Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(118)

Kane went first, moving a few feet into the narrow tunnel, and knelt, his weapon up and ready. They knew the terrorists were wired with bombs to blow. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Jaimie shivered in the cold air; adrenaline could keep her only so warm. Jacob and Javier moved back, giving her access to the tunnel. Jaimie had not sensed any hidden alarms, but all of their lives were depending on her built-in radar system. Had some alert terrorist heard them moving the enormous boulder? She crouched in the entrance to the tunnel, narrowing her eyes, peering down the steep stairway as if her vision could pierce the veil of darkness.

From inside she caught the muted sound of music. She started down the tunnel, Mack one step behind her, his pencil flash their only source of light. She knew Mack didn’t need it, but she did. Kane moved ahead of them, halting every few feet and waiting for the hand on his shoulder telling him to proceed. Ten feet down, the tunnel curved sharply and Jaimie’s warning rattles went off in full force. Mack, so close to her, caught her body language, the sudden tension in her, and he was already hissing the warning before she could. His team flattened against the dirt walls, weapons in hand, waiting for the all-clear. They could not take the chance of all of them being caught in such a small area.

Kane was exposed, lying prone on the dirt floor, his weapon extended as he waited for her to make the call. Mack moved with her as she came up behind Kane, pressing herself against the wall while she sent her energy moving forward. Their footsteps were muffled in the thick carpet of soft dirt. Mack touched her arm, signaling her to halt. She stayed behind Kane and closed her eyes, feeling her way through the tunnel. It was unstable, dirt trickling down the walls continually. Occasionally dirt would fall from the ceiling. Breathing wasn’t difficult. Claustrophobia was more of a problem than fear of the terrorists, mainly because the tunnel was so obviously unstable it felt as if it could come down at any moment.

There’s an open entrance just ahead. Two men. They’re fairly relaxed, at least their energy feels that way. Bored maybe. Annoyed.

Can you feel the children?

Waves of fear coming from beyond those two. Very strong. Someone is terrified. I think the kids are alive and in there, Mack.

She didn’t spend a lot of time trying to decipher the fear emanating from down the tunnel, it was more important to make certain she protected her team. Kane stayed in front of her. Mack took the other side of the wall, although there really was little room for both of them. Javier tapped Jaimie’s arm and signaled her to let Jacob go next. If the terrorists were wired, he would have to deal with that particular threat.

Mack produced a small mirror and they slid it along the dirt, rounding the corner so they could see. Seated at a cheap table were two more terrorists. Frank Koit and a man he recognized from the many photographs they’d studied on Doomsday, Jarold Carlyle; two of the most wanted men in a number of countries. Their boss, Armstice, was nowhere to be seen. Drinks and a deck of playing cards sat near their hands. Although they were relaxed, slouched in their seats and obviously bored, Koit continually stroked his gun, a Luger 9mm Parabellum. His fingers lingered almost lovingly along the barrel. Kane and Mack exchanged a long look.

Carlyle picked up the deck of cards and shuffled. Mack caught bits and pieces of the conversation. The two men were speaking rapidly in English, but Carlyle had a heavy accent. The words were punctuated with a great deal of laughter. They seemed to find it very amusing that a party was being held while right under the noses of the Americans they were holding hostages. The two terrorists took turns toasting the superpowers and snickering at the Marine guards.

“It won’t be long,” Koit said. “Another few hours to clear the grounds and get the guards settled down. We want the kids dying in front of the cameras. Blaine will call in the reporters and let us know right when to send them out. I think the little dinner party is only going to add to the condemnation. We should get paid more money.”

“You better hope Armstice keeps those kids alive.” Carlyle gave a worried glance down the narrowing corridor. “He’s a bloodthirsty son of a bitch.”

“I went to school with him,” Koit said. “I can’t tell you how many little old ladies’ cats and dogs he sliced up and left on doorsteps—until he graduated to killing the little old ladies.” He laughed at his own joke.

Mack watched Koit’s long fingers stroking the Luger. He nudged Kane. They’d have to shoot together. Both men were armed. All Koit had to do was lift the gun and fire. His hand was steady as he shot the dart into Koit’s neck. Koit slumped forward onto the table; the hand with the Luger slid in slow motion from his chair to the floor. Mack swore as the gun clattered against the chair frame. He sank into a crouch, the gun in his hand, sweeping the area down the tunnel, every cell alert.

Kane took Carlyle at nearly the same instant. The man simply fell forward, the cards scattering across the table as he went limp. He moved forward while Mack covered him, removing the guns and securing the darts.

Jacob, you’re up again, Mack said. We’re running out of time. We’ve got to stay on schedule.

Yeah, I’ll just yank those bombs right off, Top, Jacob replied.

Mack shot him a look and Jacob sobered, moving forward quickly and silently. Mack and Kane moved up into the narrow opening that led to a crawl space behind the makeshift kitchen. Jaimie. I need you to tell us what we’re facing while Jacob disarms the bombs.