Read Online Atomic Underworld: Part One by Jack Conner - Free Book Online Page A

did not venture near
enough to check the address, but he verified the adjacent properties’ numbers
and they left no doubt that he had found the right one.
    He
stopped rowing when the boat reached a pillar, and in the shadow of the
column—overgrown with barnacle-like encrustations about which hopped things
that might have once been frogs—he sat and waited. The temptation to light a
bowl came on him, but he kept it at bay. The light and the smell might alert his
enemies, if enemies they were, and it was hard to imagine them as anything but.
They were likely from Octung, the dreaded Lightning Crown, and they had killed
Madam Elana and five of Boss Vassas’s people, several of which Tavlin had
known. Nancy had been a close friend of Sophia.
    The
trapdoor to 4302 was still. No traffic in or out. Yet he could hear sounds in
the factory above, the creaking of boards, the groan of machinery, and he knew
from his vigil earlier that this trapdoor was used frequently. He still wasn’t
sure what his plan was, if he had one. He had entertained some vague notion of
sneaking up through the trapdoor, but there was no lock on this side. Someone
would have to let him in, and he didn’t like his chances of forcing his way up
and through the factory.
    He
decided he would wait to see if there was a delivery. Perhaps he would be able
to sneak up then. At least he might be able to see what was being delivered.
    Impatiently,
he bided his time. The sounds coming from above grew louder, and he became
convinced that the factory was busier than usual, perhaps quite a bit busier.
Was there something major going on? It would make sense, if the Octunggen had
committed at least two sets of murders last night, had stolen at least two
jewels, where no one had heard of any such thing happening over the last few
months. Presumably they had stolen other jewels and committed other murders, as
well, last night or at least recently, but no one Tavlin had talked to seemed
to know about them, and people went missing with alarming frequency in Muscud,
so such a disappearance might not be remarked upon. At any rate, whatever
activity the Octunggen were about, it was heating up. Might tonight be a climax
of some sort?
    A
dark shape drifted in out of the dark. Tavlin tensed. Fog curled around the bow
of a boat, a somewhat heavier, larger boat than the one Tavlin had rented for
the evening. Like his, it had a motor, but, unlike his, this boat’s motor was
revved and purring loudly. The fog had muted it, but as it drew close Tavlin
found the motor’s grumble and chug disorienting after so much silence.
    The
boat aimed for the trapdoor, and when it was close the engine shut off and the
dark figures aboard rowed it right up under the trap. Tavlin squinted, made out
perhaps half a dozen figures aboard, two carrying flashlights, which they
played over the ancient, stained wood of the door. Someone rapped it with an
oar, three knocks, then two, then three more knocks. A heavy metallic sound
issued from above, the door buckled, then was drawn up, revealing a rectangle
of amber light that shone full upon the occupants of the boat: mutants in
ragged clothes. Various scars and tattoos marked them as the rough sort that
often worked shady jobs along the docks.
    The
largest one, a hulking man whose wide shoulders sloped down to thick,
fish-scaled arms, visible because his shirtsleeves were rolled up past his
elbow, called to the people above, and the factory people called back. Tavlin
was too far away to hear exactly what was said.
    Those
inside threw a ladder down, and a tall man descended into the boat. He was not
obviously infected and wore a dark, waxed overcoat that sort of glistened in a
sick, insectile manner. He wore a gas mask around his neck but had not placed
it over his mouth. The mutants seemed to defer to him. Once settled, he raised
his face to the opening and stretched out his hands as if to receive something.
People above, seen by Tavlin as only hands and