Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Read online

  As she pulled out of her parking lot and headed toward ASU PD, Jillian thought of Wes’ story about the tunnels. He said it had been when Barak Obama had visited. Someone—did Wes say it was the Secret Service, she didn’t remember—had wanted to station police officers down there, and then seal them off…for security reasons. Fortunately, people from the cable company had warned against that. They were down in the tunnels a lot, and knew that if they were closed-off, you’d have to have respirators or breathing the asbestos in that enclosed space would be fatal.

  What had most amazed Jillian about the tunnels is that, until she started the job at ASU PD, she’d never heard of them. She’d gotten two degrees from ASU, had crisscrossed the campus a zillion times, and never knew about the elaborate network of tunnels beneath her. Like most students, it never occurred to her to wonder why there were no telephone wires strung overhead like everywhere else in Tempe.

  The original tunnels had been constructed 80 some-odd years ago. They’d been expanded over the years as ASU grew and as new communication technologies came along. All of ASU’s pipes (water, heating, cooling) and wires and com technology were underground…ten, sometimes fifteen feet underground.

  She learned about the tunnels not long after she started working at ASU PD, and got the tour that was standard operating procedure for new officers. She descended with a couple of other rookies one day during her first month at ASU PD, led by an ASU Facilities Management supervisor. They entered just outside Hayden Library. Jillian again shook her head in amazement: she’d stood a few feet from that entrance no telling how many times because it was near the MU and Wilson Hall, and had never noticed it.

  Jillian and the other two rookies followed the supervisor down the ladder into the tunnels. At the bottom, she saw that this wing—it started about five feet from the ladder—was secured by a locked gate…with bars that she could see through it. The supervisor had a key. He told them that there were motion sensors as well, but he’d called ahead and they had been de-activated in their sector and in the others that they would visit that day.

  The tunnel was wide and with a fairly high ceiling…all but the tallest of them could stand upright and they could also easily walk through two abreast. In other sectors, the tunnels were even larger; in others, sometimes smaller. Although there was fluorescent lighting, it was weird down there...very claustrophobic. There were pipes everywhere. Jillian remembered asbestos warning signs and also that at some ‘intersections’ there were directions posted on the concrete walls for getting to other sectors. The supervisor said there were almost five miles of tunnels, and that you could traverse most of the ASU campus underground.

  That day, they’d also entered at two other entrances as a part of their tour. As best Jillian could remember, there were 50+ entrances to the tunnels, some outside, some in the basements of buildings. Probably the patrol officers would know how many and where they were since they had to patrol them, at least topside.

  She remembered that one rookie had asked if the tunnels were ever breached. The supervisor said “yes,” but only rarely. He’d said there were stories about frat initiations that involved breaking in, shoving pledges down there, and having them find their way out to some designated space…maybe an entrance in the basement of a campus building. The supervisor said that this was a dangerous prank because of the asbestos. If workers were down in the tunnels for very long, they wore respirators. That’s what Wes had said, too.

  And, that was the reason why a large-scale asbestos abatement project was now underway. Workers were in the tunnels daily and had been for several weeks. That’s why there were all those barriers topside across campus.

  For the project, the monitoring sensors were turned off and the gates were unlocked to allow the crews easy access throughout the underground maze. There were crews working all across the campus.

  But in the midst of this project, something unforeseen had happened: the tunnels had caved-in at several places on campus. Jillian thought she’d read in an update that there were two cave-ins, but maybe it was three…she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t known if the cave-ins were just an odd coincidence—there had been cave-ins before—or if it was somehow related to the asbestos abatement.

  Jillian was buzzed on adrenalin, but stayed within the speed limit. It was rush hour so College Avenue was clogged—lots of people leaving the campus in cars and on bikes—but she was headed against that traffic. Of course, the light at Broadway caught her, and it was a long one. She used the time wisely.

  First, she called Ginny, the dispatcher at ASU PD, and told her that she needed backup at the BAC Building. And she needed it now! She didn’t remember Roberts’ office number so she gave Ginny his full name. She called Wes again, and got his voicemail, again. She hung up and called his desk phone number. After five rings, someone picked-up.

  “Sergeant Halliday, Tempe Police Department. Can I help you?”

  At first, Jillian was confused because Doc had answered Wes’ phone. Then she was glad that he’d answered. “Doc, it’s Jillian. I have to talk to Wes. This is important, Doc.”

  “OK. OK. Simmer down. I talked to him earlier and he said that when the trial was over for the day, he’d be in the judge’s chambers.“

  “Shoot.” Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled. “OK, Doc, listen…write this down, OK? I’m all-but-certain that Professor Roberts murdered Nelda Siemens. Wes will know who that is…Professor David Roberts.”

  “Alright, got it…David Roberts.”

  “He killed her in her Business building office and then transported her body across campus to her office in the English Department. And, he used the tunnels. Doc, do you know about the tunnels?”

  “Ah…yeah, I know the tunnels. But aren’t they always locked up?”

  “Yes, but not right now. They are under renovation…an asbestos abatement project.”

  “Oh man.”

  “I’m headed to Professor Robert’s office…I’m in my car now. It’s in a building called BAC. Wes will know it…we interviewed Roberts there. Tell Wes…and send back-up.”

  “Got it. I never got to crash into a judge’s chambers before,” he said and chuckled.

  When Jillian was quiet, Doc said, “I got this…I promise. Watch your back, Jillian.“

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and hoped that she’d told Doc everything…and that he’d get the info to Wes. The courts and the judges’ chambers were in the same building at the PD. Surely he would…

  Jillian cleared Doc from her mind. She shook her head in amazement as she thought about the campus update she’d read earlier that morning, when she was working through her emails. Late last night, two goofy students—on a dare—jumped down into one of the tunnel cave-ins over on Palm Walk, near the overhead walkway that arches across University Avenue. The tunnel there was ten feet down, which was a long enough drop: one student broke her ankle. Another student—she hadn’t jumped—called the Campus Police. They got the injured coed out, and to Student Health Services.

  Reading that story should have been the final piece of the puzzle, but it had been early in the day when Jillian was consciously NOT thinking about the case. She had been waiting for Ersula to arrive, and was pre-occupied with the Task Force report, so she just read the story about the ASU students, had a good laugh, and moved on.

  It was the water pipe guys on College who had pulled it together for her. For whatever reason, when she saw the one who was chest-high in a ditch, that’s when she knew: ASU’s tunnels were open, unmonitored, and actually breached in several places. Jillian vaguely remembered that there were tunnels over at the MU…near the BAC. She didn’t remember where the breaches were, except for the one on Palm Walk…but it didn’t matter. So, that was the first part…there was more, of course…

  The light turned and Jillian inch-wormed across Broadway; she was the third car back. She had to drive even more
slowly because a pod of bikes had also been stopped at the traffic light, and they were wobbly as they started building up speed—there’s a slight rise when you’re headed in that direction…toward campus.

  And worse, some of the cyclists who were guys, were passing others—it’s always guys who passed others—and edging out of the bike path and onto College, actually in traffic. Jillian couldn’t move over too much because of the solid line of oncoming cars, so she passed the bikes carefully, resisting the urge to blast them with her horn.

  Once around them, she looked ahead and hoped that a train wouldn’t roll through and block her way. As she passed Daley Park, she knew she was good on that front.

  Jillian pulled into the ASU PD parking lot, locked her car and headed at a fast walk to the traffic light at College and Apache It was red. Of course, it was red. “Come on, come on,” she kept saying. She had to wait for the light to turn green. She couldn’t even jaywalk because oncoming traffic leaving campus had a left turn arrow, and a steady stream of cars cut across her path.

  Jillian was counting-down the seconds in the Walk/Don’t Walk control. When it hit 0, even before the light had changed, she was fast-walking across Apache. She continued to fast-walk past the parking structure—she even dashed in front of a car exiting there—and onto the main part of campus. As she passed between Discovery Hall and the Business Admin Building, she remembered only days ago she was driving her cart here and heading to the English Department and the beginning of all this business. Just as quickly, those thoughts disappeared as did thoughts of Professor Naremore, Professor Keefer, and all the rest. She was focused on what to do next.

  Jillian took a right just passed the Business Building and headed between it and the MU. BAC was at an angle in front of her now. She took the stairs two at a time. She remembered that there was an office directory near the elevator on Professor Roberts’ floor; she’d get his office number from that.

  This was a serious stairwell with unusually wide, high steps. Between that and her fast walk from the ASU PD, she was winded when she reached his floor.

  Jillian opened the stairway door and was just orienting herself to the hallway when she saw a man entering the elevator. She’d only caught a glimpse, but thought that it might be Professor Roberts. “Professor Roberts,” she called…twice, as the elevator doors closed. “Maybe the guy didn’t stop because it wasn’t him, or maybe he didn’t hear me,” she thought.

  She was torn as to what to do next. Was she even sure that it was Professor Roberts? She thought so…maybe…possibly…but maybe not. Maybe she should get his office number from the directory, and go knock on his office door. But if that was Roberts who had entered the elevator, he was getting away.

  Jillian decided. She wheeled back into the stairwell and headed down…fast. She held to the rail on the right for balance. At the bottom, she literally jumped the final two steps. She opened the stairwell door and was in the lobby. She stopped and looked around because the guy—Roberts or whoever—could have gone anywhere. She looked hurriedly but carefully from left to right, taking-in both the lobby and the mall area outside.

  “Got him,” she said aloud, and it was Roberts. He’d exited the building and was walking briskly to Jillian’s right, headed generally toward the MU. She exited, too, and fast-walked after him. He had a lead of a good 40 yards. She called, “Professor Roberts. Professor Roberts.” He kept walking. She was certain that he must have heard her because several people turned toward her as she called.

  What happened next happened so fast that at first it caught Jillian off guard. Professor Roberts stooped down, as if he’d dropped something, but then lifted a manhole-type cover and literally disappeared down it. This was a tunnel entrance near the MU.

  A couple of people looked surprised. Someone even yelled, ”Hey,” but Jillian didn’t have time to deal with them. She ran to the cover, opened it, looked down, then bent to her knees and looked again. When she didn’t see him, she descended.

  Jillian faced the ladder, watching where she placed her hands on the rungs—literally inches from her face. She was careful with her feet, too. At the same time, she constantly craned her neck back left and then right, just in case…

  When she reached the last rung, she stepped down from the ladder, although she was still holding it with her right hand. She took a couple of seconds to orient herself. A gate was about ten yards ahead. At first, she thought it was closed, but when she reached it she could see that it was slightly ajar. Jillian opened it and entered the tunnel.

  She had not been in this tunnel during that other trip down, but this one was pretty much what she remembered from before. Everything was a grayish brown color: the walls, the floor, the ceiling. There was an industrial sense to it, like you were in the bowels of a large building, maybe a hospital. There were big pipes stacked atop one another and running along the wall on her right. Warning signs read: DANGER HOT.

  The tunnel here was large: Jillian could easily stand upright, and it was wide as well… you could have driven a small car through at this point. Still, it was claustrophobic because she was underground and enclosed…in a tunnel. Last time, she’d been with a group and everyone was excited and laughing. OK, maybe it was nervous laughter, but still… This time felt very different. She had no flashlight, but the fluorescent lighting was working, although it gave the place a spooky feeling.

  Jillian walked slowly for maybe 15 yards. She stopped and listened. Nothing. She walked on, but soon stopped again and listened. Nothing. The dimensions remained the same although as she walked on, here and there, she saw signs of the workers, gone for the day: some tools, a stool, a bucket, even a hard hat with a name on it in cursive: ‘Ricky.’

  As she stopped and looked at the hard hat, a noise—a deep, metallic thud—startled her. It seemed unusually loud because otherwise everything was so quiet. Jillian couldn’t tell where it had come from or how far away it was because a weird tunnel effect distorted any sense of direction or of proximity.

  Frozen and on high alert, Jillian held her breath. She quickly looked left, then right, then up ahead and even behind her. Nothing. No further noise. Still, she didn’t move for what seemed like a long time.

  Then, she exhaled a nervous breath and walked on. She walked only a few yards before she stopped again to listen. Nothing. She walked on.

  There were no side paths to other sectors, although now there were a few slight turns in the tunnel—sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. When she encountered these, she slowed even more. Then, she walked on.

  Jillian had no idea how far she had come. She was walking slowly and stopping frequently, so she figured maybe…

  Then he was on her. In her face.

  Jillian had rounded a slight curve and he stepped out of the blind spot and came at her, the arc of his overhead stabbing motion already at its apex. For an instant she thought he had a knife, but in that same instant realized that it was a very large, long screwdriver. The screwdriver was starting its downward motion. He was on her so fast that there was no time to think. She reacted.

  Jillian stepped slightly forward with her left foot, and blocked his downward thrust with the meaty portion of her left forearm. She then extended that arm to push the screwdriver as far from her head as possible. Simultaneously, she maneuvered her right hand in a kind of backhand motion, placing it against the outer part of his right elbow, her palm out. She pushed against Roberts’ arm with both her left forearm and her right backhand, essentially griping and locking his arm in place with a hard, countervailing pressure so that he couldn’t retract the screwdriver and stab again.

  They stood there in the tunnel, facing each one another…eyes inches apart. Although Professor Roberts’ eyes bored into hers, Jillian didn’t think that he wasn’t really seeing her. She heard a guttural growl and of course thought it was him, until she realized that she was the one who was growling…from exertion.<
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  Professor Roberts had pushed hard, trying to complete that stabbing motion, then tried to withdraw his hand, probably to stab again. Jillian pushed equally hard in that countervailing force move.

  She quickly shifted both her hands just a few degrees so that she now clasped his right wrist—just above his hold on the screwdriver—in both her hands. She made a slight upward shrug of her shoulders, then, closing her elbows together, and with all her weight, pulled down hard, twisting with her hands and arms at the same time.

  This movement spun Roberts to the ground, screaming. Jillian slammed her right knee onto his chest and continued to twist his hand and arm. He screamed again, writhing in pain, and released the screwdriver. She continued the twisting motion and flipped Roberts on to his stomach. In a fluid motion, she swept the screwdriver to the far side of the tunnel, grabbed the handcuffs in her purse, and cuffed him. Again, he screamed. Jillian wondered if maybe she’d dislocated his shoulder…this defensive move could do that.

  This wasn’t a standard judo move. Choi, her sensai, had told the class that he didn’t usually teach this technique because it was more in the nature of a martial arts self-defense move, but he added it to their practice routine after Jillian became a detective. And he put the entire class through it…again and again.

  Professor Roberts screamed that he needed a doctor. Down on her haunches, Jillian read him his Miranda Rights.

  ASU Officer Tyler Cuevas arrived first, back-up mobilized by Ginny at ASU PD. Jillian was so pumped on adrenalin that she didn’t even hear him approaching until he said, “Whoa!” and stopped in his tracks. “Are you OK, Detective Sergeant? “

  When she didn’t answer, he asked again, “Jillian, you OK?”

  She was so revved that at first she couldn’t talk. She just nodded with quick head bobs.

  He asked, “Are you injured?”