Kill Switch by Neal Baer Page A

whistle nearly blew Nick’s eardrums out. As if an invisible hand had descended from above and switched off the power, every piece of heavy machinery went silent; every worker froze in place. The only thing moving was Todd Quimby, and Nick could see he had a huge head start.
    He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could. But Quimby was already running through the open chain-link gate onto the street.
    It took Nick about fifteen seconds to cover the same ground and reach the sidewalk. He looked around. There was no sign of Quimby or Wessel, and no place for them to have disappeared.
    Except for the subway entrance at the corner of Broadway.
    He sprinted down the block and down the stairs into the abyss. Almost immediately, his vision blurred, struggling to adjust from the bright sun to the dim lights of the station. Nick flashed his shield at the token booth clerk as he jumped the turnstile onto the southbound platform. The waiting passengers were all looking south for a train that would come from the north.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Nick asked the gathering crowd.
    â€œCop chased some guy onto the tracks,” said a bystander, pointing.
    Nick ran to the southernmost end of the platform and was about to descend the short flight of stairs onto the tracks when he stopped short.
    What the hell am I doing? I can’t see a damn thing.
    He had no choice. His partner was somewhere in that darkness.
    Nick plunged forward into the tunnel. The sudden blackness once again blurred his vision, as if he were looking through filtered glass. He was virtually blind, his only frame of reference being a couple of bare lightbulbs on one wall and a red signal maybe two dozen yards ahead. Or was it closer?
    Nick forged on, carefully navigating the center of the tracks to avoid electrocuting himself on the third rail.
    And then he saw something move. Is that a person?
    He ran, stumbling toward the figure. He could hear the rumble of an approaching train but couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. And then he saw the beam of the train’s headlight on the northbound track beside him. It boomed past, so close he could see the passengers looking through the windows at him. Just as quickly, the train was gone, but for some reason the noise wasn’t fading away.
    Then he saw the light bathing him. He turned to face the certain death that would roar over him in seconds.
    Suddenly, something propelled him across the tunnel onto the empty northbound tracks. He fell between the northbound rails, pulling himself up just in time to see the train that would have killed him fly past.
    When it was gone, he could just make out a figure slumped beside him.
    Nick hurried across the tunnel. Saw the blood on what he knew was his partner’s suit. And he realized.
    Tommy Wessel had pushed him out of harm’s way and in doing so, had been clipped by the train.
    Frantically, he knelt beside Wessel, who was fighting for every breath.
    â€œHold on,” he screamed at Wessel. “Don’t you go out on me.”
    This kid saved my miserable life, while that scumbag Quimby’s out there, looking for someone else to kill.
    He heard footsteps. Saw the beam of a flashlight.
    â€œPolice!” yelled the figure. “Are you okay?”
    It was a Transit Bureau cop, no doubt sent into the tunnel by the same passengers who’d directed Nick down here.
    â€œI got a cop down,” Nick screamed at him. “Call a bus! Goddamn it, call a freakin’ bus!”
    As Nick looked down at the young man who had been his partner for all of twenty-four hours, he knew whatever happened to Tommy Wessel was on him.

C HAPTER 10
    P olice vehicles clogged the street outside Manhattan City Hospital’s emergency entrance as Tony Savarese, sweating from the heat in his ever-present blue blazer, squeezed the Impala into the only spot left at the curb, beside a fire hydrant. Nick, riding shotgun, barely noticed. All he