Tenth Man by Tamara Sheehan	Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 appeared in issue 208
Chapter 4

It was growing dark outside, the seasons turning. The chestnut trees were red-tipped, the air was wet and cold. Fog was coming up from the sea, diffusing the street light so the roads were shiny and amber colored.

No one was out; the fog and the emptiness made the streets seem eerily quiet. Saul heard cars passing on other streets and the sounds of voices distorted and distant, but he passed no other people walking.

Howie was waiting for him by the entrance of The Balm, the hood of his jumper pulled up, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He was a slim man: a life of scuttling and climbing had made him rat-like and compact. He had been the only other person to escape from Audel Security Systems Corp. that night, and he knew Saul well.

Howie reached out and clasped Saul’s hand. “I was worried about you, man. Saw the filth go by with their lights on. Let’s get inside.”

Saul nodded and followed Howie down a flight of concrete stairs to the restaurant door. The interior of the place was lit with white wax candles forming coagulated pillars on the floor. A DJ had her decks set up against a wall. Downtempo thrummed; the air so heavy with bass it shook Saul’s gut.

He guided Howie to a table near the kitchen, beside a door that opened into the alley behind the place. They ordered drinks, declined a menu, and the waitress left them alone.

“Want to tell me what’s up with Nick?” Howie asked when they were settled. He nursed his drink against his chest.

Saul felt tired. He pulled on his hair. “Audel came to my place today.”

“Holy...” Howie glanced around, furtive after the outburst. “Are you shucking me?”

Saul shook his head.

“So he’s going to nark and shut you down?”

“Worse.” He drank, tasted the cold, the tang of lime. “He’s got pictures of me from the security cameras from... that thing that Nick was involved in.”

Howie nodded. “That’s bad.”

“What’s worse is the warrant to arrest, with both Nick and Saul on it.”

Howie sucked in air through his teeth. “That can’t be...”

“I wish.”

“What’s he want?”

“He wants me to find something for him.” Saul slouched so low over his highball glass his chest nearly touched it.

“That’s not so bad, is it? It’s sort of what you do. It should be easy. What’s he missing?”

“A ring.” Saul waved his hand dismissively. “Some guy has it.”

“You found it already?” There was a note of awe in Howie’s voice.

“It was easy, it’s just... the guy who’s got it flipped when I found him. He started screaming, freaking out.”

“He sensed you?”

“Worse, he knew what I wanted.” Saul drank. “It was like he read me while I was reading him. Weird. He was screaming “Don’t tell him” or something like that. Scared out of his wits. It was awful.”

“So this crazy junkie guy has Audel’s ring and you have to get it or he’ll sick the filth on you. Nice.” He took a drink. “Man, that’s screwed up. Really. I mean, the guy spends ten years screwing wizards and then when he needs one does he apologize? No, he blackmails. Genuine nasty bastard.”

The waitress came back, took their empty glasses and returned with more. She smiled at Saul. “Anything I can do for you?’

“No. Thanks.” He waited until she was gone. “See, I’m totally screwed.”

“Why’d he go after you?” Howie asked quietly.

Saul shrugged. “He says I’m the last in the city.”

“Don’t doubt that. But, I mean, he’s friendly with the Shier, isn’t he? He sells them guns and golems, he must have friends over there. Why doesn’t he use one of their wizards?”

“The guy is here, Howie. He’s living underground. I don’t know where, but I saw him, I think I can find him. I’m going to get the ring myself, get this over with. He was in a sewer or a tunnel or something. That’s where you come in.”

Howie grunted. “Describe the place.”

“Bricks.”

“Oh hell, Saul, this is a port. There are bricks everywhere. It’s brick city down there.”

“I heard water running. Could smell sewage, it was distant but I could still smell it.”

Howie shrugged, then his forehead wrinkled. “You said you saw the guy. Where was the light coming from?”

“Above.”

“A grate?”

“No. Purplish. Like old streetlights, but sort of softer.”

Howie sat back. “I know where he was. You know the purple glass in the sidewalk by the old Hotel Janion? There’s a whole network of tunnels under there. They used to be for rum running in the prohibition days, but most of them are filled in now. You have to be careful when the tide comes in, some of them flood.”

“Could you live there?”

Howie shrugged. “If you went deep enough.” He finished his drink and stood. “Come on, let’s get you kitted up.”

Saul left a twenty on the table and followed Howie out the back door. The alley was still and silent, the black concrete slick with a rotten-garbage sheen. The yellow fog had crept into all the narrow corners of the city, filled up the streets like alcohol in blood. It cloaked them, muffled the sounds of their footsteps, made their voices echo back. They went along Crest Street, toward the smell of water, of high tide, the sleepy rattling of gulls.

Where the neon Dim Sum sign left a red glow in the fog, was Howie’s apartment. He let Saul in. The light from the signs infiltrated despite the curtains. It bounced from wall to wall, bathed the small place in an orange glow. There was almost no furniture: a bed, a chair, a shelf of books and an old grey sea-locker, bought at a yard sale. Howie followed him in, flicked on the light, locked the door behind him.

“Nervous?”

“Hell, yes. This crap creeps me out.” He threw his coat on the yellowed linoleum. “I mean, the man hates wizards, everybody knows it, but he gets an appointment with you to find this thing of his.”

He opened the grey locker, began pulling out his gear. A blue and black backpack, a pair of steel-toed boots. “What size are your feet?”

“Ten.”

“Good. Try these.”

Saul kicked off his shoes and sat on the mattress to pull on the boots.

“It’s weird, you know. Really weird.” Howie tossed a pair of gloves to Saul. “I think he needs that ring in a bad way. I wonder what it does?”

“Maybe it was his mother’s.”

Howie looked at him, mouth slack.

“Dude, he’s blackmailing you for it. It’s serious. What if it’s like, you know,Tolkien or something.”

“Howie,” Saul said, pulling on the gloves. “You need to lay off the weed. Seriously.”

“OK, I’m just saying it’s really weird.”

“OK.” He rubbed his face. “I’m too tired for this.”

“You been up all day?”

“Some of us work during the day, so yes. And there’s no point in trying to sleep now. The faster this gets done the better. What else do I need?”

Howie pulled open one of the long drawers, selected and folded a wide sheet of paper. “Be careful with my maps OK? They’re hand-drawn and if they get wet, the ink goes everywhere.” He went into the kitchen and emerged with the map in a plastic sandwich bag.

It was beginning to drizzle when they caught the Pendrell bus. A soft, silvery rain that wimpled the mountains and blurred the lights in apartment buildings. There were only a few other passengers, a girl in a brown and white fast-food uniform, an old man wearing a turban. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered as the bus ran over seams in the concrete.

“I don’t see why you think you’d be better off doing it this way.” Howie said after a long silence. “I mean, what if the guy is cracked out or something. Audel’s got manpower. Why not make him go in and get it?”

“The guy wasn’t stoned,” Saul answered quietly, “he was scared. I remember what it was like to feel that way,” He drew in a breath to coax his stomach to unclench. He’d begun chewing the skin around his nails, pulling off little slivers of flesh until his hands bled. He hadn’t felt hunted for years. He liked it now about as much as he’d liked it then. Saul closed his eyes.

“I haven’t done the Janion for a long time.” Howie told him. “It used to be you could get anywhere from there, sort of a way station, but the city filled in a bunch of tunnels a few years ago.” Howie was rummaging in the pack as he spoke. “You’ve got energy bars, there’s a bottle of water near the bottom. An emergency blanket. Map. Don’t get it wet.”

“I won’t.” Through his reflection Saul could see the empty city, the fog, a dark bus shelter filled with trash.

“Spare batteries for the flashlight in the front pocket, easy to get to. Stay away from the lower sewers if you can. They get wet when the tide comes in.”

Saul looked back at Howie. “How wet?”

“You’d drown. Don’t worry, the tide’s in now, you’ve got, like, eighteen hours.”

Suddenly the sea appeared before them, vast, rolling like a plain. “Wish I could go with you man but I’ve got a gig I’ve got to keep.” Howie told him as he got up. “Good luck. If you’re not back by noon, I’ll come looking.”

“Thanks.”

Proceed to chapter 5...

Copyright © 2006 by Tamara Sheehan