The Deadliest Game: An Edward Mendez, P. I. Thriller

by Gerard Denza

  -Yes. I was staying at my uncle's place in the city; but, I live in Canarsie. It's the last stop on this heap.

  Octavio was not pleased with this bit of news. The young man continued.

  -I get off at Myrtle and Wyckoff for school. I got plenty of time to kill.

  Octavio started breathing again.

  -What about you, man? I answered your question.

  -I'm seeing some clients on business. The telephone would not be sufficient to conduct business as papers need to be signed. Does that satisfy your curiosity?

  He would have shot the young teenager had there not been other commuters riding in the subway car.

  -You talk real refined and with an accent. You from Europe or something?

  Was there no end to these questions?

  -I am originally from Spain, but have emigrated to this country. And that, young man, will conclude this interrogation. Good day.

  Octavio moved to the other end of the subway car much annoyed at the encounter.

  -That young hooligan will be getting off at my transfer point...and good riddance to him! He's looking over at me. Bastard! It's a damned good thing he's not going home to Canarsie. He'd want to know why I was getting off the train with him.

  The train rattled on into Brooklyn passing through the tunnel that connected the two boroughs. It passed one local stop after another, but Octavio took little notice.

  The teenager got off at Myrtle and Wyckoff and gave Octavio one last look. The LL heading into Manhattan pulled in on the opposite track. He saw the boy saying something to a heavy-set woman who'd just gotten off that train. The woman looked over at Octavio just as the doors slid closed..

  Within half an hour, he arrived at the last stop in Canarsie. Octavio found an empty bench on the platform outside and opened his briefcase. The small lead box was strapped in and there was a timer in that box set for 7:45 A.M. For a moment, he suffered a spasm of paranoia: would the timer work...was the piece securely in place?

  He couldn't unwrap the box and check. No. He had to calm himself and attempt to be rational. He crossed over to the other side of the station to catch the train going back into Manhattan. The train was already there. Octavio got on and waited for it to pull out. He found himself a window seat and pretended to be looking through his briefcase. He didn't have much time...less than half an hour to the transfer point at Myrtle and Wyckoff. Once there, the train would be crowded with morning commuters.

  He took out the box and hid it behind the briefcase on his lap. He put the briefcase on the floor along with the box containing the piece of stone. He pushed the box under the seat and against the car's wall. The train pulled out of the Canarsie station.

  Octavio put his briefcase back on his lap. He looked out the train window, but nothing registered in his brain. As the train passed each stop more commuters got on and it was now getting close to standing room only. He picked up his briefcase and got ready to leave.

  After what seemed like an interminable length, the train pulled into Myrtle and Wyckoff. Octavio got off and hurried up the stairs.

  As Louis Octavio left the crowded subway car, other commuters pushed their way in. A young, pregnant woman looked around for a seat, but couldn't find any. Anna King knew that she shouldn't have gone to work that day. As a matter of fact, she should have taken her maternity leave a month ago; but, she needed the money because her husband, a factory worker, had just been laid off. Anna held on to the steel pole and made up her mind that today would be her last day on the job.

  Walter Patterson boarded that same subway car. He started his new job at the same life insurance firm that Dottie Mendez had worked for, just three months ago. And, like his predecessor, he hated it, his co-workers and his supervisor. Walter was young and just out of high school. He couldn't afford to go to college and his parents were constantly on his back to find work. Hell at home and hell at the work place. If this was the real world, he'd take the first rocket ship off.

  A tall and handsome young man was hanging on to a leather strap and staring intently at the pretty blonde sitting in the seat that Louis Octavio just vacated. The handsome man's overcoat hid his erection.

  Two nuns were sitting close to the pretty blonde discussing the coming holidays. One of the nuns had been in the Dominican order for many years and loved her job as a science teacher in an all girls high school. She was training the young novice sitting next to her. The young novice was afraid of crowds and sat close to her superior.

  A middle-aged woman convinced a middle-aged man to give up his seat to her. Once seated, she lacked the good manners to thank the man.

  A young, black woman was worried about the time. She didn't want to be late for work and ruin her perfect attendance record. Connie Madison worked in the Garment District and liked her job as floor walker. It gave her a sense of security and belonging. She was well liked.

  Lynette Mason was a receptionist in a prestigious law firm in midtown. She was a pretty and friendly brunette who was putting her kid brother through law school. And, just maybe she could help get him a job with her firm. Right now, she was trying to read the latest best-selling romance novel standing up.

  The death train picked up more passengers until it reached its final stop in Brooklyn which was Bedford Ave. The two transit cops on the platform discouraged waiting commuters from getting on an already too crowded train.

  The train pulled out of the station. The next stop would have been First Ave. in Manhattan. As the train approached the mid-point of the tunnel, the ring of an alarm clock was heard. It was barely perceptible, but the pretty blonde sitting sitting nearest to the box beneath her seat, heard it and wondered what it was. At the same moment, she felt the air pressure give the familiar pop in her ears.

  The man sitting next to the pretty blonde felt the pressure, too. And, like his subway companion, he thought he heard an alarm clock go off. It was too late to do anything. The doomsday stone exploded and in an instantaneous flash the commuters in that subway car were cremated. The explosion gutted the car as the chain reaction reached the adjoining cars. The motor man lost control of the train. It derailed and skidded into the tunnel wall causing sparks to fly everywhere. He was flung through the window and on to the tracks where he was run over. Every passenger was killed by the blast or crushed against the sides of the train.

  What was left of the train came to rest between the tunnel wall and the subway tracks. It nearly fell on its side as it came to rest at a forty-five degree angle. The explosion caused fractures in the subway tunnel which threatened to crack it open and flood the system. No one aboard the LL train survived.

  The radiation was spreading through the tunnel. It reached First Ave. and, then, Bedford Ave. People started screaming in pain and running toward the stairwells. Their flesh was starting to burn and blister. Some were dropping to the floor blinded and dying from the fall-out. Others managed to get to the street, but even for them, it was too late.

  Nine

  GINNY GRAY was the first reporters on the scene. She got as far as the First Ave. station with her photographer, Fred; but, they couldn't get past the battalion of police officers and paramedics. Strong radiation levels were detected and every paramedic, officer and explosives expert had to be suited up in radiation gear. There was little hope of finding any survivors. Those people who'd been felled by radiation on the subway platforms were being taken to the local hospitals and quarantined. They weren't expected to live. Those commuters who had gotten on to the street had to be rounded up and brought in for treatment if it wasn't already too late.

  Ginny Gray was arguing with the officer in charge.

  -Ginny Gray. Press. I have to get in there.

  -No way, lady. The whole tunnel is filled with radiation.

  -But, we've all been exposed. So, what's the point of holding back?

  The police officer looked at this wild-eyed woman and held his temper.

  -Where we're standing is sa
fe enough.

  -What the hell does that mean?

  -I overheard some of the big boys say that there's this sharp drop off in radiation. It's been dropping off little by little.

  -You mean it goes just so far and no further and then starts to drop off?

  -That's just about the gist of it, lady, but don't quote me on that.

  That's exactly what Ginny Gray was planning to do.

  -Can me and my photographer borrow some of that radiation gear. Look! There's some right over there and nobody's using it.

  -Go and ask my commanding officer over there.

  -I will. Come on, Fred.

  Ginny was given a gruff greeting by Lt. Dunlap. But, to the reporter's amazement, she was given leave to use the radiation suits and proceed into the tunnel along with some other police officers.

  -It's well lit so you oughta' get some good shots there, Fred.

  Lt. Dunlap had to warn them.

  -Miss Gray? Don't stay too long, it ain't healthy. The radiation has gone down, but the Geiger readings are still active.

  Ginny and Fred jumped off the platform and on to the subway tracks just as another reporter who sneaked by Lt. Dunlap was about to get into a radiation suit.

  -I'll take that, please, that's mine.

  -What the hell- Ginny, old girl! It's mine. I got here first so fuck off.

  This rival reporter got into the suit as a couple of paramedics coming out of the tunnel pushed past them carrying body bags.

  -Oh, hell! Fred, grab those two suits over there. This bastard can just have his damned suit. We'll catch up.

  Ginny Gray and Fred Marconi suited up and followed their rival reporter into the subway tunnel. It was well lit with torch lights and flares. Paramedics and police officers who were all in radiation gear went past them carrying black body bags...even hard-bitten Ginny was affected.

  After what seemed like an eternity of dodging cops and medics and avoiding the third rail, the two journalists and photographer sighted the train wreck. The train or what was left of it was at a dangerously steep angle with the lead car still intact but with its windows blown out. Barricades were set up and Ginny and company were not allowed past this.

  An officer approached them holding up both arms.

  -Sorry folks. Even we can't get much beyond this point...at least not for long. The radiation level goes off the damned Geiger counters. But, you're safe enough here.

  -Fred, take as many photographs as you can and try and get as many different angles. Get to it. This nice officer is probably right. I don't think any of us should hang around here too long. We must be pretty close to the center of the blast and that's bound to be still radioactive.

  The officer in charge agreed.

  -Sister, you can say that, again.

  Ginny addressed the handsome police officer. She could see that he was good looking even behind the radiation mask.

  -Let me get this straight: this radiation-

  -They think it's some kind of new type of radiation.

  -Let's just call it radiation for now. It's too intense to get near the detonation spot but drops off and keeps dropping off in intensity by the minute. Is that a fair enough statement?

  -It's as good as any I've been hearing.

  -When did this happen?

  -About 8 A.M., give or take.

  -Are there any survivors?

  -No. The ones who took it on the chin first were the lucky ones.

  “An explosion in the BMT subway tunnel occurred at approximately 8 A.M. on the LL line. The explosion took place aboard a Manhattan bound train at the mid-point of the connecting tunnel between Brooklyn and Manhattan. The cause of the explosion is not yet known, but a terrorist act has not been ruled out. We have no word yet of any survivors.”

  Susan caught her breath. Mary stifled a cry.

  “Reports of radiation have been confirmed. Sources say that this radiation reached as far as the First Ave. and Bedford Ave. stations. Commuters on these platforms have been taken to the local hospitals and quarantined. The Mayor is on the scene and the Governor has been informed of the situation. The LL line has been shut down and commuters are asked to seek alternative routes.”

  Marlena was the first to speak.

  -Radiation, again. The incident in the Diamond District yesterday was only the tip of the iceberg. Susan? Let's head on over to Edward's office. I must know what's going on.

  Susan knew better than to argue with her mother. She looked over at Mary Riley.

  -Miss Riley, will you be all right?

  She didn't answer, but Professor Moreland did.

  -I'll look after her. Thank you.

  He turned to Marlena.

  -Miss Lake? If you find out anything about this radiation, please let me know. I'm as curious as you.

  -Of course. Susan? Let's go.

  Edward and Yolanda were driving up Nassau St when the news bulletin came on the radio. Edward pulled the Ford over to the curb and the two of them listened to the radio announcer.

  -Edward?

  -I'm here, baby.

  -What do you make of it? It's pretty frightening.

  -I'll say!

  -Do you think that this man, Octavio, is behind it? I'll bet that he is.

  -You're reading my mind. Let's head on up to my office. I've got some phone calls to make. And, then, we'll make a “b” line to the 86th St. precinct. Things are probably hopping up there by now.

  He pulled out of his double parked space and drove the few blocks to his office. When they arrived, Nella was at her make-shift desk and glued to the radio.

  -We already heard the news, Nella.

  She turned off the radio.

  -It's on all the channels, Edward. Oh! Hello, Yolanda. It's horrible! Edward, they don't think there are any survivors.

  -Yolanda, sit down, baby. Nella? If you brought any coffee with you, we could sure use a cup.

  Nella had a thermos filled with hot coffee.

  -Oh, my hands are shaking.

  Yolanda went over to her.

  -Let me help you pour, Nella.

  Edward was dialing the 86th St. precinct.

  -Lt. Donovan, please. Edward Mendez calling.

  -He just got in, Mr. Mendez. Can you hold?

  -You bet.

  Lt. Donovan got on the line.

  -Mendez? You've heard about the tunnel explosion.

  -Just a few minutes ago on the car radio. It's on every call station.

  -You got any news for me on Montenegro?

  -I'll say! I think I should come on up.

  -Do that. I've got some news myself. And, the rumor is that the Mayor is about to shut down the entire transit system.

  Ten

  LOUIS OCTAVIO got off the subway at Chambers St. He had to meet his associate, Eileen Kobe, at her apartment on Gold St. He was sweating. His undershirt and dress shirt were soaked through. He'd caught a chill. His forehead was dripping sweat and he had to take off his hat...that was when he caught the chill.

  He was about to cross Nassau St. when a '47 Ford drove past. He caught sight of the driver and recognized him as the man he saw on the train yesterday morning: Edward Mendez. Had Mendez spotted him? What of it? Octavio thought nothing more of it, but Edward Mendez had spotted Octavio standing at the corner.

  Octavio crossed over to Gold St. Before going into Miss Kobe's apartment building, he placed a call to Ginny Gray. The reporter wasn't at her desk. She was out on assignment.

  -Of course. Thank you. No. No message.

  He hung up.

  Octavio rang Eileen Kobe's doorbell. She buzzed him in. He didn't take the self service elevator that the modern building offered its tenants and their visitors. Instead, he sprinted up the two flights of stairs with his briefcase in hand. Miss Kobe was waiting for him in her doorway.

  -Get in, quickly. I've been listening to the radio bulletins. I can't believe what I'm hearing.


  -Bully for you. Here. Take my hat, if you would. I'm sweating like the proverbial pig.

  Once inside, Octavio flung off his overcoat and sat down in an armchair by the radiator. His trembling hands were like ice.

  -Get me a drink. Scotch, straight.

  -Tell me what happened.

  She was about to sit down on the sofa.

  -A drink, please. Must I ask a third time?

  Miss Kobe picked up his overcoat from the floor. She went over to the drinks table and got her guest a Scotch, straight.

  -Here.

  She sat down and faced Octavio.

  -You look terrible. And, you're shaking from head to foot. Are you coming down with the flu?

  -I do not feel at all well.

  -Well, if I just murdered a few hundred people, I wouldn't feel too good either. I won't be a party to this. Do you hear me, Louis? You've just committed a crime of mass genocide. They'll be coming after you. Do you hear what I'm telling you?

  -I'm well within earshot.

  -You lied to me. The stone hadn't been stolen at all. You were the one who took it. You played me for a fool.

  -A harmless but necessary subterfuge.

  A look of terror came over the woman's face.

  -It's not here is it? It's not in that briefcase, is it...or what's left of it?

  Octavio finished his drink.

  -Yes. It is.

  -Sealed in a lead container, of course.

  -Yes.

  -But? Why are you hesitating? Tell me, Louis.

  -Ordinary lead, I fear, may only shield its radiation for a limited time.

  -What are you saying?

  -I may be infected.

  -And, me? I've handled the case, too.

  Octavio smiled with satisfaction.

  -I assume that you are infected, as well.

  Miss Kobe got up and paced her nicely furnished living room with the faux fireplace.

  -That's not fair! I haven't killed anyone. You did it and that wasn't supposed to happen. You said that no one would be harmed. We'd simply barter the stone to the highest bidder. You said we'd take it on the international market.