Bullock and Johnson waded through the sewer, water sloshing around their ankles, seeping into their shoes. Bullock cursed with every step.
"This shit is disgusting."
"It's just sewer water," Johnson said. "Street runoff."
Bullock grunted. "People shit in the street. And we're under Elm, they probably toss condoms out their windows."
Johnson took a breath, nodded. "You've got a point."
They kept moving, the city rumbling above like distant thunder.
"What do you think's gonna happen?" Bullock asked.
"With what?" said Johnson.
"Jim."
Johnson stopped and flicked his light toward him. "You've really taken a shine to Chicago."
"Hey, I'll knock your old-man ass out if you start that."
Johnson chuckled and continued walking, "Honestly? I don't know. The guys at the precinct are spooked. Most of Loeb's men don't want to be near him."
"You think Loeb'll back off?"
Before Johnson could answer, a sound interrupted.
Up ahead came the slosh of water.
Both beams swung forward.
They stopped moving.
"Who's there?" Bullock called out.
"A friend," said a voice.
A young man stepped into their light. He wore a black balaclava, night vision goggles perched above his eyes. A pack hung tight on his shoulders.
"You must be the freak's pet," Bullock said.
"You must be Gordon's."
"Don't get fucking cute."
The kid didn't reply. The balaclava hid his mouth, but the squint in his eyes said smirk.
"The entrance is a few yards back." He jerked a thumb behind him and added, "Doubt the big guy'll fit, but you might, Gramps." He looked at Johnson.
"You fucking kidding me?"
"No. Not with those shoulders."
Johnson chuckled. "You got a name we can call you?"
"Yeah. Like Bat-Boy?" Bullock said.
The kid shook his head. "Not yet."
They made their way back toward the entrance. Bullock and Johnson kept up a loose rhythm of conversation with the kid—how they met, how long they'd been partners. The kid stayed a few steps ahead, quiet. Deflecting everything.
Bullock tried again. "So what, the freak's got a gang now? You just one of his little rascals?"
The kid glanced over his shoulder. "Cops got there own gang, makes sense he'd have his." He looked straight at Bullock.
Bullock raised his flashlight, shining it into the kid's eyes, who squinted and raised a hand.
Johnson cut in. "Anything you can tell us?"
"You can trust me," the kid said.
Then a noise echoed from the tunnel ahead.
They turned and ran toward the split in the sewer wall, just as Gordon's hands gripped the edge. He hauled himself through the narrow gap.
Bullock and the kid rushed in, each grabbing an arm and pulling him clear.
"Run," Gordon said, standing to his feet. "Now. Get out!"
The kid stepped in his path. "Wait. Where's—?"
"He's buying us time!"
They ran.
The ladder came into view. Johnson climbed first, then Bullock. Gordon followed.
At the top, Bullock turned and looked back down, but there was no sign of the kid. Just darkness, and the sound of the water splashing.