43 - 14 - Manhole

Ax was wearing a Timex Triathlon timepiece around his front ankle. Rachel had picked it out for him. He feared that his internal clock might be thrown off by the power of the Taxxon morph. He and I were going to take turns wearing it while Andalite.

He moved briskly to the manhole cover, stuck the tip of his tail blade in the small hole intended for the crowbar and, with one swift, fluid twist of his tail, sent the fifty-pound steel cap tumbling through the air. It landed with dull resonance inches from Jake's feet.

"Smooth," Jake commented dryly. "You should work for the city."

I dropped from my perch to the edge of the hole. I could see that at the bottom of an eightfoot shaft was a cylindrical chamber.