Dark Days by James Ponti Page B

he added. “So please give me your backpack.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked as I handed it to him.
    â€œI’m pretty sure that’s where they hid it.”
    â€œHid what?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s easier if I just show it to you,” he said as he started digging through my backpack. The shelves in his office were filled with books about birds and beautiful black-and-white photos of the city.
    â€œCool shot,” I said, admiring one of the Chrysler Building.
    â€œThanks,” he said as he kept digging. “I started off taking pictures of birds, and then I became fascinated with the city and its architecture.”
    I already knew that I liked him.
    We could hear the lecture continue in the other room. “The northern cardinal has a wingspan of twenty-five to thirty-one centimeters . . .”
    â€œBy the way, my real class discussions are much more interesting. This one was intentionally designed to keep people away.”
    I laughed. “It seems to have worked, but why go to all of the trouble of having a recording.”
    â€œI locked the door and put up a ‘do not interrupt’ sign, but just in case any of Marek’s men come and put an ear up to the door, I want them to overhear the most boring lecture in the history of mankind. It should get rid of them pretty quickly.”
    â€œI don’t think anyone was following me,” I said. “I was careful.”
    â€œThey don’t need to follow you,” he said as he turned a pocket of my backpack inside out. “They have this.” He pointed at a small silver and glass capsule that was hidden in one of the seams.
    â€œWhat is that?” I asked in total disbelief.
    â€œAn RFID chip,” he explained. “Radio-frequency identification. It’s what they put in pet collars so you can find your dog if he gets lost.”
    I was stunned. “Does that mean they’ve been listening to me?”
    â€œNo, it’s not a microphone,” he said. “They can’t hear anything. They can’t even track where you are all the time. That would burn through the battery too quickly. But whenever they want to find you, they can send a signal and they’ll get a reply on a map.”
    â€œI can’t believe it,” I said. “So you’re destroying it?”
    â€œI’m doing no such thing,” he said. “If we destroyed it they’d know you found it and they’d come up with another way to track you. Let them think they’ve got you fooled. Just don’t ever forget it’s in there. For now, though, we’re going to leave it behind.”
    He placed the backpack on his desk.
    â€œIf they look for you in the next two hours, they’ll think you’re here,” he said. “Which is good, because we don’t want them to know where you’ll really be.”
    He opened a closet door and pulled on a shelf to reveal a hidden door and a spiral staircase running through the building.
    â€œCool, isn’t it?” he said when he saw my reaction.
    â€œAmazing,” I said. “Where’s it go?”
    He flashed a big smile. “Have you ever heard of the catacombs of CCNY?”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œThat’s good,” he said as he started making his way down the stairs. “We like to keep them a secret.”
    The staircase was the color of tarnished brass and seemed to descend forever as I followed the professor all the way to the bottom. There we reached a long narrow tunnel cut into the Manhattan schist. The walls were close enough so I could reach out and touch both sides at the same time. It’s a good thing I’m only scared of heights, because if I were claustrophobic I might have passed out.
    â€œStay close,” he said as he motioned for me to follow. “The lighting’s bad and you do not want to get lost down here.”
    â€œYou got that right,” I replied as I hurried to