The Espionage Effect(58)
“Not absolute,” he countered as he pressed his body flush against the wall, dragging me behind him. “Didn’t want to risk a margin of error.”
“And now?” I followed his example, doing my best to become one with the wall.
“We risk it.”
Connected by the strong clasp of our hands, we edged around the corner. My size seven feet, even with their shortened footprint in stilettos, barely fit, with only two inches to spare on the ledge between our wall and a sheer three-foot drop into the river. His size thirteens hung over by a good quarter length.
Our lateral movement caught the attention of one of the five captives in the endmost cell, almost directly across from our current position. A girl no older than me with scraggly blonde hair and dirt smudged across her cheeks gravitated toward the iron bars, her eyes widening. She wore a Kelly green Fighting Irish T-shirt that had a ragged hole torn from the upper chest to one shoulder, half-decapitating the faded leprechaun mascot.
“Help us!” Her hands gripped the bars until her knuckles blanched. “Please, help us!”
The emotional dam I’d hastily constructed mere minutes ago burst. On instinct, without regard for the vast distance across the river that I’d never make, I lunged away from the wall. A hard band struck across my chest, knocking the air from my lungs, as I was yanked backward. Fabric ripped, but held, as Alec’s hand fisted into my silk dress just under my arm.
“We barely have time to save ourselves,” he growled into my ear. “Us now. Them later.”
A deep, soft boom sounded out, almost inaudible over the constant rushing hum of the water. The entrance door at the top of the stairs had to have just opened.
Resigned to the grim circumstances, I nodded, then stared down at the water whooshing by just a few feet below us, its flowing surface deceptively smooth. Scanning left, my gaze froze where water met the wall. “There’s a grate blocking the tunnel.” I pointed toward our only escape.
Ten yards down the span of the river’s exit point, only the top arc of a metal grate was exposed above the waterline, riveted to the wall by a trio of heavy-duty brackets.
“Did you see a switch for it?” he asked.
I scowled. “No! I was watching the room.”
There were no lights down the short passageway we stood in, so only the far side’s wall and half of the river were illuminated. The stone wall we pressed ourselves against fell into the oblivion of shadow.
I dug deep mentally, flashing back to the blueprints and mechanical schematics Alec had stolen. “It has to be on the wall, back around the corner. There were junction-box markings.” Which indicated the position for a switch of some kind. “About four feet up, three feet in.”
“Be careful,” he warned. “I’ll hold you. Lean out and wide.”
Before I had a chance to clarify, he slid his hand up my forearm, and I gripped his, locking us together as he guided me back toward the corner. Understanding dawned as basic geometry came to mind. Instead of continuing straight to the corner, I paused a foot from it, then leaned out over the river, craning my neck while angling my upper body toward the corner. All the while, my gaze trained toward the upper stairwell.
The technique allowed me to slice a greater part of the visual pie, exposing only a portion of my face instead of my entire head. I registered a dark shape hovering at the stairwell’s uppermost landing before I darted a glance at the wall. A sleek metal button, the diameter of a coffee mug, had been hidden in the wall’s sprayed-concrete surface.
I inhaled a deep breath, then leaned forward, leveraging the hold Alec had on me while I stretched as far as my reach would allow. Farther…a little bit farther…
Sliding my hand along the coarse concrete surface, I finally detected a circular ridge with the tip of my index finger. I scooted closer to the corner, gaining another two needed inches. My finger glided over to the center of the button, and I tensed my entire arm, pressing down hard.
Seconds later, a loud mechanical motor growled to life. I spun around. The iron grate on the wall that barred our way through the water slowly bent open on its hinges. “It’s working. It’s lifting.”
“We have to go now.” The grim announcement held no inflection, only factual warning. “Ready?”
No. But I stuffed my anxiety down into that dark place inside of me and pulled out anger instead. Then I nodded and took a deep breath.
“Three, two…” Alec counted down.
One never came. We squatted, then in a burst of muscle fired by pulsing adrenaline, we jumped, even though the grate still moved—not yet fully open.
We landed dead center into our fifteen-foot wide section of river, knees to our chest, cannonballing with a splash. Cool water surrounded me as we submerged, followed a split second later by the balls of my shoes touching bottom.
Alec never released my hand as he twisted forward and kicked his legs, shifting in front of me while the rapid current swept us out of the chamber and toward the aperture that led toward the freshwater inlet we’d explored only the day before. Pressurized currents pulled me under and bounced me around.
Something tugged at my dress before the tension slacked. Beneath the surface, I glanced up and made out the hard edges of the grate flashing by.
Seconds later, when we broke the surface of calmer water, I gasped for air. Then as I still gripped Alec’s hand like a lifeline, I floated onto my back. Mottled shadows danced above us, the delicate branches of dense foliage blurring together. Mangroves. A canvas of twinkling stars followed as cooler air brushed over my face.