Dark Light

Chapter 43

IT WAS MIDDAY, BUT THE COMBINATION OF THE DENSE fog and the heavily tinted car windows made the view so dark it might as well have been midnight. Sierra sat in the rear seat of the vehicle. The car doors had locked automatically as soon as she was inside.

She hadn't bothered with a seat belt. If she got an opportunity to make a break for it, she did not want to waste any time unbuckling.

They were headed deep into the neighborhood near the south wall of the Dead City, the most dilapidated section of the Quarter. Harlan was forced to drive slowly because of the dense mist and the narrow streets. She could see the back of his head, but there had been no conversation between them. Harlan had not lowered the window that separated the driver's seat from the passenger compartment.

He brought the limo to a halt in an alley and climbed out from behind the wheel. She heard the door to her left unlock. Harlan yanked it open.

"Get out," he ordered. He held the mag-rez steady, pointing it at her midsection. "Hurry."

"This is a Guild car," she said, sliding slowly across the seat. "Fontana probably has a way to track it."

"I'm not an idiot. This isn't from the Guild fleet. It's from a commercial limo service. Besides, Fontana has no idea that I'm here with you. As far as he's concerned, I'm his ever-faithful executive assistant, one of the few people he thinks he can trust in the organization. And he'll go on thinking that when I help him try to find you after you disappear."

Slowly she stood. "Why do I have to disappear?"

"Because you have been a great nuisance, and you are poised to become even more of a problem. I have no choice but to get rid of you. You have destroyed one of my enterprises. I will not allow you to destroy the other."

Shocked, she could only stare at him. "You were involved with the ghost juice business?"

"Yes, of course." He motioned her toward the entrance of a nearby building. "There were three of us all along. Jenner, Patterson, and myself." He motioned her forward with the nose of the gun. "But the other two were thick-headed hunters. They knew nothing about how to set up a profitable business enterprise. I was the one who was responsible for the pricing and marketing strategy. I'm the one who suggested we partner with the Riders to handle distribution and transportation. Jenner and Patterson took all the credit, but the truth is, they would have been nowhere without my genius."

"You built your business on slave labor."

"The least expensive kind." He herded her toward the entrance of a nearby building. "Jenner and Patterson needed me, but they never made me an equal partner."

"You mean they didn't give you your fair share?"

"Exactly." Rage bubbled in the word. "They said that I was just their accountant. They said they were the ones taking all the risks. I only got a fraction of what I was worth, not the full one-third partnership I deserved."

"That all changed when Fontana and the other members of the Council decided to force Jenner to retire, didn't it?"

"I saw my opportunity at last. Patterson was equally happy to get rid of Jenner. We both knew that he had become a liability."

"Who murdered Jenner? You or Patterson?"

"I took care of the matter. No one took any notice of me in the hospital. Everyone assumed I was there to handle the insurance paperwork. Even Patterson believed that Jenner's death was from natural causes. I saw no reason to tell him the truth. He might have used the information against me."

"No one pays any attention to the accountant," she said quietly.

"And that is just the way I like it, Ms. McIntyre." He motioned with the gun again. "Open the door and go inside. Hurry. I'm on my lunch hour."

"What a coincidence. So am I. Guess this means that neither of us will be dining at the Amber Club today."

"Open the door."

There was a dangerous instability in Harlan's voice now. It occurred to her that he was almost as nervous as she. Sure, he had already murdered one person, but shooting a woman in cold blood was a little different from introducing a dose of poison into an IV. Harlan was an accountant, after all, not a professional hit man.

Maybe that was the good news, she thought. If he wasn't a pro, he might not be a good shot.

She took one last look around, but she knew it was futile to expect rescue. The alley was empty. She twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and moved into what looked like the back room of an old shop. No one had cleaned for years. Grime covered the windows. A dank, musty smell rolled toward her out of the darkness.

"The door to your right," Harlan said quickly. "There's a staircase that leads down to a hole-in-the-wall."

He wasn't planning to shoot her. Definitely a good news-bad news sort of day. She tightened her grip on her purse.

"You're going to abandon me in the catacombs?" she asked.

"Yes, Ms. McIntyre, you will disappear underground like so many other unfortunates. Sadly, that sort of thing happens when a person goes down below without tuned amber. A few steps into the maze, and you will be lost forever."

She opened the door of what looked like a storage closet and saw a well of darkness. The cloak of claustrophobia closed around her, threatening to choke her. This is your only chance. If you balk, he'll shoot you right here. Intuitively she knew that the tunnels were her best hope.

"Here, take this flashlight," Harlan said. He removed the device from his pocket and tossed it toward her.

She managed to catch it. It wasn't easy, because her hands were shaking, and she was trying to juggle her purse at the same time. She got the flashlight rezzed and aimed the narrow beam into the darkness.

The old metal staircase was a spiral design. It twisted down into endless night. She descended cautiously, one hand clutching the railing. Harlan followed.

"Hurry," he snapped. "We don't have much time."

"Yes, I know, you're on your lunch hour. Tell me, do you really believe that Fontana won't figure out that you're responsible for my disappearance?"

"As I explained a few minutes ago, he trusts me. He even turns a lot of his personal business over to me."

Understanding sliced through her.

"Oh, damn," she whispered. "Of course. You handled the purchase of the mansion for him, didn't you? That was when you discovered the journal in the gallery and found the chart for that sector of the tunnels."

"I did a very thorough inspection before I recommended to Fontana that he should go through with the deal," Harlan said. Pride reverberated in his voice. "Due diligence and all that. Yes, I found the hidden wall safe."

"How did you get it open?"

He chuckled. "That wasn't difficult. The former owner had grown quite senile. As an aid to his failing memory, he had written out the combination on a piece of paper and tucked it into a little space between the wall and the safe."

"You were already thinking about how to get rid of Fontana, weren't you? You never intended that he would be the boss for long. When you found the sector chart, you started to make your plans."

"Patterson and I knew that we couldn't afford to let Fontana remain in the executive suite. He was too smart and too set on cleaning up the organization. It was only a matter of time before he uncovered our juice operation. The plan was to wait a few months before we made our move, however. We thought we had time, you see. We assumed that it would take a while before he became suspicious of certain matters."

"Not to mention that the deaths of two Guild bosses in quick succession here in Crystal would have caught the attention of the other chiefs and the Chamber."

"Precisely."

"You must have been a trifle upset when you realized that not only did Fontana hit the ground running, he took my investigative reporting seriously."

"Upset?" Harlan's voice rose. "I was stunned. Horrified. No one ever pays any attention to the Curtain. When I realized he had invited you to do an interview, I notified Patterson at once. We met in the Guild parking garage. He tried to take care of you before you even got to the office that day."

"The car that almost ran me down."

"Yes. Sadly, he missed you."

"The next thing you knew, I was marrying Fontana."

"He thought he could throw the mantle of the Chamber around you and provide you with some protection. He was right. If there had been even an ounce of suspicion that you had been killed by someone in the Crystal Guild, the Chamber would have torn the organization apart."

"So when you decided to get rid of both Fontana and me, you had the Riders carry out the operation."

"The gang does have its uses."

"Because it has no obvious links to the Guild."

"This is your own fault, you know," Harlan hissed. "I didn't think it would be necessary to get rid of you at first. With Patterson removed and unable to talk, I hoped that Fontana would be satisfied. But his latest plan is simply too much. My patience is exhausted. I am forced to act."

"What are you talking about? What plan?"

"Fontana made it clear that he intends to put you in charge of the Foundation."

Sierra's intuition kicked in again. "You've been skimming money from the Foundation, haven't you?"

"I have always looked upon the Foundation's assets as my private retirement fund. So much more lucrative than the usual Guild benefits. I knew that as soon as you took over, it would be only a matter of time before you discovered that someone had been embezzling for years."

"Namely you."

"It was just too much. I felt something snap inside me. All I could think of was getting rid of you."

"Something snapped, all right. This is a really stupid plan. Fontana will figure out what you've done."

"You said it, yourself, Miss McIntyre. No one ever suspects an accountant. Or an executive assistant, for that matter."

She felt a little rush of psi. A few steps farther down she saw the faint green glow that marked one of the jagged tears in the tunnel walls. She knew very little about mag-rez guns, but the one thing she did know was that they did not function properly in the tunnels. Once she was through the hole in the quartz she would make a run for it.

When she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she stepped out on a floor of packed earth and moved toward the glowing opening.

"Stop," Harlan ordered.

She halted a couple of feet away from the entrance.

"What now?" she asked.

"The mag-rez is useless with all the psi inside the tunnels." He put the gun into his pocket.

Oh, yes, please. This was it, the chance she had been hoping for.

She took a step back, preparing to leap through the opening into the catacombs.

"From now on, I'll use this, instead," Harlan said.

There was a flash of ultraviolet ghost light. A three-foot-wide beam of energy shimmered into existence directly in front of her. It was so close that the storm of psi stirred her hair. She moved back hurriedly.

"The sixth generator," she said. "You had it all along."

"This one belonged to Jenner. Now, into the tunnels, Ms. McIntyre. I want to make sure you go so far in that you cannot possibly find your way out."

"Don't worry, I'll go into the tunnels without a fuss." She retreated toward the glowing entrance. "But I'm warning you, Fontana will find me."

"No one escapes the catacombs without tuned amber, Ms. McIntyre. You won't be able to find your way out without it, and Fontana won't be able to locate you, because you don't carry amber. You have no use for it."

She edged through the hole in the quartz. Relief, a sensation she had never expected to experience inside the catacombs, made her feel wired and jittery. Either Harlan had not seen the photo that Phil had taken on her wedding day, or else the little creep had failed to notice one very significant detail in the picture.

Feeling much more confident now, she watched him come through the opening. The ultraviolet energy beam came first. She retreated a few steps, keeping as much distance as possible between herself and the dangerous psi ray.

"Start walking, Ms. McIntyre," Harlan said.

She took a step back and then another, trying not to look too eager. After all, as far as Harlan was concerned, he was sending her to a certain death. She did not want to exhibit any actual enthusiasm.

"Go on, go on, move, you stupid woman." Harlan did something to the generator. The beam got stronger and larger. "Think of it as walking the plank."

She retreated more quickly. There was a vaulted tunnel entrance to her right. Spinning on her heel, she turned and dove for it.

"Wait, Where's your ring?" Harlan yelled. "Where's the damn ring you were wearing in that picture on the cover of the Curtain?"

She heard his footsteps pounding down the adjoining corridor.

"Come back here," Harlan screamed.

"Oh, sure, like that's going to happen," she whispered.

She ran harder, clutching her purse with the ring inside like the life preserver it was. The seal ring thai Fontana had given her on their wedding day was set with a large chunk of amber that simply had to be tuned. No self-respecting Guild man would carry the untuned variety. More to the point, no Guild boss would give his wife untuned amber. True, she didn't know how to use it to find her way out of the tunnels, but as long as she held on to it, Fontana would be able to find her.

A dizzying maze of vaulted corridors stretched out before her. She chose one at random and ran flat-out.

She did not want to think about the dangers of illusion traps and stray ghosts. She just kept going. Fleeing into the maze was her only chance.

But when she risked a glance back over her shoulder, she saw the bobbing beam of ultraviolet energy rounding the corner. Harlan was somehow managing to keep track of her. Panic threatened her breathing. It wasn't supposed to work like that down here. Once you lost visual contact, you were lost, period. How was he keeping up with her?

Unwittingly, Harlan answered her question.

"You can't escape me," he shouted, coming toward her with the energy ray. "Jenner made sure that every Guild man was issued one of the new locaters, even those of us who work in the accounting department."

So much for her brilliant plan to lose him. Her only hope now was to keep running. He was older than she was. Maybe he would tire sooner.

Unfortunately, Harlan appeared to be in excellent physical condition. She turned several more corners but always, always, the ultraviolet beam followed a short time later.

She almost missed the faint shadow in the doorway. It was barely perceptible. But it rezzed an alarm somewhere in her brain. What was it Fontana had said? The ambient psi light in the tunnels creates no natural shadows.

She stopped, gasping for air and stared at the doorway. The slight shift in the light could easily have been a trick of her imagination, but her intuition told her otherwise. She was looking at an illusion trap.

There was only one way to lure Harlan into the snare. She hurled her purse, the ring inside, through the entrance into the chamber beyond. She was now without amber. If she lost sight of the purse, she was doomed.

Never taking her eyes off the leather shoulder bag, she stepped back into the opening of a room directly behind her.

She heard Harlan's hard breathing and the soft thud of his shoes. Then the beam of ultraviolet appeared.

"You bitch," Harlan gasped. "You crazy, interfering, stupid bitch of a woman."

He came into view. He had the generator in one hand and a locater in the other. His attention was fixed on the locater's screen. If he looked up and to his right, he would see her standing in the doorway. But if he followed the locater, he would look to the left and see her purse on the floor just inside the chamber.

Harlan looked to the left.

She did not know what he was thinking at that moment, but it was obvious that he was winded and desperate. He was not paying attention to small details like faint shadows where there should not be any. Whatever the case, he was unable to resist the bait.

He went through the chamber doorway, triggering the trap. Sierra did not see anything; the energy released by the illusion snare was invisible to the naked eye. But Harlan stiffened violently as though he had stumbled into a ghost.

She knew that the sound of his horrified scream would follow her into her nightmares for a long time to come. She clamped her hands over her ears and continued to stare hard at her purse.

A few seconds later the high, keening wail of anguish ended abruptly. Harlan fell, unconscious, to the floor.

She waited a few tense seconds and then stepped over him to collect the handbag. She reached inside, took out the black and amber ring, and clutched it tightly in her fingers.

Then she started to shake.