by D S Kane
“No, boss. I know safe and cheap. Take you there.”
What was the easiest way to get him to comply? “I’ll give you an extra five in tip. The Waldorf, please.” She showed him a Lincoln.
“But—”
Negotiation wasn’t going to work. Cabs in the wee hours could sometimes be dangerous. She thought for a second and made a decision. She pulled the old Beretta from her raincoat pocket and placed its barrel right against the bulletproof glass separating them. “These are armor piercing shells. You want to die? Take me to the Waldorf. Now. I’ll still give you the tip I promised.”
She watched his reflection in the rear view mirror. Saw his eyes shift. “Sure, boss.”
She’d pocketed the gun. The .22 caliber Beretta was one she bought in Harlem the previous year when she was in danger. She owned better, but this tiny gun was a keepsake, and a useful one. Her favorite.
In three minutes she reached the historic hotel. She paid the driver, added a five to the tip she’d already planned, and watched the taxi disappear into the night. Then she walked to Third Avenue, turned south and hustled into the entrance to Grand Central Station. No one followed. The station looked more like a retro train museum. Cassie found a rest room on the lower level of the station where she smeared eye makeup on her cheeks to suggest dirt and grease. Then she changed from the upscale pants she’d worn during her trip from DC to into shabby ones that would blend in with the homeless. From her suitcase she donned the dirty, stained raincoat she’d used while hiding in the tunnels. She’d kept it, thinking she might be forced to use it again, but being here tonight was her choice. She draped it on over her expensive blouse, stepped into a pair of old sneakers, and pulled on sunglasses and a ratty New York Mets baseball cap. She examined herself in the restroom mirror. This disguise would serve its purpose.
Her face remained blank. Emotions often led to a field agent’s demise. She opened the suitcase and removed a switchblade, placing the gun and knife in the most convenient pocket of the raincoat. Always be prepared—semper paratus—she thought. Cassie marched out of the restroom and placed the suitcase into a rental locker in the station’s basement.
Cassie whistled “That Will Never Happen No More,” an old Arthur “Blind” Blake blues tune, as she walked. The memory of her old Martin D-18 guitar reverberated through her head. She’d been forced to abandon it last year when she fled her apartment. But even without the guitar, blues music kept her sane. She strolled onto one of the track platforms where commuters were arriving on early rush hour trains from Westchester and Connecticut. The commuters avoided eye contact. She expected they would see her as just another one of the homeless living in the tunnels north of the platforms. And given her broad, muscular shoulders and the strength she telegraphed when walking, she was sure they feared her. None of them got close enough to realize she wasn’t rank.
At the end of the platform, Cassie took the stairs onto the dark tracks and walked north, careful to avoid incoming trains. When she’d walked far from the station along the unlit tracks, she found a safe place behind a girder to wait for her eyes to adjust to the shadows. She could feel her heartbeat accelerating. Not from fear. She was eager to complete this very personal mission.
After fifteen minutes walking the tracks, lights sparked from the tunnels off on the east and west. Standing there for a few seconds, she oriented herself and remembered the path. She headed west, just as she had done when she’d run for her life. She put her hand in her raincoat pocket to finger the knife.
Several hundred thousand people allegedly lived in the tunnels. And millions of super-rats prowled and hunted here, some over twenty-five pounds. She scouted for signs of the über-rodents as she wandered the west tunnel. She saw fewer destitute people than she had when she was one of them, but they seemed to be worse off. She walked to where she had first found Ann. No one there. Cassie walked around the area for almost an hour, searching.
Rush hour passed. Of the few that walked by, no one was familiar. She hung her head and decided to find somewhere to spend the night. A hotel on Lexington where she’d stayed once before. She would resume looking for Ann tomorrow.
As she turned back toward the station, she saw an old woman she remembered from last year. The hag was carrying two filled shopping bags in one of her arms and, despite her armful, was pressing forward a supermarket cart crammed with her possessions.
As Cassie closed the distance she caught an overpowering stench of stale sweat and she wanted to gag. She took a deep breath through her mouth.
The decrepit homeless woman stopped. Cassie approached, eyes downcast, trying not to alarm the crone. “Please, can you help me? I’m looking for someone.”
“Don’t know no one that’s here.” The old woman reversed course and moved away fast.
Cassie sprinted in front to block her path. “Wait! I’ll pay you.”
The woman’s eyes scanned Cassie. “How much?”
Cassie pulled a bill from her raincoat. “Twenty.”
The old woman shook her head. “No. Fifty. And, what does you wants knowing?”
Cassie thought for a second about bargaining, but decided the old woman could use the money more. “I’m looking for a young woman who was here about a year ago. Named Ann.” The old woman’s eyes flashed. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? Blond hair, thin, about my height.”
“What’s it to you?”
Cassie pulled a Franklin from her raincoat and stashed the twenty. “I have a message for her. It’s important.” She heard the pleading tone in her own voice. Not good.
The old woman’s face scrunched. “Ain’t enough. I’ll want a hundred. And I’ll talk to her first. Then if she wants you talking with her, it’s another hundred and I’ll go and get her.”
Cassie tore the bill in half. “The other half’s yours when I see her.”
“Well, I’ll have to push my cart for a long time and I’m old and tired. It’ll take hours. That’s not much money for my effort.”
“I’ll give you ten more and watch your stuff while you’re gone. Then when she arrives, you get your stuff back and I get back the ten. Deal?”
The woman was silent, pausing. “Okay. But don’t you sell my stuff.”
Cassie looked in the cart. The contents stank worse than the unwashed old woman. She didn’t want to be here alone with the stench. More important, she wanted to find Ann as soon as possible. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a hundred right now, and you just take me to her. Then I’ll give you the other half of the bill I’m holding. You’ll get one-fifty total for this. And, I’ll push your cart for you. Okay?”
“Uh, but, but you gives me fifty right now, just in case we don’t find her.”
“Done.” Cassie pulled a fifty from the coat and handed it over. She wished she’d brought latex gloves. She positioned herself to pull the cart, upwind of both the cart and the old woman.
Together, they walked deeper into the tunnels. The woman might not have known where to look for Ann, but she seemed to have an internal map of the pathways. Cassie stayed focused and tried to remember each twist and turn. She and the woman walked for over an hour through twisting passageways, where intersections once filled with prowling humans were now close to empty. She wondered if there were fewer of them because the city had improved services for the homeless or if there was something nastier occurring here. She had no way to find an answer and just plodded on.
Cassie’s concern mounted with every turn they made. Was Ann hurt? Or worse, dead? What if she was too late?
Cassie watched as the octogenarian passed by most of the others, occasionally waving to one. “Aren’t you going to ask if they’ve seen Ann?”
“Nope. I knows where she be the last time I saw her. If she ain’t there, then I asks.”
They walked another fifteen minutes. After stopping at a tiny darkened doorway, the woman called out “Young girlie? I brings you a friend. Come see.”
No response.
&nbs
p; Disappointment shot through her. “Ann? It’s Cassie.”
Again, silence. The old woman removed a flashlight from one of the shopping bags. She pointed it around the small atrium-like space. There was no one there but the two of them. Cassie saw a bed roll on the floor. She sniffed the air, her sense of smell intensified. Cheap perfume. Mystified, she stood still. There was another odor. Sex, aromas from many males and a female. She tried to imagine what Ann did to survive. “No!” escaped her clenched lips. She saw proof on the floor: a condom wrapper. “I’m too late.”
The old woman overheard her whispering. “So, you knows what she does then, does you? She probably be out getting groceries with her earnings. We can wait here until she returns and then you gives me my money, just like you promised.”
“No. I’ll give you the money right now. You earned it.” Cassie handed the woman the remaining bills. She waved her hand toward the entrance. “You can go now. And, thanks.”
The old woman took the cash and counted it. She smiled. “You be good to her.” She turned and shuffled toward the door. At the entrance, she said over her shoulder, “This girlie be a good woman, even if she do fuck men for money. She have a good soul. Never hurt no one.” With that she was gone.
Cassie’s skin crawled as she sat on the bedroll. She imagined what Ann’s life had been like since she’d last seen the young girl. She stood up, tears forming. The worst had already happened. She looked at her wristwatch: 10:32 a.m.
She heard a low moan and searched in the dark behind the bedroll. Nothing. Then the bedroll shifted. There was a body, alive and unconscious. She recognized the teen’s dirty face. “Ann? Can you hear me?” She touched the young girl’s cheek. Cassie felt a bruise, sticky with blood on her hand. She guessed her next stop would be the hospital. She’d have to lift Ann up, even though it might injure the teen more.
She heard footsteps getting louder and coming toward the room. Cassie moved off to the side of the doorway.
Someone in the shadows. She couldn’t make out his physique or features, but she was sure it was a male. He called out, “Missie? I got twenty for you for your sweet little cunt. If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
Cassie kept silent, hoping he’d leave, but he entered the room. He was a head taller than Cassie and at least sixty pounds heavier. The man laughed and walked behind the bedroll. He ignored Ann’s unconscious body and searched the heap of Ann’s possessions. Cassie silently closed the distance until she stood right behind him. Her speech imitated those in the tunnels. “Thief.” He jumped, not having seen her in the dark, his expression filled first with shock and then with malice. She gripped his arm and twisted it. He yelled in pain. “You go now, scum. And don’t ever come back.”
The man yanked his arm away and backed into the wall, massaging it. He pulled something from his pocket and swung his arm at her. She jumped back and then pummeled his arm with her fist. The knife dropped and she drew her Benchmade switchblade from her raincoat pocket, flipping it open. The man dodged, eyes searching for the exit. He was gone in seconds.
Cassie returned to where Ann lay.
The young girl’s head rose. “What happened?” She pushed Cassie back, staggered to her feet, and scanned her room. “Robbed again. Shit.” Even in the shadows, Cassie could tell from her silhouette Ann was emaciated. “What are you doing here?”
Cassie folded the knife and put it back into the pocket of her raincoat. She moved to the dim light. “Hello, Ann. Remember me?”
Ann wore a puzzled expression. “Sort of. We met the first night I was here.” She seemed to conjure the image in her eyes. “Yeah. Right after my mom died.”
“Yes. Do you remember how I wanted to help you?”
Her mouth turned down. “You were the one I met the night I was raped by the guy who murdered Joshua. Your face looks so different.”
Cassie nodded, touching her face. “Uh-huh. I was too late to save Josh. But I want to help you now.”
Ann shook her head. She faced Cassie. “Why are you here? You were gone for months. Where did you go?”
“I’m sorry I disappeared. People were trying to, well, I—” Cassie’s face crumbled for just a moment. She took a deep breath. “I had work to do. I had to get away. Fast. How are you? Can you stand?”
Ann winced, but she stumbled as she tried to get to her feet. “I’m okay. Pain in my shoulder where a john whacked me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Answer me, Cassie. Why are you here?” Cassie watched as Ann inspected her face.
“I came for you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you then. Anyone near me could be in terrible danger. Anyway, I came back with an offer.”
Ann’s lips curled, eyes filled with suspicion. “But why should I trust you now?” The teen’s face reddened. “I do recognize your voice, although your face is so weird. What do you want from me, anyway? I don’t need help. I told you that before.”
Cassie told herself to focus, to think about every word before she said it. She took a deep breath. “I just want to talk. Okay?”
Ann shook her head. “No. My customers will be scared off if they see me talking.”
The bedroll, the smell of sex. “Your last ‘customer’ almost cracked your skull open. You may have a concussion. I want to take you to the hospital to make sure you’re okay.”
“No hospital. I’m fine. Just a headache.” But she rubbed the bloody spot on her head tenderly.
“Okay. No hospital. How much time can I buy with a hundred dollars?”
Ann looked stunned. “One hour.”
Cassie nodded. “But not here. Let’s go somewhere outside the tunnels. To a restaurant. Here’s the hundred.”
“It costs more for me to leave. You know, travel time. Fifty more.”
Cassie shrugged and nodded again. “Okay. I’ll need to visit a cash machine to get more money. Let’s go. I promise you’ll like the food.”
They moved out from Ann’s cave and reentered the tunnel. Cassie smiled. Perhaps this was the first small step to recovery. For both of them. As they walked Cassie noticed Ann’s would-be caller. He was talking to several other men as he massaged his hurt arm. “Arm Twist,” she nicknamed him. He pointed. “That’s her. The tall one.”
The group marched toward the two women, holding makeshift weapons. “Get behind me, Ann.” She watched the teen move back as she sized up the men. Six, all much heavier than her. The closest one held a baseball bat, the next brandished a hammer. She gulped. “I need to get this young woman to the hospital. Someone, possibly one of you, hurt her. She needs help. Let us pass.” The man holding the hammer—“Hammer Man”—swung the tool sideways into his hand, slapping a cadenced beat. The one with the bat—“Baseball Fan”—pounded his weapon against the concrete floor in a matching drum beat.
They stood their ground. The man she’d defended herself against sneered. “Fuck you. Grab her, guys.”
She did not want to maim and kill again. But she knew she was good enough not to need to use her Beretta. The Benchmade would do. She pulled it out and popped the blade. “Who wants to die first?”
Three saw her knife and ran away. Arm Twist turned and yelled, “She’s just a walking cunt. Let’s get her. We can gangbang her then slit her throat.”
But now he stood with just two others.
Cassie assessed their weaknesses. Hammer Man seemed unsure of himself. He’d run if she damaged either of the other two. Baseball Fan was the biggest. She smiled at him. “You want me? Come to mama, sissy. You’re just a pussy.” Baseball Fan sneered and Cassie closed the distance. “We dance before we fuck. See this step?” She kicked him in the crotch. As he doubled over she followed up with her palm, smashing the bridge of his nose.
Baseball Man went lights out. She stepped back. Hammer Man ran. But the original member of the Three Stooges—Arm Twist—stood his ground. “I ain’t running.”
“Suit yourself. I’m in no hurry.” She could feel Ann close behind her as Cassie stood waiting. Smiled. Opened the coat and slo
wly, deliberately unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Smiled. “If you want the rest undone, you’ll have to get closer.”
Rage filled his eyes. “Fuck you.” But he backed away, watching her as he moved backwards. At the corner to the tunnel, he turned and fled.
“Ann?”
The teen stuttered. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here before they return with reinforcements. Do you think you can you walk?”
Ann gingerly rubbed her head injury. “I’m fine, I think.”
“Hungry?” When Ann nodded, Cassie pointed toward the tunnel leading back to the station platform. She led the teen, supporting Ann’s weight on her shoulder, arm around the thin teenager’s waist. They walked the tunnels to the station platform, then through the station. She retrieved her suitcase from the locker and led Ann onto the street. The morning light on Third Avenue glimmered softly as they passed a Citibank with an ATM. Cassie withdrew another two hundred dollars and gave it all to Ann.
Ann pushed the extra bills back. “We stick to our deal.”
“Okay. Do you know what sushi is?”
Ann glared back and said nothing.
“There’s a sushi bar about five blocks north of here. Let’s try that place. It’s quiet and we can talk.”
Ann hesitated. “Okay. But I promised you one hour. Nothing more.”
Hatsuhana, at 17 East 48th Street, hadn’t changed in the months since Cassie had last been there. The restaurant was tones of gray and white, with a minimalist Zen feel to it. Speakers within the ceiling played Kitaro’s Silk Road, setting a melodic and sweet mood softly in the background.
Ann’s jaw dropped when she saw a surfing video on a huge screen at the rear of the first floor of the sushi bar. Cassie was shocked by the realization that the teen had never seen surfing before. She walked to the maître d’ and held up two fingers, pointed to the back of the restaurant, then handed him some of the cash Ann had refused. The maître d’ took them to a table and handed them menus. Cassie asked Ann, “May I order for you?”
