by Matt Lincoln
“Six,” I responded and watched as Junior pulled up the right footage from the hallway outside platform six. I could see the man on camera walking away from the platform and toward the station’s entrance.
“He walked onto the tracks for just a minute before walking back off and leaving the station completely,” I concluded. “Seems pretty suspect to me.”
“Good work, gents,” Seamus grinned. “The turnstiles at the front of the station should have a record of who walked through at that time, assuming he used a train pass. I’ll let them know to start pulling those records.”
“Good,” I nodded. “In the meantime, we need to go find out what he did while he was down there.”
I gestured for Junior to follow me before taking off out of the security room and down the hallway. I’d never been in this train station before, but the hallways and platforms were well-marked and easy to navigate, and just a few moments later, we were descending the stairs onto platform six.
There were a few officers already down here, and they looked up at us as we approached.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” one of the officers said as he stepped forward.
Junior stopped to explain who we were and what we’d discovered, but I barely slowed down as I continued my way through the platform and toward the tracks. As I jumped down off the smooth, polished tile and onto the soot-covered steel tracks, my mind was flooded with flashbacks from my mission in Japan, when I’d grappled with a suspect on tracks not unlike these.
I shook my head and refocused on my current mission. The tunnel was pitch black and foreboding. Seamus had said that the station had been completely cleared in preparation for us to conduct a search. I assumed that meant the trains weren’t running as well, but I still couldn’t help but feel small and vulnerable as I stared down the wide, cavernous train tunnel.
I used the light on my phone to illuminate my way forward as I explored the tunnel. I didn’t immediately spot anything out of place. I’d been expecting to find a bundle of wires covered in blinking lights and fuses, but instead, my eyes landed on a small black box covered entirely in tape. It was tucked against the wall just a few feet away from the entrance of the tunnel, and if it hadn’t been for the tiny scrap of parchment paper stuck to it, I might have missed it completely.
I walked toward the box and leaned down to retrieve the paper, which I assumed must be the note containing the name and address the broadcaster had mentioned, but I froze when I remembered the deputy commissioner’s warning not to touch anything.
I sighed and took a step back. I could hear voices talking as they approached the entrance of the tunnel, most likely Junior and the officers he’d been speaking with coming to see if I’d found anything. I opened my mouth to yell for them to call the bomb squad, but just as I was turning my head to call out, I caught a glint of something reflective out of the corner of my eye.
Fear settled in the pit of my stomach as I realized what I’d just seen. I turned slowly, hoping I was wrong but knowing deep down that I wasn’t. Mounted on the wall at eye level right above the box was a sleek black tablet, the light next to the front-facing camera blinking red to indicate that it was on and recording.
That light hadn’t been on just a moment ago. I was sure of it. I would have noticed a bright red light blinking in the darkness of the tunnel. Someone was watching me.
Just as that thought flashed through my mind, the tablet’s screen lit up and cast a hard white glow into the tunnel. I turned and shielded my eyes, having been suddenly blinded by the unexpectedly bright light.
I squinted as I turned back around to face the tablet. In bright red letters displayed on a stark white background was a timer currently counting down from just above twelve hours. Then, without warning, the timer began to go down rapidly.
My eyes widened with shock as I realized what was happening, and I leaned down to pluck the piece of paper from the box. Then I turned and booked it as fast as I could out of the tunnel.
“Run!” I shouted as I hurtled toward the light of the platform. I could see shadowy figures moving around at the entrance, silhouetted against the bright and comforting safety of the platform beyond it. “The bomb’s about to go off!”
There was a scramble as the officers rushed to clamber back onto the platform. Every muscle in my body tensed as I raced toward the end of the tunnel.
“Charlie!” a voice to my left yelled as I emerged into the brightly lit area. I turned to find Junior kneeling on the edge of the platform, reaching his hand out toward me. I clasped it tightly and threw myself up onto the platform just as the bomb went off. My ears were filled with a noise that was partway between a roar and a bang, and I could feel the ground shaking beneath me as I closed my eyes and threw my arms over my head.
25
Miranda
I rolled my eyes as I peered through the window in the hospital room door and watched Wallace fuss over Howard. In my opinion, he wasn’t worth all the concern. He was a pathetic traitor who’d put all his fellow agents in danger and landed Fiona in the hospital. Wallace had asked me if I wanted to come in to see him as well, and I’d had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes right in front of him. Howard and I had never really been friendly, but I felt downright hostile toward him at the moment.
“He’s in rough shape,” Wallace informed me a few minutes later as he padded out of the room. “He seemed to be doing better yesterday, but it appears he’s taken a turn for the worse again.”
“That’s too bad,” I deadpanned, not bothering to even pretend that I cared how he was doing.
Wallace shot me a disapproving glare. For a minute, I was worried he was about to tell me off for being so rude, but then he just sighed.
“We should get back to the office,” he muttered.
I nodded and followed him out of the hospital and back into the car. I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but when Wallace had asked me to accompany him, I felt bad turning him down directly. I might not like Howard, but Wallace had always been a great boss, and I didn’t really have a good reason not to go with him, considering Naomi and I hadn’t had much to do today.
I slipped into the passenger seat and waited in uncomfortable silence as Wallace started the car. I felt like a teenager that had disappointed their parent, but I wasn’t about to lie and pretend that I cared what happened to Howard.
“I once shot a victim,” Wallace suddenly said, snapping me out of my thoughts. It took me a moment to register what he had just said.
“What?” I responded, unsure where that comment had come from or where he was going with it.
“It was a hostage situation,” Wallace continued bleakly. “At a bank. Someone had gone in to rob the place and had panicked and taken several people hostage when his plan fell apart. I was one of the first officers on the scene. I was so drunk that when one of the hostages managed to escape and ran from the building, I shot him, thinking that he was the robber.”
I stared at Wallace in shock. I wasn’t sure what I should say in response to that.
“I-I had no idea,” I finally stuttered.
“It isn’t common knowledge,” Wallace chuckled bitterly. “Or public knowledge, even. The victim lived, everything was settled out of court, and the entire thing was covered up. It would have been bad for the department’s image if it got out, after all.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was inconceivable to me that Wallace, who was always kind and careful and warning us not to work too hard, had been involved in the shooting of an innocent victim. Worse still, he’d been complicit in covering it up.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, a tornado of conflicting emotions swirling inside of me.
“Because I understand what it’s like to have an addiction,” Wallace replied. “I understand how it feels to throw your career away and ruin all your friendships because of a vice. Agent Howard has made some grave mistakes, but what he needs now is for his teammates to stand behind him,
not turn their backs on him.”
I regarded the side of his face quietly as he spoke. His profile seemed older suddenly, more tired and worn out and painfully human. I felt as though I’d been betrayed. I’d always respected and admired Wallace, and, okay, maybe I’d put him up on a pedestal just a little. Now it felt like I was really seeing the flawed human he was for the first time, and the realization hurt.
“I don’t owe him anything,” I retorted viciously, and I could see the shock and hurt flash across Director Wallace’s face. “His ‘mistakes’ hurt my friend. Actions have consequences, and now he’s facing them.”
I turned away from him and glared through the front windshield of the car. I wondered for a second if I’d gone too far, been too brutal in my dismissal, but I tampered those feelings down. Fiona was a good, sweet, selfless person. Did Director Wallace seriously expect me to feel sympathy for Howard after what he’d done? Hundreds, no, thousands of people managed to go their entire lives without taking drugs or attacking their coworkers. If Howard was too weak to overcome his own issues, then maybe he wasn’t fit to be a federal agent.
The drive back to the office was tense and uncomfortably quiet. The moment we arrived back, I got out without saying a word or waiting for Wallace to get out as well. I hurried into the building and down the hall to the elevators by myself. I was angry, and I really felt like punching something, but maybe speaking with Naomi and Fiona would help me calm down.
“Oh, back so soon?” Naomi asked as I pushed open the office door and stepped into the bullpen. “I just finished up the paperwork from our last outing. Do you want to go out and grab some lunch? I’ve had the most intense craving for something spicy all day.”
“Sure,” I replied curtly. “Anything to get out of this office.”
“What’s got you all riled up?” Naomi asked as she looked up at me. “You look like you’re rearing for a fight.”
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Wallace finally entered the office. I waited until he was inside his own office before answering her.
“Just had a little disagreement with the boss,” I shrugged. “So, you want to go get lunch or what?”
“Sure,” Naomi sighed. I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with my answer, but she knew me well enough to know not to push the issue. “We should ask Fiona too.”
“Ask me what?” Fiona chirped as she walked up to us.
“Perfect timing,” Naomi smiled. “I was just asking this one if she’d be up for an early lunch. What do you say? I’m thinking either Mexican or Thai. The spicier, the better.”
“I would love to,” Fiona replied. “But I’m afraid it might have to wait. I think I have a new lead.”
“Really?” I asked, a little disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to go out but relieved for the distraction of a potential new lead.
“Yeah,” Fiona said as she pulled Charlie’s chair away from his desk and dragged it over to where our desks were. “So, I discovered that the first rash of incidents was almost certainly not some kind of trial run.”
“Why do you say that?” Naomi asked.
“Well, rush is all over the United States,” she replied. “Or it was, anyway. It’s pretty impossible to get ahold of now, which is also pretty weird. So, three months ago, a new designer drug is introduced to all major metropolitan cities across the US. New York, Chicago, Vegas, all that. People start going crazy when they take too much, and it’s suddenly pulled off the market.”
“That makes sense,” Naomi nodded. “I can’t imagine it’s good for business to have all your buyers turn into wild beasts after taking your drug.”
“Right,” Fiona agreed. “Then, a month later, a highly concentrated version of the drug appears in one specific store in Las Vegas just a few blocks away from our office.”
“We already suspected that the perp was baiting us,” I replied. “No offense, Fi, but that’s not much of a lead.”
“That’s not the lead,” she shushed me. “I found out that there was an issue with some of the cases not being properly reported. The police never made the connection, but I have a hunch they’re related.”
“What do you mean?” Naomi prompted.
“About two months ago, there were a series of attacks all in the same neighborhood,” Fiona explained. “Two of them even occurred in the same bar. They matched the description of the other cases to a T. The assailants in each case suddenly attacked people without warning, but these cases weren’t included in the reports we received from the police because they were stricken from the official record.”
“Stricken?” I repeated. “As in covered up?” I frowned as I recalled the story Wallace had told me in the car.
“Yeah,” Fiona nodded. “And I don’t just mean from the public. Even the official police records didn’t have any information about these cases. It’s like they never happened.”
“Wait,” Naomi interrupted. “If there’s no official police record, how did you find out about them.”
Fiona smirked mischievously.
“Once something’s on the internet,” she explained, “it’s never really gone. Someone went through and deleted the reports, but the artifacts were still there, and I was able to recover them.”
“Very clever.” Naomi smiled approvingly. “So we have a series of cases all occurring in the same area that were mysteriously covered up by someone in connection with the police. Why?”
“We’re about to find out,” I declared. “Fi, what was the name of the bar?”
“The Silver Horseshoe,” Fiona answered after looking it up on her tablet. “It’s in kind of a seedy part of town.”
“Wait just a moment,” Naomi stood suddenly. “Wasn’t that the name of the bar Penny mentioned? Remember, Miranda, when she was telling us that people who really wanted to get a hold of rush, they’d go and speak to a dealer that was always hanging around there?”
“She did say that.” I nodded. “Which means we now have two leads pointing us directly to this bar. Come on, Naomi.”
I jumped up, itching to get out and do some work. I hated sitting around, especially when I was in a bad mood like this. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins with anticipation.
“Alright,” Naomi agreed. “Let’s go.”
I got the address from Fiona before leaving the office and heading down to the parking lot. I jumped into the driver’s seat before Naomi could and stuck my tongue out at her childishly. As I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, I noticed that the sidewalks seemed busier than they had the past few days. It seemed people had gotten over the initial jolt of fear they’d felt at hearing about the dangerous new drug that was causing people to become violent, and it was back to business as usual.
“Tomorrow’s Halloween,” I remarked as I suddenly remembered myself. It had almost slipped my mind amid all the chaos.
“It is,” Naomi confirmed. “And it appears people are out and ready to party, deadly drug or not.”
“They don’t call it sin city for nothing.” I sighed. “To be honest, usually I’d be one of the people out getting drunk and having a good time, but our current case had put me off the partying mood.”
I watched the streets around us get sketchier as we got closer to our destination. The surrounding walls were adorned with graffiti, and I could see broken bottles and other bits of trash littering the sidewalks along the road on either side of us.
“We’re here,” Naomi announced in a foreboding voice as we pulled up to a run-down-looking bar. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was still beating down hot and bright upon the dilapidated building, but it still looked unpleasant and uninviting. The patches of grass along the front of the bar were overgrown and covered in weeds, and one of the windows to the right of the door was smashed in and covered with a thick sheet of cardboard.
“Nice place,” I remarked sarcastically as Naomi pulled the car to a stop in front of the building. A man in a dingy green hoodie looked up at us from
where he was leaning against the wall. He scowled at us warily before turning back to his phone.
“The bartender’s name is Dillon O’Callaghan.” Naomi went over the details Fiona had given us. “The first attack was between two customers, but the second was against him. We should probably ask him about it.”
“Alright then,” I replied as I pushed open the car door and stepped outside. Naomi got out behind me, and together we made our way toward the entrance. We were almost to the door when the man leaning against the side of the building suddenly approached us.
“Hey,” the young man who’d been leaning against the side of the bar snapped as I approached. “Bar ain’t open yet. Come back at six.”
“I see,” I responded as I appraised the boy standing in front of me. He looked a little over five feet tall and skinny like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. “Is Dillon O’Callaghan around? We need to speak with him.”
“What about?” the boy eyed us cautiously.
I pulled my credentials out of my pocket and held them out in front of me.
“We’re with MBLIS,” I explained. “We need to speak with him about some crimes that were committed here recently.”
The boy’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped almost comically. I’d suspected that flashing my ID and throwing around scary terms would do the trick, but his reaction was more intense than I’d imagined.
“Hey!” a tall, red-haired man barked as he walked out through the front door. “What’s going on out here?”
His thick hair curled around his face like a lion’s mane, and an angry red scar stretched from one corner of his face to another. He puffed his chest out and postured like a peacock in a clear show of intimidation, and I had to focus intently not to roll my eyes at the display.
“They’re feds,” the boy practically squeaked, and for a moment, I felt sorry for him. “They’re asking for you.”
“So you’re Dillon O’Callaghan?” Naomi surmised.
“Aye,” the man responded as he crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “That’s me. I didn’t know the feds made a habit of harassing underage kids. Who did you say you worked for?”
