A vibration in the pipe signaled the pump shutoff. The suction stopped in a beat, and the swimming grew harder. Jordan started counting strokes. Her dive light made the water glow green around her. She couldn’t see much. Twenty-five or thirty strokes later, a huge shape loomed ahead of her. The pump.
Jordan stopped swimming and floated forward through the knuckle where the pipe attached to the cistern. Casting her light about, she followed the curve of the round cistern until she spotted the rungs of the ladder. Grabbing a rung, she unclipped her dive weights, kicked off her fins, and started climbing.
About three-quarters of the way up, she reached the water level. She climbed higher and pressed her hands against the hatch cover on top of the cistern. The water lapped at her knees. Her watch cast an eerie glow. They had less than one minute before the generators kicked on.
She pushed against the concrete hatch.
Nothing. The cover was heavy—too heavy. Shrugging out of her pack, she secured it to the top rung of the ladder, turned off the air, spit out the regulator, and yanked off her mask. Climbing higher for better leverage, she tried moving the cistern lid again.
It didn’t budge.
Shining her light back toward the water, she wondered what was taking Taylor so long. It was going to take both of them to open the lid of the cistern. Her leg ached. Blood oozed from a gash in her wetsuit. She remembered the diapers on the grate and couldn’t help but think that she needed a tetanus booster.
Digging the com device out of the wet bag, she put it back in her ear and tried to raise Walker. Her voice ricocheted around the cistern.
No answer.
Muffled voices drifted in from somewhere. Possibly maintenance workers, possibly Brodsky’s men.
Her watch now read thirty seconds.
Suddenly Taylor burst from the pipe into the cistern.
Jordan felt a slight vibration and heard a small hum. The power was coming back on. She waved her arm. He fumbled with his weight belt. The vibration grew. Finally, the belt dropped away and Taylor shot to the surface. She pointed to the hatch.
Together, they pushed against the concrete cover. It lifted slightly, but not enough to flip it off. Taylor climbed higher on the ladder and pressed his back to the lid. The hum grew louder and the sides of the cistern shuddered. Jordan climbed up a step, and they threw all their weight against the lid.
The hatch cover moved as the pump roared to life. Jordan fought the current tugging at her feet and climbed out on top of the cistern. Taylor heaved himself up.
Lying on top of the concrete cylinder, Jordan checked her timepiece again. According to her watch, they still had ten seconds.
A commotion on the main-floor catwalk caused her to look up. Four stories above her, she spotted Lotner leaning over a railing that protected a balcony running along the north wall. He was shouting at his men in Hebrew and pointing. His focus wasn’t on her.
He was shouting instructions on where each one was to go.
Feet pounded on the stairs. The sound echoed off the walls of the underground chamber. Jordan reached back inside the cistern, pulled her gun from the wet bag, and slammed the magazine into place. Taylor shucked his gear and did the same. Jordan signaled him toward the edge of the cistern.
A row of ladder rungs provided a way down on one side, but that was the side where Brodsky’s men were setting up. Jordan lay flat on her stomach and watched to see what would happen. A walkway ran north to south. On the right were the computer and crane controls; on the left were the cisterns. Three Israeli guards lay in a heap in the walkway. They appeared to be dead. Two men with Uzis stood guard at the first cistern. Another straddled the cistern lid, his back to Jordan and Taylor. With an Uzi slung across his back, he attached the crane hook onto the lid of the cistern and signaled to the crane operator to add tension. Then he gestured to someone in the computer room.
Jordan felt the pumps power down again. They had used their trick and manually overridden the generator system.
Footsteps from above indicated that another person was descending the stairs. That made six in the pump room and two upstairs with Lotner.
Jordan lifted her head. The last man down was holding what looked like a twelve-inch round metal canister—a bomb!
Taylor tapped her foot. She wondered if he felt as helpless as she did. From this distance, with the weapons they carried, there was little they could do. If they attracted any attention, Brodsky’s men would have no trouble taking them out.
“Okay.” The man on top of the cistern flashed a sign to the crane operator. He threw the wench switch and powered the lid free. The man with the bomb climbed halfway up the cistern ladder and handed the canister to the man on top. After prying a small panel off the side of the can, he punched a series of numbers on a keypad inside. Jordan didn’t have a clear view, but she might be able to emulate the sequence, provided she could get close enough to disarm the bomb. The timer beeped once. The charge had been set. Sealing it up, he dropped it into the cistern.
“We’re done. Lower the hatch,” he yelled, circling his hand in the air.
Jordan had no way of knowing how much time had been programmed or if there was any way she and Taylor could stop the blast. At the very least, they needed to stop Brodsky’s men from setting any more bombs.
Jordan pushed herself to her knees. She whispered to Taylor, “I’m going to jump across to the next cistern. You get a bead on the base. When the first man reaches the top, I’ll take him out. You take out the two guards at the bottom.”
Taylor nodded. “After that?”
“I’ll take the crane operator. You take the guy in the computer room.”
“What about the one going for the next bomb?”
“Take him out. Take them all out.”
Jordan looked up at the railing spanning the main level. Lotner and three more guards were somewhere upstairs. So were Ganani and Haddid.
Blocking out the pain in her leg, Jordan concentrated on beating Brodsky’s man to the top of the next cistern. “Ready?”
Taylor nodded. A group had congregated at the bottom of the cistern with the bomb, and they were synchronizing their watches. Jordan waited until the man climbed off the top of the first cistern and jumped to the floor.
As he jumped, she leapt, her toe catching the edge of the cistern. She belly flopped onto the concrete, the sting traveling outward along her nerves. She lay flat and waited to see if anyone had heard.
“What was that?” one of the men shouted.
“It was just me, jumping down.”
She raised her head. Lotner leaned over the catwalk. Their eyes met.
“Idiots, they are on top of the cisterns!” He gestured to someone behind him and then pointed toward Jordan. “Atsor!” Stop!
Jordan scrambled to her feet. Racing to the edge of the concrete pillar, she shot the first man she saw. Taylor took out the second. A third man shouldered his rifle and Jordan felled him on the spot.
Taylor scrambled onto the ladder. Gunshots ripped the air. Two men with Uzis strafed the cisterns. Jordan rolled, chased by a smattering of gunfire. She heard Taylor yell.
Rolling off the backside of the cistern, Jordan caught the edge with her fingers. It was a two-story drop. What choice did she have? Sucking in a deep breath, she let herself fall. A jolt of pain shot up her ankle at landing. She moved sideways, forced herself to her feet, and hobbled into the protection of the cistern. Pressing her back to the concrete, she inched her way around to get a view of what was happening. Taylor was on the ground. She didn’t know if he was hurt or just playing dead. A bullet had shattered the glass to the computer room, and a man lay crumpled over the control panel. Taylor had taken the shot. Two men were coming down the hallway. She could hear them talking. It was the man from the crane and the bomb carrier.
Jordan waited for them to get closer. Her 9 mm was no match for an Uzi.
By the way the men talked, she knew they thought she was down. They also didn’t seem worried about Taylor. Either they didn’t know he was there or they thought he was dead.
Jordan waited until they moved into sight and then stepped into the open. She fired one shot. Taylor fired the other. Both men dropped.
There was no time to confer. Lotner knew they were there, and he had three guards up top.
“Surrender now,” Lotner yelled from upstairs, “and I’ll see the girl lives!”
He must think she was stupid. If she surrendered, what would stop him from destroying the pumps and killing them all? She considered the options. Even if Lotner was exposed, their weapons lacked the range to take him out. On the other hand, his men could hit them from this distance with their eyes closed. Where the hell was Ganani?
Think! Five of his eight men lay on the ground. Their Uzis were in reach—if she could get to one of them without getting shot.
Holding her gun in her right hand, she crab-walked toward the bomb carrier.
“Be smart, Jordan. You don’t want Lucy to die.”
She didn’t, but for all she knew, Lucy was already dead. And where was Taylor?
Jordan spotted him moving for the elevators. If she could keep Lotner distracted, maybe he could get to the upper level and take Lotner out. She scooted around the cistern and assessed the situation. Going for the bomb carrier’s gun left her exposed. “I trusted you, Lotner.”
“Your mistake. Now don’t make another. I have no reason to kill Lucy, unless you give me one. Come out where I can see you, and I promise, when this is over, I’ll let the girl go.”
She wished she could blow the condescending smile off of his face. Unfortunately, if she came out blasting, his men would drill her full of holes. Footsteps on the metal stairway signaled that the three remaining men were descending. Headed to take her out, to finish planting the bombs, or both?
She figured his priority was on the explosives. The timer on the first bomb had established the clock, putting Lotner under his own time pressure. But if she allowed them to plant the rest of the bombs, she sentenced more than seven million people to suffering and war.
“Still there, Jordan? All it takes is a call from me to settle this one way or the other.”
A boot banged against the cistern. A vibration traveled through the concrete. Someone was climbing the ladder on the other side. She needed to act quickly.
One man on the cistern meant another man in the computer room to shut down the pump. That left the last man to operate the crane.
Jordan shoved off the side of the cistern and slid out into the main aisle. Stripping the dead bomb carrier of his Uzi, she aimed the weapon at the man on the ladder and pulled the trigger. He fell, dropping a silver canister, which bounced on the concrete floor and rolled out of sight. The crane operator came out of the cab shooting, and Jordan fired another round. He fell backward off of the crane, his head bouncing off the concrete.
A bullet slammed into the cistern above her head and Jordan ducked for cover. Pressed tightly to the side of the pillar, she looked for the man in the computer room.
Not there.
A pounding resounded from upstairs. “Shabak. Open the doors.”
Finally! The elevator sounded. Taylor had also reached the top floor.
“You have nowhere to go, Lotner!” she yelled. “If you’re smart, you’ll surrender.”
The pounding on the doors had stopped. If Lotner had any intelligence, he was running by now. What happened to him was up to Ganani and Taylor. Her job now was to try to disarm the timer on the bomb. Jordan moved cautiously toward the first cistern.
“Don’t do it, Jordan. Just stay where you are.” Lotner stood on the top rise of the stairs with his finger on the “send” button of his phone.
“Who are you calling, Lotner? Brodsky? Did he send you to do his dirty work so he could keep his hands clean?”
“Shut up.” The detective started descending the steps.
“I’m right, aren’t I? It’s him.” Jordan kept her eyes and ears open. Lotner was likely buying more time for his last man standing. Two could play that game. Right now, Jordan was the threat keeping Lucy alive. Once they took her out, Lucy would be expendable.
Ganani stepped to the railing and leveled her gun at the police detective’s head. “Lotner!”
He looked up and an explosion ripped the air.
The force of the blast threw Jordan backward. Small pieces of concrete, mixed with water, hailed down. It was like being in the fountain at Dizengoff Square. She covered her head with her arms and looked for Lotner. The stairs to the lower level dangled at an odd angle.
“Jordan!” Taylor stood beside Ganani at the railing.
Jordan waded through the debris until she could see them clearly. “Where’s Lotner?”
“Find him,” Taylor shouted.
The floor under Jordan’s feet was slick with water and blood. The room smelled sickly sweet. Her hands were empty. She must have dropped the gun when she’d been thrown by the blast. Searching for the weapon, she spotted movement to her left.
The maintenance tunnels.
Lotner was limping down the tunnel.
“Give it up,” Jordan said, stepping into the open and leveling a rifle his head. “Tell me where Lucy Taylor is.”
He stood beside the gaping hole that was once the first cistern. Water lapped the edges of the broken slabs of concrete, the water level higher now that the remaining hole was clogged with debris. He no longer held a weapon, but he still had his thumb poised to send.
“Press that button and you’re a dead man.”
The elevator kicked into action. Lotner cocked his head to listen. They were down to seconds before Ganani and Taylor joined them.
“I’m a dead man either way.” Lotner punched the button and pitched the phone toward the open cistern.
“He’s in the tunnel,” Jordan yelled, running for the cistern and the phone. The phone landed on a flat slab of concrete, and she could hear the ring. If she could reach it fast enough, disconnect the phone, and get the number he had dialed, maybe she could save Lucy yet.
Grabbing a handhold, Jordan jumped down to the rubble. The slabs shifted and rocked under her weight. She dropped to her hands and knees. Crawling over to the phone, she hit the disconnect button just as a voice said, “Shalom.”
Jordan stared at the phone as the screen went dark. Had she been fast enough to save Lucy? Or was the call itself the signal to dispose of the child?
One final shot rang out, jarring Jordan from her trance. She stood on the unstable slab and looked toward the tunnel. Ganani walked toward her. Lotner lay sprawled on the tunnel’s hard earth floor. Taylor reached down to help her out of the cistern.