72 Hours (A Thriller) (34 page)

Penny Lockwood lay on her side on the narrow bed in room 51, curled in the fetal position, her wrists secured to the headboard by a plastic zip-tie.
 
She lay on the side of the bed with her head resting on her outstretched arm, eyes open, staring vacantly at the drapes closed over the window.
 

Noella Chu was seated on the other side of the bed.
 
She dialed the number again from the clunky touch-tone telephone of the bedside table.
 
No answer.

She was 99% certain she had spoken to Lindsay Hammond earlier, and was now 99% certain that Lindsay Hammond had been taken by Ryan Archer to some isolated place in the desert to be hidden and protected by Penny Lockwood’s two brothers.
 
All of which made Noella Chu 100% confident she would find them and finish the job at some point in the next eight hours and walk away with the money.

*
   
*
   
*

The explosion ripped the door off its hinges.
 
Shredded it to confetti and sent it flailing.
 
Blew a crater through the concrete walls on either side.
 
It sent a dust cloud of debris rocketing down either end of the corridor, a veil of dust and smoke rolling through the claustrophobic darkness.
 
Hunks of concrete were propelled like shrapnel.
 
The walls shook. The floor shook.
 
The blast opened the wall opposite the library door, exposing plumbing and copper tubing and ductwork sheathed in insulation.

Debris and dust settled slowly to the ground.
 
Fluttering grit and metal and wood fiber fell like rain.
 
Pipes previously hidden behind walls had burst, and now water was spewing through gaps in the concrete, the pressurized flow hissing out onto the walls and ceiling and floor.
 
Steam swirled and billowed from pipes transporting hot water from one room to another.
 
The lights flickered, the fluorescent tubes thirsty to receive a steady electrical current.

Tango eased to his feet.
 
He crunched over grit and cautiously turned the corner.
 
There was no visibility.
 
The air was totally saturated with dust and smoke and steam.
 
Tango turned his face away and gave the cloud a few minutes to dissipate and settle.
 
Then he swung the tactical light through the gloom and crunched through the hole he had made in the wall.
 

The library was wrecked.
 
Bits of shredded paper spun down like a funnel and fluttered in the beam of the tactical light.
 
The furniture had been twisted and mashed by the blast.
 
Bookshelves had been sheered cleanly off the walls.
 
The long fluorescent light fixture mounted to the ceiling now hung limply from its pale white power cord, dangling and swinging, the glass tubes decimated and gone.

Tango crunched over the grit and glass and stood over the metal panel set into the middle of the floor.
 
He shined his light through the gloom from wall to wall, corner to corner.
 
There was no sign of Lindsay Hammond.
 
No corpse.
 
No blood.
 
It was as if she had simply disappeared.

But Tango knew she hadn’t disappeared.
 
She had found a way out.
 
And now he had to go down after her.

*
   
*
   
*

Oscar and Kilo moved through the rain and slop towards the sniper’s nest.
 
Oscar gauged the distance they’d traveled from the gnarled trees in the chaparral and calculated they had to be getting very close.
 
They creeped through mangled brush and took shelter behind a pile of loosely arranged rocks.

Oscar raised his rifle and scanned the remainder of the ridge.
 
He could no longer see what he believed he’d seen earlier.
 
He ducked his head behind the rocks and frowned at Kilo.

Kilo raised his head to take a look.

Oscar glanced at his watch.
 
Because of the wind complications during the jump, they were behind schedule and now they were losing men.
 

“I see nothing,” Kilo said.

Oscar nodded.
 

“Get ready,” he said.
 
“We’re gonna take out the nest.”

They advanced rapidly up the crown of the ridge silently with their guns raised.
 
They arrived at the spot where Oscar believed the sniper had been positioned, but there was no one there.

They kicked around through the brush and weeds found where the ground had been recently disturbed.
 
Someone had been there.
 
Sitting.
 
Kneeling.
 
Standing.
 
Lying prone.
 
Waiting.
 
There were clear footprints pressed into the mud and trailing down off one side of the rise.
 
They were easy to follow.

The two mercenaries studied the scene.
 
Someone had been there but had retreated.
 
Very recently.

Oscar gestured with the muzzle of his rifle.

Kilo nodded.

They moved like jungle cats through the brush and down through a steep washout in the muddy bank that dropped them below the crown of the ridge.
 
The men had to use both hands to navigate the tricky path down the fifteen-foot channel of the washout.
 
The sandstone was muddy and perilously slick.
 
Then there was a four-foot drop-off where the slope of the washout terminated.

Kilo was the first one out.
 
He came down hard on his knees.
 
He raised his head and peered out through the rain and gloom.
 
And then his head exploded.

His skull was reduced to a pinkish-gray mist of brain matter and blood and pulverized bone.
 
The shot rang out like a cannon from nearly point blank range.
 
Kilo simply slumped forward onto his empty shoulders.

Oscar had already jumped before he heard the gunshot and couldn’t arrest his forward momentum.
 
He came down almost on top of his dead partner and immediately heard the words, “Don’t even think about it!”

He cut his eyes slowly to the south and saw the muzzle of the gun protruding from a bush less than three feet to his right.
 
The muzzle was aimed and ready.

Raj had him dead to rights.

“Drop your weapon,” Raj ordered.

“I know what’s going through your head right about now,” Raj said.
 
“But remember, nothing’s going through your buddy’s head anymore.
 
Don’t even blink.”

Oscar raised his hands non-threateningly as he placed the rifle gently down on the ground.
 
Rain spattered down on the synthetic composite stock.

“Now ease away,” Raj directed.

Oscar kept his hands visible and stepped away from the gun.

“What else are you packing?” Raj asked.

Oscar stared hard at him.

“Put your sidearm on the ground,” Raj said.

Oscar nodded with a single dip of his chin and pulled a big Springfield from a Velcro flap to one side of his chest.
 
He held it by the barrel and placed it in the mud.

“Nice,” Raj commented.
 
“And now the knife.”

The mercenary pulled a long serrated blade from a sheath strapped to his leg and cast it into the darkness.

“Get to your feet,” Raj ordered.

Oscar pushed slowly up off his knees with his hands in the air.

“OK,” Raj said, circling around behind him.
 
“Now you and I are going to take a little walk.”

CHAPTER 101

Archer retraced his steps.
 
Picked his way east as thunder banged high above the desert plain.
 
He had lost both his knife and rifle back in the slot canyon.
 
He knew that both of the dead mercenaries had been well armed, so he squatted next to the body of the man he had shot in the throat and relieved him of his HK417.
 
He stood and checked the magazine.
 
It hadn’t yet fired a single round.

Archer shoved his Beretta down the front of his pants and ran with the rifle in one hand, the nylon sling slapping against his leg as he dodged in and out through the darkness and gloom.

*
   
*
   
*

The children huddled together in a corner of the secure room, staring at the steady orange light on the wall.
 
They had heard the explosion and felt the low rumble as the shockwave passed through the floor and walls.
 
They couldn’t bring themselves to speak, to utter a word.
 
They were scared out of their minds.
 
Scared that the men with the guns would find a way through the door and get to them.
 
Scared that they would never see their mother alive again.

*
   
*
   
*

Archer reached the iron hatch at the bottom of the bluff.
 
Run-off water was still pouring in.
 
He could hear it crashing in a torrent at the base of the shaft.

He keyed his walkie.

“Raj, Simeon, you boys still with me?”

“Affirmative,” Simeon answered.
 
“I’m outside the main doors now.
 
One of them blasted through.
 
I’m going in for a look.”

“Watch your step,” Archer said.
 
“These guys shoot first and ask questions later.
 
They know what they’re doing.”

“So do I,” Simeon said.

“Be careful.”

Archer heard Raj in his ear.

“I’m headed back your way,” Raj said.
 
“I’ve got one of them with me.
 
Alive.”

“Alive?”

“Affirmative.
 
I left one dead and have one prisoner.”

“So by my count that makes six dead, plus the one with you.
 
That leaves three unaccounted for.”

“There’s at least one inside,” Simeon said.

“OK, what about the other two?”

“Haven’t seen them,” Raj said.

“Negative,” Simeon seconded.

“OK,” Archer said.
 
“Raj, find out what you can from your POW.
 
I want to know who sent them.
 
How they found us.
 
Get names.
 
Dig it out of him, but be careful.
 
Don’t turn your back for a second.
 
These guys are big and nasty.”

“What about you?” Raj asked him.

“I’m going back down,” Archer said.
 
“I’ve got to find Lindsay.”

CHAPTER 102

Lindsay was covered in dust and grime, grease and cobwebs.
 
When the door exploded it had felt like the entire world was crashing down on top of her.
 
She had dropped into absolute darkness, and the darkness had shook like the earth was coming apart at the seams.
 
She had been thrown against an iron beam.
 
She had smashed into it with her left shoulder.
 
Hard.
 
There was pain vibrating down her skeleton like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
 
The impact had left her stunned.
 
For a long moment she had lay on her back with her arms crossed over her face.
 
The force of the detonation had sent dust and grit billowing through the cramped space beneath the floor.
 
For several minutes she couldn’t open her eyes, and when she finally did open them, couldn’t see a thing.

She had dropped about nine feet down a narrow chute from the metal panel in the library.
 
The shaft ended at an incredibly tight crawlspace.
 
It was nice and wide but barely twenty inches from top to bottom.
 
The ceiling of the crawlspace was supported by an array of iron pillars.
 
She had to navigate them by touch, hauling herself forward on her elbows.
 
The space was filthy.
 
She couldn’t move without sliding through a half-inch of scummy buildup.
 

Lindsay had no concept of where she was or where she was going.
 
Only that the mercenary couldn’t be far behind.

*
   
*
   
*

Tango kicked debris aside with his boot.
 
Crumbled concrete.
 
Wood fragments.
 
Twisted metal.
 
Ribbons of shredded, charred paper.

Pale fluorescent light from the corridor flickered and winked through the massive hole in the wall where the library door had once stood.
 
The flickering glowed through the dusty haze.
 
Tango crunched around the perimeter of the metal panel.
 
He kicked at the grit and rubble along the edges.
 
He shined the tactical light on the hand pull at one end of the panel and lifted it with his left arm.