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hadn t caved in over the course of the day. I didn t
know where Jackson had taken me, but I knew
that it was dark and cold and wet and I didn t like
it one bit. I groaned when I realized that my hands
were once again over my head. Only this time
they seemed to be supporting the weight of my
entire body. My eyes focused on a pair of heavy
shoes, right at eye level. It seemed like a hell of a
place for a pair of shoes.
Then I caught on and groaned, but not from
headache. I was suspended from a hook that had
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The Case of the Missing Twin
been bolted into the scabrous old brick wall. My
body hung down in a narrow, straight-sided pit,
my nose about six inches below the level of the
floor. We re in the old Seattle underground,
aren t we?
He nodded.
You re really going to kill me, aren t you
Jackson?
I m sorry man. I ve got my orders and if I
don t follow them, I ll be worse off than you.
I find that just a little bit hard to believe under
the circumstances. I tried for a tough guy smile,
but it never quite got off the drawing board.
Could you at least give me a clue to the setup? I
strained my neck to look up at him. The fact that
he looked as miserable as I felt was cold comfort
for me.
It was Chin s idea. The tides are high tonight.
It was a simple, concise explanation, but a quick
review of city history brought it all home in a
sickening flash. Back in the I890s, Seattle had been
plagued by flooding because the city was in a tidal
basin. Locals had even gone so far as to raise the
toilets up on platforms to improve drainage. This
hadn t been entirely successful, giving rise to the
term wetbacks to describe unsuspecting souls who
forgot to consult the tide tables before doing their
business. They had eventually raised the city
streets and the storefronts were shifted to the
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Derek Adams
second floors of these old buildings. Some of the
original sub-basements in Pioneer Square still
flooded at high tide. I was had!
Jackson, come on, man. I thought you liked
me. You don t want me dead, do you? A
scuttling sound caught my ear. I turned and got a
glimpse of a sewer rat the size of a healthy house
cat. It scurried off clumsily, probably to alert the
family that lunch was going to be ready soon.
Come on, man. Think what you re doing.
Shut up, you hear me? I can t listen to you.
He turned and started walking away, the light
of his flashlight receding as well, leaving me in
total darkness. Suddenly I felt cold water rising
around my ankles.
Jackson! Get back here. Please. My cries
echoed hollowly in the empty cellar. Don t leave
me here to die. Goddamn you, Jackson. The light
disappeared into the distance as the water lapped
ever higher on my legs. Funny thing about being
in a place that s pitch black your eyes never
adjust. I kept trying anyway, hoping to conjure up
a stray tour of the underground or even a group of
boy scouts intent on earning a merit badge in
emergency rescue. Nothing. In the meantime, the
water was up to my chest and rising fast.
As the cold, briny water lapped over my lips, I
found myself wishing, for the first time in my life,
that I d followed my dad into the accounting
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The Case of the Missing Twin
business. Relative to my current situation, a
spreadsheet seemed like the most interesting thing
in the world.
The water rippled up into my nose and I made
one final effort to lift myself out of danger. There
were no toeholds for my scrabbling feet, and the
pit was too narrow for me to kick my legs up over
the edge. I tried flexing my biceps. No go on that
front. My arms were numb and I was a dead man.
This was totally wrong. I was too young to die like
this. I had cases to solve, money to spend, men to
chase. I spat brine then took a deep breath just
before the water rose up over the bridge of my
nose and stayed there.
To Be Continued&
* * *
63
About the Author
Derek Adams is the award-winning author of the
novel 'Jake Westerby: Deep Undercover.' He has
also written more than a hundred short stories
which he insists are ongoing chapters in his
autobiography. When not chronicling his amorous
adventures, Adams writes about gay history and
travel. He currently lives in Seattle.
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