The worst part about these newer tunnels wasthe cobwebs. These rarely used passages were a haven for spiders ofall types. Ghostly white curtains wavered at their approach,casting odd shadows across the walls. At times it looked to Albertlike a city of pale silk, as if the tiny creatures had discovered aplace private enough to build a metropolis. Invisible, gossamerstrands licked their faces and clung to their clothes as theypassed, and several times Brandy cried out in revulsion as one ofthe arachnid inhabitants of the silken city danced across theexposed skin of her face or hands.

“These tunnels just go on forever,” Brandyobserved.

Albert nodded agreement. “I know. Thiscity’s not that big. It seems like overkill.” The steam tunnelshe’d expected. He was sure they snaked beneath the entire campus,perhaps for many miles, reaching as far as the river, and evenseveral levels deep. But it felt to him that they’d alreadytraveled enough tunnels to stretch from one end of the city to theother and back again. He’d begun to wonder if the entire cityfollowed the university’s example, tying together the courthouseand the police station or the library and post office, perhapsnetworking the entirety of the city’s public buildings. But much ofwhat they saw contained no equipment of any kind. It had even beena while since he last saw any cables or pipes. And yet, thelabyrinth-like system didn’t seem like a very efficient sewersystem. He would have thought that most of the tunnels would pointeast, toward the Mississippi River, but they seemed to go everywhich way. The tunnel they were in now didn’t look like it had everheld water. He wondered if some of these tunnels were aflood-prevention system of some kind, perhaps designed to carrylarge amounts of water past the city in the event that the mightyriver overflowed its banks, as it was certainly known to do.

“I’ve always heard rumors about old tunnelsunder the city.”

Albert glanced at her, curious.

“There’re supposed to be miles and miles ofthem. Real old. Some people say they’re haunted.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There’s lots of stories. Witches andvoodoo. That sort of thing. Some people say that the city’sfounders were into witchcraft. Used to scare the shit out of mewhen I was a girl.” She was looking around, uneasy at the thought.“I haven’t thought about those stories in ages. I figured they wereall made up.”

“Sometimes there’s truth behind myths.”

“Yeah. I heard a friend of my parents tellthem once that some of the tunnels were older than the city itself.He said no one knows how they got there.” She chuckled softly.“Daddy always said he was full of shit.”

Albert smiled. “Sometimes stories like thatare comforting. Some people have a hard time believing that therearen’t any more mysteries left in the world. I guess I’m one ofthem.”

Brandy looked at him and smiled. “That’skind of romantic.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” She turned and looked down the darktunnel ahead. “But right now I’d rather not believe that there aresecret tunnels built by centuries-old witches, if you don’tmind.”

Albert laughed. “Of course. I won’t bring itup again. But you have to promise to tell me more about thosestories when we get out of here.”

“It’s a deal.” She smiled at him and he felta sort of warmth flow from her. He couldn’t help but wonder whatshe was thinking.

They turned right and found a set ofconcrete steps descending deeper into the earth. At the bottom wasanother iron gate, this one different from those back in theuniversity steam tunnels. Instead of a chain, it was secured by asimple latch and a place for a padlock. There was no lock present,however, and the gate stood ajar, as though waiting for them.Beyond the gate was a small room. There were a number of discardedsoda cans and an old furnace filter lying among a scattering ofcigarette butts, yellow insulation shreds and twisted strips ofrusty metal. There were holes in the walls varying in size from oneto eight inches in diameter, suggesting that there used to be pipesrunning through this room, perhaps even a heating system of somekind. Directly across from them was a heavy door with nohandle.

“Where do you suppose that goes?” Brandywondered aloud.

Some basement was Albert’s guess. Or maybethe basement of a basement. But he wasn’t interested in the door.There was obviously no way to open it and it wasn’t on the map. Heshrugged and set his eyes on the left side of the room, where arusty railing separated them from a twelve-foot drop. Another rustyladder led down into the lower space where another open gatewaited.

Brandy crossed the room and studied thedoor. It was bolted shut so tightly that it didn’t even rattle whenshe pushed on it. It could have been nailed shut, for all she knew.She put her ear to it and listened for a moment, but it was silenton the other side.

“It’s one o’clock in the morning,” Albertsaid. “Unless it opens right into the party room at one of the frathouses, I doubt you’ll hear anything.”

Brandy shot him a curt look. “There mighthave been machines or something.”

“That’s true,” he admitted.

“Thank you.”

“Come on. We’re getting closer.”

They descended the ladder and continued on.Left at the bottom of the ladder. Right some distance beyond that,past one intersection and then right again at the next.

“So what do you think we’re going to finddown here, anyway?” Brandy asked as she lit a cigarette.

Albert shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You haven’t even imagined?”

“Not really.” It was the truth. He spent somuch time trying to solve the puzzles and figuring out how tofollow the map, that he really hadn’t thought much about where itmight lead them, only that it must lead somewhere. He hopedit would be something fantastic enough to make all this worthit.

Brandy paused to mark the wall again andAlbert glanced back at her. “You’re the one who was so intent oncoming down here. Tell me what you think we’ll find when we getthere.”

“I really don’t know.”

“Humor me.” She turned and set her soft eyeson his. There was playfulness in her expression, but there wassomething else there as well. Albert thought she was testing him,trying to feel him out for something. A lie, perhaps.

“A treasure chest?” he offered. “Someancient scrolls? A big X and a shovel? Regis Philbin and a studioaudience?”

Brandy smiled, but he could tell she wasn’treally amused. “Come on. What is it you really want to finddown here?”

Albert frowned. What did he want tofind? What kind of question was that? Did it really matter whatthey found?

Brandy stood and watched him for a momentwhile she smoked, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know,” he said again.

“Really?” She continued to watch him for amoment. Albert watched her watch him, unsure of what else to say.He’d already told her he didn’t know. Finally, she looked off downthe darkened tunnel as if daydreaming and said, “I think it wouldbe awesome if we found a lost vault. Maybe a gangster’s hideout.”She turned her brilliant eyes back to him. “Someone like Al Capone,you know.” She looked down at her cigarette and was silent for amoment as she pondered the thought. “Imagine a cramped little roomwith a gas lantern on a table and a stack of stolen money from abank heist.” She looked up at him again and the youthfulfascination in her eyes was mesmerizing. “Maybe even a bottle ofscotch and a half-full glass. Someplace they thought they werecoming back to but never did. Maybe someplace they were the morningbefore the police finally caught up with them. You know what I’msaying?”

Albert nodded. “I think I do.”

“It probably sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all.” It was the truth. There wassomething very sweet in her ability to imagine such a thing. It wasfar fetched as all hell, of course. To begin with, somebody sentthem the map to get them here. Why would they pass the credit forsuch an incredible discovery to them? But there was no doubt in hismind that such a place could exist. A mobster gunned down in apolice standoff would undoubtedly leave many secrets untold, butfor something like that to exist here of all places…