The Austin Job (18 page)

Lifting his head toward the ceiling, he invited the brittle screams of agony to wash over him—to rinse his skin of shame and guilt and loss. The heat of the flames curled the hair on his arms as the crispness of mortal pain peeled from human lungs like husks from corn.

Purging weakness and corruption from humanity restored him, if only temporarily.

EIGHTEEN

Hell’s Gates

After a brief debate in which both men argued they should give it up and head back, they both lost and decided to push on. Starr felt they’d buried themselves so deep that tunneling through to China would be the fastest way out. Still, crunching over the lifeless husk of the scorpion he’d riddled full of bullet holes grated on him worse than nails on a blackboard.

Lickter felt they were close, that Oleg had sprung the scorpions as the final trap outside his secret underground lair. As the sheriff stopped the rattling, one-eyed wreck of a streetcar at yet another junction, Starr felt like saying, “I told me so. I’m never going to see the sun again.”

For a moment they sat there listening to the diesel engine idle, sputter and shimmy. “Hold on.” Lickter exited the car. Moving around in front, he stooped to look at the rails, repeating the process for all three options. Starr rubbed soot and grime from the back of his neck. Finally Lickter slumped back in the driver’s seat. “We’re in luck. The moss covering the tracks heading left has been disturbed recently.”

Starr exhaled, simultaneously glad they’d picked up the trail and anxious at what they might find waiting for them around the next bend. Lickter eased the car up to cruising speed as they rattled their way forward, pushing the darkness aside, only to be swallowed by it again as they passed.

“There.” Starr pointed straight ahead.

“I see it.” Lickter slowed their pace.

“Looks like a reflector.”

Lickter drew his .38 before remembering it was empty. “Here, reload. Ammo’s in a metal can beneath the seat.”

Starr lifted the padded bench behind them, locating the ammo box. “Nice. You packed the sonic gun.”

Lickter grunted. “Too bad I didn’t pack extra toothpicks.”

“Mind if I take it?”

“Help yourself. I like to hear my gun go off.” Lickter engaged the brake. “End of the line.”

Starr tried the sonic gun in the shoulder holster and found it fit, a little cock-eyed, but close enough. “You think we missed a passage?” They had stopped a hundred feet shy of the dead end.

Lickter reached for an invisible toothpick, swore when he didn’t find it. “No, I think this is the place.”

“Alright then.” Starr stepped out of the streetcar for the first time since getting on it. The solid ground felt good beneath his boots, but the lack of armor plating made him feel like a clam without a shell at a seagull party. “What are we looking for?”

Lickter followed right behind. “Hell if I know.” They crept forward, guns drawn. “A footprint, a crack in the wall.” Starr lifted his gaze to the ceiling, half expecting to see scorpions pouring out from cracks in the mortar. Lickter seemed to be shaking the same feeling. “Just no bugs.”

Starr stopped. “How about a bull’s head? There.” He pointed at the wall just shy of the end.

“Hmm. That’ll do.” They approached the ornate relief cautiously, stopping a foot short. The single light from the streetcar cast their shadows on the dead end wall. “Horns look like levers.”

Starr stooped, his shadow following his lead, and ran his hand along the base of the wall. He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, “The rails go straight through, and there’s a breeze too.”

“So these levers open that door.” Lickter stepped closer to the bull.

“But why two?” They debated in hushed voices.

“Two horns. One to open, one to close.” Starr raised a brow while Lickter spit. “Damn, I hate all these puzzles. Where’s the instructions when you need ‘em.”

“And what are those.” Starr pointed at the roof of the tunnel.

“Ah hell.” Two circular openings in the ceiling the size of quarters housed metallic nipples glinting in the light. “Whatever they are, I’m positive I don’t want to find out while standing right beneath ‘em.”

“What now?” Starr rubbed the scruff on his face. Remembering his vow to get a little dirty, he made a mental note to ignore himself from now on.

Lickter put his ear up to the dead end wall. “What do you think is on the other side of this wall?”

Starr shrugged. The two men staged an odd shadow-puppet show in the unsteady light of their Cyclops streetcar. “Oleg’s secret lab, terrible monsters, and unspeakable evil.”

Lickter nodded. “And maybe their creator. If Oleg’s home, I don’t want to telegraph our arrival. Come on.” He started back toward the streetcar.

Starr hurried to catch up. “But what if it’s just another tunnel.”

“Nope.” Lickter holstered his weapon as he swung onto the car. “Those are hell’s gates, and we’re busting in.”

~~~

Lickter shoved the accelerator handle to full speed. After sputtering, the diesel engine sparked to life, spinning its steel wheels over the slick cast iron rails. “Hold on. This might get ugly.”

Starr sat on the bench, bracing himself with his legs. “Hopefully there’s not another wall on the other side of that wall.” At 25mph he watched the single headlight shrink its focus on the dead end until closing his eyes just before impact. A temporary sensation of weightlessness settled over him as they slammed into the barrier. Lurching forward in his seat, he pressed back against the railing with the heels of his boots and prayed he didn’t continue through the windshield.

The sound of screeching metal grating against rock filled the cabin and pressed against his ears like water in a tub. Shards of glass struck his face and chest before lingering there, stranded underwater like himself. Floating to the right, his body struck cold metal plating as the car jumped its tracks. After losing the initial battle with the wall, finally a weak spot gave way, and the streetcar began tearing through at an angle.

Rebounding back into his seat, Starr witnessed black smoke pouring through cracks in the car’s frame like sand through an hourglass. The ceiling glowed red hot. “Fire!” He rolled off the bench onto his hands and knees as the car continued to lurch forward through the shattered gap, the temperature in the cabin rising exponentially. Molten flame poured down the back window until the pressure in the tunnel shattered it.

In a wave of angry heat and glass, the fire surged up the length of the car, knocking Starr to his stomach. Finally bursting free, the car fishtailed into an open cavern. Broadside they slammed into several tables of equipment, shattering glass and splintering wood along the way. With one last impact the car rocked onto two wheels before settling back onto all four in a cloud of smoke and settling dust.

“Starr, you hurt?” Lickter stumbled from the driver’s seat. “Come on, gotta go.”

“Go on. I’m right behind you.” He croaked into the floorboards.

“Good boy.”

He heard Lickter jump down the stairs and into the cavern. “I hate fire.” He pushed off the floor and heaved his knees underneath him, choking on the oily smoke. Finding the sonic gun still in its holster, he drew it and staggered down the steps. The first thing he noticed was the gas lights, vague orbs choked by lingering dust and smoke. Looking back out the way they’d come, the spigots in the ceiling still dripped molten flame beyond the jagged hole they’d ripped in what had turned out to be a metal door with a stone fascia.

Looking forward, he could barely make out Lickter’s back being swallowed by the roiling cloud and decided to pick up the pace. Lickter had veered left into the middle of the room, so Starr kept to the wall on his right. Carefully, he stayed within sight of the sheriff. As he crept forward the cloud thinned until visibility returned just shy of normal. But all he could see were benches, shelves and racks laden with instruments. Most of it seemed mundane, not at all his idea of a mad scientist’s secret lair.

“Oh God, no.”

Lickter’s voice prickled the hair on his neck and arms. “Sheriff? You see something?” He worked toward the center of the room.

The sheriff bore holes in him with his eyes. “You said she was safe.” His nose flared, lips trembling.

“Who?” Starr followed Lickter’s drawn weapon, pointing toward the floor. At the base of his feet he saw something that filled his stomach with more oily flame—a shred of Daisy’s golden gown. “I,” he nearly wretched. “I sent her to find you.”

“Dammit, boy!” Lickter pointed his .38 at Starr’s head, the barrel twitching. “It was your job to protect her.”

Starr narrowed his eyes, focused on Lickter and not the .38 targeting his forehead. “The room was about to explode, and where were you?”

Lickter’s hand shook violently. “I was doing my job, and protecting her was yours!”

“I did protect her—”

“Don’t you stand here and lie to me, you sniveling little wuss.” Lickter narrowed his eyes to razors. “You pissed her off so she ran away, didn’t you? You stuck your foot in your mouth trying to be the damn hero. Tell me, what the hell are you good for now, hero? Now that my little girl’s…” Seized with full-body shakes, he crumpled to the floor in a blubbering heap.

“We’ve gotta find her!” Starr shouted louder than he had intended.

Lickter continued to sob, scratching angrily at his eyes while clutching his .38. Finally he pointed with his weapon toward the wall in front of them.

Fear gnawing at him like a gut full of rats, Starr followed Lickter’s gesture until he saw her. His pulse quickened. His face flushed, turning both hot and cold as tears and sweat formed simultaneously. “No.” Pulled by strings from the ceiling, he lifted one foot after the other.

A mummified corpse, still smoking, lay in a tortured heap against the far wall—like the statues left on the capitol lawn, but more fully consumed. Nothing remained but teeth and bone and a remnant of human jerky stretched taught on the frame.

This thing couldn’t be Daisy—this heap of lifeless carbon. Reaching the feet of it, he knelt. His tears splashed onto the cracked bones, hissing and bubbling from retained heat. He cradled his head in his hands, still refusing to believe it. The loss forced him to admit he needed her—not as a prize but as a partner, a friend, a rival, a lover. The depth of his shattering heart finally revealed the truth. He gritted his teeth. “No. This isn’t right.”

Scooting around to where the skull’s sockets still smoked, he used his sleeve to lift the jaw. But it resisted. Swallowing, he jerked upward. With a crack the bones in the neck broke, the jaw dropping open. Remaining gases vented through the opening, racking him with dry heaves. Finally he opened his eyes and focused on its teeth. Desperate, he clawed back at the gnawing in his gut. “Did Daisy have two gold fillings?”

Lickter had begun to crawl in his direction, dragging himself across the floor. “Huh?”

“In her teeth. Did she have—”

“No.” The sheriff caught on. “No fillings. She has perfect teeth. Gets it from her mother.”

Starr exhaled, wiped the tears from his eyes and shuddered with relief. “This isn’t her. This isn’t Daisy.” Lickter shoved him out of the way, confirming it with his own eyes. “She’s still alive.”

“That Russian bastard has her.” Lickter stood and pulled Starr up with him, taking one last look at the body.

“Then who—”

“Oleander.” Lickter spit. “Her number was up from the beginning, a moth to a flame.”

Starr shivered as he remembered Oleg’s words to him in the ballroom. Someone had to put Oleg’s flame out before it could burn another, before he could hurt Daisy. And he wasn’t playing by Oleg’s rules anymore.

NINETEEN

Welcome to the Final Act

“It appears, Miss Lickter, you are new number one.” Oleg shoved Daisy roughly into the hatch of his greatest invention. Her hands freed, she caught herself on the rungs of the metal ladder descending several feet below the surface of the subterranean pool. But with her mouth still bound and gagged, she couldn’t voice her protests at being treated so poorly.

Oleg stepped onto the ladder directly above her, forcing her to jump down into the belly of the submersible. Frantically she tore at the gag, ripping it from her mouth as he turned to face her. “Monster!” She jabbed at him with her right before missing wide with an uppercut with her left.

Venom dripped from her barbed eyes. She contained boundless more strength of will than the whimpering Oleander.
Such a disappointment.
He caught her next punch, crushing her slender hand in his grip. Even the pain of it couldn’t extinguish her hatred. She gritted her teeth and twisted the limp hand from his grasp—tenacity enough to chew through her own arm if it were pinned beneath a boulder. He smiled.

“We share tight quarters for next hour, Miss Lickter. Is critical you behave.” Distracting her with his right, he slipped behind her on the left and twisted her arm. Blocking her left elbow he quickly bound both hands together behind her back, tying them off. “Enough play.” He had tested her spirit and agility, finding her sufficient in both.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill her, while knowing it to be a potential outcome. Meticulous planning balanced with graceful improvisation—they were the twin pillars of Buza combat. Live or die, she’d remain bound until he reached the dock south of the financial district.

“You like quarters?” He yanked a second restraint from the wall behind him and bound her waist to the ladder before binding her feet as well. “I panel cabin and conning tower with walnut for down home feeling. Plus soft on noggin when ride get bumpy.” He stood and looked her in the eyes, thumping her twice on the head and grinning. “You have something to say?”

“Why did you kill her? She was faithful to you.”

He sucked his teeth. Blinking slowly, he turned toward the helm and began prepping the sub for departure. His mind fogged with emotion. “She did not deserve to live.” Daisy gasped before falling quiet. He imagined his daughter to be like her—strong, angry, deceptive—offspring he could be proud of. He tried to focus on the task before him, but Daisy’s presence made him vulnerable—stirring up his darkest fears. What if his Tatiana was not proud of
him
? What if she could not forgive?