I still didn’t know how David Drachon was kidnapping people—or what they were doing inside the abandoned construction site. But if Charlie was there, maybe I could get him out. I’m not especially brave or tough, but I’d have Rachel with me. And she fights like a girl—dirty.
So at 9:30 that night we were sitting in my car across the street from the construction site.
The street was quiet and pretty much empty. We waited until a bus came by to pick up passengers from the stop.
“Are we going to do anything soon? I could be home watching Real Housewives,” Rachel said.
“You wanted to come.” I opened my door.
“Only to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. Or at least laugh when you do.” She opened her door.
We were wearing dark jackets and jeans. I had a small flashlight. Rachel had pepper spray and a stun gun. On the other side of the street I ran my hands across the wall, looking for the gap David had squeezed through. I got two splinters in my fingers—ouch—before I found it.
I pulled enough to peer inside the site, but I couldn’t really see anything. No lights, no movement. Someone—David?—had cut a hole in the chain link fence behind the wall. I pulled on the plywood harder, and Rachel helped, until I managed to shove my shoulders through and then work my legs forward and finally stand unsteadily inside.
I pushed on the plank and Rachel used her shoulder, and she got through, cursing in a whisper. “If these jeans are ripped, you’re in big trouble.”
Our eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly. We stood on a narrow walkway around the inside the fence, looking across an area the size of a football field. I flicked on my flashlight, keeping the beam on the ground.
Twenty feet away I spotted steps leading down. We were on the edge of a pit that had probably been dug for the foundation or something—I’m no construction engineer. The ground below was maybe 20 feet down, but beyond that I could make out another hole, smaller. Mounds of dirt were piled randomly around it, and I saw flames flickering, and movement in the darkness.
Rachel followed me as I took careful, silent steps down the stairs. They were aluminum, lightweight, and felt like they might tumble over in a harsh wind. I bit my lip, my heart pounding loud enough that I thought Rachel would punch me, and when we reached ground at the bottom she clutched my arm tight enough to leave a bruise under my jacket.
“Something’s here,” she whispered. “It’s—not good.”
Great. Why was I here again? For a moment I wanted to be back home, even if it meant watching Real Housewives of Whatever. I looked at Rachel. Then I remembered Abel. And Charlie. And that it’s always cool to look brave in front of your girlfriend. Especially when you’re actually terrified.
So I swallowed and held her hand. “We’ll be careful.”
I heard her snort. “Riiight.”
We moved closer to the hole, my hand over the mouth of the flashlight. The flickering flames came from fires in three trash cans, spitting sparks and scraps of burning paper that flickered out as they fell to the dirt. Shadows crept in the, and my eyes fought to focus in the darkness until I finally realized they were people—men and women hunched over, on their hands and knees, up to their waists or necks in the hole, working in the dirt.
Some had children’s shovels or small garden spades; others dug with their hands, carrying the dirt with their shirts bunched up to toss onto the mounds surrounding the hole. I couldn’t tell how deep the hole went. In some spots I saw only the top of people’s heads.
Darting shapes circled them in the flickering darkness. Dogs, two or three—they moved too fast to be sure—nudging their legs or nipping at their skin.
Their clothes were ragged and torn, and lots of them were barefoot when I could see them as they clambered from the pit to deposit their load. They worked sluggishly, as if exhausted. I tried to find Charlie, but there wasn’t enough light.
“What are they looking for?” Rachel whispered.
Before I could think of an answer, a bell rang. Loud, over and over again, from the far side of the hole. A shadowy figured drifted forward, wearing a long coat and swinging the bell—big and brass—back and forth over a woman who’d fallen down and lay motionless on the ground.
The dogs surrounded her, barking and snarling. The bell blared, but the other workers just kept digging, harder and faster, until the woman finally lifted her head and then pushed herself back up onto her knees. Her shoulders shaking, she started digging again, gripping big spoons in her hands, shoveling dirt away as she fought to stay upright.
The ringing stopped and the dogs trotted away. The shadowy figure stepped back. He looked around for other tiring diggers but apparently didn’t see any.
Then reached into a pocket. He pulled out something. I couldn’t see it at first, but then one of the trashcan fires flared, and I spotted a small bottle in his hand. A purple bottle.
He unscrewed the cap and hurled it, sending a hail of Dragon’s Breath pills through the air over the digging workers. He turned as they fell into the hole. The flickering firelight gave us a look at his face.
David Drachon.
I grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.” We had enough to go to the police—slaves digging in a pit inside an abandoned construction site would definitely get their attention. I turned—
Then David’s bell rang again.
He was looking at us, swinging the bell, and when I turned to run the dogs were in my face, barking and slobbering. Rachel tried to reach for her pepper spray, but one dog lunged at her and she dropped it. I grabbed for my phone, but another dog clamped its jaws around my jacket at the wrist. I pushed it away, but it stayed close, its eyes glowing in the firelight.
“You.” David let the bell stop. “Who’s that?”
“Get these dogs away from me.” Rachel waved an arm, swatting at their snouts. “What the hell are you doing with these guys?”
I raised my hands. “David—what are you doing here?”
He rolled his eyes. “None of your business. I should—” He reached into a pocket. More pills? But when his hand came out it had some kind of powder. He leaned down to blow it in my face.
Rachel kicked him in the shin. The powder blew away, dissolving in the air. I smelled flowers and copper, and felt woozy for a moment, but Rachel clamped a hand around my arm and pulled me back. The dogs barked and pushed at my legs, but I stayed on my feet and staggered back with Rachel helping me.
David fumbled in his pocket again. The dogs jumped at us.
Then the ground started rumbling.
My feet slipped in the dirt. Rachel lost her balance and fell to her knees, and I stood over her, a hand on her shoulder, watching the dogs.
But the dogs weren’t barking at us now. They were running back and forth, toward the pit and then away, as if afraid to get too close. David lifted his arm rang his bell loud, as if trying to signal something. A wide smile curled his lips. “Yes. Yes!”
Dirt flew up from the hole, like the start of an eruption. The workers reared up and staggered back, their legs weak. Some of them fell. David ignored them, still ringing his bell, but I tried to check their faces. Men, women, Black, Hispanic, white—there he was. “Charlie! Charlie Martin!”
Charlie paused, confused. He wore a ripped T-shirt and sweatpants, no shoes, and his face was scarred with cuts and bruises. He gazed at me.
I waved a hand. “I’m a friend of Abe! Your brother! Come here!”
He blinked, glanced at David—who wasn’t paying any attention—then stumbled toward us. “I’m—I’m Charlie.”
“Yeah.” I reached for his hand, my eyes looking over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of—”
Then something burst up from the hole. A long scaly arm with claws, four feet high and rising higher. It dropped to the ground and dug its claws into the earth. Then another one shot upward.
David laughed and ran toward the hole. He tripped, then jumped up, spreading his arms wide, styill swinging his bell. “Come on, come on!” He looked down at the nearest clawed arm and stomped a foot next to it. “Come on!”
Maybe the thing heard him, or the bell. Probably it didn’t care. When it came up—two glowing eyes on top of a sloped head, a face covered with scales, a quivering jaw with saliva dripping from its lower lip—it turned its head almost all the way around on its thick neck, paused, then opened its mouth and screamed.
The shriek shook my bones. I held onto Charlie and tried to drag Rachel to her feet. She leaned against me, grunting. “Is that—really?”
“Uh-huh.” A dragon.
Its tongue flicked left and right. Muscles in its two arms tightened and it hauled its body up slowly, slumping forward on the ground and pulling itself forward.
Huge round black scales covered its torso, and its body heaved as it breathed. It crawled forward until its tail cleared the edge of the hole, then lay there, as if catching its breath. Or waking from a long nap.
Folds of skin on its back moved. Lifted. Wings. They fluttered, flinging dirt through the air. The dragon pushed on its front legs and started to rise up, breathing harder and stretching its wings.
David dropped his bell and ran forward. At the edge of the hole, behind one of the dragon’s rear legs, he stopped and looked down, hands on his knees as he leaned forward. “Yes!” he shouted. “Yes—”
Maybe the dragon was irritated at his shouting and bell-ringing. Maybe it just needed to flex its muscles. Whatever. The leg next to David kicked, and he tumbled through the air, 30 feet or more, landing on the dirt, shrieking in pain.
The dragon reared up. It kicked again, pushing dirt down into the hole like a dog burying a bone. David’s screams faded, and then stopped. I looked, but I could barely see him in the firelight.
The dragon rose on four massive legs and roared again. It beat its wings, once, twice, more, pushing dirt in every direction around us. Its body seemed too huge for its wings to lift, but then it leaped forward and flew up in the air, fapping furiously. The wind knocked over a burning trashcan.
It climbed in the darkness until all we could see was a black dot over our heads, circling overhead. It dropped once, and I worried about fire breath—would it incinerate us to hide its lair?—but then it soared upward, turning east toward the lake, and zoomed off into the night sky.
The workers were wandering in circles, dazed and puzzled, like sleepwalkers slowly waking up. Charlie pulled on my arm. “Abel—is, is he all right?”
“He’s fine.” I nodded. “My name’s Tom. This is Rachel.”
“H-hi.” He rubbed his face. “W-what happened?”
“That guy—” I looked toward David’s body. “Let me go check on him.”
David Drachon lay on his back, gasping. One leg was twisted next to his body at a nasty angle, and blood seeped from his scalp. But he was grinning as if he’d just won the lottery. “Did you see it? Did you see it?”
“The dragon’s gone.” I pulled a handkerchief from my back pocket to wipe away the blood from his face.
“The—the gold.” He grunted, gasping for air. “Down there. I found it!”
Rachel knelt next to him and put a hand on his chest. She looked at me and shook her head. “Not good. Let me call an ambulance.” She’s not a doctor, but being psychic helps with other things.
“What gold?” I asked.
David shook his head as if talking to a child. “Dragons have gold. They guard it. Once I found out where the dragon was—it was in a book, a book I found downstairs at the library, the Regenstein? At the U of C—” He coughed. “All I had to do was bring him up. I needed—that stuff. Jindalore. To wake up. I needed lots of it. I made that powder—from books. I needed people to dig him up . . .”
Like Abel. And Charlie. I stood up. Rachel put her phone away. “They’re coming.”
“Good.” Now I had to see. “Wait here.”
She grimaced, but she couldn’t leave David. Charlie stayed with her while I walked up to the edge of the hole and peered down.
The dragon had tried to cover it up before flying off, but I could see some gleaming in the firelight—small nuggets and larger blocks, like a pirate’s treasure waiting to be dug up and carried off. Yeah, there was gold down there. Lots of it.
Yeah, I was tempted for a moment to reach down and grab some for myself. For Rachel and me, I mean. For our retirement fund, or at least a weekend in Cabo.
But in the end I stepped back and kicked some dirt back down into the hole. Let someone else deal with the taxes on the stuff.
The paramedics carried David away, and more showed up to treat the diggers, who were starting to come out of the haze that David’s powder had forced on them, the stuff he’d tried to use on me and Rachel. Charlie refused to go to the hospital, so we drove him to Gwen Martin’s house.
The reunion was predictably joyous. Hugs were exchanged, with Rachel and me included. Still, we left as fast as we decently could to give them some privacy.
Back home we opened beers and watched late night talk shows to decompress. Rachel fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, and we stayed there half the night.
Many calls came the next morning as I sat at my desk with coffee. Gwen Martin was first. “Just wanted to thank you again.” She sounded happy. “Charlie’s still asleep. We’re going to take him to the doctor once he wakes up. I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.”
“I’ll send you a full report,” I promised. Along with my invoice.
Sharpe called next. “I’m not sure I want to know,” she said with a sigh. “But you want to tell me what the hell happened last night?”
I rubbed my eyes. “From what I can figure out—and I didn’t get a chance to talk to Drachon very much—he found a book with legend about a dragon hibernating in Chicago, and figured out where it was. But he couldn’t dig it up all by himself.” I sipped some coffee. “So he recruited homeless people to buy something called Dragon’s Breath—as far as I know the name is just a coincidence, except—well, it has something called jindalore, from India, and supposedly it can attract dragons.” Saying it out loud made it all sound even crazier.
I drank more coffee. “Anyway, he managed to come up with something that would mess up people’s minds so they’d do whatever he told them. He’s a chemist, but maybe there was magic too. I saw some books in his apartment. He used it to kidnap people after they got him the Dragon’s Breath, and he had them digging in that lot where the hotel used to be. He figured with the jindalore, he could wake the dragon up and steal whatever gold it was guarding.”
“And you just happened to be there when the dragon finally woke up?”
I shrugged. “You know me—always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
She grunted. “This is the biggest mess I’ve heard lately. I’m just glad it’s not my mess. I mean, they told me to call you because no one wants to talk to you, as usual, but I’m not supposed to tell you anything.” She paused. “I mean, we did clear a bunch of missing persons cases with those folks, but you never heard that from me.”
“What about the gold? Do I at least get a finder’s fee?”
“I’m not authorized to even admit anything about any gold. There’s no gold. You never saw it.”
I sighed. I was regretting not shoving some into my pockets now. “Maybe it can fill up the city’s budget hole. I hope at least somebody’s looking out for that dragon.”
“Not my department, thank god.”
Rachel came in with coffee a few minutes later. “Did you carry me to the bed after I fell asleep?”
“You stumbled your way into the bedroom. I did help you with your clothes, so that was fun.”
“Pervert.” But she didn’t hit me, at least. “Any news about anything?”
“The client’s happy. Sharpe is about as happy as she gets with me. Nothing—” My phone buzzed. Ronald Drachon. “Hang on—Tom Jurgen speaking.”
“Jurgen.” His voice was a low growl. “My brother’s in the hospital.”
I figured. “Is David all right?”
“Well, he’s got a cracked rib, punctured lung, broken leg. And he’s delirious or something. Something about a dragon, and some gold? I don’t know.”
“The jindalore was to wake the dragon. The people he kidnapped to dig it up were also sprinkling it into the ground.” That’s what Charlie had managed to remember. “You’ll have to ask him about the rest. Have the police talked to him?”
“They tried. I’ve got a lawyer. What did you do to him?”
I sighed. “Nothing. I won’t bother him or you anymore. Hope he feels better.” And I hung up.
Rachel came in. “So what’s on the docket for today?”
“Write the report, send the invoice, research, and I have to tail a cheating husband this afternoon.” I’d put that off because of Drachon, and the client wasn’t happy. “Do we have leftovers from the other night?” It was my turn for dinner again.
“No.” She smiled. “But I’ll trade you. I’ve got a new recipe for seaweed salad.”
“Yum.” I made a note to have a big lunch.
“Do we get to keep any of the gold?” She sat down at her desk.
“No. I knew I should have grabbed some when I had the chance.”
“Jerk. Good thing you’re cute.” She blew me a kiss.
I grinned and went back to my computer, trying not to think about the gold. Or the wonder where the dragon was right now.
###
No comments:
Post a Comment