ARKANE Thrillers Books 7-9

Chapter 8

8

THE SOUND OF GOSPEL music came from the passage that led under Bethesda Terrace. The voices of a young black choir soared in glory and the acoustics of the space resonated with harmonies.

Jake noticed one young woman, her dreadlocks tied back with a red scarf and her arms lifted to the ornate ceiling above. As she sang, she stepped in time with the choir, their simple choreography a way to bring the body into worship. For a moment, Jake was taken back to the townships in South Africa, when as a child he had always been jealous of the way the black community sang with such abandon, such joy. His own white church had been a place of dull song with no passion, a controlled droning that seemed intent on crushing the lively spirit.

Naomi sang a few lines of the tune as they walked past and danced a little, joining the choir in a moment that transcended the pain they had just witnessed at the convent.

"You have a lovely voice," Jake said, noting how her face lit up and her body relaxed as she moved, a glimpse of the woman behind the agent's facade.

"Years of Pentecostal worship," Naomi said, with a smile that spoke of deep contentment. "I'm not exactly a committed believer these days, but boy, do I love the music. I think that many people just go to church to sing and experience the bliss of communal voice. Whether the Lord gave us music, or whether we found it ourselves, it surely is one of the best ways to open the mind to something more than the mundane."

They walked out onto the stone terrace in front of the most famous angel in New York, the Angel of the Waters, standing tall over the large fountain. The bronze figure looked as if she had just touched down from a heavenly descent, one arm out to bless those who came here seeking help. Her wings were outstretched and currently a roost for a number of pigeons that sat atop the sculpture, preening their feathers in the sun. Groups of tourists snapped pictures of the scene as a clamor of bike bells filled the air. A group of tour riders arrived, their guide gesticulating as he explained the fountain's origin within Central Park.

"She's meant to be the angel from the gospel of John, chapter five," Naomi said. "An angel would come down and stir the waters of the pool of Bethesda. Any who entered after the blessing would emerge healed. I think that many come to New York wanting the same miracle in their lives – a resurrection of sorts, or a rebirth."

"What do you expect to find here?" Jake asked, looking around.

Naomi shrugged. "I'm not so sure, to be honest, but this is the most well-known angel in the city. With the Enochian language on the cross and so many angelic references, I have to think that this is connected somehow. Let's at least check it out."

They walked around the perimeter of the fountain, navigating the throngs of tourists taking photos and lovers kissing on the edge, fingers entwined in the water. There were coins in the fountain, thrown in for wishes perhaps.

Jake fumbled in his pocket for a quarter and leaned over the water. He let it slip under, sending out a thought for Morgan, hoping that she was safe. Perhaps she was even thinking of him too.

Applause rippled out from the passage and the choir emerged for a break between sets. A couple of members from the group lit cigarettes and turned their faces to the beaming sun as they reveled in the beautiful day. Another sold CDs to the appreciative tourists who had gathered to listen. Jake noticed the young woman with dreadlocks and the red scarf emerge with a backpack. She looked around at the fountain and scanned the crowd. She caught Jake's eye and walked towards them, waving a little.

"Hi," she said. "Don't worry, I'm not asking for anything."

Jake laughed. "I thought your performance was excellent. I'd be happy to put some money in the hat."

"Can we help you with anything?" Naomi said, stepping closer.

The young woman smiled and pulled out her cell phone.

"Actually, I think I'm here to help you. I'm Regina – I just got a text message. I can't say from who, but she says you did something to help the Order of the Guardian Angel this morning."

Naomi's face was serious. "We've just come from the convent. How do you know about them?"

"The Order has lay sisters like me all over the city who serve the community any way we can. I mostly work on the streets – I was a homeless junkie when one of the Sisters found me five years ago. I thought she was an angel, actually." Regina pointed up at the fountain statue. "Just like our angel here, the Sister held out a hand and saved me. Now, I try and help others."

"That sounds fantastic," Jake said. "But we're not looking for salvation."

Regina nodded. "The relic – I know about it. We all do. It's one of those 'matter-of-faith' things to most associated with the Order, but maybe it's based on historical truth way back. Anyhow, my contact has asked me to take you to a place that might help you figure out where the relic is."

"Sounds like a plan," said Jake. "Let's grab a cab."

Regina shook her head. "Actually, it's a little more complicated than that. Where we're going isn't exactly open to the public – and you won't find this route on any GPS."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "That sounds intriguing."

Regina looked her up and down, eyeing the tailored trousers and jacket. "It is. But girl, how much do you love that suit?"

After winding through Central Park, Regina led Jake and Naomi down a zigzag of side streets until they reached an area that even Jake wouldn't want to visit at night.

"Where are we going?" Naomi asked as they walked.

"It's more about how we're getting there," Regina replied with a smile. "I dated a sandhog once. He showed me a lot of the tunnels under the city."

"Sandhog?" Jake asked.

"I guess you could call them urban miners, construction workers who spend their lives underground – boring tunnels, building ducts for new projects, excavation, making sure the water pipes are OK. There's a lot that goes on under this city."

She paused by a grate on the sidewalk, pulling a tire iron from her backpack. "Of course, if we're found, we'll get arrested. But just act like this is normal and no one will even notice." She grinned, a feral look coming into her eyes, and Jake caught a glimpse of the girl who had once survived on these streets.

Regina glanced around quickly. There were no cop cars in sight. With one smooth movement, she wedged the end of the tire iron into the grating and heaved it up. She pulled it sideways to reveal a metal ladder leading down into darkness.

"Quickly now," she said. "Wait for me at the bottom."

Jake looked at Naomi and shrugged, then stepped on the ladder and descended.

The light dimmed as he went down, his footsteps echoing on the rungs. The sound of dripping water intensified as he reached the bottom. He pulled out his phone and used the torch function to look around. The tunnel was six feet at the tallest point so he would have to crouch to walk through it, and there was shallow water running along the concrete bottom. It smelled earthy with a metallic tang, but underneath there was a hint of the rotting decay and sewage that flowed through these tunnels somewhere.

Naomi stepped down from above and Jake resisted an urge to help her descend the last few rungs. His South African upbringing could sometimes be misconstrued as sexism and he had a suspicion that both these women were more than capable of looking after themselves.

"This is so cool," Naomi said as she looked around, wiping her hands on her tailored suit, oblivious to the dirt. Her eyes were bright in the torchlight. "I've always wanted to come down here, but all the official tours are waaaay too boring."

A clang came from above as Regina pulled the grating back over the hole and then came down to join them. She pulled a pair of gloves and a powerful headtorch from her backpack and put them both on.

"Sorry I don't have more gear for you, but this was a short-notice thing. We don't have too far to go anyway, so your phone batteries should last as torchlight. This way."

Regina stepped into the side tunnel, staying on one side to avoid the water channel. Her left hand touched the wall lightly with sure fingertips, as if the brickwork were braille and its message only for those of the underground world. The walls were brick blocks, like a prison or an institution, but Regina's body became more relaxed down here, and she exuded a sense of freedom.

Perhaps she was more free down here, Jake thought as he walked hunched over. It was simple to follow the law when you had money and security, but when life was more extreme, when survival was on a toppling edge, it was sometimes easier to live away from prying eyes.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the tunnel becoming more intense: dripping water from the roof above, the burble of the water channel at their feet, the scurrying and scratching of the rats that made their home down here. Then, suddenly a clang from behind them.

Regina stopped, her head whipping round to look back behind Jake. He saw terror in her eyes, residual fear from her previous life.

"That's strange," she whispered after a moment. "I've never known anyone else use that entrance and there's no scheduled maintenance in this part of the tunnels this month. I know the rotation." She frowned. "I'm sure it's nothing. Let's keep moving."

Jake felt the familiar prickle of hair rising on the back of his neck as his senses heightened. Naomi had a hand on her gun and he pulled his own weapon silently, holding it next to his phone. Had they been followed from the convent down here?

They continued down the tunnel, emerging into a wider shaft with ledges that were high enough above water to remain dry most of the year.

On one of the ledges, a lounge chair with an ashtray on the arm sat next to a few boxes – a makeshift living room in this strange oasis of dark calm. Above the chair, unreadable bulbous letters in faded paint proclaimed existence below the skin of the street. Mankind has always marked its place upon the earth, from the earliest cave dwellers to these more modern troglodytes.

"I knew the man who based himself here," Regina said. "He was already old when I met him, and older still when someone turned him in to the authorities because he was sick. He cried when they took him away to hospital. I think he wanted to die down here, where he felt free. Up above, people tell you what to do, how to behave. I know it's hard to believe, but some people prefer this to the shelters." She paused, looking around. "Down here used to be my home. I knew all the ways to escape in the dark, but most of the predators are up top anyway."

Regina took another small tunnel that led off from the large one, twisting and turning until Jake was sure he would never be able to find his way back. In his younger days, he could track through dense bush where all the trees looked the same and still navigate to a water hole. But here … he shivered. How many skeletons lay forgotten in this warren of tunnels under the city? How many had become lost and died alone, clawing at the walls?

They stopped by a manhole with a small square grating on the top.

"We've got to go down quite a long way now," Regina said, shining her torch down into the hole below. "The entrance is off this access shaft, which as far as I can tell hasn't been used since they built the lower tiers of the place."

She pulled the tire iron out again and hooked the cover to pull it away. Naomi bent to help.

"You still haven't told us where we're going," she said.

Regina grinned. "I think you're gonna like it when we get there."