Lizard Men of Los Angeles | Page 7

hands he held out in front of him, unharmed.
"There's no ice," Mrs. Lockhart said, returning. "Are you all right?"
"Perfectly," Cairo assured her.
"How...how..." Mildred stammered.
"It was no worse than the hot coals I used to walk upon in India. Any fakir could have done the same."
"You...you were faking it?" She burst into sudden tears. "I don't understand any of this! This is all so horrible! Poor Bruno, and poor Mr. Rosenberg! And that monster, Crowley, who wanted to have relations with anything that moved! I wish I never came to California! I wish none of this had ever happened!"
"Listen to my voice," Cairo said. He held up his hand, palm first, with the middle finger bent again. "I will not command you to forget, because if you forget you will only make the same mistakes again. And I cannot undo the things that happened tonight. I can, however, make you able to remember them without much pain, or fear, or curiosity, so that you can go back to Missouri and be Mildred Davis once again. Do you understand?"
Mildred nodded and Cairo lowered his hand. "Do you have any money?" he asked her. She shook her head. Cairo reached into the limp blonde hair behind her ear and produced a small, tightly folded piece of paper. He carefully unfolded it to reveal a twenty-dollar bill. "That should get you home," he said.
Mildred wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "How can I ever thank you?"
"Help me search for another map," Cairo said, "before we take you to the train station."
*
Dawn was a pale gray promise in the eastern sky when they pulled up in front of Union Station on Alameda Street. Even at this hour the sidewalks teemed with well-dressed travelers, while children sold newspapers and fresh fruit. The smell of oranges blended with the scent of orange blossoms in the air.
They had searched Bruno's apartment top to bottom and found no other maps than the ones on the drafting table. Cairo had appropriated those, along with a massive battery-powered miner's lamp they'd found in Bruno's closet.
They got out of the police car. "Thank you so much Mr. Cairo, Mrs. Lockhart," Mildred said. "I don't know how I could ever pay you back."
"Just take care of yourself," Cairo said. He reached into thin air and pulled back a business card. "This is the address of our manager. Write us a letter when you're safely back in Missouri."
"I will."
"A moment," Mrs. Lockhart said suddenly. "Mildred, what's that?"
She was pointing to a ramp, paved with cobblestones, that led down into the ground. "That?" Mildred said. "Why, that's just a walkway, for people and horses to cross the street."
"Are there many of them in the city?"
"Maybe a couple of hundred."
"As many," Mrs. Lockhart pressed on, "as there were little marks on the top sheet of Bruno's map? Cairo, would you be so kind?" He nodded, reached back into the police car for the map, and unrolled it on the sidewalk.
"You're right," Cairo said. "It's a map of the pedestrian tunnels. Very astute, Mrs. Lockhart."
"There's more," Mrs. Lockhart said. "Note how these pedestrian tunnels connect with a longer tunnel that goes under the park? That park right behind us?"
"By heaven," Cairo said. "I think you're on to it." He rolled up the maps and exchanged them for the miner's lamp. "What did Bruno say when I asked him how to find the lizard men? Could it have been that he meant us to get 'to the tunnels'--meaning the tunnels of the lizard men--'from the tunnels'--meaning from the pedestrian tunnels?"
"Let us find out," Mrs. Lockhart said. "Mildred, can you make your way to your train on your own?"
"Compared to a lot of things I done since I came out here," Mildred said, "it'll be a piece of cake."
She blew a kiss, and Cairo managed a short bow, then he and Mrs. Lockhart turned and hurried down the ramp that led to the tunnels under Los Angeles.
*
The short tunnel crossed beneath Alameda and emerged again at the end of Olvera Street in the park. Cairo walked the length of it then returned, searching the walls and floor. "I don't see any way this can join the other tunnel."
"That's because," Mrs. Lockhart said, "you're using your eyes."
Cairo stopped. "You're right, of course." He produced a long, red handkerchief from his sleeve and tied it over his eyes. Once again he slowly walked the length of the tunnel, arms raised slightly from his sides, turning his head every few seconds to listen or to sniff the air. An elderly Mexican woman, muffled in a black dress and shawl, passed him with a frightened look, crossing herself and muttering under her breath.
Once she had climbed the ramp to the park Cairo asked, "Are we alone?"
"Quite," Mrs. Lockhart replied.
Cairo nodded,