by L. Todd Wood
The extreme stress he had felt before in his life in New York returned just as fast as it had left when he had arrived in Venice months before. That Italian existence seemed like another life now. He missed his garden of herbs on the balcony. Maybe I can go back there when this is all over, he mused. Rafe considered calling his ex-wife but thought better of it. Maybe I'll touch base in a few days, when I know more about what's going on here and hopefully have more information on Clare. He had booked a night at the W Hotel on Lexington in Midtown and upon arrival, was shown directly to his room. The boutique, modern facility was a favorite watering hole for the after-work, banker crowd near Park Avenue. After dropping off the small bag he traveled with, Rafe quickly returned to the bar. There was too much on his mind for sleep at this point. Plus, he had gotten some shut-eye on the plane. He was wide awake and his mind was racing. Rafe walked into the dark, modern space near the west end of the lobby and ordered a drink. He sat at a shady, corner table, out of the way of most of the patrons, that is those that were left at this hour. It was well after midnight and the crowd was thinning. Rafe contemplated his next actions silently. Should I just show up at the temple? Would any of the visitors be there? Why have I been drawn here? What's here for me to find? The answers would not come, and slowly fatigue began to wash over him. This last month has been a blur. I don't understand why I'm still alive. He began to get up and then noticed two women in their late twenties and early thirties talking furiously and comparing notes as they sat next to each other in front of the bartender. They were quite attractive. Rafe stood up and walked over to the modern bar and sat down near them. He wasn't interested in them romantically but more in a curious, informational way. They were obviously discussing something of importance. The interaction was quite heated.
"He has to find a way to fend off the attacks from Butler that will inevitably come!" stated the older girl emphatically.
"Sure, but he also has to seem above the fray. We don't want him dragged down into the weeds where he is not strong. We both know he's not a policy wonk."
"No, he's more of a sexual wonk. Wonking every new female intern that comes on board," laughed the other woman.
"Yeah, I think we've both been there, haven't we?"
"No comment!" laughed the older woman.
Rafe listened discretely for a few minutes and then decided to break into the conversation. He really didn't know why. "Sounds like you two are preparing for a debate or something."
The older of the two looked at him with a startled expression. "Why yes, we are. How did you know? Was it the exquisite way we dress or the intellectual quality of our conversation?" she said sarcastically, her eyes undressing Rafe from top to bottom in an obviously flirtacious manner.
Rafe Smiled. "I used to help with some political issues myself, back in the day. It's the same everywhere, you know. The incumbent has to be above it all, while at the same time not allowing any of the riffraff to get close to him. It's a delicate balance.”
"I guess it is. And, we definitely have riffraff. But he's ours." she replied, slowly letting her guard down. "Our candidate is debating the other side tomorrow. We were just wondering if our debate prep strategy was strong enough. We've been working on it for weeks but you always wonder. You always are worried you forgot to prep him on something or teach him how to respond to the inevitable difficult question. I guess we'll know very soon."
"Quite right! It's almost impossible to prepare for everything. Who's the candidate?" asked Rafe.
"Greg Bowker," she replied. Instantly Rafe remembered the face of the man who asked him to drink the sedative at Tsaritsyno, and he noticeably stiffened. He remembered the man walking over to him with the long blade, an evil glint in his eye as he hoped to be able to use it on Rafe's midsection. The thought of disemboweling Rafe giving him great pleasure.
"What's wrong? Do you know him?" asked the younger staffer.
Rafe regained his composure. "Let's just say we've met once in a dark alley."
"Hmmm. That doesn't sound good. He does have quite the reputation. I hope it wasn't anything too terrible. If so, we don't want to know about it! At least not now anyway."
"Yeah, and please don't tell the press, whatever it is!" laughed the other woman.
"What's your names?" asked Rafe.
"I'm Megan, this is Kathy. We've worked together on several campaigns. But this has been the most interesting to say the least!"
"So where's the debate?" asked Rafe.
"It's at NYU downtown. Do you want to come? I have some tickets here in my bag. It's quite an important race." She reached into her purse and handed Rafe a ticket.
"I'll be there," he said coldly. "Thank you." Rafe got up from the bar and caught the elevator to his room.
Rafe had booked a luxurious suite overlooking Manhattan. I deserve it after what I've been through! he rationalized as he kicked off his shoes upon entering. It was decorated in an elegant, modern design and had a large floor-to-ceiling, glass window which looked out over Midtown from the twenty-second floor. This city really doesn't ever sleep! he remarked to himself as he stood taking in the twinkling lights of the metropolis. A glass of single malt scotch from the mini-bar finished the mood quite nicely. Soon, his eyes grew tired.
After a few hours of trying, Rafe realized he was not going to be able to sleep. The bed was incredibly soft and the bedding luxurious but it was of no use. His mind was still racing. He sat up in bed and flipped his legs over the side to stand then made his way in the dark to the desk, switching on the light. He opened the laptop that he had bought in San Francisco and searched for news on the Mytrhraic temple discovered in Manhattan a few days before.
The Second Avenue Subway, or SAS, had been a dream of New Yorkers since the turn of the twentieth century. But that dream had been a long time turning into reality. The Lexington Avenue line a few streets over was the busiest in the United States with over 1.2 million riders a day. SAS was planned in 1929, but work was never started due to the Great Depression. The line was revived after the end of the Second World War, but funds were diverted to maintenance projects on existing routes. Digging actually was initiated in the early 1970s and some progress was made, but the project was halted when New York City became insolvent. In the first decade of the twenty-first century, the project finally moved forward to reality with construction on phase one, which would connect 96th and 63rd streets. The few sections that were completed during the 1970s were to be tied into the new sections being built. Due to changes in design, a couple of the previously completed sections were to be abandoned. This initial tunnel on the new route was completed in 2011, with the tracks and other equipment scheduled to be completely installed by 2016.
It seemed the temple was discovered while excavating an underground storage area off the main tunnel, to be used for housing electronics to run the entire system. Federal law required work to be halted when a possible archeological site was discovered. Members from the State Historic Preservation Office were called in to begin exploration of the temple. They were still trying to figure out how the temple came into existence, as it was obviously ancient. The entire known course of human history could be altered. Evidence of the Roman Empire in North America? Archeologists all over the world were salivating to get more information on the discovery.
There must be security down there, thought Rafe. And how in the world would I even find it underground? It's not like you can just walk into a subway dig and know your way around. I'll have to figure something out. Maybe it will come to me tomorrow. Rafe closed the computer, hopped back in bed, and closed his eyes. He thought about Clare for a few minutes, then sleep finally came quickly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rafe woke late in the morning, the sunlight was streaming in the glass windows of his room, warming his face as he lay in bed. I’ve overslept. Damn it! He jumped out of bed in a panic, turned on the coffeemaker, and jumped into the shower. Today is the day! I can feel it! I”m going to find Clare!
One way or another! he thought, as the hot water drowned his groggy mind and refreshed him for the day. Upon exiting the bath, he felt like a new man and decided to make a phone call. An idea had come to him in the night.
David Wharton was a professor of history at NYU and had influence with the State Historic Preservation Office, who was conducting the temple examination. Their role was to ensure any archeological find, in the state of New York, was properly examined and catalogued. In this way, important historical information would not be lost to the ages. David and Rafe had interacted on another scientifically important project years before. It was a find down in the Wall Street area, an original part of the Dutch city of New Amsterdam, before the area was sold to the English. They had bonded during the experience, as they shared the same academic interests and a passion for history. If anyone could help, it would be David. Maybe he can get me in! It’s worth a shot.
Wharton answered on the first ring. “Rafe, it’s been a long time. To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to an old colleague after all of these years?”
“Unfortunately this is not a social call, David. I need a favor.”
“Just tell me, old friend. It’s been too long. I'll help if I can.”
“Well, I’m extremely interested in this new temple that’s been discovered at the SAS. But the security, from what I can tell, seems very tight. Can you get me a way in? It’s very connected to something else I am working on.”
“Gotcha! Yes, what a fascinating story. The discovery may change forever how we view human history on the continent. But it's a tall order as the interest is intense. Let me see what I can do. Give me your cell phone number. I’ll ring you back when I have more information, okay? Most likely later today or in the morning."
“Sure, thanks, David!” Rafe punched in his cell number and sent it to David via text.
“Anytime!”
Thirty minutes later, Rafe was on the street, walking towards the 51st Street subway station. The Lexington Avenue line ran parallel to the new Second Avenue line but was extremely overcrowded especially during this peak morning time. It was a rainy, dark day, and he did not have an umbrella, a must for any New Yorker. Fitting, he thought to himself. He ended up buying one from a street vendor who had conveniently set up a table with a great selection on the street. They always seemed to show up at the right places when it rained in New York, typically outside of the Subway stations. I guess there are some vestiges of capitalism left around here.
He entered the metro station, closed and shook his new umbrella, all the while attempting not to stab a fellow commuter, and descended down the stairs to the tunnel that, led across the street to the uptown track. Rafe couldn’t help noticing the tile falling off the walls, and the orange stains of water damage draining down from the ceiling, creating stalactites of a frothy chemical mess. The whole place smelled of urine and vomit. The escalators were again inoperative. What is happening to my country? he asked again to himself. The homeless were everywhere, as the economic situation had deteriorated badly over the last decade. Getting a job was difficult since no one was hiring. It was the natural result of overreaching government interference in the private market. Companies were not investing in new businesses. Innovation and risk-taking had been stifled. It had happened over and over again throughout history. Right now, I’m only concerned about Clare.
Rafe made the platform in time to see a train approaching the station. He saw several large rats rummaging around the trash thrown down to the railway level. As the train slowed to a noisy stop, he caught the uptown car and exited onto 86th Street, in the Upper East Side, or Upper Easy, as it was called. Soon he was heading east towards the shore of Manhattan that faced Brooklyn and Queens. Eventually the construction site for the Second Avenue Subway was looming before him, blocking his path.
The entire area was cut off, up and down the street with fencing, and there were scores of men in yellow hard hats and orange reflector vests milling about. Police were also omnipresent guarding the entrances to the newly discovered archeological find, which sat directly below them. It seemed everyone wanted a look at the discovery. The press was everywhere as well. Their satellite trucks clogging the roadway. His phone rang in his pocket and he ducked into an alleyway and answered quickly.
“Rafe, it’s David. Look, that place is pretty highly secured. It seems the federal government is also getting involved to make sure no one gets in. I’m not sure what they’ve found, but I can tell you for sure, I can’t get you in. But hey, if you do get a look, I want to know about it, okay? Sorry, Rafe!”
“No worries, David. Thanks for trying. Let’s meet a little later in the week. I’m in the city for a few days, working on a project.”
“I’d love to. Would be nice to connect. Ciao.”
Rafe walked down the sidewalk opposite the construction and tried to find a way to enter that was unguarded; the fencing was visible for miles. However, it was no use. There were plenty of burly guys in suits with earpieces and bulges under their jackets to prevent this. Anytime he got close to an opening in the fence, one of them would approach him and he backed off. However, another idea popped into Rafe’s head. He headed back towards the 86th Street metro entrance. The rain kept coming, darkening Rafe’s mood with foreboding of possible events to come. He shivered with the cold as he felt the presence of evil all around him. I feel Clare calling me! She’s still alive. I know it! Rafe descended back into the cavern of the subway and navigated the underground maze until he was standing on the opposite platform from which he came. He stood back from the edge as he waited, as there had been multiple high-profile instances of passengers being pushed into on-coming trains. Rafe jumped on the next car heading downtown. During the forty-five minute ride, he was assaulted twice by panhandlers using the captive riders on the subway as their personal begging audience. It was not a pleasant journey. It seemed the experience of riding the subway was the canary-in-the-coalmine of the health of New York City. When the ride was a pleasant one and the journey free from harassment, life was good in the Big Apple. When you feared for your safety and the subway cars were covered in graffiti and filth, the future of the city was not bright. He was happy to finally exit the metro in the southern end of the city.
Two hours later, he sat alone on a bench in Washington Square Park, downtown Manhattan. The New York University buildings surrounded him, along with a plethora of bohemian cafes and establishments catering to the university student crowd. The rain had stopped and the skies had cleared somewhat. Rafe was thankful for that. The sun’s rays peered down through the leaves of the many large trees placed strategically around the square. The fountain in the center was the hub of activity. Rafe sat in one of the corners, under a shady oak, watching the people as they walked by. He noticed plenty of piercing, tattoos, and various other forms of mutilation of the body. I don't recognize my country anymore.
As the sun started its daily journey towards the west and the shadows began to fall, Rafe finally saw what he was looking for. Greg Bowker walked towards the event with his entourage, including the attractive, young women Rafe had met the night before. No one noticed him sitting alone, away from the auditorium entrance. The debate would start in two hours. Bowker was aiming for his tenth term representing this congressional district. He faced a strong challenger and a commanding performance in the debate would be key to winning the election. The girls were right, it was an important event. There were media trucks everywhere, their satellite dishes protruding from the tops of the vehicles with military precision.
Once Bowker's group entered the building, Rafe waited for approximately fifteen minutes and then entered himself. He found the venue and selected a good vantage point, sitting in the rear of the auditorium. He waited for the festivities.
Over the next hour, one by one, the three candidates came up to test the microphone and get a feel of the layout for the event. They each took about five minutes alone with their individual staffs. Bowker was last and took about te
n minutes total. Anger welled up inside Rafe as he viewed the monster who had knowledge of the whereabouts of his daughter and who had threatened him with death. Rafe no longer cared about himself or anything else. His only goal or mission in life now was to save Clare. He would do that he felt sure. Let the consequences to himself be damned.
Bowker was finishing up his time on the stage, conversing with his staff, and going over final points for the debate. The two women he had met were busy stuffing him with last minute bits of advice. He seemed to be the very arrogant type, dismissing his staff's concerns over several issues of style and presentation of the arguments. "I'll do it my way and I'll be fine!" Rafe heard him declare loudly. Soon they were obviously complete, and the team picked up their belongings to leave. This is my chance, thought Rafe.
Before leaving the stage, Bowker asked his assistant to point out the bathroom. The girl who had given Rafe the ticket waved her hand towards a flight of stairs to the rear of the platform. Seeing this, Rafe seized the moment and quickly made his way down the pathway to the stage entrance, unbeknownst to anyone. Everyone else was gone. He silently followed the congressman down the steps at the rear of the performing area to the toilet facilities.
Rafe slowly and without a sound, pushed open the door to the men's bathroom The area was reserved for performers and was not noticeable to the general patrons of the auditorium. The two of them were alone. Perfect! thought Rafe. There was a ninety degree turn in the entranceway and Rafe peeked around the corner. The congressman had his back to him, relieving himself in the urinal. He finished and turned to leave. He was a large man but Rafe didn't care. He had the element of surprise. At that moment, Rafe dove into him and slammed him back against the wall. Bowker's head banged against the tile and he was temporarily disoriented. Rafe had a piece of an iron rod in his jacket pocket that he had picked up at the construction site. It could easily resemble a weapon, and Rafe stuck the end of the iron into the man’s gut with his hand in his jacket pocket. “Where’s my daughter? You son of a bitch!”
