“Your man was attacked today in the terminal.”
She knew that. “What you know about it?”
“He had moves.” Rufus made a karate-chop motion in the air.
She slid a ten across the table and resisted the urge to ask for a receipt. So far, he hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already know, but it was good to keep him on the payroll so he’d keep trying.
“Word in the station is, he took out two cops and ran off.”
“Has he been around since?” she asked.
“Maybe.” Rufus leaned back so the waitress could set a loaded white plate in front of him.
Vivian gave him another ten.
Rufus scooped up the bill, then cut his bacon in half with his fork and ate it, his movements surprisingly dainty.
Vivian usually ate bacon with her fingers, but she decided she’d better up her table manners if Rufus was more refined than she was.
“Saw a guy go into the tunnels.” Rufus took a long sip of coffee. “Not a homeless guy. He dressed in black, clean-shaven. He went down in the tunnels off Track 42, smooth as you like. Never came back.”
Vivian stifled a curse. This was definitely about Tesla.
Too late to call, but she texted Tesla a warning and told him to be on the lookout for a guy dressed in black, maybe the one who attacked him, in the tunnels.
Tesla didn’t answer, but she didn’t expect him to. He kept his phone in that stupid pouch, and collected his messages whenever he felt like it. Besides, he was probably asleep. Like she should be.
But she still worried.
Chapter 16
Joe’s phone rang. He groaned and rolled over in bed. Too early. It rang again, and Edison nudged his arm. Time to get up.
Could the bike couriers be delivering his parts already? If so, he had to get up to the clock to meet them quickly, or they’d take the delivery back. Bike messengers waited for no man.
He yanked the phone off its charger. “Tesla.”
“Still sleeping?” Celeste’s breathless voice sounded surprised. Joe had taken to waking up early since he’d moved underground.
“Late night.” Joe rubbed the stubble on his chin and yawned.
“Carousing?” She laughed.
He filled her in on the near mugging. With his luck, it was probably already in the newspapers or on a blog somewhere, so lying wouldn’t do any good.
“Tell me about this Detective Bailey,” she wheedled.
Celeste was never jealous, always urging him to find a partner, as if it would be easy to find a woman who wanted to live underground with a man who couldn’t go anywhere. As if he wanted anyone but Celeste — the Celeste of his twenties, when they were both young and healthy and easily in love. “Not much to tell.”
“Don’t be like that. I want details.”
“She just took my statement.” Joe checked the time. Already ten. He needed to get showered and shaved.
“Is she cute? She sounds Irish. I bet she has a great accent.”
“She’s a cop.”
“Cops can be cute. Like Beckett on Castle.”
“Beckett’s not a cop — she’s an actress.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he was plenty uncomfortable along the way.
“Is Detective Bailey cute like Beckett?”
Edison barked from the front door. He needed to go outside, and pronto by the sound of it. Joe stuffed his feet into a pair of slippers. “I have to take Edison out.”
“Poor baby!” Celeste said. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about him or the dog.
He thudded down the stairs to where Edison waited by the front door. He pulled on a sweatshirt, slipped into his running shoes, and took the dog out.
Edison raced ahead of him to the door that led out to the long tunnel. That’s where they usually went. Joe trotted along after him, stopping to enter the long string of numbers that would open the door.
With a grateful bark, Edison bounded through the door and out into the dimly lit tunnel. His silhouette paused at the end of the tunnel, before he veered off to mark the side of the tunnel, the beginning of his outside territory.
Joe yawned and trudged after him. He picked up the bottle of odor remover that he kept right at that spot and sprayed it onto Edison’s pee. He wasn’t sure if he believed that it broke down the odor on a bacterial level like it said on the package, but he had to admit that it kept the smell at bay.
Edison stopped to sniff the ground. His ears perked up. Probably rats. The dog could track a rat for a mile, but he never attacked them. Joe was grateful for that. He kept Edison’s rabies shots up to date, but you never knew what other diseases tunnel and sewer rats might carry.
He whistled for the dog. Edison barked once, a sign that he wanted to be taken seriously. He probably wanted more time to run around.
“Not in the cards today, buddy,” Joe called. “Come on.”
Casting a glance over his shoulder, the dog loped to Joe’s side.
Joe followed Edison’s look, but he didn’t see anything. But Edison often saw things he didn’t in the tunnels. Dogs had much better low-light vision than people.
Probably a rat.
But the back of his neck prickled while he stood at the end of his tunnel, entering in his security code. He and Edison went through, and he swung the door shut. Just before it closed, a faint crinkling sound came from the tunnel.
Maybe a stray breeze blowing an empty candy wrapper across the tracks, or maybe something more. He was glad the door was closed, and they were safely on the inside.
He checked his phone messages. Vivian had left him a warning about a man who might have followed him into the tunnels. That would have been handy to know a few minutes earlier and made him feel even more worried about Edison’s reaction. Maybe someone was lurking outside his back door.
His phone buzzed, and Joe jumped. It was the bike courier. Joe had to be at the clock at 11:30 (cyan, cyan: red, black) to get the various metal bits he’d need to use to assemble Nikola Tesla’s automaton. Joe grabbed a quick breakfast, then got some actual work done before taking the elevator up to meet the man with his parts.
Evaline gave him a quick wave when he came into the information booth. She was with a customer. Joe let himself out into the busy concourse. Lots of folks hurrying around, out for their lunch breaks. His heart beat a little faster when he glanced at the spot where he had been knocked down, and Edison crowded closer as if he sensed it, too.
He leaned against the booth to wait. Edison sat next to him. Joe looked around the giant room. His gaze lingered on the blue ceiling. He loved the constellations. He’d read they were painted in mirror image, either an artist’s error or a representation of divine perspective — God looking down from the other side. Today he couldn’t enjoy the graceful constellations. He felt as if he were being watched. Hundreds of people walked and stood in the giant room, and any of them might be watching him or not watching him. Maybe his feelings were just his body reacting to being back where he had been attacked yesterday. Or maybe they were serious. Nothing much he could do about them either way.
A sweaty guy in spandex clomped in. He wore specialized biking shoes that rang against the marble. Under his arm was a cardboard package. Joe’s parts. Joe waved him over, signed for the package, and retreated down the elevator.
He had work to catch up on and the GCT video surveillance archive to hack to see if he could get a good look at the guy who tried to take his suitcase. But he knew he wasn’t going to do anything until he’d taken on his father’s challenge and assembled Nikola’s automaton.
He had to know what his father had left for him.
Chapter 17
Ash liked The Campbell Apartment with its tall, open-beamed ceilings, bank of windows looking out onto the station, thick patterned carpet, and the air of old New York that hung like an invisible fog. He ordered a Prohibition Punch — a brandy snifter full of rum, Grand Marnier, fruit juice, and champagne. Prohibition couldn’t have tasted this smooth. It would have been harsher, forbidden, dangerous.