He looked over at Vargas, who nodded, determination on her face.
Then the two of them started making their way upstairs, taking extra care to tread quietly.
TWENTY ONE
It took them ten minutes to get to 22, Archer’s second trip up there for the evening. They didn’t encounter any remaining residents on the way and more importantly, no-one carrying a gun. They’d heard the two enemy gunmen report they’d found nothing in their area, so they guessed for the moment at least the south stairwell should be clear. They worked their way up quickly but methodically, clearing each corridor, their fingers tense on the triggers of the M4A1s. There were no windows in the stairwell which gave them one less thing to worry about, but each corridor they passed was eerily quiet. With a possible threat lurking on every level, they couldn’t be complacent or let their guard down for a second. They could get jumped or ambushed at any moment.
As they made their way up, Archer quietly thanked God for the cardio work he’d been doing since he got off the crutches. If he’d taken his rehab slower he’d have been in seriously deep shit by now. As befitted the Marshals badge on her hip Vargas was in excellent shape, and by the time they got to 22 she was barely breathing hard.
On the top floor, they waited just inside the door in the stairwell, sneaking a glance through the glass panel.
The corridor was clear.
Vargas pulled the door open quietly and moved inside, sweeping in front of her with her assault rifle. They made their way down, looking through their sights, Archer checking behind them constantly so they couldn’t get blindsided.
Halfway along, they found the red box Helen had talked about. It was exactly where she said it would be, attached to the wall, a glass square with a red phone inside and a fire extinguisher in a bracket underneath.
‘Bulls eye,’ Vargas said.
She reached for the handle to pull the front glass panel open but Archer stopped her.
‘Let’s clear the roof first.’
Castle and Spades walked into the lobby and saw the four gang members they’d hired to do this job in the first place watching King and Bishop, who were keeping tabs on the front door. All the men turned, looking at the newcomers as they joined them.
‘Anything?’ King asked.
‘Nothing. Not a damn thing,’ said Castle. He grinned. ‘The NYPD are going to need a stack of body bags for the roof though. And I saved the chopper pilot a cremation.’
‘You killed the entire squad?’ Braeten asked.
‘Of course. We haven’t found the girl yet. We need more time.’
‘Now you’re cop killers. You got some plan of escape?’
‘They’re sitting ducks,’ King said, ignoring him and addressing Castle, Spades and Bishop. ‘We disabled all the phone lines. One of their guys is bleeding out and might already be dead. We just took out their rescue team. It’s just a matter of time.’
He pushed the pressel switch on his vest.
‘Pawn, Hearts, where are you?’
‘Still doing our sweep, sir. No sign of them yet.’
‘Check again. They may have doubled back behind you.’
Pause.
‘Yes, sir.’
He released the handle, turning to his guys. ‘We’ll find them. Wherever they are, they can’t stay there forever. Sooner or later, they’re going to make a move.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then they die. Every single one.’
Easing open the door to the roof, Archer crept up the last flight of concrete stairs, Vargas beside him. When they saw what was on the surface, they both stopped dead in their tracks.
‘Jesus,’ Vargas whispered.
There was an entire ESU task force scattered in the middle of the roof; they’d been shredded to pieces. In a ragged circle around them were the spent cases and plates of Claymore mines, seared and torn black blankets near them. Small steel ball bearings were everywhere, many of them blackened or stained with blood.
Archer picked one up beside his foot on the step and examined it.
These men were willing to kill each other and an entire squad of police officers to get to Jennifer.
Very soon, he was going to need some answers for those questions he had about the girl.
Vargas went to move forward to look closer, but Archer grabbed her arm, keeping her low.
‘The sniper.’
She remembered and nodded her thanks. Together, the two of them took a last look at the carnage.
‘It was a trap,’ he said. ‘They never stood a chance.’
‘So let’s try the line and tell the people outside.’
Back in the 22nd corridor, Vargas pulled the box open and scooped up the red receiver as Archer checked either side with the M4A1.
She held the phone to her ear and her eyes immediately widened.
‘Dial tone.’
She started punching in a number quickly as Archer kept clearing either side of them.
The corridor was empty but he felt exposed and increasingly uneasy.
They needed to make the call and get the hell out of here.
Down on the street, Dalton was watching Hobbs when his phone started ringing. Pulling it from his pocket, he looked at the display and frowned. It wasn’t a number he recognised.
‘Hello?’
Beside him, Shepherd saw his expression change instantly.
‘Vargas! What the hell is going on in there?’
He listened for a moment as Shepherd stepped closer. There was a pause.
‘ESU were taken out with Claymores,’ Dalton relayed to Shepherd, Josh and Marquez. ‘The chopper dropped them off right in the target zone. The mines must have been camouflaged.’
‘Archer?’
Dalton listened. ‘He’s OK.’
Pause.
‘She says the newcomers are all heavily armed. M4A1 assault rifles. She and Archer managed to kill two of them. They were in tactical gear and balaclavas.’
Pause. Dalton continued to listen intently.
‘We saw them arrive, Vargas,’ he said. ‘We counted ten, not including the four remaining men who ambushed you.’ The others watched him as he listened.
His expression changed, and he suddenly hit the front of his car in anger.
‘Shit!’
‘What? What is it?’ Josh asked.
Dalton shook his head, swearing again. ‘One of our people is down. Foster, the team leader. Carson is still bleeding out. They doped him up to kill the pain and keep him quiet. ’
Pause.
‘She said soon after the first chopper arrived, all the phone lines went dead. She’s using a fire phone in one of the corridors.’
‘They must have a jammer,’ Marquez said.
‘How’s the girl, Vargas?’ Dalton asked, the other three watching him intently.
On 22, Archer stood point on the female US Marshal, who was talking rapidly into the phone. He made the signal to her to wrap it up. She nodded and held up her forefinger. Almost done, the gesture said.
He looked back and forth, feeling more and more vulnerable in this corridor, well aware that there were men hunting them right now. Vargas was still talking rapidly into the phone, her M4A1 slung over her shoulder as she continued to give Dalton a sitrep.
Even though she was keeping her voice low, the silence meant her words were carrying down the corridor, further fraying Archer’s nerves.
C’mon, Vargas, hurry.
‘She’s OK, sir,’ Vargas said into the phone. ‘But Carson needs to be med evac’d ASAP. He’s bleeding out; he doesn’t have long.’
She listened to his response as Archer cleared either side, covering her back.
Every instinct he had was screaming at him to get the hell out of here.
They’d stayed too long already.
‘Let’s go!’ he said to her quietly.
‘OK. Yes sir,’ she said. Pause. ‘Yes, sir. Will do.’