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His feet shifted positions, causing light splashes in the giant puddle.

My mind flashed back to the subway. To the industrial river flowing through the trackbed.

To the third rail.

Leaping forward, my hand grabbed the desk lamp.

Startled, he shifted his gun toward me.

I smashed the lamp onto the ground and leapt away from the water. It exploded and sparks shot across the floor, lighting up the dark space.

As Chase scrambled onto the desk, I darted across the room. At the door, I turned and shot him a quick glance.

He glared at me. “You’re dead.”

I smiled grimly as I barreled into the next room.

No, I’m not. Not yet anyways

.

Chapter 35

The metal door caught as I crashed through it. I heard Standish shout. Lowering my shoulder, I shoved it with all of my might.

Abruptly, it gave way and I burst into the reception area. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Standish collapse in a heap on the floor. I’d bought myself a few seconds. It wasn’t much.

But it would have to do.

I whipped my head to the left. The double glass doors came into view, as did the hard chairs, the framed articles and pictures, the side tables, and the stacks of military-themed magazines.

Not a single damned weapon.

My head revolved to the right so fast my vision blurred. More framed articles and pictures. A small water cooler. A single-serving coffee machine on a table. A swivel chair. The receptionist’s desk.

Something glinted in the overhead light.

My hand shot to the desk. My fingers closed around the textured grip and I ripped the gun from my satchel.

I wheeled around and pointed it directly at Standish’s heart. He lay sideways, one elbow balanced on the floor, the other poised loosely in the air. His tense hands were wrapped around his 9 mm. His eyes peered out from behind the sight.

“Ryan,” screamed Chase from the other room. “Don’t shoot him. We need him.”

Standish’s eyes tightened. “Drop the gun.”

“You first.”

“I’ll shoot.”

“No you won’t.” I intensified my gaze. “But I will.”

“Ryan,” Chase yelled again. “Don’t —”

Standish growled. “Shut up, Jack.”

For ten seconds, we stood there, neither of us moving an inch. We were like two statues in some sort of bizarre museum exhibit…quiet, unyielding, and deadly.

I still felt dizzy from loss of blood. But despite everything, I still hadn’t experienced a stabbing headache or a sudden burst of strange colors. What did that mean? Was I finally putting my PTSD behind me?

My muscles grew tense and my mind focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t afford to waste time. I needed to get out of that room and fast.

Keeping his gun leveled with my eyes, Standish slowly rose to his feet. “I don’t care what Jack says. If you don’t put that gun down, I’ll kill you.”

“Is that right? Am I just another obstacle on your way to mass murder?”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked genuinely confused. I decided to press the point. “Chase told me about his plans for Red Mercury. I knew you were cold-blooded, but a nuclear attack on Manhattan? That’s insane.”

He laughed. “We’re not attacking anyone. We’re going to make a mint selling the stuff. But that’s as far as it goes.”

I grinned knowingly. “You might want to have a talk with Chase. It seems he’s been keeping secrets from you.”

Standish didn’t blink.

Keeping the pistol trained on him, my right hand reached to the desk and felt around until my fingers touched my satchel. I grabbed it and hoisted it over my shoulder.

I strode to the front of the desk, edged my way around it, and slowly started backing toward the hallway.

“I’m not joking,” Standish said. “I’ll kill you.”

“You shoot me, I shoot you.”

“I’ll do it. I swear to God I’ll do it.”

My chest tightened as I walked backward. Was he bluffing?

Or would he follow through on his threat?

I continued to walk backward until I bumped up against the clouded glass doors. I pushed my way through them and into the corridor. Seconds later, the clouded glass doors swung shut, shielding me from sight. A wave of relief swept over me.

But it didn’t last.

Keeping my gun pointed at the door, I pressed the elevator call button. As the gears worked, my thoughts turned to the next step. Undoubtedly, there were guards in the lobby. How would I get by them?

The doors opened and I ran into the elevator car. As it descended toward the lobby, I tried to formulate a plan. But I quickly discarded all of my ideas due to lack of information. There were just too many variables to consider.

I plastered my back against the wall next to the door. It wasn’t the ideal position to stage a gunfight, but at least it gave me some cover.

My body jolted as the elevator jerked to a halt. I stood still for a moment, feeling blood and sweat drip down my face. I tried to remain patient, but the elevator car remained absolutely still.

Reaching over, I pressed the Down button.

The car didn’t move.

I waited a few seconds and then pressed it again.

Still no movement.

Abruptly, the elevator jerked and started to glide along its rails.

My heart started to pound against my chest.

The elevator wasn’t going down…it was going up.

Chapter 36

The elevator car ignored me as I repeatedly slammed my finger against the Down button. Instead, it continued to creep upward at about half speed, slowly returning me to the one place I didn’t want to go.

Back to the top floor.

Back to Standish. Back to Chase.

Back to danger.

I examined the control panel. But besides the Up and Down buttons, the only other object within reach was a small black phone.

Suddenly, it rang.

I froze in place.

It rang again.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Nice try, Cyclone,” Chase said. “But I’m afraid your luck’s run out. We’ll see you soon.”

“Can I get a rain check?”

The dial tone buzzed in my ear.

I returned the phone to its cradle. Chase sounded confident, cocky even. I got the sense that it wasn’t just him waiting for me. With my luck, he’d probably called for additional support via a back staircase or something.

Suppressing my annoyance, I returned my attention to the control panel.

Removing my machete from the satchel, I rammed it into the small space between the wall and the panel. It took a few seconds for me to pry it open.

I was greeted by a dizzying array of wires and switches. I fiddled with them for a few seconds, trying to understand the complicated network at my fingertips. But I knew I’d never figure it out in time.

Stepping back, I raised the machete and stabbed it into the panel. The blade swooped through the air, shearing the wires and destroying the switches.

The lights evaporated.

The humming noise stopped.

And then, the elevator car ground to a halt.

Triumph surged through me. But it melted away quickly. Twenty stories still separated me from the lobby.

I hadn’t stopped the inevitable.

I’d merely delayed it.

My eyes swept the space, searching for options. To the right of the now-dark overhead light, I noticed something that looked like an access panel. Climbing around in an elevator shaft didn’t sound like a good time. And between my sore, exhausted body and torn, bloody hands, I wasn’t even sure I could handle it.