Vespers

Gentry hesitated. He looked at Nancy.

“Robert, we haven’t got a lot of time,” the scientist said.

Nancy was right. What rubbed Gentry raw was not that she was going. It was that she was going with an officer who was on the warpath. And he was afraid that saying something about calming down or being careful would only piss Gilheany off more.

So Gentry just nodded. Then he and Gilheany set their radios on the same cha

The women turned and jogged toward the short staircase that led to the pedestal as Gentry brought Weeks up to date. Then he switched the radio back to Gilheany’s frequency.

Kathy and T-Bone wished them good luck as they passed. T-Bone had picked up his camera and was video-taping their departure.

Before they disappeared through the gate at the top of the stairs, Gentry thoughtFuck it and called after them. “She’s going to smell you coming, Nancy. Don’t forget that!”

“I won’t!” she called back. “I’m counting on it.”

Forty-Two

Joyce hadn’t been to the Statue of Liberty since her first-grade field trip. All she remembered from that visit was the very long, very winding, very hot climb to the top. It was still long, winding, and hot.

The women took the stairs toward the top of the pedestal. The staircase wound around a wide, open shaft for the elevator that went to the observation deck at the top of the pedestal. They made their way cautiously in case the bat had decided to come down instead of up. She hadn’t. As they neared the balcony level that led to the statue itself, Gentry radioed. They stopped while Gilheany took the call.

“We’re in the communications center,” Gentry said, “and the security cameras are all dark.”

“Impossible,” Gilheany said. “Each of them has an internal power system.”

“Then maybe it’s the statue that’s dark,” Gentry replied.

“I don’t see how,” Gilheany said. “The transformers are in the base of the monument. I’m looking at them now.”

“What about the cables that service the lights?”

“They run up the statue’s central column,” she said. “They’re encased in inch-thick steel pipe.”

Joyce said, “I haven’t met a metal yet that could stop that bat. Maybe she slashed it on her way up.”

“On purpose?” Gilheany asked.

“No,” Joyce said. “But the inside of the statue would be a very tight space for her to maneuver. She could have used the column as a hookhold or punctured it by accident.”

“ Nancy, this is not looking good,” Gentry said.

“And we’re wasting time,” Sergeant Gilheany said. She slipped a flashlight from her gunbelt. She switched the shotgun to her left hand. “I’m still going up. Are you coming?”

“I am,” Joyce said. “But I’ll take the light.”

Gilheany handed it to her along with the radio. Gentry said nothing.

They moved from the pedestal into the sculpture itself. The stairs had ascended along the sides of the pedestal. Now they fed into the ceiling and up the very steep spiral staircase that led to the crown. Gilheany was in the lead. As they proceeded, Joyce circled the flashlight slowly from the steps to the copper skin of the statue to the stairs over-head.

The steps ascended in a tight, dizzying spiral up the central steel core. Almost at once they saw that the central column had been breached. There was a gouge in the side, and it appeared as if the rent metal had sliced the cables. Sparks sizzled from the frayed ends and Joyce wondered if the statue had ever seen a lonelier fireworks display.

Gilheany was stepping quietly and Joyce was wearing ru

All around them were the monument’s zig-zagging stainless-steel support struts. Joyce knew that the bat could be hanging from any one of them. Or from the steps. Or from the central column itself.

Or the dark folds of the statue’s skin.

The light from the flashlight threw ever-changing shadows on the copper plates that comprised the statue’s robe. The shifting light and dark made the skin appear to crawl, made it seem more liquid than solid. And though her mind told her the bat was nestled somewhere above them, Joyce couldn’t rid herself of the feelings she’d had as a child, that the night, the darkness, held more than she could ever know. That any of those fluid changes to the side or above them could have been the bat moving its wings, preparing to jump-

Joyce started when Gilheany spoke. As if her heart weren’t thumping fast enough from the climb.

“How soon before she knows we’re here?” the sergeant asked quietly.

“She already knows,” Joyce assured her. “The bat heard us as soon as we entered the pedestal.”

“So there’s no reason to whisper.”

“None. And she’ll smell us soon, if she hasn’t already.”

“You said downstairs that you were hoping she would. Why?”

“Because if the bat gives birth quickly, and if she feels strong enough, she may try and intercept us. We’ll hear her.”

“If she’s already given birth, how dangerous will the babies be?”

“I don’t know,” Joyce admitted. “Vesper pups tend to be about twenty-five percent as large as the parent. Their wings aren’t developed enough for flight, and many of them are born with their eyes shut. But the way this bat was mutated it’s impossible to say.”

They passed the statue’s midriff. The tablet in the figure’s left arm loomed above. Joyce turned her light there and made sure the bat wasn’t inside. In the dull light that bounced back she could see Sergeant Gilheany’s expression. A great deal of her gung-ho had been sucked into the shadows. If time hadn’t been so short, Joyce might have insisted that Gilheany stay behind with Gentry and let her have the shotgun. She probably had more wildlife experience than either of them.

But Joyce was glad it hadn’t worked out that way because she might not have been able to get off a steady shot. Her thigh muscles were aflame and trembling from the ru

The climb did provide one unexpected compensation for Joyce. She liked knowing that Gentry was on the other end of the radio, listening silently, worrying about her. Not being alone was a new and different kind of feeling for her.

Just above them were the statue’s massive shoulders; straight above them was the neck and the ascent to the crown. Between the shoulders, to the right, was a small rest area with a relatively wide landing beyond it. Past that, Joyce saw dark, narrow steps that rose into the statue’s raised arm to the torch. The ladder that rose through the statue’s raised arm to the torch was there. Joyce heard the wind rushing around the arm, swift and ghostly. And while she heard only that, she knew that wherever the bat was it could hear everything. She wished there were something she could do to neutralize that advantage. Feedback from the radio wouldn’t distract the bat because there was no signal to disrupt. The flashlight might blind her momentarily, but she’d still be able to hear. They could fire a shotgun blast and deafen her, but they’d also deafen themselves. And there was still the bat’s olfactory sense.

Joyce shined the flashlight toward the upraised arm. She ducked under a low strut and walked slowly toward it. She looked up inside.