Sin City Goddess by Barbra Annino

lettering on it.
    “No, man. Trying to quit. I found a weight set someone was tossing out near that shitty apartment I used to live in.”Jeremy lifted his left arm, which was the circumference of a shower rod, still holding the cigarette. “Gonna start working out. Get in shape.”
    He devoured the sandwich in a few bites and wiped his mouth. “Would you like to come in? I got a new book on tape. Stephen King, man. Traded it for an iPod I found.”
    “We’re just passing through, buddy, but thanks.” Archer patted his shoulder. “I’m actually looking for Tommy.”
    Jeremy thought for a moment and said, “Man, I haven’t seen that guy in days.”
    Archer stood a bit taller. “Oh yeah? Since when, do you think?”
    Jeremy scratched his hairless chin. “I don’t know, maybe Tuesday?”
    Archer gave me a foul look.
    “You guys need a flashlight?” Jeremy said.
    The frown faded, and Archer smiled at the young man. “What do you think?”
    “Right, right, Secret Agent Man.” Jeremy looked at me with kind eyes. “Nice meeting you, Ninety-Nine.”
    “Likewise,” I said.
    “Let’s go, Ninety-Nine. We have a mission,” Archer said.
    We certainly did. Tuesday was the day Archer had died.

Chapter 14

    “Jeremy is a huge
Get Smart
fan. It’s an old TV show. Ever hear of it?”
    “No.” I said it in a way that warned I didn’t want to either. Archer dropped the subject.
    He was concerned about something—perhaps what Jeremy had told him about the last time he had seen Archer’s informant.
    “What’s troubling you?” I asked.
    “I don’t believe in coincidences is all. Tommy hasn’t been seen since last Tuesday, the day I got whacked. I hope to hell he’s all right.”
    The farther we made our way through the dank tunnel, the darker it got. Archer had a small flashlight to guide our way, but my eyes were used to navigating the darkness. I could feel my energy returning bit by bit. I felt empowered. My cloaked wings twitched behind, begging for flight.
    The bags Archer had brought with us contained food, cigarettes, batteries, and packs of matches that he passed out as offerings to various people in exchange for passage through their homes. Archer explained how the tunnels were designed to expel excess water from the city and that occasionally they did flood. They ran, he told me, all the way from Las Vegas to California.
    “Some of these folks have been here for years,” he said sadly. “These are the real lost ones, as you call them.”
    We passed through a young couple’s “apartment,” where I saw signs of a child living there: a teddy bear, a fire truck. When I asked Archer about it, he said, “They keep them hidden. I’m sure they’re here, but the local police have yet to find any. It’s a tight-knit community down here. Most folks look out for one another.”
    “And this contact? Why are we searching for him?” I stepped around a bookcase built out of wooden fruit crates. It still smelled like bananas.
    “Tommy is my informant. Every city has its underbelly, and I don’t mean this.” He swept his arm across the tunnel. “I mean the dark side. Drugs, gangs, prostitution, trafficking. And every city has its snitches. He’s a pretty good guy when he’s clean. He was busted for drugs a few times. The last time, he wanted to strike a deal with the local prosecutor. He’d keep the boys in blue up to speed on any major activity, and they’d reduce his sentence. It’s worked out well for both sides. Last year, he got wind of a major drug shipment that was coming in from the coast. That’s when I met him.”
    “How did he know about it?”
    Archer slid a glance my way. “He doesn’t tell, and I don’t ask anymore. I’m just glad he’s on our side.”
    “And the missing women?” I asked. “Did he know anything about the women?”
    Archer frowned. “Didn’t get a chance to ask him before…”
    “I see.”
    Archer sighed. “Hope he’s all right.”
    After a few silent