The Chemistry of Death

Chapter 28

Ziggy ran hard, ducking from one tunnel to another, changing directions like a fox chased by hounds. It would be easy to get lost down here, but he knew where he was going. The path in front of him was as familiar as his daily commute in the world above. He had walked these underground rooms many times, thinking even then that this knowledge might one day save his life.

He skidded to a stop next to a rusty ladder bolted to the stone wall. He dropped the lipstick into the pocket of his long coat and began to climb. The metal felt cold under his leather gloves, and his thin dress shoes slipped against the rungs with every step. The shoes were probably ruined by the stones he’d run across.

He struggled upward. His shoulders trembled from exertion, and his calves screamed in protest. He hadn’t climbed this ladder in ages, had forgotten how long it was. He concentrated on each rung, pulling himself ever farther from the darkness below.

Dim light fell through a square grate above his head. Not far. He would reach that light before his arms gave out, but what if his package was gone?

A small grate, barely large enough for his shoulders to fit through, covered the stone at the end of the ladder. He supposed this shaft was for ventilation, but he’d never bothered to find out. He didn’t need to know. All he needed was to get out.

Hooking one arm over the nearest rung, he felt the back of the rung above. His questing fingers found a dirty plastic bag wedged into the space between the top two rungs. He smiled. Still right where he’d left it.

Before he could get it down, he needed to make sure he wouldn’t drop it. His hands felt like claws, and he opened and closed his right hand to drive the blood back into it. His left hand kept its hold on the metal rung. If he let go, he wouldn’t survive.

Sure that his right hand wouldn’t betray him, he reached for a black object he’d left here a long time ago. Water spattered his face as he tore the plastic bag away from the object underneath. The air smelled of dirt and oil and urine, and he kept his mouth tightly closed.

He balled up the tattered plastic and stuffed it into his pocket. He’d take it with him and throw it away when he was far enough to be safe.

Mud-encrusted zip ties secured a long object to the top rung. He took a pocket knife from his pants pocket and cut each plastic tie, careful to keep hold of them, and dropped them, too, into his pocket. If that man found something at the base of the ladder, it might lead him up here. Not that it should matter that the man knew where he’d exited the subway, but it might. He couldn’t give Tesla a single clue. He was too smart.

The metal object was still wedged in tightly. Slowly, he worked it free. Dim light from streetlights above shone on long handles and sharp jaws. It was still serviceable, and he congratulated himself for having stored a bolt cutter here all those months ago.

The thick lock that the MTA had installed on the inside of the grate dangled in front of him like ripe fruit. This simple bit of metal was the only thing standing between him and freedom.

After a few false starts, he sheared through the metal hasp and put the lock into his pocket with everything else. He lifted the grate and climbed out onto the deserted street.

He was alone as he closed the grate and headed into the night. A block away, he abandoned the filthy garbage bag against the side of a building. By morning the wind would have carried it halfway around the city.

The zip ties he dropped into an overstuffed green trash can a block later. The bolt cutters he set under a parked VW a few blocks after that. The cutters had served him well, and he felt a pang at their loss.

The broken lock went into another garbage can, far from the first.

He had nothing, except for her lipstick tube. The lipstick was almost meaningless because he hadn't held it while watching her die. He hadn’t seen the life leave her eyes while he smelled the floral scent of 999.

He didn’t even know if she was dead.

This must never happen again.