Someone had deliberately excavated the ground beneath the prison.
The conclusion left everyone standing at the edge of the crater in stunned silence. Clarice Starling frowned deeply as she studied the enormous exposed cavity, unable to reconcile its scale with the complete absence of any previous record. "Something this large would require manpower, equipment, money, and months of work. How could nobody have noticed?"
The construction supervisor seemed equally disturbed by what his own crew had uncovered. He removed his hard hat and scratched his thinning hair before looking down into the pit again. "I’ve worked construction for thirty years. I’ve seen contractors disappear halfway through jobs, foundations poured wrong, and buildings held together by shortcuts, but I’ve never seen anyone secretly hollow out an underground area this large."
He pointed toward the long stretch of disturbed soil. "We’re talking about an area close to the size of a football field. Whoever did this was organized enough to move an enormous amount of earth without attracting attention." The supervisor shook his head. "I don’t know whether to call them professional or completely insane."
Organized.
Secretive.
Willing to spend enormous resources on something that seemed to have no ordinary purpose.
Those thoughts immediately reminded Axel Vance of the letter Hannibal Lecter had sent him earlier that day. Hannibal had specifically warned that the disaster beneath the prison was connected to a mysterious cult and that clues might still be found among the maximum-security inmates.
Axel’s expression became serious. If Hannibal had been telling the truth, the excavation suddenly made far more sense. Ordinary criminals usually expected some kind of financial return, but fanatics pursuing a religious or supernatural objective might spend years and enormous resources on something no rational businessman would ever attempt.
Axel turned toward Clarice. "I have a theory."
Clarice looked away from the crater. "Let’s hear it."
"I don’t think an ordinary criminal organization dug this."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Axel continued, "What if we’re dealing with a cult?"
Clarice remained silent for several seconds. The initial surprise on her face gradually disappeared as she reconsidered the excavation from that angle. "A sufficiently organized group with committed followers could explain the manpower and secrecy."
"Exactly."
Clarice rubbed her forehead. "Unfortunately, that would make our investigation worse, not easier."
Axel looked at her. "Why?"
"You probably haven’t worked many cases involving organized cults or extremist religious groups." Clarice’s tone carried a trace of frustration despite her relative inexperience. "The dangerous ones aren’t always a handful of people hiding in a basement."
She glanced back toward the crater. "Some have wealthy members, excellent attorneys, political connections, and thousands of followers willing to protest the moment investigators show up. Even when law enforcement suspects something serious, proving it without creating a legal or political disaster can become extremely difficult."
Axel fell silent.
He had expected supernatural monsters to be troublesome.
He had not expected lawyers and politicians to rank beside them.
Axel stared down into the ruined prison and shook his head. "We still can’t ignore this. Whatever happened here killed people and brought at least one corpse back to life."
Clarice nodded. "Agreed. We investigate first and worry about the politics when we actually know what we’re dealing with."
Hannibal’s letter immediately returned to Axel’s thoughts.
The clues may be hidden among the maximum-security prisoners.
That gave him a direction.
"Clarice, we need to go back to the department." Axel stepped away from the edge of the crater. "I want every file connected to the prisoners from that underground wing."
Clarice understood immediately. "You think one of them might have a connection to whoever dug this place?"
"Maybe more than one." Axel looked toward her. "Backgrounds, crimes, family histories, organizations, known associates—anything that could connect them to the same group."
He paused before adding, "Nobody excavates something this large without a reason. Even insane people have motives."
Clarice nodded. "Then we start with the inmates."
Before leaving, Axel turned toward the construction supervisor. "How long before your crews finish clearing the site?"
The man grimaced. "Normally? About a month."
Axel glanced at the massive crater.
The supervisor followed his gaze and sighed. "But after listening to you two talk about cults and whatever else might be buried under my crew, I suddenly have a strong desire to finish this job as fast as humanly possible."
Clarice almost smiled.
"I’ll bring in additional crews and run longer shifts," the supervisor continued. "If nothing else collapses and the equipment holds up, I’ll try to get the major excavation done within a week."
Axel nodded. "Good. If you find another tunnel, chamber, body, symbol, or anything else that doesn’t belong here, call the Miami Police Department immediately."
"You won’t have to tell me twice."
Axel and Clarice left the ruins and returned to Miami.
When they entered the Miami Police Department, one of Axel’s coworkers immediately spotted them. Steve, the same officer who had been around the locker room earlier, leaned against a desk with a grin. "Well, look at you, Vance. First real day back at work and you’re already bringing your girlfriend into the station."
Axel opened his mouth to explain, but Clarice stepped forward first. She showed Steve her identification with practiced professionalism. "Clarice Starling. FBI Academy trainee attached to the federal inquiry. I’m currently working with Officer Vance."
Steve stared at the identification.
His smile vanished.
"FBI?"
Clarice nodded.
Steve immediately stepped backward. "You know what? I just remembered there’s probably a shooting somewhere."
Axel raised an eyebrow.
Steve grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Miami. Big city. Somebody’s always shooting at somebody."
Before Clarice could respond, he was already halfway across the room.
The effect spread almost instantly.
Several officers who had been casually talking suddenly became extremely interested in paperwork. Heads lowered across the room, conversations stopped, and nobody seemed willing to make eye contact with the young woman carrying federal credentials.
Clarice stood awkwardly beside Axel. "Is there something on my face?"
"No."
"Then why did everyone suddenly start acting like I’m Internal Affairs?"
Axel gave her a sympathetic look. "You said FBI."
Clarice frowned. "When I was a kid, people thought FBI agents were impressive."
"Local cops have a slightly different relationship with federal agencies."
She looked around at the officers pretending not to listen. "Apparently."
Axel decided not to continue the subject. He led Clarice toward the records section and requested copies of every available file connected to inmates housed in Holden’s maximum-security wing. What eventually arrived was a stack thick enough to occupy most of Axel’s newly assigned desk.
The two began working through the files together.
Serial murder.
Dismemberment.
Mass shootings.
Arson.
Poisoning.
The deeper Axel went, the more the collection resembled an encyclopedia of violent crime. Compared with some of the people housed beneath Holden’s prison, an ordinary drug dealer almost looked respectable.
Many of the inmates also had extensive psychiatric histories. Some had been transferred between prisons and secure hospitals repeatedly, while others had spent most of their adult lives under psychiatric supervision. Axel even found files belonging to Hannibal Lecter and Edward Theodore "Ed" Gein.
He did not waste much time on either one.
Hannibal had already escaped.
Gein was dead again.
Hopefully.
Axel continued flipping through the stack until one name made his hand stop.
MICHAEL MYERS
Axel stared at the file.
There was no mistake.
He immediately pulled it from the pile and opened it across his desk.
An intake photograph showed a tall man with an unnervingly blank expression. Axel searched his memory of the collapsed maximum-security wing, but he could not remember seeing anyone matching Myers during the fighting. A man that tall and physically imposing should have been difficult to overlook.
That meant Michael might have escaped before Axel ever saw him.
Axel lowered his gaze to the criminal history.
Michael Audrey Myers.
Haddonfield, Illinois.
On Halloween night, October 31, 1963, at six years old, Michael Myers murdered his older sister, Judith Myers, with a kitchen knife. Following the killing, he was committed to Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, where he remained under psychiatric care for fifteen years.
Axel’s eyes narrowed as he continued reading.
In 1978, Myers escaped from Smith’s Grove and returned to Haddonfield, where he became connected to a series of murders. Following his later recapture, repeated containment problems eventually resulted in his transfer through several secure institutions before his placement in the Florida maximum-security facility.
That final portion was obviously different from the movie history Axel remembered, but the beginning was unmistakable.
Judith Myers.
Smith’s Grove.
Haddonfield.
Halloween night.
Axel leaned back slowly.
"It really is him."
Clarice looked over from the file she was reading. "You recognize the name?"
Axel stared at Michael Myers’s photograph.
Of course he recognized him.
In his previous life, there were few horror killers more famous.
The silent figure.
The white mask.
The Shape.
Michael Myers.
The killer from Halloween.
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