P Deutermann - Darkside

Keeping his Maglite handy but off, he patted the Glock and started feeling his way in the pitch-black tunnel, heading back toward the vestibule above the storm drain. He called out Booth’s name but got no answer. He called it again.

“Yo, Booth! Or is it Count Dracula-a-a? Where are you, Booth? The doors are all locked tonight, so it’s just us chickens down here, Booth. And chicken seems to be the word, hey, Booth?”

He listened to the darkness, but there was nothing stirring. Some of the equipment behind all the cabinet doors was still going, but the ventilation was off and the tunnel was starting to get warm. He kept inching his way along the wall on the Annapolis side, bumping quietly into steel cabinets, wireways, and pipe nests. He called out again.

“Hey, big guy. Come on down. Let’s have us a little chat.”

His fingers itched to turn on the Maglite. He had a vision of Booth in vampire drag, hanging upside down from the tunnel ceiling, waiting to pounce. His hand remembered that powerful grip that had pulled him down into the storm drain. His knees and elbows still stung. But he’d seen nothing. He stopped to listen. Then he felt a presence in the tunnel.

Was something there?

He pointed the Maglite in the direction his senses were indicating and waited.

Nothing moved.

He took another sideways step and stopped again. “C’mon, Booth. We know what you did. You can’t win this thing.”

A voice whispered right into his left ear. “Sure I can, Hall-Man-Chu.”

Jim barely suppressed the urge to jump out into the tunnel and snap the light on. The voice had been right beside his ear, but his ear was right next to a solid steel cabinet. No way could there be anyone there. It had been a chilling voice, a metallic whisper. As if someone was synthesizing it. He lifted his left hand above his ear and felt around until he encountered a tiny plastic box. There was a screen on the front of it. A speaker.

“Because, Booth, like I said, the doors are all sealed tonight. All except the storm drain, and I have people sealing the river grate as we speak. It’s like Hotel California, Booth-you can come anytime you want, but you can never leave.”

There came a booming sound of something heavy being shut way down the storm drain tunnel. The river grate, right on cue. But the voice spoke in his ear again. “Who wants to leave, Hall-Man-Chu? I certainly don’t. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Jim began to perspire. Booth was speaking on the tunnel announcing system, which was a string of speakers scattered throughout the tunnels, so that the PWC could make announcements to people working down below. Shit! Was Booth in the PWC ops station? Or had he just tapped in? Yeah, that was it-he had tapped into the speaker system. And also provided it with some electrical power. Guy was good.

“So let’s chat, Drac,” Jim said, trying not to let his voice betray the anxiety he was feeling. If Booth could do sound, maybe he could do lights, too. And maybe even video. So Jim didn’t dare turn on his flashlight. “You can talk to me or to all of us.”

“You mean both of you, don’t you?” whispered the speaker. “Although one of you is-what’s the word?-indisposed.” A nasty laugh. “So what is it you think you know, sir, other than that you’re alone down here on my turf?”

Indisposed? He didn’t like the sound of that. Had he taken Branner? “I know you’re some kind of whack job who had something to do with Brian Dell’s so-called accident, for one thing,” he said. Then he moved back away from the speaker, very slowly, standing on tiptoes so as to make absolutely no sound. The darkness remained absolute. There weren’t even any lights from the power panel showing in the passageway.

“ Accident? You don’t know shit. Is that what Hot Wheels is telling you? Silly girl. She has it all wrong. Oh, and I know where she is right now, too. With that pretty little lawyer. You know her? Did you know she’s doing Julie’s daddy these days?”

What? Jim thought as he continued to reposition himself. He felt for the radio. He had to figure out when to call for the lights, but he didn’t want to do it before he knew where Booth was.

“Surprised there, Mr. Security Man, sir? Mr. Hall-Man-Chump? Mr. Lame -Man-Chump is more like it. Here’s whassup: I’m going to do you and your butch buddy there, then deal with Hot Wheels. Then, who knows-maybe I’ll just go radio-silent and wait to throw my hat in the air with the rest of my sterling classmates.”

Jim kept moving, turning as he went, one arm held out in the darkness to keep himself from bumping into anything, the other holding the Maglite close by his hip, ready to snap it on. He thought he was moving back down toward the dogleg turn, closer to the Fort Severn doors. Was Booth using a radio to key the speakers? If so, he could be anywhere in the tunnel complex. Or right behind him.

“No way, Booth,” he said. “We’ve told too many people about you. Your name’s already on the graduation hold list.”

The voice just laughed. Jim had moved far enough away from his starting point to be between speakers now, and the voice had an echo to it. He still sensed that there was some human presence nearby, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. “Not what I’ve heard, Mr. Security Officer, sir,” Booth whispered. “The word in the third is that the Dark Side’s gonna rug this one. The dant’s had some guidance from on high. Accident. All an accident. Very sad, but there you are. Told those naughty mid coolies not to go up on the roof. Told ’em a million times.”

“All true, Booth,” Jim said, stopping in place now and listening hard. “Except Julie’s given NCIS enough to reopen this thing. I personally told the supe we’d be reopening, or he could read it in the newspapers. And you know how the supe hates newspapers.”

“She can’t get me without getting herself,” the voice said softly, as if Booth were closer. Much less of an echo. “I know her. You don’t. She’s complex, Julie is. And she’ll never do that. Life for Julie is all about Julie, see. And without her, you and your rent-a-cop pals got jackshit. Most importantly, the Dark Side wants it over, Mr. Hall, sir. Even if you leak to the Annapolis crab wrapper, no one’s going to give a shit. By direction.”

“So where’s the Goth girl, Booth? What happened to little Miss Natter? Do you happen to know? Annapolis cops are looking into that one, by the way. They won’t care what the SecNav has to say.”

“They don’t care, period, Mr. Insecurity Officer, sir. It’s a missing persons case. And besides, if it all goes south, I’m prepared to do the honorable thing. And the name wasn’t Natter. In her world, she was Krill.”

“Krill, Drill, Snapping Shrimp, for all I care,” Jim said. “But we’ve given them your name as our best bet for the downtown Batman. See, the issue is time. Their investigation will take more time than you’ve got days left here. And that will give us time to pull the scab on Dell. You’re done, shithead. Come on down!”

Booth didn’t answer this time. Jim bumped into something on the side of the tunnel. He felt behind him and his fingers told him it was a door. It was ajar. There was a strange chemical smell coming from behind the door. He picked up the radio and called softly, “Lights on.” Nothing happened.

He called again, louder this time, feeling with his fingers for the radio’s power switch to make sure it was on. He heard what sounded like fading laughter coming from the speakers, then silence. The radio appeared to be working. Had the son of a bitch trashed the retransmitter? Screw it, he thought, and snapped on the Maglite.

The tunnel was empty in both directions. The concrete was strangely gray in the blue-white beam of the Maglite. There was enough humidity in the air now that he could actually see the shape of the beam. He was standing right next to the equipment room. He nudged the door open with his foot. The chemical stink was stronger. A can clinked as it rolled out of the way. Shining the light on it, he saw that it was a can of diesel engine-starter fluid. And then he saw Branner. She was slumped against a telephone switchboard cabinet. There was a swatch of duct tape plastered over her mouth, and what looked like a small sponge sticking up out of it under her nostrils. There was more duct tape wrapped around her arms and legs.