Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

In Japanese.

"The original construction plans," said Robin.

"Can you make any sense of it?"

She took the blueprints and studied them. All those months at the jobsite in L.A. reading plans…

She traced lines, came to a stop.

"Maybe this?"

Guiding my hand to a rough spot- a pimpling of the paper, like Braille.

"Pinhole," I said.

"Right in the center of this building here- his office. And look at this leading out of the office." She ran her finger along a solid line that continued off the paper.

Due east. Out of his bungalow, through the neighboring buildings, past the border of the property, straight into the banyans.

"A tunnel?" I said.

"Or some kind of underground power cable," she said, flipping the sheet and examining the back. "This has to be it."

A circle had been drawn around the pinhole.

"A tunnel under his office," I said. "That explains the night I saw him go in there and turn the lights off. He went underground."

She nodded. "He's got a secret hiding place, and he's inviting us to see it."

She lifted Emma from her shoulder, talked soothingly to the spider, and stroked its belly. Eight limbs relaxed and stayed that way as the animal was returned to its home. Pausing a moment, Robin smiled.

"Nothing like new friends," I said.

"Careful or I'll take her home with us."

I folded the blueprints, tucked them in my waistband under my jacket, and we edged out of the insectarium.

The rain had lightened a bit and I could make out the shapes of shrubs and trees.

Nothing two-legged… then I heard something from behind and froze. Scraping- a tree branch rubbing against something.

We pressed ourselves against the wall and waited.

No human movement.

Moreland's bungalow was just a short walk under swaying trees. Off in the distance the main house was visible- lights on. Pam and Jo back?

We made a run for it.

The door was unlocked, probably from Pam's initial search. Or had Moreland left it that way for us?

Double-sided key lock. Once inside, I tried to bolt it with the key to my office and when that didn't fit, the new one. No go. We'd have to leave it open, too.

And the lights off.

The door to the lab was closed. Moreland's desk was clear as it had been this afternoon, except for a single shiny object.

His penlight.

Robin took it and we crouched behind the desk and, shielded by wood, spread the blueprints on the floor. She shined the light on the plans. The ink had run. Our hands were indigo.

"Yes," she said, "definitely from behind there." Pointing to the lab door.

She gave an uneasy smile.

"What is it?"

"All of a sudden I have visions of something disgusting on the other side."

"I was just there, and there was nothing but test tubes and food samples. Nutritional research."

"Or," she said, "he's feeding something."

The lab looked untouched. Keeping the penlight low, Robin walked around, pausing to consult the blueprints, then resuming.

Finally, she stopped in the center of the room and stared, puzzled, at a black-topped lab table with a cabinet below.

"Whatever's down there would have to start here."

A rack full of empty test tubes and an empty beaker sat on the counter. I placed the glassware on a nearby bench, then pushed the table. It didn't budge.

Wheels at each corner, but they weren't functional.

No sink, so no plumbing.

But attached, somehow, to the floor.

I opened the cabinet below as Robin aimed the penlight. Nothing but boxes of paper towels. Removing them revealed a metal rod running the height of the rear wall.

Springs, a handle.

I pulled down, encountered some resistance, then the rod lowered into place with a click.

The table shifted, rolled, and Robin was able to push it away easily.

Underneath was more concrete floor. A five-by-two rectangle. Etched. Deep seams.

A concrete trapdoor?

But no handle.

I stepped down on a corner of the rectangle, pressed and removed my foot, testing it. The slab rocked a fraction of an inch, then popped back into place, giving off a deep resonant sound, like a huge spinning top.

"Maybe it needs more weight," said Robin. "Let's do it together."

"No. If Moreland can move it by himself, I can, too. I don't want to trigger it too hard and have it slam up in our faces."

I toed another corner. A bit more give, the slab bounced back again.

Pressure on the third corner caused it to yield further and I caught a view of the slab's side, at least half a foot thick. More metal underneath- some kind of pulley system.

Moving to the fourth corner, I felt myself being lifted and jumped off.

The slab rocked hard, stopped, then began rotating, very slowly. Barely making a full arc before continuing until it was perpendicular with the floor.

It came to a halt, shaking the floor. I tried to move it; locked into place.

Rectangular opening, four feet by two.

Dark, but not black- distant illumination from below.

I got down on my belly and peered down. Concrete steps, similar to those in the insectarium. Thirteen again, but these were striped with green.

AstroTurf.

Leading to grayness.

"Guess this is why they call spies "moles,"' I said.

Robin's smile was a faint courtesy. She brushed wet curls away from her face and took a deep breath.

Stepped toward the opening.

I blocked her and went in first.

The tunnel was seven feet high and not much wider, tubular walls of reinforced concrete, trowel seams marked by steel studs. The light I'd seen from above came from a caged mining fixture wired to the ceiling forty paces in the distance.

The astroturf lay over dirt, ending at a railroad track that bisected the tube.

Narrow track with polished pine ties. Too small for a train. Probably designed for a handcar, but none was in sight.

No rain sounds. I touched the ground. The soil was hardpacked and dry. Perfect seal.

Rapping the walls produced no tone either. The concrete had to be yards thick.

I told Robin to wait and returned to the tunnel's mouth. The slab loomed like a gigantic stiff lip. From down here the lab was a black hole.

I climbed the stairs, tested the slab a second time. Just as immobile- set into place by a mass of gears and counterweights, responsive to a special series of pressures.

Probably a safety feature installed by the Japanese army to prevent crushed fingers or accidental imprisonment. Probably some way to close it safely from below, but I didn't know it and we had no choice but to leave the entry exposed.

Maybe the best thing was to get out of here and wait till morning.

I climbed back down to Robin and offered her the choice.

"We've come this far, Alex. Let's at least follow it for a while and see where it leads."

"If it extends past the property line, we'll be under the banyans. Land mines."

"If there are mines."

"You have doubts?" I said.

"If you wanted to hide something, what better way to discourage intruders than a rumor like that?"

"You want to test that hypothesis?"

"He's down here." She gazed into the tunnel. "He clearly wants us there, too. Why would he want to hurt us?"

"He wants me, " I said. "He brought me over for this."

"Whatever, it's important to him. Look at all the precautions he took."

"Cryptic messages. Voices of wise ones… bugs- he's like a big kid playing games."

"Hide-and-seek," she said. "Maybe I'm way off but I don't think he's a bad man, Alex. Just a secretive one."

I thought of Moreland and Hoffman and their wives playing bridge on the terrace. Hoffman cheating. Moreland never letting on.