Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(29)

"This is a nightmare," I panted as I ran. I hoped we could get through the tunnels without the enemy sighting us well enough to take more shots. "This way," I called, turning to the right and running through another tunnel.

The tunnels were round and sturdily built, with regular, curved steel ribs supporting the structure. A rumble over our heads sent a ripple through the group, until we realized it was a tube train rolling past. One of those tunnels lay above us at some point. "Charing Cross," the PM mumbled. At least he knew where we were.

Lighting was quite dim, too—there wasn't any need to fully illuminate a tunnel system that was only used for storage at times. Our footsteps echoed—it couldn't be helped—everyone ran in dress shoes; Maye and I in heels.

Once, these tunnels housed government records, followed by the trunk exchange run by the Post Office, where calls could be routed throughout Britain. Its claim to fame was that the hotline between the Kremlin and the White House passed through the exchange. Who knew that one day, the Prime Minister and the U.S. Secretary of State would be running through to escape assassins?

We raced past generators bolted to the floor in round tunnels at least fifteen feet in diameter. A bullet pinged off one of the metal behemoths somewhere behind us. "Are you armed?" Rafe asked the PM's second guard. That drew our momentum to a temporary halt.

"He is," the PM answered.

"Give me your gun. I'll hold them off," Rafe said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," the guard snapped.

"Edward, give him your gun," the PM ordered.

"You can have mine, too," Dave panted as August and Ken carried him forward. Rafe took Dave's gun and ejected the clip. "I only fired twice," Dave explained. He'd hit a target with both shots.

"Mine's fully loaded," Edward handed his gun to Rafe.

"I'll stay with Rafe," Maye offered.

"Do it," August nodded curtly. "Get them off our backs until Corinne can get us out of here."

"Save your shots," Rafe handed Edward's gun to Maye.

"I'm not stupid," Maye hissed.

"Good. I don't need stupid," Rafe said. "I need a good shot."

"Come on," August nodded at me while I blinked at Rafe.

Heaving a sigh, I turned and led our party toward the next branch in the tunnels. That passage would take us upward and to another door, which I hoped to hell the PM could get us through. I also hoped that Rafe and Maye would make it out as well.

*

Ilya

I positioned myself behind a huge generator that hadn't seen operation in more than a decade. Maye settled behind a bulkhead fifteen feet behind, after I'd told her to take two shots from that location when our pursuers reached a point ten feet from where I knelt.

Giving me a nod she settled in, preparing to get two shots off as requested. Likely, she'd make them count, too. We had standard British issue Glock 17s, and I had fifteen rounds to her full seventeen.

They came after us, boots hitting the tunnel floor in a regular rhythm. They weren't expecting any of their quarry to stage an ambush—they assumed all of us would keep running.

Maye hit the first target in the head three feet ahead of me, as requested. The second target was hit in the leg. He shouted at the others and jumped toward my hiding spot.

That was a mistake.

Grabbing him by the neck of his body armor, I flung him into a steel rib, crushing his skull. He was dead when his body slid to the floor. Maye fired again, hitting a third pursuer in the throat. He fell, gurgling and gasping for breath before he died. Jerking the Glock from my belt, I fired at two more, wounding one and forcing the other to take cover behind another generator farther back.

They hadn't anticipated our ambush, and I now had two dead men near enough to filch their weapons.

We had Glocks—they had submachine guns. Two of those would be useful during a brief siege. One of their remaining five was wounded, and if we waited long enough, he'd bleed out from the wound to his leg. If we waited long enough, perhaps Corinne would get the PM to a phone where he could call for backup.

*

Corinne

I did my best not to jerk every time a gun was fired in the tunnel behind us. Dave looked extremely pale and August and Ken were now carrying him. I'd gotten a good look—he'd kept August from getting shot, taking the bullet in his own shoulder and getting two shots off in the bargain.

I was determined to get him out of this mess so he could get the help he needed. The tunnel we needed next was feet away, now, and we'd take another right. We'd be going up flights of stairs past that, and I hoped we had enough strength left to make it.

"This isn't the Furnival Street exit," the PM said, reading the sign we passed as we made the right turn into the adjoining tunnel. "It's the Tooks Court exit. That's blocked."

"Says you," I said, my breathing ragged. I was tiring and worried I wouldn't make it up the steps toward the surface. Those steps were wide and made of concrete as we began to ascend. Ken and Auggie began breathing hard halfway up—they still carried Dave, who was now unconscious.

*

Ilya

The one I'd wounded likely realized he was dying, and decided to go out fighting. He intended to open a path for the four behind him by emptying his submachine gun in our direction. He was successful up to a point—I hit him in the head the moment he ran out of ammunition, but his efforts had given the others a chance to move forward.