“But he’s in pain, Mr. Hayes.”
“If they didn’t, they’d have a riot, and we’d have a lot more pain.”
Samantha sighed and stared at the trolley car beyond. “What happened here, Mr. Hayes?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Did you see?”
“See?”
“See them. The bodies.”
“From a ways away. When Mr. Garvey had the light on. Or Detective, I should say.” She swallowed. “I wasn’t sure what I saw.”
Hayes nodded. “I’d be fucking glad of that.”
They both shivered. It was cold down in the trolley lines, close to the ocean and far away from the warmth of the city, and with the station so empty it was a gray and eerie place. The officers became dark figures passing back and forth in the spectral light of the station lamps. After some time with the conductor Garvey walked over to them, reviewing his notes.
“Well?” asked Hayes.
“His name is Gilbert Lambeth,” he said. “Been a conductor for the Evesden Lines for nearly five years. Knows his trade, talks in a lot of engineering gobbledygook.”
“Did he say anything useful, though?”
“I wish. He says he was making the stops, as usual. Turns out it’s mostly automated. He hadn’t made any adjustment to the trolley’s schedule, not a second. He left the last platform, the Stirsdale platform, at the right time and was just going through the tunnel as normal when he heard a…” Garvey flipped through his little notebook. “A loud noise. A high-pitched squeal, he says.”
“A squeal?” said Hayes.
“Like metal on metal. Then there was a pop like a bomb went off, and the lights went out, and he passed out. The trolley car coasted in automatically, but Gilbert wasn’t awake to tell it to continue. Then he just sat there until you woke his poor ass up. And that’s it. That’s all he’s given us.”
Hayes thinned his eyes. “That almost sounds like a planned attack.”
“Yeah. It does.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?”
Garvey sighed. “I have a few ideas. I found something interesting.” He took out a sketch of a little symbol of a hammer inside a bell. “See this?”
“Yes?” said Hayes.
“This was tattooed on my John Doe. In the canal.”
“Who?”
“The guy. The guy you helped me fish out of the damn canal? Six weeks ago or so? Mr. Four Hundred and Eighty-six?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Wait, so that sign was tattooed on him?”
“Yeah. It was on his arm. And there’s eleven dead passengers in there, and nine of them have the same tattoo. All in the same place.” He tapped his arm. “Right there.”
“ How many dead?” said Samantha softly.
“Eleven.”
“Good… good Lord.”
“Yeah. This is the worst yet. The worst by far.” He paused. “Someone is killing unioners. And anyone they’re close to.”
There was a pause as Hayes and Samantha considered that.
“Have you seen many unioners with that tattoo?” asked Hayes.
“Well. No. Just the recent dead ones.”
“But even so, who would want them dead?” Hayes said, standing up. He walked to the edge of the platform and looked down at the sooty rails and the blackened stone floor. “I mean, who’d even be able to do something like this? Slaughter everyone on a trolley without even slowing it down?”
“You sure those names are all you can give us?” said a voice.
Hayes turned to see Collins standing not far off, watching him with harsh eyes. “What?” he said.
“You sure there’s nothing else you know? At all?” asked Collins.
Hayes shook his head. “Nothing.”
Collins looked at him for a long time. Eyes uncertain. Hands at his hips, uncomfortably close to his gun.
“What?” asked Hayes.
“There’s nothing you’re hiding from us?” Collins asked, this time quieter.
“Hiding? No. Why are you asking?”
But Collins just shook his head and walked back to the other officers.
“What the hell? What was that about?” asked Hayes.
“He’s just worried,” said Garvey.
“Well, I can see that.”
“No, he’s worried about you. And McNaughton.”
“Why?”
“Oh, come on, Hayes,” said Garvey, exasperated. “You come in here telling us that about half these men are responsible for murders in your company, and then all of them suddenly drop dead? Not to mention that it was on the day after you sent me their files. That’s sort of odd, isn’t it?”
“You think McNaughton could have done this?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
Hayes stared into the tracks at his feet. “No,” he said. “They don’t have the guts. Besides, those files I sent you were nothing. Just enough to give you a lead.”
“You sure?” Garvey said.
“I doubt if McNaughton is capable of murder, either,” said Samantha. “Particularly mass murder. But before we’re asked to start incriminating ourselves, are we involved with an official police investigation, Detective Garvey?”
“Well. Not official, no,” said Garvey.
“So on what grounds are we here?”
“You were just asked. By me. And Collins. And Brightly, probably. Consulted, maybe. Your company pulls a lot of water around here. People are usually pretty happy to just do whatever the hell they say. But I have a hunch that’s going to change soon.”
They turned to look at the conductor, who was shouting about something once more. The policemen around him frantically tried to flag him down.
“And all he knows is he heard a loud noise,” said Hayes quietly.
“Yeah,” said Garvey.
“And then all those people were dead.”
“Yes. And only he survived, out of all of them,” said Garvey. Then, quieter, “Want to sit with him for a while? See if he’s telling the truth?”
Hayes shook his head. “Not in a crowd. Later, maybe. I’m already getting a headache. And you think your John Doe may have something to do with it?”
“Maybe. I’d talk about it but I don’t know when I’m getting out of here. It’ll be hours for sure.”
“How many other detectives are on this?”
“Right now we’re all just running around, bugshit crazy. I’m guessing it’ll come down to two murder police and then a shitload of High Crimes. I’ll be on it, maybe. Labor detail and all. Probably Morris, too.”
“Shit,” said Hayes. “Morris is worthless.”
“Yeah. Goddamn. Usually I love a murder in the Shanties. All these little tennie weasels do is talk. cooped up in these goddamn tenements, what else are they going to do but talk about who killed who, and why? But this is going to be the pits.” He moved to spit, then glanced sideways at Samantha and stopped. He coughed and said, “Want me to swing by and kick you out of bed later?”
“That’ll work,” said Hayes.
“I need to get back. It was, ah, nice meeting you, Miss Fairbanks,” he said, and tipped his hat. The he walked
