by Ty Drago
Jillian swallowed, but didn’t reply.
“Come on, Jill,” he prompted. “You told me this much. Spill the rest.”
After several beats, she said, “Once I escaped Micha’s office, I called the senator and told him what I’d seen. He suggested I leave town, head up to Philly. He told me to try to find you and, if I did, to …” Her words trailed off.
“Spy on us for him?”
“No! That came later. Tom … he wants to help.”
“Then why not just be straight with me from the get go?”
“He … didn’t feel you were ready to know that you had … allies … in the adult world.”
Tom’s anger flared. Carefully, he suppressed it. “So what’ve you been doin’ for him?
“Keeping him up to speed on what goes on around here,” Jill said. “He gave me a special cell phone to use. Dedicated. Encrypted.”
“Cool of him,” Tom remarked dryly. “And how often you been usin’ it?”
Another long pause.
“Jill? How often?”
“Everyday … pretty much.”
“What does he know?” Tom asked her.
“Everything.”
“Haven?”
“Yeah.”
“Our numbers?”
“Yeah.”
Now it was Tom’s turn to hesitate. Then he asked, “Where we’re at?”
Jill looked squarely at him. “You can trust the senator!”
“Does he know where Haven’s at?”
“Yeah.”
Tom felt a cold knot of terrible certainty tighten in his gut. “The layout? The exits?”
“I drew a map,” Jillian said. “Then I took of a picture of it with the cell phone and texted it to him.”
Tom Jefferson jumped to his feet, his self-control momentarily shattered. “Why? Why in God’s name would you do somethin’ like that?”
“Because he’s a powerful man!” the girl shot back. “Someone who’s great to have on your side. He’s not a Corpse, Tom! I swear it! He’s human and he wants to help us! We’re just kids!”
And there it was.
How many times had Tom listened to that endless song? Just kids. Kids are only good for watching TV and playing video games. Kids can’t fight a war. Kids can’t die with honor.
Kids can’t save the world.
Just kids.
Tom asked, “Why tell me all this now?”
Jill considered before answering. “Well, for one: I don’t like lying to you and I didn’t want to do it anymore. For another … you lost your Sight.”
“So?”
“So, you’re thinking of stepping down as chief. I figured you had to be pretty messed up about that. I thought you might be cool with someone else taking the reins.”
“Someone else?” Tom asked.
“Someone powerful,” Jillian replied.
“Like Jim Mitchum?” Tom asked.
“Exactly like Senator Mitchum,” Jillian replied.
Tom said, “Gimme your special cell phone.”
The girl blinked. “Why?”
“Because I’m still chief, and I’m asking you for it.”
Jillian stared at him, a lot of things in her eyes. Then she pulled a blue clamshell cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. It was a satellite phone, much like the ones Ramirez had gotten for the Undertakers. Opening it, however, Tom noticed that it started dialing immediately.
As Jillian watched him, he put the phone to his ear—and waited.
On the fifth ring, a deep voice said, “Hello, Jill.”
“This is Tom Jefferson, Senator.”
There was a long pause. Then: “Is Jillian all right?”
Okay, Tom thought. You get points for that one.
“She’s totally fine,” he replied. “And she’s right here. We’ve been … talkin’.”
“I see. It wasn’t my intention that you find out this way. I’d thought I’d made that clear to Ms. Birmelin.”
“The situation’s changed,” Tom said.
“How so?”
Tom silently counted off the seconds. He got to twelve before the Senator said, “Mr. Jefferson, you called me.”
Tom kept counting. This time he got as far as twenty-two.
“Young man … I can appreciate your reticence, but —”
“I’ve lost my Eyes,” Tom said with a sigh.
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t See Corpses no more.”
This time it was Mitchum’s turn to be silent. Tom waited. Finally: “I see. And what are the repercussions of that, in your opinion?”
Reticence. Repercussions. Dude’s a walkin’ dictionary.
“I can’t run the Undertakers without the Sight.”
“Really. Why not?”
“For the same reason a blind man can’t fire a gun.”
“I’m sorry?”
“He can,” Tom said. “But ain’t nobody gonna thank him for it.”
“Ah. Yes. But none of that explains why you’re calling me.”
“No, I guess it don’t,” Tom said, going for sheepish. “I’m calling ‘cause you been on our side, Senator. You ain’t been able to help us outright ‘cause you ain’t got Eyes, and you figured we’d never accept anyone in our ranks who couldn’t See.”
Tom didn’t mention Susan Ritter. Neither, he noticed, did Mitchum.
Tom continued, “Thing is: I’m where you’re at now. As Sightless as any grown-up. And when that gets out, I’ll be done ‘round here. Oh, they’ll rally around me and all, but ‘fore long, someone’ll start talkin’ about needing a real chief. After that, I get to be the Undertakers’ very first veteran.”
He paused a beat. Then, as if steeling his nerves, he said, “What I’m looking for, Senator Mitchum … is a job.”
Chapter 19
WHITE
“William.”
Figures, I thought.
I opened my eyes to find myself on a hospital bed in a white, featureless room. No surprise there. I’d lost count of how many times I’d woken up in this strange place.
Light seemed to come from everywhere at once. The only sound was the voice of the “angel,” the vaguely familiar stranger who always called me “William.”
Still, something felt different, though it took me a few moments to figure out what it was.
There was a second bed in the room.
I looked over at Julie Boettcher, who lay on her back, tucked under a blanket. For a split second I thought she might be dead, but then I heard the whisper-soft rhythm of her breathing and relief warmed me like sunshine.
“Is she okay?” I asked the woman.
“She’s fine. Thanks to you.”
“All I did was dive into the river after her and almost drown myself.”
“Not ‘almost,’ William.”
“Huh?” I started to sit up on the bed but then flopped back down. My arms and legs felt like their bones had been surgically replaced with molded Jell-O.
“Relax,” she told me, offering a gentle smile. “We were able to reach you both in time.”
“We?”
Her smile flickered for a moment, as if she’d said something she hadn’t meant to.
My clothes were gone, replaced with one of those hospital gowns that ties in the back. My hair felt slightly damp, as if I’d just had a bath, but at least it didn’t smell like river water. I asked, “How long have we been here?”
Her delicate features, framed by waves of blond hair, tilted in a particular way, as if curious or intrigued. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because I’ve figured out that sometimes you keep me here for a long while. Weeks or even months.”
Not quite true. Actually, it was Tom who’d figured it out. But, at the moment, I didn’t see any reason to cloud the issue with facts.
At first, I didn’t think she’d answer. Finally: “We keep you as long as we
need to.”
Which, as was her M.O., didn’t really answer my question.
“How long this time?” I pressed.
“Just long enough to drain the fluid from your lungs, treat Julie’s head wound, bathe you both, and let you both rest. You’ve been through a lot today. Julie’s still asleep, but it’s a safe, natural sleep. She’s out of danger.”
That, right there, represented the most solid information I’d ever gotten out of her. Compared to her usual answers, it was practically a Wikipedia entry.
Of course, the idea that I’d been bathed by this person, or any person, totally creeped me out.
Nevertheless, I managed to say, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are you going to send us back now?”
“Yes.”
“Into the river?”
“Yes.”
“With Julie still asleep?”
“She’ll awaken as soon as the cold water hits her.”
That much I believed. “Do I get my one question this time?”
She hesitated again. Then she said carefully, as if picking through her words, “The next time we meet … I’ll tell you everything.” Then, after a pause, she added, “Almost everything.”
“Great,” I said sourly. “But no question this time?”
“Are you going to ask me if you can trust Robert Dillin?”
I looked hard at her. “No.”
I noticed that she didn’t seem surprised. Nevertheless, she asked, “Why not?”
“Because I already know the answer. He’s helped us every step of the way. And he’s told me what we need to know to … maybe … end the war.”
“He could have lied to you.”
“He could have. But he didn’t.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
I shrugged. “My gut says so.”
Something about this statement made her laugh with what seemed to be genuine delight. “William the Conqueror,” she said. “Trusting your gut is a rare gift.”
“Thanks,” I replied, only because I couldn’t think of anything else.
“All right then. What’s your one question?”
“Are you an Undertaker?”
This time, she clearly was surprised, her expression a mix of astonishment and a weird sort of admiration.
She didn’t answer right away.
“Well?” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m an Undertaker.”
Then the world went white and I knew our visit was over. In moments, Julie and I would be back in the Schuylkill, back in the water, back in the fight. But at least, finally, I had something real to take back with me. True, this woman had given me my pocketknife, and that was real. And, true, this woman had offered me intel that had saved lives, including my own, and that was real, too.
But this piece of real seemed somehow realer than those.
I know who she is!
Chapter 20
EXTENSION CORD
When I opened my eyes, I found myself cold, wet, and to my surprise, no longer exhausted.
Well she did say she’d let us rest, didn’t she?
But for how long? Did I just get eight hours’ sleep?
It sure felt like it.
Nice.
I was back in the river, as promised. Back in my clothes too, I noticed, which meant she—I couldn’t think of her as an “angel” anymore—must have changed me again.
I’m gonna have to have a talk with her about that.
I was clinging to a rusted length of chain that hung over a barrier wall along the river’s edge. I couldn’t tell whether it was the east or west bank, but at least I wasn’t floundering in the stronger currents anymore.
A small voice said, “Will?”
I turned and saw Julie. The girl wore an orange lifejacket, and she bobbed easily in the water only a couple of feet away. Her forehead had a small cut and the beginnings of a nasty bruise. But, aside from that, she seemed all right.
Still, it was worth asking. “You all right?”
She nodded. “You saved me.”
Not exactly.
But out loud, I said, “Um … no problem.”
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’d you get this lifejacket?”
I struggled for an answer. There hadn’t been any in the scull. There hadn’t even been a place for any; it wasn’t that kind of boat. Obviously, White Room Woman—couldn’t quite bring myself to use her name either, at least not yet—had put Julie in the floatation vest as a precaution.
I noticed that she hadn’t done the same for me.
But, trying to explain any of that to Julie would only confuse her.
“You find all kinds of crazy stuff in this river,” I said. “I guess, when you think about it, a lifejacket is pretty far from the craziest.”
She considered this. “I guess.”
I took stock. I still had my knife; I could feel the weight of it in my pocket. I knew from experience that it was waterproof, as long as I didn’t try the Taser.
But the scull was missing.
Then I spotted it.
The old boat still floated in the middle of the Schuylkill, maybe a hundred yards away. The current spun it in slow circles, and it was headed downriver at a pretty good clip. Somewhere close by, I heard the rush of falling water.
The dam.
The Schuylkill has this man-made waterfall that kind of cuts the river in half, with the boathouses being on the high side of the falls and Center City on the low side. The scull was heading straight for that waterfall, which wasn’t all that tall, but might be tall enough to smash it up. When we’d first launched on the river, I’d forgotten all about that particular hazard.
I was suddenly grateful Julie and I wouldn’t be on the darned thing when scull met dam.
We might have drowned! I thought, and the idea almost made me laugh. But I squelched the impulse, afraid of how the laughter might sound.
Rough day.
Suddenly a voice, a loud voice, boomed from somewhere above us.
“Attention! By order of the Philadelphia Police Department, Kelly Drive northwest of the Water Works is closed to any and all vehicular and pedestrian traffic! Again, until further notice, no pedestrians or vehicles, whether motorized or not, will be permitted on the Kelly Drive northwest of the Water Works. This is for your safety. The Police Department thanks you for your cooperation.”
A bullhorn. Or maybe a cop car’s loudspeaker.
“What’s going on?” Julie asked fearfully.
“They’ve closed off everything around the crime scene,” I told her. “Makes sense, especially if they think there’s still a killer on loose.”
What didn’t make sense was the size of it. The Water Works were more than a mile downriver from the condemned boathouse. That’s a pretty big crime scene, especially in the city. Maybe Parker was spreading a wide net, trying to box either us or Dillin in, trap us in a big stretch of empty park so he could hunt us down.
We had to get out of here.
But first I had to figure out where here was.
I pulled myself higher along the rusted chain and craned my neck upward. What I saw put a smile on my face.
The Parthenon.
Okay, not the real Parthenon. That’s in Greece. You all know it. It’s that ancient crumbling building with all the columns that shows up on pretty much every postcard that’s mailed out of Athens.
But this particular building had been designed to look like it. In fact, so had all of the buildings in the immediate area. What put the smile on my face was the certain knowledge that only one place in Philly looked like something out of a Hercules movie.
The Philadelphia Water Works.
A hundred years ago, the Water Works was exactly what it sounds like: the place where Philly got its water. These days, all that was handled more—well—modernly, a
nd what was once the Water Works was now a museum below ground and a fancy restaurant above ground.
It was the restaurant that hid inside those Parthenon-ish buildings.
Anyway, the point was that Julie and I had been deposited in just the right spot.
A break at last, I thought.
The chain I hung onto reached up to a tangle of branches about three feet below the lip of a cement walkway that edged the Water Works’ river view. There were people up there; I could hear them. Some had come to the railing to peer curiously at the doomed scull as it neared the waterfall. None of them, as far as I could tell, had spotted us. The angle was wrong.
That was both good and bad since, on one hand, keeping a low profile was kind of the Undertakers’ motto. On the other hand, we weren’t going to get from down here to up there without some kind of help.
“What do we do?” Julie asked.
I was wondering the same thing.
“Will!”
I looked straight up at the walkway. A big, round face looked down at me.
The Burgermeister grinned and called, “You okay?”
So much for a low profile.
Still, I’d take it.
“Yeah! We’re okay!”
“Hang on!” he yelled. “We’ll find a way to get you up!”
“Julie first!” I called back.
Tom’s twin sister poked her head over. Sharyn’s hair, which had been shaved bald some months ago, had grown back in a bit since I’d last seen her. She was starting to look more like the girl who had literally ridden to Helene’s and my rescue in Center City back when I’d first gotten the Sight.
“Hey, little bro! Last we saw you two, you both went under the river!”
“I told her you’d make it to the Water Works!” Dave added. “She didn’t believe me, but I said, ‘Will does what he says he’ll do … every time!’” He turned to Sharyn. “Didn’t I say that?”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, you did. Now shut up.”
These two were an item.
I yelled, “Um … guys? This water’s way colder than it looks.”
“Hear ya!” the Boss Angel called down. “Hang tight.”
She disappeared for a minute, returning with one of those long orange extension cords. You know, the ones they use for electric hedge trimmers or leaf blowers. I didn’t bother to ask her where she got it.
