Or they’re waiting for something. Yeah, that’s it. Five minutes pass, and the two black SUV’s – all broken glass and twisted metal – roll up. The agents climb out.
I begin to protest, but one of my guards tells me to sit down and shut up.
The agents strike up a conversation with a sergeant, or a lieutenant, or someone who looks like he’s in charge. They take badges out of their pockets and show them to the lieutenant. I squint, trying to see what sort of Feds these guys really are. The badges look weird. Not FBI. And I’m sure CIA agents don’t carry badges. Maybe they really are Masons. Federal marshals perhaps? Then it hits me – the suits, the glasses, the earbuds. They’re Secret Service.
They say something to the lieutenant and point at me. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell from his body language that the lieutenant doesn’t like what he’s being told. One agent repeats his command, and the lieutenant visibly deflates. He turns and start across the road toward me.
“Come on,” he says, his men helping me to my feet. “You’re going with them.”
“No, no,” I start.
The lieutenant grabs me by my cuffed hands. Another officer gives me an unhelpful shove.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Gant,” one of the agents says. “We’re going to a party...” He smiles. Maybe he’s trying to look nonthreatening. It just comes off as a triumphant sneer.
No, no, no! I can’t go with them. I have to think fast. Really fast.
“Allahu akbar!” I yell out and head butt the lieutenant in the nose. In slow motion, I see his head snap back, a torrent of blood gushing down his face. Then everything goes back to real time, and the cops are piling on top of me, fists punching and feet kicking.
I’m on the ground, and every part of me screams in pain. It takes the lieutenant a few minutes to call off him men. He’s in no rush, and the cops give me a good working over in the meantime. When the finally pull me back up to my feet, I’m spitting blood, and my left eye is swelling shut. The lieutenant is furious. There’s no more talk of handing me over to the Feds. I’m going to be a guest of the NYPD, at least for an evening.
They pile my broken, cuffed body into the back of a patrol car.
It worked. Sort of. Maybe going to a party might have been a little less hard on my face.
Still, I’m not in the hands of Red Shield. That seems like a win. But where did the girl go? She just vanished, leaving that damn question, ringing in my ears: What lies at the end of Maiden Lane? Something to do with Megalytics and Red Shield, I’m guessing. But what?
And what, if anything, does an eighteenth century, German banker and the Federal Reserve have to do with it? And the Twin Towers? Now it’s getting creepy. Doesn’t anybody know that Megalytics doesn’t work on money? If this is all some sort of scheme to make a bunch of cash, they’re going to be sorely disappointed. I need to get back to California, where I’m safe. Nothing like this would happen in California. Coming to New York was my mistake. I’m starting to really develop a real distaste for New York City. I watch it roll by the window of the police car.
I don’t watch it for long. I spit out a mouth full of blood and pass out for a little while.
I wake up, being carried into a police station.
It’s like a scene out of a cop show: a front enclosure with bulletproof glass and a tiny speaker set at eye level. A bunch of hobos and hookers are screaming at the desk sergeant behind it. Everything is chaos – I’m guessing just another Saturday night – but the cops holding me up by my arms push through it all. They drag me past the bulletproof glass and back into a large bullpen of desks. They drop me at one, unceremoniously into a chair, and I let out a pained groan.
It’ll be fingerprint and mugshots next, I think. The cop behind the desk has his back to me, typing at a computer. I wait. I’m in no rush. The mayhem of the precinct station’s main floor will certainly be better than a holding cell, I’m sure. I breathe heavy, watching the back of the cop’s head.
I’m looking where the cop’s black hair is tucked up under his cap. Hey, this cop isn’t a guy, he’s a girl, I realize. What with the body armor, it’s hard to tell.
A girl?
I lean back in my chair and allow myself a small smile.
The cop turns around, spinning on her chair.
“Hey there,” she says.
“Oh thank God!” I exhale, relieved. It’s her, it’s really her. Sitting behind the policeman’s desk, dressed in full uniform. How did she get here so fast? Is she really a cop? I look around me for an instant, taking a reality check. No one is paying us any undue attention. “It’s about time!” I say. I never thought I’d be so happy to see another person in my life. “What happened to you? Those guys...” I lower my voice, leaning forward conspiratorially. “...Red Shield...they almost had me. I had to think fast.”
“This is thinking fast?” She gives me the sideways smirk. “What happens when you have time to think about things? You end up in a hearse?”
“They had badges! They were the one’s calling the shots!” Then I remember. “Hey, do you know those guys are Secret Service?”
Eve nods.
“Then they work for...” I almost fall out of my chair in shock. “They work for HIM?”
Eve doesn’t reply.
“But you said they work for Red Shield?”
“No, I said they work for Red Shield’s most power agent...”
“You mean…?”
“Of course,” Eve shrugs. “How else do you think a guy like that can get elected?”
“But-” I’m speechless. I throw my hands up in despair. “I’m a dead man.”
“You’re not a dead man,” Eve reassures. She’s looking for something in her desk.
“I’m a dead man,” I repeat. “I’m sitting in the middle of a police station, and the President of the United States wants me dead. I’m a dead man!”
“Shh!” Eve hisses.
Okay, maybe I said that last bit a little loud. I look around. No one seems to be looking in my direction. The screaming from the hobos and hookers has stopped. Be thankful for small graces, I think.
“Look, Roderic, you’ll be fine. I’m here to get you out. Here.” She finds what she’s looking for in the desk: a set of keys. She tosses these to me.
“You have some sort of plan?” I ask as I fumble to unlock my cuffs.
“Plan?” Eve leans forward, watching the room. “Of course I’ve got a plan. The problem is, I can’t help you out until you answer my question.”
“What lies at the end of Maiden Lane?” I have the cuffs off. I drop them on the floor beside my chair. “I already answered your question, why do you keep asking me?”
“Because I need to know the real answer,” Eve replies.
“You mean, you don’t know?” I ask, confused.
“Of course I know,” Eve grits her teeth, frustrated. “But I need to know YOUR answer. What lies at the end of Maiden Lane, Roderic Gant?”
“Nothing!” I yell too loud. I look around, realizing I’m making a scene. But nobody’s paying me any attention. In fact, there’s hardly anybody in the bullpen. Moments ago, it’d been bustling with activity – dozens of cops. But now… “What is this? Some sort of Truther thing?” I ask, but I’m not really paying attention to the answer. I’m looking around, trying to find where all the cops went. The last one seems to be leaving by a side door.
Now I know why the hobos and hookers are quiet – they’ve left too. In fact, the whole police station seems to be empty. It’s just Eve and me, sitting at our table.
I turn and look back at her. She looks concerned. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“They’re here,” she says.
“They? Here?” It doesn’t really help for me to repeat things, but it makes me feel better.
“We’re running out of time.” Eve climbs to her feet. “What’s your answer, Roderic Gant?”
“I don’t know!” I panic. “Peace? Love? Hope? Change?” I try. “
A bridge to the Twenty-First Century?”
Eve growls in disgust. “Come on!” she commands, turning and sprinting off across the bullpen. I leap to my feet and follow. As I do, the lights at the far end of the police station cut out.
“What’s going on? Who’s coming?” I ask. In a cascade, the overhead lights snap off one by one. By the time we’re at the far wall of the station, the floor is pitch black.
“They’re coming,” Eve answers. “Red Shield.” She tries a door. It’s locked.
I look back in terror. Beyond the bulletproof glass I can see red lights dancing, the tight laser beams of targeting scopes. “Hurry up!” I tap Eve on her Kevlar shoulder.
She steals a glance back, then returns her attention to the door. “It’s locked,” she says, fumbling with a ring of keys on her belt. “It’s not supposed to be locked.”
“I thought you said you had a plan!” I exclaim. The red lasers are dancing closer now, shining through the bulletproof glass.
“I do have a plan!” Eve yells back. “But it’s on the other side of this door, which isn’t supposed to be locked!”
“Come on!” I shout, dancing in hysterics from foot to foot.
“I got it!” Eve yells back. She pushing a key into the lock. Then the door is open.
We’re running down dark corridors. Eve has a flashlight. It flickers to life. Elevator. Stairs. Eve takes a few steps up, then the sound of boots echo down from above. More dancing lights beam down the stairs.
We turn about and run down the stairs. A basement. Overhead pipes. We’re running. My legs are much longer than Eve’s. and I’m pulling ahead.
“Here, wait!” she calls out behind me. I stop and turn around. She pulls an access card on a string from her lapel and taps it against a door. It pops open. “In here,” she waves to me.
I follow. The door slams shut behind me.
Darkness.
Eve gives her flashlight a few good thumps, and it snaps back to life. I take in a deep breath in shock.
We’re surrounded by guns. Hundreds and hundreds of guns. Rack after rack of automatic weapons glimmer in the tiny flashlight’s beam.
“The precinct armory,” Eve says and hands me the flashlight. “Here, we’re going to need some of these.”
She takes a submachine gun off a rack and pulls back its bolt.
“What are we going to do with those?” I ask in apprehension.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” she hands me the machine gun. I almost drop it but catch the barrel under my arm. “Do you want to go out there without a gun in your hand?”
“No, but...” I try to get the gun pointing in the right direction. It’s heavy and it’s not even loaded. “I thought you said you had a plan.”
“I do,” Eve takes a gun for herself. “And this is it. Here.” She pushes a number of magazines into the hand holding the flashlight. I drop a couple, and the flashlight, and scramble to pick them all up. “Do you know how to use that?”
“No,” I answer truthfully, shining the flashlight up into my own face.
“Well...” Eve sighs. “Learn. Quick.”
And without another word, Eve returns to the armory’s door. She pops it open, looks both ways down the corridor and vanishes into the dark.
Chapter 9
“So, I give up,” I say as we move slowly down the long, dark corridor. I have the machine gun the right way up now, Eve has demonstrated how to load it. I think I got it right. We dare not use the flashlight. We’re feeling our way along in the blackness.
“How’s that?” Eve replies.
“I give up. What’s the answer? What lies at the end of Maiden Lane?”
“That’s my question to you, Roderic Gant.”
“So not peace or love, then?”
“No,” Eve says flatly. “This isn’t a riddle. Besides, you’re a mathematician, Roderic. You’re the last person on the planet I’d ask about stuff like that.”
“Then it’s something to do with numbers?” I shoot back, quickly. Eve stops in her tracks. In the dark, I crash into the back of her. She’s removed her police uniform but kept the body armor. “And not just any numbers, but big numbers, am I right?” I can see on her face that she’s let something slip she shouldn’t have. She turns away without speaking, raising her gun. “And Red Shield. This all this has something to do with him. And the Fed. You mentioned the Fed and Maiden Lane is right there. What does this have to do with the Fed?”
“You answer questions, Roderic,” Eve replies. “You don’t get to ask them.” She’s moving forward slowly, covering the corridor with her gun.
“Well, if the question you’re asking has something to do Megalytics and the Fed, I can answer it right now.”
“Oh yeah? What lies at the end of Maiden Lane, then?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Eve repeats, surprised.
“Yeah, nothing. If you think there’s some way to influence the Fed with Megalytics, then the answer to your question is this: Nothing lies at the end of Maiden Lane. Because there’s nothing there: Megalytics. It doesn’t work with money.”
Eve stops and turns to me in the dark. “But how can that be? Didn’t you say your math was the math of really big numbers? Aren't the numbers on the balance sheet of the Fed big enough for you?”
“They are,” I allow. “But I can tell you one thing with total certainty, and I’ll tell Red Shield the same thing when I meet him: Megalytics doesn’t work on money.”
Eve doesn’t reply. Even in the blackness, I can see she doesn’t like my answer. But she doesn’t get a chance to complain. From behind us, down the long, dark corridor, comes the sound of boots running. I look back. I can see the dancing red lights.
“Come on!” Eve starts running. She stops at a seemingly random spot in the hallway. “This is the way out.” She hangs her gun around her neck and pushes on a panel. “Give me a hand!”
I do. After a few good shoves, the panel caves in. There’s a steam tunnel behind it, all cobwebs and gloom.
“You knew this was here?” I ask.
“Of course,” Eve returns her gun to her hands. “Like I said, I’ve got a plan.”
“What?” I snort. “Walk around in the dark until I answer your stupid question?”
Eve doesn’t bother to contradict me. She’s fiddling with her uniform, removing her utility belt. “Do you want to get out of here or not?” She doesn’t wait for my answer, just ducks down and climbs into the tunnel.
I don’t protest. Cradling the submachine gun in my arms, I stoop over and follow after.
The tunnel isn’t long. It makes a hard right and then ends in a brick wall. Nothing. No door, no panel. I look around, thinking I missed something. But I haven’t. It’s a dead end.
“What now?” I ask in despair. “They’re right behind us!” I can hear the boots on the concrete, growing louder. Red lasers are dancing all around us.
“Here,” Eve hands me a pair of headphones. I take them, and she fishes a pair out for herself from a sack I hadn’t noticed her carrying. “Put them on,” she commands.
If anything, I’ve learned to obey. I put the headphones on over my ears. Eve does the same and then pulls a small, round device out of the sack. This she slams hard against the brick wall.
It sticks. She pushes a button, and a timer blinks to life. She toggles it up to twenty seconds then pushes the button again. The clock begins to count down.
“Run!” she yells.
“What?” I can’t hear anything through the headphones. I’m watching the clock count down – eighteen, seventeen, sixteen – dumbfounded.
“Run!” she repeats, already twenty yards down the corridor. I turn on my heels and chase after her. I make it around the corner and spy Eve flat up against the wall. She grabs me as I run by, pulling me in close.
I’m squeezed up against her, only our machine guns squashed between us. I can smell her perfume. She looks up at me. “Open your mouth,” she says. I can
’t hear her, but I read her body language. I lean into her, moving my mouth toward hers. But she opens her mouth wide – too wide. Too wide to kiss her. And then-
BOOM!
We’re safe around the corner, protected from the blast, but the compression wave makes my ears pop. I stagger back in pain, holding my hands to the headphones.
“I told you to open your mouth!” she bellows as she rips her headphones from her head. “It takes the pressure off your eardrums.”
Wailing in pain, I remove the headphones and wiggle my fingers in my ears.
“Come on!” Eve is already running back around the corner.
I stumble after her, woozy, the ringing in my ears slowly fading. “What the hell was that?”
“Shaped charge. One-hundred and twenty-five grams of C4.” We scramble through the dust and smoke and see the result: a man-sized hole in the brick wall.
“Maybe a little warning next time?” The dust makes me cough.
“No time,” Eve raises her machine gun and steps through the breach. As she does, I notice that she’s wearing camo-pants and combat boots. When did she change out of her police uniform?
I follow, but my gun gets caught on the jutting brickwork. As the smoke clears, I begin to get a sense of what we have blasted our way into.
Massive, round steel door. Bars. Marble walls and floor. Row after row of small, brass lock boxes.
We’re inside a bank vault.
“Oh, hell,” I exhale. We just blew our way into a bank vault. “We shouldn’t be in here...”
“Don’t worry,” Eve says, taking something out of the pocket of her camo pants. “The door’s unlocked.”
That was pretty much exactly the last thing I was worried about. “This...this is a bank vault,” I state. There are literally stacks of money in the barred cage beside me. I could help myself.
“Yeah, I said I had a plan. I didn’t say it was a good one.”
“We’ve got to get out of here!”
Maiden Lane Page 5
