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get her and her friends out?"
"Sure, Deborah," Cheryl said, and motioned us toward a side door. We didn't hesitate.
The four of us ran down a long corridor that led to a service elevator. We could hear
the melee behind us continuing. Once we were in the elevator, safely descending, I
turned to our guide and said, "Thank you."
"You looked a little surprised at what happened up there," the woman called Cheryl
replied in a soft, melodic voice.
"Your friends were very impressive," I said.
"Yes, yes, I'd have to say we were."
"I never in all my born days thought librarians could fight like that," Benny said,
running fingers through her hair.
"Oh, not all indexers are librarians." Cheryl laughed. "That's a common misperception.
Only some are, but all indexers are extremely organized. Our job is to construct
pathways to information. We have a habit of looking for patterns.
"Let me explain. We realized shortly after nine eleven that any large gathering was
vulnerable. And the more innocent the participants, the more tempting the target.
"The society immediately called for a discussion about procedures to follow if we were
attacked by terrorists. Many of us took self defense classes. We also created a SIG,
that's a special interest group and its members came up with a broad based
defensive plan. The indexers who are librarians have been carrying out drills at their
workplaces to stop a terror attack on our nation's libraries."
She gave us a broad smile. "I am proud to say we have proven it works."
I felt I had to say something. "If those men had automatic weapons, you'd all be dead."
Cheryl gave me what I took as a pitying look.
"We're not fools. I assure you we are not. In the first place, our security chair, Richard,
served in Vietnam. The years may have passed, but his courage has not diminished.
Second& "
She opened the Guatemalan striped cloth bag she carried by a woven band over her
shoulder. I could see the interior. A long barreled, menacing looking Luger rested
inside.
She closed the bag quickly. "About thirty of us carry. Quite of few of us compete in
international marksmen competitions. You met Deborah, another of our security team.
Colleen, the tall woman by the door where you entered, was actually coordinating the
members' response to the invasion.
"Had the assailants been armed, plan B would have been put into operation. We would
prefer not to use our weapons in such a crowded area, but I am quite certain that if
those men had had weapons, instead of heading for a jail cell they'd be going to the
morgue."
Chastened, I apologized for underestimating the indexers and for my prejudices. I fell
silent as the floor indicator light above the doors blinked from number to number
during the rest of our descent. I realized something important: The indexers had been
prepared. We Darkwings escaped because we were lucky. And luck had a way of
running out.
When we reached the main floor we followed Cheryl through another narrow hallway
back to the lobby. A dozen uniformed police officers were charging toward the other
bank of elevators.
"Is there another exit besides Lexington?" I asked Cheryl.
"Take the Forty ninth Street one." She pointed. We headed for it, hoping no other
hunters were lurking about in the side street.
"What now?" Benny asked when we were back out in the night.
"I'm going to the Palace," Audrey said, a little whiter than her high rose of earlier
tonight but otherwise calm. "I'm supposed to give Shally the communique."
"It's only a block," I said. "We'll walk you over."
"I'm going to try to call Cormac," Benny said as we started toward Madison Avenue,
keeping to the shadows. I periodically glanced behind us and kept a close watch on any
cars that traveled down the mostly empty street.
Our footsteps made a lonesome tapping on the sidewalk. A damp wind blew in from
the East River. It lifted up scraps of paper and sent them scampering down the
sidewalk. It brushed by the buildings, moaning as if expressing some secret grief.
I had an increasing sensation that something was dreadfully wrong. I saw Benny talking
into her cell. I watched her anxiously as she flipped the phone closed.
"They're fine," she assured me. "The other bikers came piling out of Charlie's and beat
the crap out of the two vampire hunters who had followed them. Cormac says what
was left of them is floating out to the Atlantic with the tide."
"Anything else?" I asked, twisting around and looking behind me again.
"Yes. Rogue wants us to meet. To come down to Charlie's. He says we have to do
something about the current situation. And he heard something interesting."
"What?"
"Reports have been coming in about a ghost ship on Long Island Sound."
I slipped my hand through the crook of Audrey's bare, braceleted arm as we
approached Madison Avenue. Her flesh was cold. I whispered to her, "Benny and I can
wait for you in the lobby while you deliver the letter."
She gave her head a small shake and kept walking, not looking at me. "I'll try to catch
up with you later."
I didn't argue. She was old enough to make her own mistakes. "All right," I said,
glancing at her profile and catching a flash of tears. "I hope you know what you're
doing."
"I hope so too," she said.
"You look awfully pale," I added. Her high color earlier must have been a postcoital
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