Crucible Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 5) (13 page)

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Haven’t you been listening, Daggers?” said the Captain. “This was before I was Captain, when Griggs was my senior partner. It would’ve been my word against his, and who’s to say our superior’s palms hadn’t similarly been greased? I’m telling you, the Wyverns had a long arm in those days. Besides, the money Griggs took was simply for him to pass on tidbits when the time was right. To my knowledge, he never compromised an investigation. He didn’t have to. As I said, the Wyverns were smugglers. They kept their blades clean and spent money to make money. They didn’t go around killing people. At least…they didn’t then.”

“And by the time you made captain, the Wyvern threat had long since disappeared,” I said.

“Exactly,” the Captain said. “I couldn’t very well go after Griggs for something he’d done years in the past. Not when so many others had done the same thing, and especially when I didn’t have hard evidence. Besides, I was in the same boat as you. He was my former partner. I felt a measure of loyalty to the guy, even if he was eminently unlikable.”

As I listened to the Captain’s tale, some of the stronger emotions swirling in my head began to fade, including the guilt. But that didn’t mean everything made sense. “I have some questions.”

“Shoot,” said the Captain.

“How deep did this go? You think there are still Wyvern informants in our ranks now?”

“Pretty deep, and possibly,” he said. “I thought they’d all gone dark with the Wyverns, but perhaps there are some who stayed in contact. Some of the old farts, like Griggs and myself. Or maybe they recruited new blood. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Are you sure Griggs’ death is Wyvern related?” I asked. “Could be he was involved in something else.”

“As much as it would pain me to discover Griggs had his arms elbow deep in anything else, I pray you’re right, for reasons that should be obvious from everything I’ve told you.”

“Because if it’s unrelated to the Wyverns, that would clear your guilt over his death.”

“It’s not just about my conscience, Daggers,” said the Captain. “Can you picture how this would look from the outside? Former homicide detective murdered after police captain hides evidence of gang involvement? Never mind the actual story is far more nuanced than that. When it comes to public relations, impressions are all that matter, and the papers would have a field day with this.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I clasped my hands in front of me and rubbed a thumb across the back of my opposing hand. “Why are you telling me all this, Captain?”

The old bulldog met my gaze. “I hoped it would be obvious.”

“I need to hear it from you.”

The Captain wiped a hand through his thin hair. His eyes, usually as hard as the rest of his face, wavered. “Daggers, for possibly the first time in my career, I find my self-interests at odds with what’s right. If it turns out the Wyverns were involved in Griggs’ death, then I obstruct the case by not telling the rest of your team what I know. But if I’m wrong, and Griggs’ wasn’t murdered by the ghost of a gang now dead for almost twenty years, then I risk losing my job and having my name raked through the mud for acting in a way anyone else in my position would’ve, over an action now two decades past.”

“But,” I said, “if someone else were to investigate the Wyverns—say an off duty homicide detective, acting on his own and without direction—and find they weren’t involved, all while the on duty team follows the trail of the two murders, that would absolve you of wrongdoing.”

The Captain sighed. “I can’t ask you to do this, Daggers. This is entirely your choice. I mean that. And don’t rush to judgment. This will either lead you absolutely nowhere, or it’ll put you in danger. There won’t be a middle ground.”

“You know as well as I do I’ll do whatever it takes to solve this case,” I said. “But you need to know something, too, Captain. If I
do
find the Wyverns and uncover a connection to Griggs, I won’t cover it up. Even if it implicates you.”

The Captain snorted. “I’m touched, Daggers, but I wouldn’t expect any less. Trust me, if this all comes crashing down, I’m prepared to take the brunt of it on my head. It’s because of my own negligence and cowardice that I’m in this position in the first place. Which is why this conversation never happened. You’re still on administrative leave, and if you try to investigate Griggs’ murder, it’ll be entirely by your own free will. Isn’t that correct?”

I nodded my assent.

The Captain wasn’t one for displays of emotion, but his head bob, chew of his lip, and simple “Thanks, Jake” spoke volumes.

“No, problem,” I said. “Now, I hope you have something else for me, because otherwise I’ll be all will and no way once I leave.”

The Captain glanced into the rest of the café once more, to assure himself of our isolation. “I don’t have much, but I’ve got something. Let’s say you were interested in investigating the Wyverns. I’d seek out a guy by the name of Left-eye Lazarus. I came across him as part of my search into Griggs’ involvement back in the day. He was an independent third party. Did odd jobs for the Wyverns when they had need of his skills, but he also informed for us. Fed us tidbits about the gang and their activities. He came across to me as an oddball, so I kept tabs on him long after the Wyverns had gone quiet.”

“And, hypothetically, where might I find this Left-eye Lazarus?”

“The last I heard—and this was a couple years ago, mind you—he was living in the municipal cistern.”

I lifted a brow.

“Told you he was odd,” said the Captain. “But I think you’ll understand once you meet the guy. Assuming you can find him. I’d check the main east west route in the original construction. Go in the morning. Tell him I sent you. He’ll treat you all right…I hope. Just don’t make any sudden moves around him.”

I rapped my fingers on the table.
What a decidedly cryptic statement…
“One more thing before I go, Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re being completely honest with me, right? About Griggs, about the Wyverns? About everything?”

The bulldog looked me in the eyes. He nodded slowly. “Every word, Jake.”

I considered his face as I mulled his words. “Okay.”

I shifted toward the booth’s exit.

“Daggers?”

I paused, ready to leave.

“Remember,” he said, “as far as everyone is concerned, you’re on your own. So don’t drop by the precinct, and don’t tell
anyone
what you’re up to. And for your sake as well as mine…watch your back.”

I nodded. For once, I’d have to. I wouldn’t have a partner to watch it for me.

20

I stood on a worn patch of concrete, flanked by hulking, golden griffins. In the sky above me, a fierce battle played out. Armored angels beat back hordes of faceless, misshapen demons, their claws sharp and their teeth flashing gray in the early morning sun. At the center of the melee, a perfectly-chiseled archangel lifted his sword, ready to impale a hideous abomination bearing down on him from the thick of the teeming black mass.

Unfortunately for the participants, neither the light nor the dark appeared to be making much progress. Perhaps if the archangel were a little less chiseled—in the literal sense.

I tore my eyes from the marble frieze and pushed into the municipal library’s main branch. Inside, past a high-ceilinged rotunda adorned with more images of celestial conflicts, I found the help desk, though the term was a bit of a misnomer. It was, after all, garrisoned with a librarian.

The public servant in question—a woman in her middle years, with graying hair, a seasoned frown, and spectacles connected at the temples by a fine cord—guarded the round expanse of wood with nothing more than her matronly presence. She glanced at my legs as I approached.

“Expecting rain?” she said in a reedy voice.

My galoshes had attracted more than their fair share of sideways looks already. I wasn’t in the mood for more banter. “Not quite. I need to locate blueprints for the city’s cistern and all that it connects to. Know where I could find that?”

The librarian narrowed an eye. “And what would you need it for?”

I reached into my jacket and produced my badge. “Official business.”

The woman snorted, clearly displeased that her limited authority had been supplanted by my own. “Follow me.”

She rose and led me on a journey, past overflowing stacks and sparsely populated aisles, through modern additions and into spaces that made my nose wrinkle with ancient dust, before eventually depositing me at the base of a three-story circular room in the restricted section, this one with a sign over the entrance marked ‘City Planning.’

Some additional help on the part of the librarian and her eyeglass retainers wouldn’t have been unwelcome, but she scrammed with an alacrity that made me think she was either being paid too much or too little, depending on how I interpreted the gesture. Nonetheless, after a fair amount of searching I was able to find what I came for.

I pulled the blueprints and associated reference materials from a stack and spread them on a wide table at the base of the room. Through the latter, I learned that the portion of the cistern east of the Earl was over four hundred years old, that it had initially been used for rainfall collection, and that it had been renovated a century and a half ago to change its purpose from runoff control to emergency overflow if the Earl overstepped its bounds. With that riveting knowledge in mind, I committed the blueprints to memory and headed out.

After a long rickshaw ride across the Bridge and some hearty walking in my decidedly non-orthotic rain boots, I found myself in the western reaches of the industrial district, at the foot of a small shack tucked behind a carpentry supply shop. Brown paint peeled from the side of the shack in long strips, like bark from a hickory tree, and the roof looked ready to collapse if the sky came through on its threat of snow.

I tested the door and, much to my surprise, found it unlocked. Even more to my surprise, I didn’t find the interior populated by cats, raccoons, or drunken mendicants, through some pungent whiffs indicated at least two of the three had made their beds here before. A small sign on the wall read ‘C.E. 11 East.’ A heavy, iron manhole cover dominated the center of the cold floor.

Thankfully the transients who’d used the shack as a restroom hadn’t completely cleaned it out. I crossed to the far wall and liberated a lantern from a hook, lighting it with a tinderbox I found in its base. I set that on the ground as I lifted a heavy metal pole from a rack. I jammed the end into one of the pick holes on the manhole cover and tugged. The round metal disk slid to the side with a harsh grate.

I replaced the tool and grabbed the lantern, then paused as I stared into the black hole that descended into the earth. Even with the lantern in hand, I could only see six rungs on the ladder within. I couldn’t help but think about the case and the Captain’s non-binding orders and Griggs’ mysterious involvement in it all. Apparently fate wasn’t content with offering me a mere
metaphorical
descent into darkness.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, hooked my lantern onto my belt to free my hands, and slid my feet into the abyss.

The light of my lantern pierced the midnight shroud, but its rays couldn’t pass through stone. Brick and iron blurred inches from my face as I descended into the tube rung by rung. My boots squeaked and my lantern clacked as it bounced off the iron bars. I braced myself for a chill as I went ever deeper, but unlike the morgue, none came.

The brick in front of me disappeared, and the light from my lantern shot out into the nether. I descended a few more rungs before my ladder unceremoniously ended. I dropped the rest of the way, and my boots plunged into three inches of water with a splash. I paused, letting my eyes adjust.

As I glanced around me while I liberated my light source, three thoughts crossed my mind: that my lantern was
woefully
inadequate for the space, that my brain had better be up to the task of translating a blueprint into spatial coordinates without the markers of sun and sky, and that I was a fool for never having come down here before.

Lavish Corinthian columns, pockmarked and weathered from age, held up vaulted ceilings of brick and mortar, all painted in brushstrokes of brown and orange and beige from the flame in my hand. They stretched in all directions, evenly spaced and perfectly aligned, fading into the darkness. As the ripples from my feet died, the floor became a mirror, so clear I could discern as much of the ceiling from looking down as up.

I shook my head. Four hundred years ago the city could afford to build this, and now they couldn’t even offer me a competitive wage?
Progress…

I consulted with my mental map, checking it against the orientation of the ladder-bearing chute, and stomped off in a direction that seemed a little darker than the rest.

My feet splashed as I walked, but I tried not to let the monotonous sound distract me from my goal. Coming in from the eleventh east entrance, I knew I had to head north and then bear west toward the river. That would put me on the main path towards the overflow chamber, which shouldn’t deviate until the banks of the Earl. I could traverse it, looking for Lazarus along the way without getting lost—hopefully—although how or why anyone would bother living in a cistern was a mystery that would have to wait to be solved. Apparently I should’ve asked the Captain a few more questions about his acquaintance before stomping off into the night.

I entered the overflow passage, which featured a single row of columns on either side and a substantially higher ceiling than the first room, and got moving. Water rose along the side of my boots as I walked, but not quickly. Four inches, then five, as I wandered down the tunnel, my eyes straining into the darkness for signs of life.

I made it to six before I spotted the first anomaly: a metal pole, stretching from the water to the bricks above. A heavy cable looped around the top faded into the darkness beyond.

I followed it to another set of poles, three this time, all attached by cables to each other and to the first.