Sundance

by David Fuller

  She crossed the street to enter the pharmacy. She did not see him. He paralleled her along the far aisle, moving toward the back of the store and the stack of wrapped boxes of chocolates. She concentrated on other goods. The nearest customer finished her shopping and returned to the front of the store. For the moment they were alone.

  “Abby.”

  She turned, saw him, and froze. The furrow between her eyebrows deepened. “No, oh no, you can’t be here.”

  “I need your help.”

  “You don’t understand, you can’t be here, men have been watching.”

  “Men? What men?”

  “Bad men. They’re watching us. They could be watching now.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, they never, they didn’t, they just lurk and watch where I can see them.”

  “Have you seen them this afternoon?”

  “Well, no. But that’s why I pick this time to shop.”

  Hightower had sent them. He pieced it together: Longbaugh knew that Hightower knew he had lied about Etta’s death. Apparently he had decided it was because Longbaugh had found Etta, or was very close. Hightower would have told Moretti, and Moretti would have demanded action. Hightower had placed men where Longbaugh was likely to turn up.

  “How does Robert feel about that?”

  “About how you’d expect. He’s hoping they make a move so he can . . . do something.”

  “I need to see him.”

  “Aren’t you listening? You can’t.”

  “It will make them go away.”

  “No, no, please, just go.”

  “When you get home, unlock the back door.”

  She shook her head, looking back and forth as if someone might notice them talking and get the wrong idea. “I won’t, I can’t.”

  “Abby.”

  She stopped then, looked at him, and thought hard. He knew that look, she was talking to herself, he could almost hear the words in her head, Oh, Abigail, what a little fool you are. Why can’t you just be strong, why do you always have to dither?

  “Come to the back in twenty minutes.”

  “Siringo. The lawman from out west, is he—?”

  “He has a bowler hat.”

  • • •

  ROBERT LEVI came home in the evening and Abigail met him at the door. She took his hand, surveyed the street, pulled him inside, and closed the door. She met his eyes as she led him to the ground-floor parlor.

  “Abby, what is it, did something happen?”

  Longbaugh stood as Levi came in.

  “Robert, I need your help.”

  Levi’s face hardened. It must not have been easy to see Longbaugh again. Longbaugh had helped him, true, but he had also brought new troubles to Levi’s family. Nevertheless, Longbaugh liked seeing Levi’s confidence and maturity. They were still together, there was a moment he saw them touch each other in a completely unconscious way, and he saw a strength in Levi’s posture that had been missing the last time.

  “Look, Mr. Longbaugh, I appreciate what you did for us, but do you have any idea the trouble you caused?”

  Longbaugh knew. He waited, his eyes on Levi.

  “Abby, leave us, please,” said Levi.

  “I’m staying,” she said. “Whatever he says to you—”

  “You can hear anything I have to say,” said Longbaugh. “You’re going to need to be a team in this.”

  “I want to know what this is about, Robert,” said Abigail.

  “You’ve put my wife in a bad spot, Mr. Longbaugh.”

  “I’m here to fix it, but what I’m asking could be dangerous.”

  “You know these men?”

  “Black Hand.”

  “They’re terrifying my wife! Whatever you did, you made them mad. I want them gone, Mr. Longbaugh.”

  “I lied to one of the men working with the Black Hand. He thinks I’m hiding something.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. But they’re after me, not you. I’m asking you for a favor. Get me into the subway. After that, they won’t be interested in you, and they’ll leave you alone.”

  Levi smiled grimly. “I gather you don’t have the five-cent fare.”

  “If you don’t know the tunnels, just say so and I’ll go.”

  “You know I know the tunnels. How does that protect Abby?”

  “Or where the dynamite is stored.”

  “Dynamite? No, Robert, absolutely not,” said Abigail. Then, to Longbaugh: “He can’t help you.”

  Levi looked at Abigail, then back at Longbaugh. Levi was a different man now, and it was clear he liked his new role. Longbaugh saw that it was new enough and precarious enough that Levi was not ready to let his wife make decisions for him, as if that might undermine his gains.

  “Story going around about a Chinese kid and an explosion,” said Levi. “Haven’t seen that little friend of yours lately. He used to come around, even after you left. Like he was watching after us. If I were the type to put two and two together, I’d wonder about that boy.”

  Longbaugh said nothing.

  “I’d especially wonder, after that explosion, if I happened to hear that a friend of his had an interest in dynamite.”

  “If you were the type to put two and two together.”

  “And I’d wonder if it had something to do with revenge.”

  “I hate it when you talk like that,” said Abigail. “It’s not code, I understand you.”

  “I’m not interested in the dynamite for myself,” said Longbaugh.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Someone else wants it, someone I need to find. Before the Black Hand finds it. Or him.”

  Levi looked at Longbaugh’s face and read his sincerity. Longbaugh thought that he would get the benefit of the doubt because of what he had done for them. He was not above using whatever he had to in order to get closer to finding Etta.

  “Okay,” said Levi. “All right. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t know why I bother,” said Abigail.

  Longbaugh sat back and waited. Abigail was fuming, anxious eyes on her husband.

  “When do you see these men?” said Longbaugh.

  “A fellow comes around. He’s not subtle. He wants us to see him.”

  “Yes, he does, he wants to remind you and scare you. Any particular time?”

  “Sometimes during the day, but he’s always there in the morning. Early, when I leave for work.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to stay the night.”

  Levi glanced at Abigail before he said, “All right.”

  “I apologize for this,” said Longbaugh. “But it’ll fix the problem, and it’s with Abby’s best interests at heart. Pack a few things, but it’ll only be for a day or two. Pack light, Abby will need to carry everything alone.”

  “We going somewhere?” said Levi.

  “The two of you are getting away from here.”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” said Levi.

  “This is how you protect your wife.”

  He knew this move would frustrate Hightower and annoy Moretti. But it was best to keep Abigail out of reach, in case Moretti wanted to make a statement.

  “Robert, when you and I leave tomorrow, we’ll pull the Black Hand shadow with us. He’ll be glad to see me. Abby, you leave right after. Decide between yourselves where to meet, and tell no one. Not even me. You’ll be safe after that. A few days and you can come home.”

  Abigail looked as if she wanted to disagree. But she looked at Levi and he nodded. She closed her eyes then, giving in, and she nodded.

  • • •

  HE SAT ON THE BED in the dark of his old room, alone and tired. Sleep would not come. They were out there, they could see him, but he could not see them. Siringo was close as
well and had adapted to the terrain, hunting him in city camouflage. “He has a bowler hat” told him all he needed to know.

  Longbaugh believed he was drawing nearer to Etta, but the closer he seemed to get, the more the circle tightened around him. Hightower had sent him to Etta’s second boardinghouse on the chance he would find something Hightower had missed. They were giving him rope, as they knew he wouldn’t stop until he found her, and his search made him both valuable and vulnerable. They could afford to wait, and they could afford to watch. He moved blindly forward, aware that he knew too little. Everyone else seemed to know so much more.

  The night was thick and massive out there, and he picked out sounds from the street—any one of them could have come from one or more of his enemies. But he listened past all that, past the streets in the dark and out beyond the shadows, to the rivers on either side slipping along the island, shaping it, tracing it, building it up in places, carrying it away in others. The world was large and he was insignificant. She knew so much more of this world, and was at least fighting for something, whether he understood it or not, whether he agreed with it or not. He paused in his reflections as he realized Levi could save his own wife a great deal of trouble if he turned Longbaugh in to Siringo. Longbaugh thought he would not, although his imagined reasons did not fully convince him. He was relying on intuition. That made him unhappy. Experience taught him that intuition was a weak sense, a shallow sense. Intuition fooled men into thinking they had secret unconscious knowledge ready to tap when in fact it was no more than guesswork, and often poorly informed guesswork, based on past experiences that would never truly align with current conditions. Intuition was to be engaged for frivolous things, never for matters of life, love, or death. Intuition led men to quick judgments, and invited superstition. He was haunted by the men who waited in the street. His intuition told him they were close. He needed time, to think, to reason, and he did not have that time. That meant he was forced to trust his intuition, and the only edge that gave him was that it was the one thing he knew he shouldn’t trust.

  15

  Robert Levi walked to the end of the block pretending he was interested in buying a newspaper. He returned to where Longbaugh was waiting for him inside the open front door of the boardinghouse.

  “He’s alone,” said Levi.

  “All right. We go, and make sure he sees us.”

  “Just let me know when you want to lose him.”

  Longbaugh came out of the dark of the hallway and closed the door behind him. It was a risk, as there could be more than Black Hands waiting. He moved past the outdoor banister to the sidewalk, and was a few steps down the block when he realized what he had just seen.

  “Wait,” he said to Levi.

  He went back. There, on the same banister where he had always left treats, was a wrapped candy. He picked it up and held it in his palm, grinning. He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. Ginger. He no longer worried about Siringo, as his friend had just told him it was safe.

  He rejoined Levi and they set out as the sun rose, Levi carrying a duffel to hold their gear. Longbaugh knew that within minutes Abigail would slip out the back with Levi’s and her things. He was glad to know she would be safe.

  Longbaugh wondered if Siringo knew about Moretti and the Hand. Siringo was smart, by now he probably knew all of it. He was probably a few steps ahead of Longbaugh. He might have already found Etta.

  As they walked, Levi made small talk, and Longbaugh saw he was nervous. Levi explained what to him was obvious, that today was the best day to go to the Cortlandt dig, that a long-awaited shipment of dynamite had arrived in the night. No one had been able to get dynamite for weeks, so the shipment was widely anticipated as construction had been held up. War talk was everywhere, and Levi had heard rumors that earlier shipments had been diverted to the British, to be stockpiled against the Germans. Levi said that anyone looking to steal dynamite would be smart to come today, before the morning shift arrived and distributed it to the numerous dig sites. Longbaugh asked how anyone outside a small contingent of subway construction workers would know it was there. Levi then detailed the chain of access: Factory workers processed it, women workers packed it into wooden crates, then men loaded the crates onto trucks that were driven to a steamship. Every teamster knew what he was transporting, as nitroglycerin was risky and the trucks had to have padding and be outfitted with shock absorption. Stevedores moved the crates from trucks to ships. Every sailor knew when he was transporting hazardous cargo, as, again, safeguards were employed. After the trip down the Hudson, stevedores on this end unloaded it onto the dock, where subway crews carried it down into the Cortlandt Street dig, where it was at that moment. Subway workers, from foremen down to the man who lit the fuse, all knew it was coming. From factory to explosion, an extraordinary number of people had knowledge and access, most of them surviving on low wages and modest hopes, therefore vulnerable to bribery.

  “Dynamite disappears all the time,” said Levi.

  “Very reassuring.” He got a look at the Hand following them, but didn’t recognize him. “Where’s the most likely leak?”

  “Depends. If it’s graft, then it vanishes as a hidden delivery fee, taken by a middleman. If it’s a disgruntled employee, or just someone needs money, it gets sold to criminals or gangsters. Some of it may walk off on its own. A slouch with a stick of dynamite hidden under his floorboards may feel like a big shot.”

  Longbaugh made eye contact with the gangster tailing them. The man ducked into a doorway. Another amateur.

  “How do we get to it?”

  “Pick a tunnel, any tunnel.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here, if you want, under our feet,” said Levi, “tunnels everywhere.”

  “How many can there be? There’s only one subway line other than what they’re digging, and then what, sewers?”

  “You’re walking on Swiss cheese, Mr. Longbaugh, tunnels of all shapes and sizes, including holes they dug, didn’t use, and forgot about. Everybody and their pet reindeer’s been digging down there. You got tunnels for the telegraph, the phone lines, old gas company lines and now new electrical wires, you got your aqueduct, and you got those old pneumatic tubes for mail delivery. A man could go from the bottom of the island right to the top without once coming up for fresh air.”

  Longbaugh smiled at Levi’s confidence. They walked a ways and Longbaugh could tell that Levi was thinking.

  “What you did for us back then, I just want to say—”

  “Say nothing.”

  “No, it was important. She, the two of us, we—”

  Longbaugh cut him off. “Things better?”

  Levi looked at the sky and nodded. “They are.”

  Longbaugh glanced one more time at their shadow. Levi was aware of Longbaugh’s itch. “You let me know when you want to lose him.”

  “I will.”

  They continued through morning-gray streets. Store owners unrolled awnings and flung soapy water from buckets against the sidewalks in front of their doors. Carts moved in to claim prime locations, hawkers yawned, scraping and rolling barrels into place, rearranging produce in wooden display bins, and counting coins for when they had to make change. A horse-drawn sprinkling wagon, carrying a large cylindrical tank, sent a heavy spray of water onto the street behind it. A one-horse street sweeper followed, dragging an angled brush roller that forced litter and filth to the gutter. A clean-up crew with shovels cleared the gutter a block behind.

  “Lose him now.”

  “Good timing. We’re right above a subway station.”

  “No, we’re not, the subway’s blocks from here.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I don’t see an entrance.”

  “There isn’t one.”

  They crossed the street to walk on the far side of the sprinkling wagon, keeping both sprinkler and sweeper between them an
d the gangster. They stayed out of the gangster’s sight, and came to a grate that covered a ventilation shaft. Levi waited until the water spray had passed, then, with the sweeper coming, hurriedly lifted the dripping grate. He shouldered the duffel bag, made sure Longbaugh had a hold of the grate, then started down the shaft, using metal hand spikes that were hammered into the sides.

  “Follow me, and let it close over you.”

  Levi dropped out of sight, displaying a comfort and aptitude that Longbaugh wasn’t convinced he shared. With some difficulty, Longbaugh held the heavy grate up as he lowered himself into the shaft, then lowered it back in place over his head. The sweeper passed over and he covered his eyes to avoid the water that the brush roller splashed through the grate. He looked below and saw Levi had stopped halfway down, wedged there with his back against the shaft, his legs straight with his feet pressed against the opposite wall, as he opened his duffel to remove a carbide miner’s light. He lit it, then continued to descend. Longbaugh followed, the light above growing dim while Levi’s light slipped away below. He blindly found his way down, trying to keep pace. He descended out of clammy morning into dry cool, the smell of wet street gradually growing stagnant. He glanced up to see if the Hand was looking down the shaft. He saw only sky.

  Levi waited at the bottom, illuminating the ground with his lamp. Longbaugh dropped to it, and Levi handed him a second lit carbide lamp, then led the way through the tunnel.

  “What’s this shaft for?”

  “It’s an air shaft, but they also used it to carry out the dirt.”

  “What dirt?”

  “From digging the secret tunnel.”

  “What secret tunnel?”