Garcia cleared his throat. ‘Guys, I don’t mean to rush you, but you might want to pick up the pace a little bit.’
Cobb stared into his flashlight. He wanted his frustration to be visible on Garcia’s video screen. ‘Hector, we’re kind of busy right now. What’s the problem?’
His reply sent a chill down Cobb’s spine.
‘I think someone’s looking for you.’
22
After Hassan’s impassioned pep talk — punctuated with two dead pigeons — Kamal and Tarek were desperate to find Simon. To achieve their goal, they had distributed Sarah’s picture to the far reaches of the city. Hundreds of people, from small-time, wannabe hustlers to legitimate businessmen who owed a weekly fee for protection, were looking for her. The thugs knew it was only a matter of time before she would be seen again.
They were intrigued when it happened in the same neighborhood.
They were alarmed when she was spotted with a team of her own.
Five minutes after the call, Kamal and Tarek were on their way to the apartment building. On Hassan’s order, they were not to pursue her alone. They viewed the other two men as unnecessary, but neither dared to defy their boss.
Together, the four men searched the apartment complex. They checked every hallway, knocked on every door. Doors that were not answered were opened with picks. The ones that could not be picked were opened by force.
After thirty minutes, they had turned up nothing. Even worse, they believed the residents when they claimed they had not seen the woman or her team. Working alone, Kamal or Tarek could easily scare most people into confessing their deceit. When facing them together, lying seemed next to impossible.
And yet no one had seen her.
How in the hell did she vanish?
The street was covered. So was the back. They had even checked the roof; it offered nowhere to hide and no access to other rooftops. A four-story plunge to the pavement below would certainly draw attention — whether she survived or not.
They realized only one place had not been searched.
The basement.
Cobb froze in place. ‘Hector, say that again.’
‘I think someone’s looking for you,’ Garcia said.
‘Explain,’ he ordered. ‘And be specific.’
So much had happened during the last several minutes that Garcia didn’t know where to begin. During Cobb and Sarah’s rekky, they had installed remote cameras in the basement hallway and the boiler room. This allowed Garcia to watch their backs while they were in the tunnel system. Tonight, he also had access to a video feed from a wireless camera that McNutt had planted across the street. Using those sources, he had been keeping his eye on the apartment building and the traffic outside.
Garcia studied the feeds on multiple screens. ‘Thirty-three minutes ago, four men entered the building through the front door and went upstairs. They didn’t do anything suspicious in the lobby, but you know that feeling you get when something doesn’t quite add up? Well, that’s the feeling I got when they arrived.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Of course not. I wouldn’t bother you for something like that.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘Well,’ he explained, ‘three minutes ago one of the men reappeared outside. He met a second carload of people and led them inside. I realize that could still be explained — after all it’s a Saturday night and they might be on their way to a party or something — but instead of going upstairs to one of the apartments, all eight of them headed toward the basement. Right now six of them are rummaging through the storage lockers. The other two are trying to pick the lock on the boiler-room door.’
McNutt cursed. ‘That’s not good, chief.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Cobb admitted.
As the lone civilian in the group, Jasmine remained optimistic. ‘Maybe they’re responding to vibrations from the cave-in. They could be looking for structural damage in the building’s foundation. There’s no way to know that they’re looking for us.’
Sarah disagreed. ‘Don’t be naïve. Half were in the building before the collapse. Either they’re psychic engineers, or they’re looking for something else.’
‘Hector, do you still have eyes on the grate?’ Cobb wondered.
‘Affirmative,’ he replied. ‘If they find the tunnel, I’ll let you know.’
‘By then it will be too late,’ McNutt warned. He grabbed Cobb’s arm to emphasize his point. ‘What are we: two, maybe three klicks from the boiler room? And how many twists and turns are between them and us? If they’re armed and get into the tunnels, we’ll have no way of wrangling them — especially with their numbers.’
Cobb nodded in agreement. ‘Ladies, I hate to abandon you at a time like this, but Josh and I need to tend to this mess before it becomes a problem. Meanwhile, I’d like you to keep moving forward if that’s okay with you.’
‘Of course it’s okay,’ Sarah joked. ‘It’s about time you men got off your butts and got your hands dirty. Us ladies can’t do all the work.’
Cobb ignored the wisecrack. ‘Hector, while we’re gone, I need you to work your magic and keep us connected. I want to be able to reach them at all times.’
‘No problem, Jack.’
‘Good.’ He glanced at McNutt. ‘You ready?’
‘Almost,’ McNutt said. ‘Before we go, I’ve got presents for everyone.’
He opened his backpack and pulled out a Smith & Wesson M1911 pistol. The weapon was considered a classic among US servicemen, many of whom preferred to carry it instead of newer models. This particular gun was custom-fitted with a suppressor, laser sight, and an extended clip for extra ammo.
McNutt handed the pistol to Cobb. ‘This is for you.’
Next came matching Glock 19s. These handguns fit perfectly in Jasmine and Sarah’s smaller, narrower hands, without compromising firepower.
‘This is for them,’ McNutt explained.
Then he pulled the last piece of artillery from his bag. The PM-84 Glauberyt was a Polish-made submachine gun that was renowned for its compact size and devastating punch. In close quarters like this, it was a wonderful choice.
McNutt smiled at it. ‘And this is for me.’
Cobb could only laugh.
To deliver the Glock 19s, McNutt slipped the climbing rope through the trigger guards and raised his hands over his head. His improvised zip line sent the weapons sliding across the chasm. Once he was done, he tossed his end of the rope towards the women. ‘Take the rope. We won’t need it, but you might find a use for it.’
Sarah wound it in. ‘Just so you know, I’ve got more gear on the boat. Harnesses, rigging, you name it. If all else fails, we can meet you back here and set up a transfer.’
‘Won’t be necessary,’ Cobb assured her.
Garcia cleared his throat. ‘Jack, you better get moving. These guys are after something, and they’re running out of places to look. If they happen to find the grate, I’ll lose track of them in the tunnels.’
‘Relax,’ Cobb ordered, ‘we’re leaving now.’
‘Copy that,’ Garcia said.
Cobb nodded at McNutt, who instantly sprinted toward the boiler room as if he had been shot out of a cannon. He had a flashlight in one hand, his submachine gun in the other, and a wide grin on his face. As a former Marine, he lived for moments like this — when he got to stare death in the eye, down the barrel of a gun.
Strangely, though, Cobb didn’t move.