Chapter Twenty

Dr. Jane Schmidt looked out over her reading glasses as John approached. She saw a late middle-aged man in jeans, check shirt and a leather jacket, with greying hair and a lined face. Something made her wonder was he a drinker. But as he stopped at her desk she could only smell aftershave, and not one that she recognized. She was expecting a fireman and concluded he must have decided to come in civilian clothes.

The receptionist fronting the open plan office had directed John to the middle-aged woman in plaited skirt and fawn blouse.

He didn’t like the way she looked down her nose at him as he approached. He got in close, sitting on the corner of her desk because he hoped his proximity would make her nervous and overcome his discomfort at her obvious class and education.

“Hi,” he said with a weak grin. “The chief has assigned me to you. I’m John.”

“John kindly take your arse off my desk and take a chair.”

“Yes boss,” John said agreeably. He was happy that her tone of voice was warm.

“I told the chief I needed a guide to the water systems in New York. I am familiar with layout and have a good working knowhow but I don’t know any of the nooks and crannies. The chief said you have a detailed knowledge and that as part of your job you do health and safety inspections on the system?”

John met her eyes as she spoke. He could see she was a confident individual. Pretty once, he decided, and now handsome with a good figure, slim and excluding her boobs, not carrying too much excess weight.

“Nooks and crannies?” John asked with incredulity.

“I know,” she interrupted. “It’s an enormous system. But in every system there are areas where strange things can grow.”

“Well familiar as I am I don’t know every nook and cranny.”

“In the land of the blind the one eyed man is king,” Jane said with a friendly inclusive smile.

John relaxed.

Jane picked up the phone.

“We are a team of three,” she said.

“Hi,” she said into the phone, “can you come and meet John.”

“We have an intern from New York University. He’s related to the mayor, but that said he’s bright.”

“Studying?” John asked.

“He’s doing a PhD in environment with specific reference to Manhattan.”

“He might know a few nooks and crannies,” John joked.

Their eyes met, contact made as they both smiled.

Black-haired and tall and lean but fit looking Peter Bennet made his way across the open-plan office with a smile on his face. In his arms he carried a large file marked, ‘maps of the water systems.’

John stood and they shook hands. “Hi,” he said cheerfully.

“I’ve booked a conference room where we can talk,” Jane said, standing and picking up her papers.

“Coffee on route?” John asked.

“Naturally,” she said.

“And I need to make a phone call.”

John called the Cleaning Contractors who specialized in crime scene cleaning. They reassured him that his apartment would be ready by five that evening. If he wished he could stay at his own place that evening.

Satisfied, John joined Jane and Peter at the coffee machine and then Jane led them into the conference room.

***

Dearg Due and the Greyman arrived on foot of Deirdre’s panicked phone call.

Leanan did not look well. Her pallor was grey and she was slumped without energy on a couch in Deirdre’s living room.

“I rang Morag but she’s tied up with Lived Dutronc downtown,” Deirdre explained.

The Greyman smirked and met Dearg Due’s eyes. They both knew Morag had a relationship with Dutronc.

“What happened?” Dearg Due asked, getting businesslike.

“She even said something optimistic,” Deirdre explained.

“But what happened?” the Greyman insisted.

“She was interrogating one of the prisoners. They are both tied up naked in the cellar. She was making progress until she kissed the boy Oengus.”

“Did he kill himself in a fit of depression?’ Dearg Due asked.

“No she had an averse reaction. Like a fit. I had to haul her out and feed her whiskey to revive her.”

“She doesn’t look very revived to me,” the Greyman remarked while tapping Leanan on the cheeks.

Leanan groaned and opened an eye.

“Isn’t it a lovely day for romance,” she whispered hoarsely.

“By the Gods,” Dearg Due exclaimed in shock. Leanan had never been known to utter a positive remark.

“I’ll make a pot of tea,” Deirdre offered.

“Do you have any warm blood?” Dearg Due asked.

“Funny you should ask. I’ve got a cold supply in the fridge for spell purposes. It’s still within the ‘best before’ date. I can warm it in the micro wave?”

“Thanks.”

“Tea is fine for me,” the Greyman said, sitting and observing Leanan closely.

“What do you think?” Dearg Due asked.

“The boy...”

“Oengus,” Dearg Due interjected.

“He can’t be human. This is mega, nobody has ever overcome Leanan.”

“Well that’s good news at least. We’ve found out he must be of magic provenance.”

“Yes and that suggests a careful approach. To overcome Leanan he must be of a high magic provenance.”

“Otherworld is a complicated place,” Dearg Due agreed.

“But we can turn it to our advantage, I hope,” the Greyman said.

Deirdre arrived with the drinks and a few biscuits, but thoughtfully, a few slices of raw liver for Dearg Due.

“Are they well secured?” Dearg Due asked.

“Yes, bound in silver chains reinforced with a spell. They won’t be going anywhere soon,” Deirdre replied with satisfaction.

“Why whiskey?” the Greyman asked.

“Leanan said she hates whiskey. I thought it might help restore her depressed outlook?” Deirdre said.

“Good thinking, give her some more,” Dearg Due said.

***

John was into his third coffee and getting bored when Jane said, “OK its time to get out in the field,”

“Where?” John asked.

“The trouble started in the Secondary treatment process,” Jane said, adding, “I’m going to wash my hands first.”

As she spoke she left the conference room.

John looked at Peter and shrugged.

“Secondary treatment is called the activated sludge process,” Peter said to show he knew his stuff.

“Yes, I know,” John replied. “Large aeration tanks are used to mix the sludge and stimulate the growth of oxygen-using bacteria normally present in the sewage.”

“That’s when the trouble started. The aeration set something off and then it moved back to the primary and preliminary treatment areas and then back into the sewers in the combined sewer system and into the catch basins, and then back into the wastewater from in homes and business from toilets and drains and also into run off systems from rain and sidewalk washing etcetera,” Peter continued, unfazed by John’s impatient tone.

When Jane returned she was a tad irritated to find her two assistants were still discussing the water system.

“Come on we need to dive in,” she said without apparent irony.

“I need to collect an item first. It’s in the natural history museum,” John said as he stood and put on his jacket.

“I have copies of the reports from the water people. We can run a double check their results?” Peter suggested.

“No way,” Jane said. “That’s a massive job, no we must get out there and find anomalies, things the routine and systematic checks won’t reveal.”

“I suggest we start where the water people have not been. We can look at the Manhattan stage of the water tunnel number three. It’s possible the introduction of the new tunnel introduced something unexpected. Tunnels number one and two have never caused this type of problem,” she added.

“Commissioned in 2013,” Peter interjected.

“Have you been there?” John asked.

“Not yet, looking for permission,” Peter admitted.

“When its empty it looks like a subway tunnel,” John explained.

“Drinking water for the city,” Jane added. “If it’s clear we search downstream.”

“If not we go upstream?” John suggested.

“Good thinking,” Jane said.

“But maybe in some of the shafts also,” John added. “The water flows by gravity under the city but it rises again to the surface under natural pressure through a number of shafts.”

“OK,” Jane agreed. It was clear John would set the agenda around where they would look for anomalies.

“How do we get into the system?” Peter asked.

“Simple, at this moment all over Manhattan the water people have opened the access shafts to get in and test the water. We show our Fire Service Identification and let ourselves in.”

“If there is a problem they can talk to the Mayor. He’s fully on board with our task force,” Jane added, determination in her voice.

“He’s a relative of mine,” Peter interjected. “I have his private number.”

“Shouldn’t be necessary,” Jane said.

“And the Natural History Museum is on the way. It will only take a minute,” John added.

“Peter leave everything except the maps,” Jane instructed.

“OK. I’ve got the maps,” Peter said. “Will I bring the sampling backpack?”

“Yes,” Jane said with a smile.

“The Manhattan leg of the tunnel is nine miles long,” John mentioned.

John hailed a cab and as they sat in Jane asked, “what is it you need?”

“Something a bit magical. I think it might help,” John said.

“OK.” Jane said agreeably.

John sat back and gathered his thoughts. The item he wished to collect had nothing to do with the water problem. It had to do with his problems with the murder of his former flatmate and vampires and things of magic provenance like witches.

He needed some special protection if he was to return to his apartment that evening. But he couldn’t explain the detail to any normal New York person. Not unless he wanted them to think he was insane.

***

‘I have an idea,” Oengus said.

“What?” Maedbh asked.

“We need to get that blindfold off again and then you can freeze the chains.”

“Oengus, I can’t recall the detail but something in my studies said that silver chains protected by a spell are unbreakable.”

“I understand Maedbh but I’ve had a thought. Silver is not a very strong material. So in making a silver lock it is likely that the internal part of the lock is made of another metal.”

“Yes?” Maedbh said doubtfully.

“The small working bits,” Oengus explained.

They worked at it again and after a while Oengus managed to loosen the knots on Maedbh’s blindfold and it fell down around her neck.

Oengus bounced in his chair so that the lock at the rear became clearly visible to Maedbh.

“Do the spell at a side angle so if you miss it hits the floor and not me,” Oengus said.

“Bounce and turn until I tell you to stop,” Maedbh instructed.

When she was happy that the lock on Oengus’s chain was lined up and near enough so she could not miss, Maedbh began to pull up the spell, closing her eyes and chanting soundlessly.

“Maybe if you opened your eyes it would give better aim,” Oengus said nervously as he glanced over his shoulder.

Maedbh was in full train and ignored the remark.

There was a crunchy metallic noise as the lock on Oengus’s chains froze.

“Done,” Maedbh said.

But no sooner had she spoken than the ice fell off the lock.

“It’s protected,” she said.

Oengus twisted and pulled with all his strength, straining the lock and ending up falling over on to the floor, chair, chains and all.

“Ouch,” he said as he hit the floor.

But the job was done. The clasp on the lock opened. Some small frozen pieces of metal fell out of the lock.

“You were right, it wasn’t all silver,” Maedbh said excitedly.

Oengus struggled further until he slipped the chain through the clasps and then he was free except for the bands on his wrists ankles and neck. He stood and stretched.

“I don’t suppose they left your clothes in the room?’ Maedbh asked.

“No,” Oengus said, looking around.

“Problem is, I can’t do a frozen spell,” Oengus said, inspecting the lock on Maedbh’s chain.

“Leave me here,” Maedbh said after letting Oengus puzzle with the lock for a few minutes.

“I can smash the chair, it’s strong but only wood, and trouble is I might hurt you.”

“Do it!” Maedbh insisted.

Oengus knocked over the chair and using his own chair he began leveraging the supports. Then he tried propping it against the wall and smashing it with his feet. But his bare feet were not able to take the stress and give enough pressure. Finally he put the legs of his own chair down the back of Maedbh’s chair and leveraged it through the struts. There was a satisfying cracking noise.

“Well done but don’t make so much noise,” Maedbh hissed.

“Now it’s started to give we’ll get it,” Oengus forecast with confidence.

It took another fifteen minutes before Maedbh could wriggle free of the broken chair and she was left bound in the silver chains with lock to the rear and able to stand and jostle forward in small steps. Clearly she would only be able to walk slowly and definitely not run.

“There’s only one more problem,” Oengus said with a wry grin.

“What?”

“The door to the cellar is locked. We’re still locked in.”