“I’ll freshen your drink.”

  She went to the bar and took a long time fixing the two drinks. It seemed to me that she was debating something within herself. I took the money clip from my pocket, pulled free a one-hundred dollar bill. She came to me with the drinks.

  “How long have you lived with Dooley?” I asked, taking my scotch on the rocks.

  “Eight or nine months,” she said sitting down.

  “Then you know him pretty well.”

  “Well enough.”

  I snapped the hundred-dollar bill. She looked at it.

  “Take it,” I said.

  Her gaze met mine. “What for?”

  “It’s a gift from my client, Gordon Pierson, Suzanne’s father.” I dropped the crisp folded banknote onto her lap. “He can afford it. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the country.”

  She continued to stare into my eyes. “I want you to know something, Larry. I’m leaving Jim next week. He doesn’t know it and I’m not going to tell him about it. I think I’ll try the West Coast for a while. But I don’t want Jim hurt.”

  “I have no intention of hurting him,” I said, wondering at the same time what she was getting at.

  Nancy had a pull at the straight gin. “I never loved him. I agreed to live with him because I didn’t have a job and was down on my last thirty dollars. During the first week of last July I received word from my mother’s solicitor in London. She’d died and left me five thousand pounds. I went to a lawyer here and he made up some papers that I signed. He forwarded the papers to London. I was going to leave Jim when the money arrived. But then ... then came the day when he was sent into the sewers with the others. He was terrified when he got home that night. I just couldn’t leave him, not like he was ...” She lapsed into silence.

  I let a few moments go by. “Nancy,” I said as gently as I could, “tell me what it is you’re afraid I might do.”

  “You ... you might tell the authorities what Jim told me, and then he’d get blamed for it.”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that. I swear I wouldn’t. But before we go into what Dooley told you, let me tell you what I think happened to Suzanne Pierson and her kidnappers. I think they were killed by creatures in the sewers.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “You ... know about that?”

  “Only from hearsay.”

  “Jim won’t give evidence, Larry.”

  “He won’t have to. I won’t even approach him. Just tell me what he saw down there.”

  “What will you do about it?”

  “I’m not sure. But you can be certain of one thing: James Dooley’s name will not be mentioned. You have my word on it.”

  She studied my face, nodded. “He saw terrible things, Larry. Things out of nightmares. Things that gave him nightmares. Alligators or crocodiles, tearing his friends apart. Jim and another man got away. They ran along a ledge, Jim just behind the other man. Then he saw something swing through the air and wrap around his pal. A snake ... a giant snake. Jim got past and ran along the ledge, then he heard a man laughing. He ... he just couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a man on the opposite ledge ... an old, old man with long hair and beard.”

  “The Rat Man,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Go on.”

  “That’s all there is to tell, Larry. Jim got back to the pump station and told them what he’d seen. A doctor gave him a needle and he passed out. When he regained consciousness he was with a big shot from the city. Jim wouldn’t tell me the man’s name; he just said he was a big shot. Anyhow, Jim was told that if he insisted he saw alligators or crocodiles and snakes and a crazy old man down in the sewers, they’d put him in an insane asylum for the rest of his life. He was also told that he’d get a good job in another city department if he kept his mouth shut. So, he said he hadn’t seen anything down there and he was given a foreman’s job with a garbage disposal unit.”

  “It figures,” I said. “They won’t admit there are things down there because then they’d have to clean out the sewers. That’d cause problems they don’t want to face. The city is near bankruptcy as it is. God knows how much it would cost to clean out the entire sewer system. An engineer told me once that some of the tunnels carrying raw sewage are over a hundred years old. If they used explosives there might be cave-ins. That might send skyscrapers crashing down.”

  “Jim told me that they have to be careful where they even light a match,” Nancy said. “The gas is so strong in some places that a match would cause an explosion.”

  “So the authorities pretend there’s nothing down there but rats.”

  “Jim says there aren’t nearly as many rats as you’d expect.”

  “Naturally. The snakes and alligators feed on them.”

  Nancy gave a shiver. “To think that directly beneath us are ... monsters ...”

  “Honey, you don’t have to go beneath the city to find monsters. There are seven murders a day in New York City.”

  “How about Los Angeles and San Francisco?”

  “Oh, the monsters out there are a lot different. Most of them have suntans.”

  Suddenly, she was on her feet. She threw her arms around me and went limp. I had to hold her up.

  “Take me into the other room,” she whispered.

  I carried her into the bedroom, lowered her to the bed.

  “Please make me a drink,” she said. “Gin on the rocks.”

  I went out to the bar and made two drinks. When I returned she was still on the bed but her negligee was on the floor. She sat up and took the drink from me. She raised her glass and clinked it against mine.

  “There’s a little monster in all of us,” she said, giving her crooked smile.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling the monster in me rising to the surface.

  “Don’t leave me,” she said.

  I didn’t.

  What the hell.

  Chapter 4 ... visit from a night person ...

  I climbed the steps to my apartment, fished the door keys from my pocket.

  “Mr. Kent ...”

  I turned and saw a shadow leave the shadows at the end of the hallway. The shadow entered the area of light thrown by the overhead globe and I saw the one-eyed, scar-shiny face of Carlos Taveras, spokesman for the Night People.

  “We had a meeting,” he said. “I’d like to have a talk with you.”

  I checked to see if my telltale was in place: a circle of paper the same shade of brown as the door. If it had fallen to the floor, it meant someone had entered my apartment during by absence. It was there. I used three keys to spring the locks, opened the door. Taveras slipped in quickly. I followed him in and closed the door. There was a sharp click as the drop lock fell.

  “Please,” Taveras said in the darkness. “Not too much light.” I felt my way to the table and snapped on a lamp.

  “I have something for you,” Taveras said. It was a four-inch high carving of a winged horse. He placed it on the table.

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  “A gift from Joe.”

  “Thank him for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “A drink?”

  “Brandy, if you have it.”

  I walked across the room to the cocktail cabinet and poured two brandies into snifter glasses.

  “Did you speak to your client?” Taveras asked as I handed him his drink.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “He gave me three days. I have until ten-thirty Friday morning.”

  “And then he’ll send searchers into our tunnels?”

  “That’s right.”

  “He’s given you an impossible job, Mr. Kent. Suzanne Pierson is dead. You probably won’t find a trace of her.”

  “It’s no longer a matter of finding his daughter, Mr. Taveras; now it’s a case of proving that you people had nothing to do with the kidnapping.”

  He sipped his brandy. “How can you possibly do that?”

  “There’s a question I should have asked you the last time we spoke. Have you ever heard of the Penitentes?”

  “It’s a religious cult in Mexico. They carry crosses and punish themselves with whips and chains to atone for the sins of mankind.”

  “Right. They also wear dark robes. Some years ago the Penitentes cult spread to the island of San Domingo. My client’s brother, John, was the American Ambassador there. He and his wife were assassinated by San Domingo rebels, most of whom are Penitentes.”

  “What are you saying, Mr. Kent?”

  “John Pierson supported the dictatorship of a General Alvard. So does my client. In fact, if the rebels take over the government on that island, Gordon Pierson stands to lose a fortune. He owns half the business on the island. If he stopped supplying guns and planes to General Alvard, the rebels would almost certainly take over. In other words, Gordon Pierson is even more of an enemy to the rebels than his brother was.”

  The hood moved as Carlos Taveras nodded. “I see what you’re getting at. You think it’s possible that San Domingo Penitentes kidnapped your client’s daughter.”

  “Yes. But because they wear dark robes as you do, Gordon Pierson believed that you kidnapped his daughter when McDermott told him that he’d seen four dark-robed figures take Suzanne into that tunnel.”

  “Did you discuss all this with your client, Mr. Kent? I mean, did you mention the possibility that San Domingo Penitentes kidnapped his daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wouldn’t listen to me. But I’ve been thinking it over. He has a lot of influence with the government. He can find out if people from San Domingo entered the country recently.”

  Taveras finished his drink, placed the glass on the table. His back to me, he said, “We have an extensive library down in the tunnels. During the last twenty-four hours I’ve read every word we have ... books, newspapers, magazines ... on Gordon Pierson. He’s a stubborn man ... intractable once he makes up his mind. I believe there is something personal about his decision to raid our tunnels. There was a very revealing article about him in Time magazine six or seven months ago. Gordon Pierson believes there should be a comprehensive file on every citizen in the United States. In his opinion, the Government should be able to put its finger on any person in this country at any given time. In other words, he’s in favor of a police state. We, the Night People, do not fit in with what he thinks is right for this country. If he had his way, we, the Amish people in Pennsylvania, the ascetic Jews who lived together in small communities, and all others like us, would be forced to send their children to state-run schools. Everyone, without exception, would be required by law to enter what he terms the ‘mainstream of American life’. You can add the Quakers to that list, along with all other sects, cults and religions that live by a code of non-violence. May I have another brandy, Mr. Kent?”

  “Please do. Help yourself.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll stay with this one, thanks.”

  He walked to the cocktail cabinet, poured, turned suddenly. The one eye in his scar-tissue mask of a face glittered for a moment. “The truth is, Mr. Kent, we are vermin to the Gordon Piersons of this world. We don’t mind what he thinks. However, we’ve made a life for ourselves and we mean to keep it. We will not become objects of pity ... and worse ... in the outside world. We’ll fight to keep what we have and we’ll die rather than lose it. But if it comes to that, Mr. Kent, we’ll take a lot of others with us. And that’s not all. If one of my people is killed ... just one ... your client will be executed.” He paused. “You know we can and will do it.”

  A sigh came out of me. “I was afraid it would come to this, my friend.”

  “Will you give Pierson that message?”

  “I don’t think it would do any good. In fact, it might have the opposite effect. I’ll do my best to stop him, of course, but he’s a very stubborn man ... a vindictive man.”

  He turned to face the window. I saw his blurred image in the glass; a face out of a nightmare suspended in darkness. He said, “I only wish he leads the men in the search.” He whirled around suddenly. “We won’t huddle together like sheep and wait for the slaughter. We have weapons hidden away ... weapons we never intended to use. We’re an army, Mr. Kent; we even have our own military intelligence.”

  “Contacts on the outside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you trust them?”

  His teeth gleamed. “Completely. You may have wondered about what happens to ‘normal’ children born beneath the city.”

  “I have,” I admitted.

  “They’re not forced to live our way of life. That would be cruel. Sooner or later they would hate us for it. All the normal children born to us are carefully tutored. We prepare them for the outside world. When they’re ready, usually at the age of seven or eight, they’re sent to foster parents all over the country. They’re given new lives and the best that education has to offer. They never return to us, but they always remain loyal. Some are in high positions and send us money from time to time through certain channels. In the same way we get news of what’s happening in their world.”

  “Are any of them living in this city?” I asked.

  “A few. I can’t tell you who they are, of course—”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “However, I can tell you that one holds an important position in city government. He doesn’t have enough power to fight off the influence of a man like Gordon Pierson, but the moment Pierson sends men searching for us in the tunnels he’ll get word to us. We’ll be told of every move Pierson makes; in some cases, before he even makes them. The hunters would become the hunted, and many of them would die.”

  I said, “That would send every law enforcement body in the city ... and the state ... after you. The F.B.I., and maybe even the Army, would be involved.”

  “Would you have us surrender, Mr. Kent?”

  “Just keep away from them. The other night you said there were tunnels under this city that only you people know about.”

  Taveras sighed. “I was cocky the other night. All the tunnels can be found with the proper electronic equipment. It would simply be a matter of time. If we continued to flee, sooner or later we’d be trapped in one of the tunnels. If it were a matter of eluding the hunters for a few weeks or so, we could do it. But would a man like Gordon Pierson quit after two weeks?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Thank you for being honest.”

  “I’ll never lie to you, Mr. Taveras.”

  Another flash of white came from the darkness inside the hood cowl. “If that weren’t so, Mr. Kent, I wouldn’t be here talking to you like this. We—”

  “Wait,” I cut in. “You said you could stay away from the hunters for two weeks. Give me those two weeks to try to stop Pierson.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “I can sure as hell try.”

  The hood moved as Carlos Taveras shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be good enough for our governing committee, Mr. Kent. They have voted to fight.”

  “But that would be the end of you!”

  “Better that than to be marched into captivity. Some of my people haven’t seen the outside world for more than fifty years. A few, brought to us as deformed babies, have never known any other life. You know what would happen if we were marched out of the tunnels. It would be a field day for the news media, but it would be the beginning of a lifetime of sheer torture for my people. We’d be shunted off to institutions. We’d be made to feel what ... freaks we are. Do you want that to happen, Mr. Kent?”

  “No,” I said. “But I don’t want you to die either.”

  “There’s a price for both living and dying.”

  I nodded.

  “We know you understand how we feel,” Taveras said. “We know because you almost became one of us. Isn’t that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t too long ago.”

  “Six years.”

  “We watched you, Mr. Kent. We knew what had happened in that deserted parking lot. There was a madman behind the wheel of a car. You’d sent him to prison for murder and he’d escaped. His one thought was to kill you. So he used the car to ram you against a steel-wire fence. He backed up the car and hit you again. And again. He left you for dead ... with most of your face hanging on that fence. But you weren’t dead. You were merely a man without a face. We were ready to contact you, to offer you sanctuary. But then the government moved in. The best plastic surgeons in the world worked on your face. After a long series of operations ...”

  “Twenty-three,” I said.

  “ ... you had a new face ... the one I’m looking at now.” A note of bitterness entered Taveras’ voice. “They weren’t able to do anything with my face.”

  “They can now,” I said. “There are new skin-grafting techniques.”

  The hood moved back and forth. “Burns are different than lacerations. Burns destroy everything.” The hood went back and he downed the brandy.

  “Have another,” I said.

  “No, thank ...” He turned to the cocktail cabinet. “Well, perhaps one more ...”

  “A certain branch of the government had my face repaired,” I said.

  “The C.I.A.”

  I didn’t reply. Some habits die hard. You never admit you were a member of the C.I.A. Never. Actually, I’d never left the C.I.A. I’d tendered my resignation but it had not been formally accepted. Now the Agency used me whenever they had an assignment that suited my rather peculiar talents.

  I said, “The government needed me for a job. The new face was part of that job.”

  “One week,” Taveras said.

  “What?”

  “I think I can guarantee that the committee will agree to wait one week before killing the hunters. On one condition—”

  “Which is?”

  “That you’ll continue to do your best to prove to the satisfaction of your client that the Night People had nothing to do with the kidnapping of his daughter.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  Taveras lifted his glass, downed the brandy. I looked at the statuette of Pegasus and said:

 

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