith didn’t turn on the light but kept with her, firing the AK-47 on semiautomatic to conserve bullets. The return fire was quick and raked to the right. Russell jogged forward and Smith did as well, firing and praying that a stray bullet from the two in front didn’t hit him dead on in the chest. He kept looking for a recessed section, but couldn’t find any.

“One, two…” Russell wasn’t letting up. Smith didn’t either. She started moving right again. This time Smith didn’t see any return fire. He kept shooting. They jogged ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief when the muzzle flash revealed another opening, this one without a ladder, but deep enough to provide cover for both him and Russell. They’d managed to reach this section without seeing any return fire. Right before they stepped into the tunnel, Smith thought he saw motion from inside the recessed area. He put an arm out to hold Russell in place, moved his back against the wall, inched his way forward, and led with his gun, arm stretched out. He stepped into the opening and flicked on his light. His muzzle was three feet from Nolan’s face.

“Don’t shoot, it’s me,” Nolan said.

Smith swallowed as relief went through him. She stepped up to him and put her arms around his waist. He placed an arm around her neck, felt her temple at his lips and kissed it. She moved in close and gripped his waist harder. He could feel her shaking and, because she’d never shown fear before, he knew that it meant the situation was dire.

“How many are there?” he said.

“Four. And a crew upstairs.”

“I’m Russell. Are they all armed?” Russell’s voice came in a whisper through the darkness.

“Likely, yes. Khalil and Dattar for sure. I don’t know about the other two.”

“Did they hurt you?” Smith asked. She was silent. His anger spiked and his face felt hot as he flushed.

“I’m alive,” she said. “And still in one piece.” She sounded a bit more like herself, but she still gripped him tightly.

“Did he get the money back?” Russell said.

“Not yet. They wanted to set up their attack first.”

“Tell us,” Russell said. “But make it quick. They’re out there.”

Nolan ran down the story, and as she did Smith was both relieved and sickened that the theory he’d reached was the right one.

“How much time?” Russell asked. Smith touched the glow button on his watch.

“Seven minutes.”

“What happens then?” Nolan said.

“The third rail switches back on.”

“Do you know how many more recessed areas there are before we hit the platform?” Smith said.

“Only one. And there’s a body in there.” Nolan’s voice cracked on the word “body.”

“Whose?” Russell said.

“An MTA employee. He stumbled into this mess.”

“Ready?” Russell said.

“We’re going forward. You stay here. When you think it’s safe, run in the other direction.” Smith reached into his jacket and pulled out the Beretta. “Take this. It has a full magazine and a laser sight. Do you know how to shoot?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“And take this.” He handed her his phone. “As soon as you get a signal, call the Anacostia Yacht Club from the contacts list and tell the man who answers that Smith’s theory was right. Tell him Dattar’s here and to send in the police to surround the station, but under no circumstances should they descend into it without face mask protection.”

“How far down on the third rail did you place the bacteria?” Russell asked.

“Twenty feet at least. That means it’s at least one hundred feet from where we’re standing. One of Dattar’s crew thought some was already dead, though.”

“We’ve got to move,” Russell said. “One.” Smith felt Nolan’s palms on either side of his face. One was warm and the other held the gun. The metal was cool against his cheek. She brought his head down and kissed him.

“Two,” Russell said.

“Please don’t die,” Nolan whispered.

“Three.” Russell stepped out with Smith right behind her.

They fired in unison, jogging ahead. Smith reached out and tapped Russell on the back. When she stopped, he pulled her down into a crouch next to him.

“No return fire. I don’t like it,” Smith said.

“I agree. They’re cooking something up.”

“Ideas?”

“None.”

“Then just keep it going,” Smith said.

“One, two, three.”

Smith and Russell started in again. Smith estimated that they were halfway to the next alcove when Smith saw a row of three muzzle flashes of return fire. This time he heard Russell grunt. She staggered back and he grabbed her around her waist with his left arm while he continued to fire with his right. He dropped to one knee, dragging her with him, and felt bits of stone and shrapnel rain down on his head. In front of him and to the far left he saw muzzle flashes from a new shooter targeting their attackers. Howell, Smith thought. He heard a scream as one of Howell’s shots hit home. Russell rolled out of his arm and regained her feet.

“Retreat,” he said. “Aim to the right. Don’t hit Howell on the left.” He fired round after round while he crab-walked backward. Russell was to his left and slightly behind him, and she fired along with him. They made it back to the alcove where Nolan had been hiding. She was gone.

“You hit?”

“Yes. Vest stopped it. Still hurts like hell when they land, though. Knocked the wind out of me for a moment.” There was a fizzing sound. Smith thought he could hear the harmonics of the third rail as the electricity poured through it. He looked at his watch.

“Time’s up.”