Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

wrong.
    Three long beeps followed by two short ones and then one more long one came over the radio. It was the correct code.
    “Copy code. You are go for instructions,” their leader whispered into the radio.
    A calm, almost chilling voice replied. “You might have a visitor soon.”

Chapter 81
    Luther sat down on the edge of the platform, dangled his legs over the side, and shoved off. He dropped two feet before hitting the track bed below. He motioned to Danny to throw him the blueprint roll.
    “Is it safe for us to be doing this?” Danny asked as he threw him the plans and then jumped down.
    “Oh yeah.” Luther pointed at the conduit that ran along the far rail. “Just don’t touch that, or you’ll go up like a pack of firecrackers.” He turned and began walking down the tracks toward the far end of the platform. “The next train doesn’t come down this line for another three and a half minutes. But that’s not a guarantee it won’t show up a little early.”
    Less than a minute later, they had turned the corner of the platform and were squeezing through a narrow passageway that continued underneath the platform. Light faded with every step, while the stench of sewage grew more pungent.
    Danny bumped into Luther as he came to an abrupt stop. Luther pulled a mini Maglite flashlight from his belt, clicked it on, and pointed it down at a square sewer grate. The far side of the grate caught Danny’s attention. Luther noticed it, too. He was about to say something, when Danny put his finger to his lips and shook his head. He motioned for Luther to follow him back out to the edge of the platform.
    The train Luther had warned Danny about was approaching the station. Its abrasive racket camouflaged their conversation.
    “Those are fresh scratches,” Luther declared over the noise.
    Suddenly, the train exploded into the station. It blasted musty wind around them, as its screaming brakes split through Danny’s head. He covered his ears and yelled, “When was the last time—”
    Luther leaned into Danny’s ear as he cut him off. “The sewers under here are inspected every summer and only every summer.”
    “So, you’re saying no one should have been down here this time of year?”
    “Except for when the FBI and TSA people were down here after the gas attack.”
    “Did you see them come down here?” Danny asked.
    “No, but I overheard one of the guys talking to his boss. He said they searched every inch of the station. If they did, they should have caught it.”
    Absolutely , Danny thought. If nothing else, FBI people were thorough. Maybe they did, and didn’t report it. Or maybe, like Crayton Ripley, there were a few more bad FBI apples up here in D.C.
    “You remember any names of the FBI or TSA investigators?” Danny asked.
    “I’m just a lowly subway grunt, Sergeant. They didn’t so much as say boo to me.”
    Danny wanted to inform someone of this new twist, but there was no one. He was by himself investigating what more and more looked like an inside job. He peered toward the platform as the train noise began dying down while he imagined the solitary scene of the Mexican wilderness from the cabin’s porch, the scene that was almost the last one of his life. He had an uneasy feeling he was in those same dire straits here. Only this time, he had to worry about someone else taking his life.
    He turned back to Luther. “Let’s have a look at those plans.”
    The train finally came to a stop, and so did all the noise. Luther squatted and unrolled the blueprints on the ground. “These map the sewer system from 395 to Constitution Avenue and from 2nd to 9th Street,” he muttered as he shuffled through the prints before he came to the one he needed, “including the part that runs directly underneath us.”
    Danny studied the page as the train began rolling, causing noise to fill the station again. The sewer grate was the starting line of a maze of tunnels that fanned out in every direction. But Danny needed only seconds to see the layout before it was tattooed on his brain.
    “Which way’s north?” he asked Luther as he stood up, ready to move.
    Luther pointed. “That way.”
    “Great.” Danny took a few steps back toward the sewer grate.
    “Wait a second,” Luther yelled. The train snaked its way out of the station, and Luther continued in a whisper. “There are at least two dozen different tunnels down there. Not to mention all the service passageways and utility corridors. You