The World Beneath

Chapter 26

A train drove Ozan back away from the blanket-covered form, and he lost precious time identifying himself to a passing patrol. Cursing his luck, he hurried back toward the platform, only to find that the gray lump had vanished. There was nothing on the ground but the pull tab of a beer can. He hesitated. Maybe it had been a drunk curled up under a blanket to sip a beer and rest within sight of other people.

He shone his light in a circle. There it was. A dog’s footprint.

At a jog, he followed the direction taken by the dog. They were heading away from the platforms and deeper into the tunnels. It felt as though they had a specific destination in mind.

Within a few minutes, he saw his quarry far ahead. He slowed, barely keeping the man and his dog in sight. He wanted to move closer, but feared that the dog would notice him.

He almost lost them each time that he and they had to flatten against the wall as trains passed. Even if it meant that he might get caught, he had to close the distance between them. If the dog spotted him and things went south, he’d kill them both right here.

When the man opened an underground door, Ozan ran to catch it before it closed, holding it open less than an inch. He counted to fifty, then eased open the door.

The man and dog were jogging away from him. He followed, wishing for cover, but it was one long, well-lit line. He kept his pistol drawn and ran behind them, not worried about noise. The clanking of steam pipes drowned out any small sound he might make.

When the man stopped at another door, he knew he’d never make it in time before it closed. Instead, he flattened himself against the white wall, knowing that the man would see him if he merely turned his head. He didn’t.

Once the door closed, Ozan walked up to it. Stenciled on its gray surface was an address: 520 First Street. He knew what could be found at that address. The medical examiner’s office. He’d identified his parents’ bodies here years before.

Ozan remembered the brain sample he’d taken from Subject 523 and settled down to wait. Tesla might be searching for the same answers that he was. Dubois’s request for brain tissue was too odd. If Subject 523 was contagious, Ozan didn’t trust Dubois to have warned him about it. The sample he’d scooped from Subject 523’s crushed skull made sense only if something horrible had been done to the man.

And what if it was a disease Ozan himself had caught? He’d come in contact with the man’s blood — it had even splashed into his eyes. Maybe that had made him sick, made him reckless.

He hated to think that what had been done to him might affect his judgment. His cool and collected brain was the thing that he prized most about himself. Without it, he could not do his work. Without it, he wasn’t so different from Erol.

He’d wait for Tesla to come back out and ask him questions. Tesla would have to come back through here eventually. It wasn’t likely that there were other underground exits to the building. And Tesla had to stay inside.

The heat made Ozan drowsy, and the rattling pipes aggravated the pain in his head, but he stayed in position. Sweat broke out all over him. He’d felt terrible since a few hours after the murder, and he had to have answers.

And Tesla might have answers for him. That must be why Tesla had come here. He, too, needed to know about 523. It couldn’t be as simple as cause of death. Anyone could see that the hammer had killed him, so Tesla must be seeking something else.

Ozan had to know now. He couldn’t kill Tesla. He’d have to wound him, interrogate him, find out if the fever that flowed in Ozan’s body had first flowed in 523’s. Once he knew the cause, he could find the cure. Once he knew the cause, he could kill Tesla.

But not until then.