Hard Case Crime: Fifty to One by Ardai Charles

Author:Ardai, Charles [Ardai, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Inc Clients
Published: 2011-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

26.

Grave Descend

The stairs turned twice at little square landings, but there were no doors at either, no way to go but further down. The only light came from low-wattage bulbs hanging overhead in metal cages, and few enough of them that there were stretches where Tricia couldn’t see a thing. In an act of what she first thought of as unaccountable bravery Charley led the way, walking in front of her into the unknown; but then she thought about the known they were walking away from and his eagerness made more sense.

“Do you see anything?” she said.

“Sh,” he said.

In the faintest whisper she could manage she said, “Well? Do you?”

“No.”

“Be careful,” she said.

“That’s good advice,” he muttered. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He stopped suddenly and she collided with his back. The gun fortunately didn’t go off.

“Door,” he whispered.

“Can you open it?”

She heard a knob turn. Charley leaned into the door with his shoulder, gently eased it open.

Past it, the light was slightly better, but only slightly. A long tunnel extended perhaps twenty yards before curving out of sight. It looked a little like a subway tunnel except for the absence of rails along the bottom. Instead the ground looked to be dirt—hard-packed earth, uneven and pitted, as though dug by hand.

They stepped inside, closed the door behind them, and Charley swung a metal bar down to latch it shut.

“What is this?” Tricia said. “An old bootlegging tunnel? Some sort of secret escape tunnel?”

“You know something,” Charley said, “you read too many books.”

“Well what do you think it is?”

“Oh, I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying you read too many books.” He started off down the tunnel and she followed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He crept cautiously through the tunnel’s curve, gun held high, finger tight on the trigger. They came out into another straight stretch. There was no one in sight, but he didn’t lower the gun. “You say ‘bootlegging tunnel’ like it’s something romantic. It’s not romantic. It’s ugly. It’s people stealing from each other, cutting each other’s throats. There are probably people buried down here, you know—nice romantic bootleggers who fell out of favor with Uncle Nick.” He kicked at the dirt underfoot. “We’re probably walking on their graves.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It’s the real world, kid. It’s not like you read about in paperbacks.”

“You mean like the ones you publish, Charley?”

“I mean like the one you wrote,” he said. “Bang-bang stuff, where the blood all washes off by the final scene and the bad guys all wear black.”

“You liked it well enough when I wrote it,” Tricia said.

“Sure. I just don’t like living the real-world version.”

“You think I do?”

They walked on at as fast a pace as they could manage, the tunnel stretching out more or less endlessly in front of them.

“I’m sorry, Charley,” Tricia said. “Okay? I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have written the book.”

“Ah, hell,” Charley said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“You didn’t ask me to make things up.”

“No,” Charley said. “But all you did was make them up.

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