Andrew Klavan - The Final Hour

We came out onto another platform now. A train had just arrived here. Its doors stood open and people were pouring out, then pouring in. The people who had just left the train were moving in a sludgy mass toward the exit. Others who couldn’t fit on the train were lining up along the edge of the platform to wait for the next one.

Mike kept moving, pushing against the thick cluster of bodies until we broke through and forced our way down the platform. I kept right behind Mike, but it wasn’t easy. I had to shoulder my way through the small spaces in the crowd.

After a couple of minutes, the mob seemed to thin suddenly-the grip of the crowd relaxed around me. Now I saw where Mike was going.

The platform ended just up ahead. There was a metal railing and then, beyond it, the darkness of the train tunnels and the tracks. A single police officer stood guard there, his hands behind his back, his legs akimbo, his back erect, his eyes moving and alert.

As the crowd fell away behind us, Mike continued down the platform toward the patrolman. Mike’s mustache curled as he broke into a rare, bright, toothy smile.

“Hey, Mike, where you going?” I murmured. I couldn’t believe he was walking right toward the cop.

But Mike either didn’t hear me or ignored me. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look my way.

Now Mike was just about to reach the police officer. Nervous, I turned and looked behind me. I scanned the packed platform to see if anyone was watching us. We had gone beyond the end of the train, beyond the clusters of people. Everyone was intent on where he was going. No one was paying any attention to us at all.

Then I faced forward-and stopped short. My mouth dropped open.

The policeman was gone. He had just vanished. I had turned away for only a second and when I turned back, he seemed to have simply gone up in smoke.

Only not. Because then I looked down and saw him. Good thing it was noisy in the station, because I actually gasped out loud.

The cop lay crumpled and unconscious on the concrete platform. Mike stood over him, beckoning to me urgently.

The next instant, in one smooth, silent movement, Mike vaulted over the low railing and dropped down onto the train tracks below. As I stood there in shock, he raced away into the darkness of the train tunnel.

There was no time to hesitate. No time to think. Besides, what choice did I have? I took two long steps and reached the fallen patrolman. He was already stirring, already moving his hand to his head as he regained consciousness.

I stepped past the patrolman quickly, grabbed the railing, and vaulted over.

Then I was running after Mike, along the train tracks, into the tunnel, into the dark beneath the city.

We ran into the tunnel, a close corridor with the train tracks laid tightly between the walls. We ran down the center of the tracks. There was nowhere else to go.

“Watch out for the rail,” Mike said to me over his shoulder.

“The what?”

“The rail.” He stopped so short I almost ran into him. He took me roughly by the shoulder and pointed. “The third rail.”

I saw it. A rail with a protective covering running over the top of it.

“There’s enough electricity going through that thing to blow your head off,” Mike said. “Literally. Step on it and you’re fried.”

I nodded, breathing hard. “Good thing to know.”

“Come on.”

And we were off again. Running through the tunnel down the center of the tracks.

As we went, I glanced back over my shoulder. I saw the platform behind us. That is, I saw a tall rectangle of light where the tunnel ended and the platform began. Some of the crowd was visible. The patrolman was visible too. He was just sitting up, just reaching uncertainly for the railing to pull himself to his feet. I wondered what Mike had done to him, but I didn’t ask. I knew he had a hundred techniques for knocking a guy out without hurting him.

The tracks turned gradually to the left. When I glanced back again, the platform was out of sight. Nothing but tunnel visible back there now. Up ahead, nothing but Mike moving through the narrow darkness.

It seemed like we ran a long while in that suffocating close space before Mike stopped to catch his breath. I stopped beside him. I bent forward with my hands on my knees, panting, taking in great gasps of the dirty, gritty underground air. When I lifted my head, I could see, by the dim lights hung on the walls all around, that we had come to the end of the tunnel. We stood on the edge of a broader area. It was like some kind of vast underground vault or something. There were columns here and there and, between them, I could see other tracks running off in different directions. I could hear the trains moving in the distance, signal lights sizzling and track switches clicking. I could smell smoke and garbage and the filth of the place. I could see green lights in the distance turning red and red lights turning green. When I raised my eyes toward the ceiling, I could feel the city up there, the enormous city packed with people for New Year’s Eve. I could imagine them gathering in great crowds, wearing costumes, setting off noisemakers, celebrating, ready to party, completely unaware we were down here and that Prince was down here somewhere, moving to set off his deadly chemical and kill as many of them as he could.

I lowered my eyes again-and gave a sort of jump. I saw rats snuffling along the iron rails, looking for something to eat. I made a face as I swallowed my disgust.

“Let’s go, Mike!” I said. “Which direction?”

A rat went near Mike’s foot. He kicked it away. “South,” he said. “If we keep heading toward Times Square, we should intersect with Prince’s route at the Forty-eighth Street junction.” With that, he reached under his jacket and pulled out his 9mm. “At least I hope so,” he added. He checked the gun’s safety and chambered a round.

I reached under my baseball jacket to the shoulder holster there. I drew out my own weapon. I did what he did: checked the safety, chambered a round. The gun felt heavy in my hands-heavy and deadly.

“We’re gonna need these, pal,” Mike told me. “Brace yourself.”

I nodded. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

He nodded back. “I know you will.”

“I can’t believe it’s come down to just us,” I said. I could hear the anxiety in my own voice. I didn’t much like the sound of it. “Don’t you think we’ll get any help at all? The police? Homeland Security? Anyone? They’re just gonna let this happen?”

“I don’t know,” said Mike. “You can bet Rose is talking their ears off as we speak, trying to convince them that this is real.”

“With our luck, they’ll probably arrest Rose while they leave Prince free to do his thing.”

He gave a laugh that wasn’t much of a laugh at all. “Could be.”

“We don’t even know how many men Prince has. “Yes, it does.” He holstered his gun. “You ready?”

Seems a lot for just you and me to handle on our own.”

I stuffed my weapon back under my jacket. “Yeah.”

“Me too. Let’s go.”

We took off. Instead of moving down the tracks now, we moved across them, from track to track, leaping whenever we had to cross the third rail. We moved through the big underground chamber. As my eyes traveled up along the columns and walls, I saw not only the dim lights here and there, but also security cameras. That made me nervous at first. Could the police see us down here? But then I noticed that every single camera we passed was busted and hung useless in its metal frame.

Mike stopped again, holding out his hand. I felt a breath of wind rush over me. I heard switches clicking through the great chamber.