The Zero Game

I slap the book shut, tuck it under my arm, and follow Viv through the room.

As we reach the first door of the air-lock, I toss the notebook to Viv and grab a fire extinguisher that’s leaning against the wall. If anyone’s waiting for us in the tunnel, we should at least have a weapon.

Viv punches the black button that’s just beside the door, and we wait for the hydraulic hiss. As the doors swing open, we step into the air-lock, facing the next set of doors. Viv again pounds the black button.

“Put your mine light on,” I tell her.

She flips a switch, and the light blinks on. Behind us, the doors to the lab slam shut – but unlike before, the door in front of us doesn’t open. We’re trapped. We give it another second.

“Why aren’t they-?”

There’s another screaming hiss. The doors in front of us slowly wheeze open.

“You think anyone’s out there?” she asks.

I pull the safety pin on the fire extinguisher. “We’ll know in a second.”

But as the doors finally open, there’s nothing there but the long darkness of the black tunnel. It’s not gonna last long. The moment someone finds the guy with the mustache, alarms’ll start ringing. The best thing we can do now is get moving.

“Let’s go…” I call out, darting into the tunnel.

“You know where you’re going?”

“To find the cage. Once we get to the top, we’re as good as gone.”

51

STANDING IN FRONT of the empty elevator shaft, Janos narrowed his eyes at the steel cable, waiting for it to start churning. “Did you try to reach your guy down there?” he said into his cell phone.

“I’ve been trying since early this morning – no answer,” Sauls replied.

“Well, then don’t blame me when you don’t get what you want,” Janos said. “You should’ve called in security the moment I said they were headed this way.”

“I told you sixteen times: Those locals down there… they may be thrilled to be working again, but they don’t know the extent of all this – we start calling in armed guards, and we might as well shove the microscope straight up our own ass. Believe me, the longer they think it’s a research lab, the better off we’ll all be.”

“I hate to break it to you, but it is a research lab.”

“You know what I mean,” Sauls shot back.

“That still doesn’t mean you should just risk it all for-”

“Listen, don’t tell me how to run my own operation. I hired you because-”

“You hired me because two years ago, a scaly little Taiwanese silk dealer with an Andy Warhol dye job had a surprisingly finer eye for art than you anticipated. Remarkably, just as he rang the inspector to call you out on that poorly forged Pissarro – which you must admit had none of the lushness of the original – that tiny bug of a man suddenly disappeared. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?” Janos asked.

“Truly,” Sauls replied, surprisingly calm. “And to be clear, the Pissarro was the original - it’s the museum that has the fake – not that you or Mr. Lin were ever sharp enough to consider that, am I right?”

Janos didn’t answer.

“Do your job,” Sauls demanded. “Understand? We clear on the mine now? Once the system’s in place and we can clean out all the local trash, this place’ll be locked down tighter than a flea’s dickhole. But in terms of calling in security, y’know what? I already did – and you’re it. Now fix the problem and stop with the damn lecturing. You found their car; you found their tags – it’s just a matter of waiting at the mine.”

Hearing the click in his ear, Janos turned back to the elevator shaft. He was tempted to call the cage and go down into the tunnels himself, but he also knew that if he did, and Harris and Viv got off on a different level, he’d just as easily miss them. For now, Sauls had it right. What goes down must come up. All he had to do was wait.

52

THE RUSTED STEEL SAFETY gate lets out a high-pitched howl as I tug it from the ceiling of the cage and send it pounding to the floor. The metal rollers spin as it crashes into place. We’re on the 4,850 level of the mine, finally settling into the cage that’ll take us the rest of the way to the top. Like before, I ignore the leaky water that drips from above and go straight for the intercom.

“Stop cage,” I announce as I press the goo-covered button. “We’re all clear – going to one-three.”

“One-three,” the operator repeats. The same level we started at.

“Hoist cage,” I say.

“Hoist cage,” she repeats.

There’s a sharp tug from above. The steel cable goes taut, the cage rockets upward, and as we fly toward the surface, my testicles sink down to my ankles.

Across from me, Viv’s eyes and jaw are clamped shut. Not in fear – in pure obstinacy. She lost it once; she’s not letting it happen again. The cage is banging back and forth against the wood shaft, raining even more water against the top of our helmets. Fighting to keep her balance, she leans back against the greasy walls, but the ride feels like we’re surfing the top of a moving elevator. Aside from a quick glance at the oxygen detector – “20.4,” she says – she stays completely silent.