Chapter 8

We sped down the streets of New York, this time in an F.B.I. truck, luckily not being driven by Clarisse, but another guy named Jake Mason. He was quite muscular and seemed to like to build things.

Annabeth and I sat in the back of the truck, ready to jump out when we stopped. We were silent for a while, listening to the rattle of the wheels, until Annabeth spoke up, "I hope we find Gabe Ugliano."

"Me, too," I replied. "I mean, we're not even sure if he's in Grand Central Station…"

"It makes sense," Annabeth assured. Something inside me said to trust her, because when something made sense to Annabeth, it usually did.

"Hey," I said, a little awkwardly, "I never told you about why I'm only sixteen and working at the F.B.I."

"Oh," Annabeth mumbled. "It seemed personal, so I didn't want to ask…"

"No, it's okay," I told her. Then I began. "When I was twelve, my mother passed away. After that, I had nowhere to live, so General Corral sort of took me in. I worked at the F.B.I. ever since."

Annabeth's eyes were sunken. "Oh, Percy," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," I murmured. "Leo lost his mother, too."

"That still doesn't make it right," Annabeth replied. "And she was murdered. Your mother was…"

I never told this to anyone, not even General Corral. "She was murdered, too. I saw a glimpse of a man in a black cloak."

Annabeth stared at me. "Gabe Ugliano has a black cloak."

I had never thought of that. It just seemed so… strange, and it didn't really make sense. "Why would he kill my mother?" I asked. "What would he want from her? He killed Leo's mother because he wanted to steal something from her shop. My mother and I… we didn't have anything."

"I guess," Annabeth replied, turning away to stare at the ground. "So… does General Corral know about all of this?"

I shook my head. "He doesn't know that my mother was murdered. In fact, no one does."

"The police…?"

"They just found her dead. There were no witnesses to tell them what really happened after I left."

Annabeth looked at me again. "Why didn't you tell them?"

"Because they probably wouldn't believe me. I'm not even sure if I believe me. I might have just been seeing things…" I really didn't want to talk about this; that's why I was shrugging it off. But I knew, deep down inside, that what I saw that night was not my imagination. My mother had been murdered. From who, I had yet to find out.

Just then, the truck stopped and the doors swung open, revealing the steep stairs down into Central Park Station. Annabeth and I hopped out, thanking Jake Mason before we started underground.

I had been down here before, and I betted that Annabeth had, too, because my mother used to work here at the candy shop. Maybe we could stop by there after this was all over, grab some blue candy…

As always, the station was packed with people getting on and off the train, carrying luggage, and talking on cell phones. Gabe Ugliano probably could blend in with the crowd if he wanted to, but at least we knew what he looked like - a black cloak over his ugly bald head. Hopefully, though, he was hiding somewhere else, somewhere he didn't think the F.B.I. would go, because he'd never think we'd suspect this place, that we'd ever find the lighter he must have dropped years ago.

"So, where should we start looking?" Annabeth asked.

"Along the walls for any secret doors," I answered.

And so, that's what we did, inspecting carefully while trying not to get noticed by the crowd. Of course, if we did, I could always show my F.B.I. badge, but since I was only a teenager, it didn't always work. So we had to be extra careful.

There were air vents and pipe holes, but I didn't think Gabe Ugliano could fit his fat body into any of them. I was glad for that. Climbing through a pipe sounded pretty disgusting.

We continued on searching the walls until we reached the train tracks themselves. People were currently boarding on, because the train had just stopped. It was easier to look around right then, since everyone was bunching together to get on the train, leaving the rest of the hall an open space.

Annabeth and I looked around again, but there was still no sign of anything. I was beginning to think that we were wrong about where Gabe Ugliano's hideout would be, that we were going too fast for ourselves, too eager to catch this awful criminal. But just then, something crunched under my feet.

I looked down and saw that they were used cigarettes, all cracked and dirty. I looked around and saw that there were more up ahead. Annabeth spotted them, too, and started to follow them, a look of pure determination on her face.

Trusting Annabeth's judgement, I jogged after her. The trail wove here and there, and there were only a few cigarettes, with wide ranges in between them. It could have been anybody's used cigarettes thrown to the ground, but after we found that lighter, I was beginning to believe that anything could be a clue.

Up ahead, Annabeth stopped suddenly, right in front of a wall. There were a pile of cigarettes at her feet, similar to the ones I had stepped on earlier. On the wall, there was a cluster of pipes, and I remembered myself skimming over them on our search. But now, it seemed, Annabeth wasn't look at them, but through them.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"I think it's an entrance to something," she replied. "There's a door behind there."

"How can you be sure? I checked here earlier and -"

"Maybe you didn't look hard enough. Come on." Annabeth placed her hands on the pipes and started to push.

I knew that I couldn't just stand there, so I helped Annabeth push. Water trickled in between my fingers. It was pretty gross, but to my surprise, it payed off - the pipes soon moved to reveal a door.

"Wow," I said. "How did we do that?"

"Someone moved these pipes before and put them back to hide the door," Annabeth explained. "And I think I know who."

So did I, and was glad that we were finally getting closer. I placed my hand on the doorknob. Of course, it was locked, but an F.B.I. agent was always prepared - I took out the piece of metal that I had used to break the lock at the Grand Ball (man, that felt like so long ago) and inserted it into the little hole on the knob.

I turned, listened for the click, and the door opened. This was the moment of truth. Annabeth and I stepped inside.

Hi! Apologies if I described Grand Central Station wrong (I've only been to New York once, when I was really little). But I did my best. As always, please read and review! - Key