The Zero Game

48

Down in the basement of the red brick building, Janos stopped at the charging station for the battery packs and mine lights. He’d been there once before — right after Sauls hired him. In the six months since, nothing had changed. Same depressing hallway, same low ceiling, same dirt-caked equipment.

Taking a closer look, he counted two openings in the charging station — one on each side. Thinking they were playing the odds, they gambled, he realized. That’s how it always is, especially when people are panicking. Everybody gambles.

As he moved further up the hallway, Janos stepped past the wooden benches and entered the large room with the elevator shaft. Avoiding the shaft, he headed for the wall with the phone and fire alarm. No one goes down without first making a call.

“Hoist…” the operator answered.

“Hey, there — was hoping you could help me out,” Janos said as he pressed the receiver to his ear. “I’m looking for some friends… two of them… and was just wondering if you sent them down in the cage, or if they’re still up top?”

“From Ramp Level, I sent one guy down, but I’m pretty sure he was alone.”

“You positive? He should’ve definitely been with someone…”

“Honey, all I do is move ’em up and down. Maybe his friend went in up top.”

Janos looked up through the elevator shaft at the level that was directly above. That’s where most people came in… but Harris and Viv… they’d be looking to keep it quiet. That’s why they would’ve followed the tunnel down here…

“You sure he didn’t just go down by himself?” the operator asked.

But just as Janos was about to answer, he stopped. His first wife called it intuition. His second wife called it lion’s instinct. Neither was right. It’d always been more cerebral that that. Don’t just follow your prey. Think like them. Harris and Viv were trapped. They’d be searching for a safety net… and they’d look everywhere to find it…

Gripping the edge of the short wall, Janos slid around to the opposite side, where a square piece of wood held fifty-two nails. He focused on the two metal tags labeled 15 and 27. Two tags. They were still together.

Swiping both tags from the board, he looked down at them in his hand. Everybody gambles, he said to himself — but what’s most important to remember is that at some point, everybody also loses.