Page 45 of Heart Stopping
"Have you ever been down here?" Archer glanced over at me before stepping carefully over a crack in the brick flooring. His voice echoed slightly in the tunnel, eerily sending it back to us.
"Not here specifically," I whispered. "And not for a long time."
"You okay?" he asked. "Five percent of the population of the country suffers from claustrophobia. If you want to turn back, we can."
Of course he'd know a figure like that. Honestly, I was surprised it wasn't higher.
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "These tunnels are creepy, that's all." Not to mention an entire city rested over them. They'd lasted this long, but that didn't mean they wouldn't choose today to collapse.
"I like them," he said, running his hand along the wall beside him. "It's peaceful in here. Almost like the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore. It could end and we'd still be here, safe."
"Safe until we ran out of oxygen," I said. "Which would take…" I guessed he'd know the answer to that too. Or at least be able to quote some study or Internet meme that may or may not be factual.
"We have enough time to get to the surface and see all the billionaires get on their secret spaceship and leave," he said. "If we're lucky, we might get on it too."
I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "I don't think I want to be on a spaceship with a bunch of billionaires. I'll take my chances with the zombies."
"It's all fun and games until you become one.” He flashed me a smile. "Have you ever eaten brains?"
"As a matter of fact," I said slowly. Not human brains. I'd cooked one once, using the same recipe as I would for pig brains, but knowing what horrible things went through his mind when he was alive, I didn't want to put that in my mouth. I served it to my next target though, with no regrets. He seemed to enjoy it. Until I sliced into his stomach to remove it again. He didn't enjoy that nearly as much.
"They were nice," I added. "But not nice enough to make it my whole life. I'd probably make a terrible zombie anyway."
"I think you'd be a gorgeous zombie," he said. "But it's not your brains I want to eat."
The pulse in my pussy throbbed, but I told her to settle. This was not the time. Whether or not it was the place was debatable.
We reached the end of the tunnel, a locked door blocking the way out.
Archer reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock picking device.
"Where does this lead?" I asked.
"Into the hotel Contessa," he said as he picked the lock and opened the door slowly.
"The other way leads to Grand Central Station." He gestured one way down the tunnel he'd opened, then the other. "These were used back in the day for people to travel between them. Right now though, we're going to the hotel. One of their clients is someone I thought you should meet."
"And by 'meet,' you mean 'help you kill,'" I said. He'd implied that when he told me where to meet him and to dress in black.
"Exactly," he said. "This guy is particularly nasty. Just your cup of tea."
"Oh?" I followed him into the new tunnel.
"He doesn't get his hands dirty, directly," Archer said. "He arranges for his customers to get what they want, per their particular tastes and requirements. He calls himself the Concierge of Pleasure." He curled his lip in disgust. "More like the Concierge of Depravity."
"I've heard of him," I said. "I haven't been able to find out who he really is." I was impressed Archer had.
"His name is Wolfgang Taylor-Francis," Archer said. "No doubt you've heard of him."
I frowned. "He's some kind of Wall Street trader. Friends with a bunch of politicians and people like that. Didn't he speak out about government transparency or something?"
"Exactly." Archer slipped the lock picking tool back into his pocket. "On the surface, he's squeaky clean. A nice guy." He used air quotes. "The kind of man I'd vote for if he ran for office. But that's just on the surface. Underneath that, he's a snake. Corrupt as fuck. He uses his reputation to get into places and slide back out of them again, untouched."
"What the fuck?" I whispered. "I have to admit, I had no idea. Are you sure?"
"As sure as I am that I’m almost finished crocheting a rabbit. I'll have to show you sometime." When I gave him a funny look, he shrugged. "It helps me relax. I can't be about death all of the time."
"I hear you," I said. "For me, it's cooking. Creating a dish from scratch is very satisfying."
