Self-explanatory, and an excerpt from Book 2 is behind the cut. :)
Notabene: would make a lot of sense if you’ve been to NYC’s Penn Station.
Good mother of all dear to me, this is creepy.
Not that Charlotte had never been here before, but this was the first time that she noticed something was uneasy. The former red line, once home to the 1, 2, 3, and 9 trains, was not used any longer and Penn Station had long boarded off that entrance in favor of keeping it as the ground-and tube-track hub in and out of New York City. The blue line of the A, C, and E trains was used for deliveries still, but the original entrance from the Penn Station concourses was long defunct.
The Long Island Railroad was kept to the ground, but the cars had been updated many times over the years. Noiseless, comfortable and modern, the new trains carried commuters from so far as the endpoint of Montauk into the city within twenty minutes or less.
Penn Station remained one of the city’s busiest hallmarks in rush hour, but at this time, close to eleven o’clock at night, it was all but deserted. The whine of engines echoed from the downstairs and upstairs platforms alike as the last dregs of the commuters filtered in and out of the enormous structure.
Charlotte walked through the familiar upper concourse, past the signs for the transcontinental railway lines, the Westchester County and Maryland Express lines and all the while, an extremely disquieting energy tugged at her senses.
Why do I have a rather pervasive feeling that I am getting in way, way over my head here?
The thought was fleeting, but enough to make her stop and reassess her decision to do this. It was more or less because a year passed since the initial discovery of Dr. Morham’s body. Between KramerMed, Glaxeris and McNeill’s Lab, there had been a little too many reports of one hospital or another being shorted on their supply deliveries. The delivery train conductors had inventoried their cargo repeatedly ever since and could have sworn that all shipments were accounted for, but the manual inventorying by the hospital receivership departments had shown nothing of the sort. The NYPD summarily dismissed their complaints, blaming unscrupulous employees recalibrating the robotics in the loading process and effectively asking them to cease and desist with filing of any further reports.
Detective Jacob Warren, a college friend of Alex’s, was the only cop in the entire department who didn’t buy that it was an internal issue. It seemed a little too connected to him: the dead researcher and consistent medical supply disappearances. When he forwarded the KramerMed reports to the planet representative in the Galactic Council, he did so without his superiors’ knowledge. The planet rep, a woman who appreciated discretion as much as he did, said nothing and told both KramerMed and Det. Warren to issue a service call the minute things become a little too suspicious for comfort.
A year straight of disappearances from major pharmaceutical companies was enough for Charlotte.
She perked up as she sensed a rather disquieting energy, this time familiar: Senna Clark.
“Where are you..?” Charlotte muttered as her eyes drifted shut.
The trace was coming from downstairs, the underground platforms of the red line.
What the..? Those aren’t used for anything but deliveries.
As Charlotte approached the Eastern elevators, she saw that the lock on the stairwell that led to the old Long Island Railroad platforms was off.
With a shake of her head, she walked down the stairwell.
“All the way down, Platform 18,” Senna’s voice echoed from below.
“Abandon all hope, those who enter here,” Charlottethought aloud, thinking back to her favorite line from The Divine Comedy.
The loading platforms were still empty; the actual delivery time wasn’t set for another two or three hours. The old screens that had once marked the train route and its stops had been removed and replaced with large LCD monitors that would display which companies had supplies en route. The entire structure was painted over in bright white and well-lit, save for the actual tunnels themselves.
Senna stood in plain sight in the center of Platform 18, dressed in a black tunic, silver leggings and knee-high leather boots. Her white hair was clipped back into a severe-looking bun and from a distance, she looked a lot older than the thirty-seven that she was according to the KramerMed employee database.
slight edit to correct formatting issues with copy-paste.
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