Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [53]
Tina, meanwhile, continued to speak over the phone, her voice a tiny squeak. Deciphering the data, Milo, not for the first time, forgot about the conversation with his hysterical girlfriend, closed the phone.
"What do you make of it?" he asked.
"The entire sequence is a long series of instructions. For what I don't know — yet. But from this time code one thing is certain. Today, this afternoon at five p m. Eastern Daylight Time to be precise, something really big is going to happen."
* * *
5:50:59 A.M. EDT
Hoyt Street Subway Station
Liam was still shaking when the Brooklyn-bound train pulled into the station, bringing with it the possibility of help from a motorman or conductor. The three punk muggers ran for the stairs, giving up on the case. Liam slumped down on a wooden bench, panting, in a cold sweat. His left arm throbbed. In a few hours, he'd probably have a bruise the size of Staten Island, but he could move it, so he knew bones hadn't been broken.
After the train closed its door and pulled out again, Liam began to search for the lost attache case. It had fallen onto the tracks, he knew, and he was worried the train had run over it. Then he'd really be in the shitter. He walked to the very edge of the platform, scanned the tracks below. There was no debris, no sign of the case, though its silver finish should have made it visible even in the shadows of the subway tunnel.
Liam figured the drop from the platform to the tracks was about six feet — about six inches taller than he was. He could get down easily enough, but would have to pull himself back up again using upper body strength alone. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind jumbled. He thought about the money he'd lose if he didn't retrieve the case. But what panicked him more was the money he might owe.
Shamus had done a lot for him, for his sister, but the man could be a real tool. He'd either take the cost of the lost case out of Liam's hide or make him work off the debt for months — or both. Earning three hundred was one thing, but owing thousands or more for a lost computer part, or whatever was in that bloody attache, scared Liam shitless.
No matter what, he had to find that case and deliver it to Taj.
He leaned over the edge, gazing into the tunnel, listening for the sound of an approaching train. Liam heard nothing, so he sat down, his legs dangling over the edge of the platform. Then he lowered himself to the tracks, careful to avoid the electrified third rail.
Oil and layers of filth covered everything at track level. Rats scurried around him, one ran over his foot. Liam yelped and shuddered. Then he exhaled and began to search the area, keeping one ear cocked for an approaching train.
His sneaker caught on a switching circuit and he stumbled and fell. His hand came within an inch of touching the electrified third rail. Liam carefully pulled his hand back. As he began to rise, he spied a bit of shiny silver metal — the attache case. It had ended up under a cluster of signal lights, hidden from view above.
Liam moved quickly to the case, picked it up, and examined it in the station's dim light. Except for a few scratches and dents, it appeared to be fine. He was tempted to open the case, check the contents for damage — but Shamus had commanded him not to open it under any circumstances. Figuring there might be some sort of alarm or something, he decided to leave the case shut.
With a rush of relief, Liam stepped to the edge of the still-deserted platform. Boosting himself up wouldn't be easy. And there was no way he could do it while holding the case. Reluctantly, he swung the case over his head, heard the attache land with a hollow clatter. Then Liam jumped and grabbed for the platform's edge. His fingers slipped almost immediately and he dropped back to the tracks.
Liam spit into his palms and rubbed his hands together. Under his scuffed tackies, the ground began to rumble. This time he put all his strength into the leap. He caught the platform's cold concrete edge with