"I took my time, charting the system as I worked my way northward. About a week after I started I was startled to hear what sounded like someone singing somewhere ahead of me. And there was a faint glow. I turned off my own lights, headed toward the glow. What I found was a huge chamber, a domelike structure, that the river had carved there out of the softer limestone. There were also bones from some prehistoric graveyard. Prindle was there."
"You saw his face?"
"No. He was wearing orange rain gear, including a hat with a floppy brim. He'd unbuttoned the coat, but left his hat on."
"If you didn't see his face, how can you be so certain that the man you saw down there was Barry Prindle?"
"I saw his eyes; not many men have eyes as green as
Prindle's. Also, he was wearing a priest's vestment under his raincoat; Prindle once studied for the priesthood. Finally, there was his body build. The man I saw down there was Barry Prindle."
Perry Lightning thoughtfully stared off into space for a few moments, then nodded. "Go ahead."
"I saw him take a severed head out of a plastic garbage bag. He put the head down on a ledge beside the quicksand pit in the center of the chamber."
"How could you see all this?"
"There were kerosene lamps anchored to the walls around the chamber. What with the singing and the purple priest's vestment, I think he was performing some kind of ritual with the head—a burial service. That's why the heads have never been found; they're in the quicksand pit."
"Interesting speculation," Lightning said in a flat voice. "Our killer considers himself a priest, and he wants to ensure that his victims have a proper burial. He can't drag a whole body down there, so he just takes the head."
"I called out. He grabbed a razor out of his bag and came after me. I grabbed the only thing close at hand to try to defend myself—one of the bones that was sticking out of an earth wall beside me. We fought, and Prindle threw a bone at me and hit me in the head. I ended up backing down a narrow channel, and I fell down into a chasm. I fell a long way, and I think I banged my head at least one more time against a rock wall on my way down. From there it gets pretty foggy, but I must have fallen into a fast-moving underground stream—the same one that percolates up through the rock and earth to form the quicksand pit. I managed to stay afloat as the stream carried me along, and the next thing I remember is finding myself on a rock ledge, at the base of a narrow tunnel that led up to the surface; I could see daylight. I don't clearly remember just how I managed to crawl up, but I did. Zulu found me on the sidewalk next to a construction site. This is only speculation, but the underground stream must have connected with other streams that ran under the construction site. The digging above must have just clipped off the top of a natural fissure in the earth below. That was what I must have crawled up. I hadn't been carrying any kind of identification with me, and I'd lost all my equipment during the fight and the fall—but I'd managed to hold on to the bone. Afterward, even with my memory gone, I instinctively kept the bone because, even if it was unconsciously, I knew that it was a link to what had happened to me. That's just a guess; I don't know why else I would have hung on to it and carried it with me everywhere."
"You're saying you still don't remember what you did for a year while you were living on the streets?"
"That isn't what I said. I said I can't remember exactly why I kept the bone and carried it with me. I can only guess—and I think it's a good guess—that I instinctively, unconsciously, held on to it because of where I'd found it, because it was a key to my identity. As a matter of fact, I do remember that year—but it's like a dream. Or somebody else's dream. But I remember enough to know that I didn't kill anyone. I lived in a tunnel under Penn Station; I'll take you there when I get out of here. You'll find the few clothes and other possessions I had; but you won't find anything with blood on it, and you certainly won't find any severed heads."
The Nyack policeman reappeared in the doorway, softly cleared his throat. Lightning went to him, had another whispered conference, then returned to Bone's bedside.
"All right," the detective lieutenant said softly. "You check out, Granger."
"I didn't kill anyone, Lieutenant."
"I believe you."
Zulu, his lips drawn back in a thin smile, slowly, deliberately, clapped his hands three times.
Lightning clasped his hands behind his back, nodded slightly. "Granger, can you take me to this underground chamber?"
"Yes." Bone paused, smiled thinly. "Just be sure that you wear your old clothes."
"You say you're certain the killer—the man you saw underground—is Barry Prindle."
"Yes."
"What's his motivation?"
"I haven't got the slightest notion of what's going on inside Prindle's mind, Lieutenant. How would I?"
"You may not have seen the killer's face clearly, but he certainly saw yours. If it's Prindle—"
"There's no if, Lieutenant. Prindle's the killer—and he's got Anne."
"If it's Prindle, why didn't he kill you sometime during the year you lived on the streets?"
"I don't know," Bone replied softly, averting his gaze.
"It must have come as quite a shock to him to see you alive."
"I'm sure. But I'd lost my memory; I wasn't a threat to him. And I wasn't the . . . kind of victim he was looking for."
"You were homeless."
"But not helpless. Except for Ali Hakim, who was killed in an attempt to frame me, I think Prindle limited himself to murdering only the most wretched. That was something I wanted to ask you—or have Anne ask you."
"All right, but what about after you came around in the Sheep Meadow? You certainly posed a threat to him then."
Bone thought about it, remembering Barry Prindle's tension—a tension he had attributed at the time to the man's obvious concern for Anne. Now he realized that the social worker's reaction could be interpreted two ways. "I just don't know for sure, Lieutenant," he said at last. "Obviously, he couldn't have killed me right then, in broad daylight—and not unless he was also ready to kill Anne and Hakim at the same time. He wouldn't kill Anne, because he loved her. Then, of course, after a short time he realized that I still wasn't a threat to him; I was alert, and I spoke, but I still couldn't remember anything."
"But you were working on it."
"So why didn't he kill me later? Maybe because he wasn't certain he could. If I'm right about the pattern of his killings, none of his victims were even remotely able to defend themselves—except for Ali Hakim, who may have been taken by surprise."
Lightning grunted, and when he spoke there was a new note of respect in his voice. "I think you are right about the pattern, Granger. But why did you start to come around a year later? Do you remember?"
"I think it . . . was because of Mary Kellogg. I think I . . . remember stumbling across her body, and that of the old man. I recognized her clothing. It was a tremendous emotional shock to me, and I think that must have triggered despair at first; I think I wanted to die. Then, after Anne reached through to me, that same emotional shock triggered my will to live, which was the start of my recovery."
"Bone-man and Mary Kellogg were very close, Lieutenant,"
Zulu said. "It was Bone-man who saved her from being raped by Lobo, and out of gratitude she gave Bone-man that necklace you found him wearing. The woman told me."
"Another reason he didn't try to kill me," Bone said, "was because I was the prime suspect for all the other killings; when I was set free, he knew I'd be blamed for any future killings. As long as I had no memory of what had happened, I was no threat to him; and as long as I was free, I was a convenient scape-goat."
"All right, Granger," Perry Lightning said with quiet intensity. "I think I'll buy it."
"Bone-man," Zulu said, his deep baritone rising slightly in alarm as he watched Bone grimace in pain, sit up and try to swing his legs over the side of the bed, "just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I h
ave to get out of here, Zulu."
"No, man. You heard what the doctors said when they were pumping blood back into you; you have to stay here for a while. You need lots of rest."
"If he hasn't killed Anne, Zulu, he's got her with him in the underground chamber—or someplace else underground. I'm sure of it."
"Why, Granger?" Lightning asked. "How can you be so sure? He went underground to play priest and bury the heads of his victims. Why would he take a live hostage down there? He'd be trapping himself."
Bone thought about it, found the answer. "He's at home down there," he said at last. "Remember that he's a madman, anyway, and after Anne called him—which I'm sure she did, because I asked her to—he knew that I was getting close to remembering. He panicked, grabbed Anne and ran. But where was he going to run to? He feels safe down there. He worked for Empire Subway, which is how he found that cavern system in the first place, and he's done his own exploring. He feels powerful there. Maybe most important, he'll feel that he has complete control of Anne down there. Even if she wasn't phobic about the dark, she still couldn't hope to find her way out of there without him. That's what I think he would want most: complete control over Anne. He's down there with Anne, Lieutenant—in what he considers his world. I've got to go get her."
"I'm just a poor street performer, Lieutenant," Zulu said in a flat voice, "but what the bone-man says seems to make sense. Except, that is, for the part about him going down there."
Perry Lightning glanced at Zulu and nodded, then looked back at Bone, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over with pain. "Tell me how to get to this chamber."
Bone shook his head. "I can't tell you; it's too complicated. I can't even draw you a map—at least not one that would guarantee that you and your men might not get lost and killed."
"Don't patronize me, Granger," Lightning said tersely. "You think you can handle this better than the NYPD?"
"I'm not questioning your abilities, Lieutenant, or those of your men," Bone replied through clenched teeth. "But I doubt that you have too many men on the force who are trained in caving techniques—and if you do, you'll find out they're hobbyists. I think Prindle may have found a way to get into the cave system from somewhere in midtown; I don't know that route. The only route I know starts down around the Battery. It took me two weeks to work my way to where I found that chamber, and—"
"Jesus Christ, Granger. Are you saying it will take us two weeks to get there?"
"No; I was taking my time, and I was mapping. My point is that it's a very complex system, with a lot of offshoots and dead ends that an inexperienced caver could easily get lost in. If you get lost down there, you'll die. I left blaze marks along the direct route, but—"
"Then we'll follow your marks."
Bone again shook his head. "It's not that simple. Even if you could follow my blaze marks, there are some very difficult passages to get through; they're dangerous, and you need very good technique. Miss one blaze mark, make one wrong turn, and you're dead. I would have to guide you—and even then, there's no guarantee that you could follow."
"Well, we're just going to have to take a chance that we can follow your blaze marks, Granger, because you're not going anywhere for a while. You can't take a chance on opening that wound in your belly again; it's not going to do anyone any good for you to climb around down there and suddenly start gushing blood all over the place."
"You let me and the doctors worry about me, Lieutenant. I think you're missing my point. There's no way for you or your men to find that chamber without me to guide you; that's definite. But it would be too difficult and time-consuming for me to take a whole party of novices through there. Alone, I can make it from the Battery to the chamber in under twelve hours. I don't know how long it might take with novices; they're clumsy. Also, sound carries a long way through rock; novices make a lot of noise underground. We can't afford to give Prindle any indication that someone is coming after him. Our only hope is that Prindle has kept Anne alive because he wants to spend some time with her, and maybe even win her over. But he has nothing left to lose by killing her; one flick of that razor he carries, and she's dead. So the problem is not only one of getting there, but of getting there making as little noise as possible."
Lightning bowed his head and studied the floor for some time. "You can't even stand up," he said at last. "You're just going to have to do your best to draw a map, and we'll call in some other caving expert to guide us."
"No. I should have a good part of my strength back in a day or two. The doctors can put another set of stitches into me, and then wrap my middle with pressure bandages. That should hold me together for at least twelve hours, and that's all I need."
"Jesus, Bone-man," Zulu said softly. "What about the pain?" ,
"My problem; I'll handle it, Zulu. I'll go in alone—with a rifle equipped with a sniper scope and, if the Lieutenant can get me a pair, a set of those infrared goggles the Army uses for night fighting. No lights. If I can manage to sneak up on him, I should have him."
Lightning said, "You'd have to shoot him, you know. He'd give you no choice."
"All right, then I'll shoot him."
"Have you ever shot a man, Granger?"
"Don't worry, Lieutenant; I won't freeze. I'll shoot him, if I have to."
Perry Lightning thought about it, pursed his lips and shook his head. "The City of New York can't allow a civilian to substitute for its police department in entering a dangerous situation, much less allow a civilian to perform duty as a sniper. It can't be done."
"Lieutenant—"
"One man, Granger. Could you still make it to the chamber in under twelve hours if you had to take along just one other man."
"If that man was in good physical condition, had a lot of guts, wasn't claustrophobic or afraid of the dark—and if that man would do exactly as I say—yes. It might take an extra hour or so, but that wouldn't be a problem; finding the right man is the problem."
"Me, Granger," Perry Lightning said evenly. "I'll go with you. You make a list of the equipment we'll need, and I'll get it lot us. I'll also do any shooting that needs to be done. That's what I get paid for."
"Have you ever done any caving at all, Lieutenant?"
"No—and I can't say that I much care for the idea of climbing around in the dark for twelve hours or more, either. But it has to be my responsibility. As far as guts are concerned, let's just say that I'll use you as my role model, Granger. I'm your man."
"Okay," Bone replied simply. "I like your choice, Lieutenant."
"And me," Zulu said.
Both Bone and Perry Lightning glanced sharply at Zulu, who was now sitting back in his chair at the foot of the bed, his legs crossed.
"The bone-man here is hurting," Zulu continued, looking at Lightning. "He's going to have all he can do to keep going without busting his belly open; he can't carry anything. Lieutenant, you'll be carting around a rifle with a bulky scope; I say that's all you'll be able to safely handle. You'll need supplies—water, medical equipment, maybe even a litter that can be tightly folded. You don't know what kind of shape the woman's going to be in when you find her, and if you take Prindle alive you're going to have to restrain him while you take the two of them out. You need at least one more pair of hands." He paused, sighed, raised his eyebrows slightly. "I'll be your bearer on this expedition. That would amuse me."
"You're too big to go down there, Zulu."
"You're not so teeny yourself, Lieutenant, and I bend very nicely. I notice you don't question my reasoning."
Lightning looked at Bone inquiringly, and Bone nodded slightly.
"The bone-man says okay, Lieutenant," Zulu continued.
"Thanks for the offer, Zulu," Lightning said after a pause.
"But I'll take one of my own men to carry the supplies. This is a police matter. I need Granger, but not you. There's no reason for you to risk your life."
Zulu straightened up in his chair, leaned his elbows on the railing at the f
oot of the bed. "Bone-man? You're the white hunter in charge of this expedition. I'm telling you I want to go. I'm the right man. You know I can handle myself underground. As far as being sneaky is concerned, I've been living under Grand Central for seven years, and nobody's caught me down there yet. What do you say?"
Lightning looked at Bone, smiled thinly. "What's the word, B'wana?"
"All right," Bone said, nodding to Zulu. "It will be the three of us down there—and I may be able to make things easier for us. Lieutenant, I need you to talk to the doctors; explain why I need a second, very tight, stitching job. I'll make a list of equipment we'll need, and you might also see if you can find me a Niele-MacLain map; the city's environmental department may have one."
"What the hell's a Niele-MacLain map?"
"You'll see. If we're lucky, it's something that could make things a lot easier for us."
(ii)
Anne sat on the hard, cold stone, staring blankly at the fire that blazed on the slightly elevated rock shelf in front of her. Beyond the shelf, firelight reflected off the dull, khaki-colored surface of what seemed to be a large pool of mud. She had thrown a stone into the mud, watched it sink from sight; she wondered how deep the pool was.
She had considered killing herself, exploring the depth of the mud pool by throwing herself into it, but had not found the courage. As terrified as she was, she was not yet prepared to take her own life. In the beginning, the terror of Barry Prindle and the world of night he had taken her into had been so great that she'd thought her heart would burst, stop. Now she merely felt . . . numb. And cold. But she suspected that the cold was more in her mind than her body.
It seemed, she thought, that there were limits even to terror.
And now it was time to give some thought to the question of survival.
She allowed herself a grim, wry smile as she reflected on the thought that any future choices she made had better be an improvement on the one she had made in deciding to call Barry Prindle before Perry Lightning. She had caught Barry in his office just as he was about to leave to cruise in the van. Now she realized that he had made the connection, guessed that Bone had been in touch with her, as soon as she'd made her request for information—but his reaction had fooled her completely. He had sounded excited and enthusiastic—and had assured her that he now believed Bone was innocent. When he had suggested that she not tell the police until after he had met with her to show her the maps she had asked for, she had readily agreed. He had assured her that Bone and she now had an ally, and that it might be better for the three of them to proceed alone without notifying the police, who would only complicate matters further. Right.
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