Pantoja Park
San Diego
4:40 P.M.
Kendra should have known when she heard Harley’s joyous howl.
Olivia had spent weeks training her dog not to give voice to that terrifying howl. Now he only lost control when he was confronted by special individuals. Adam Lynch was definitely in that category. Kendra tensed and then forced herself to turn on her bench to where Harley was raising such a ruckus. Lynch was standing several yards away with Harley’s paws on his shoulders and a frown on his face.
“Down, Harley. Dammit, not now.” But he gave the dog an affectionate rub on his neck before pushing him off. Then he quickly used the hand signals he’d taught the adorable mutt who’d taken over their lives when Olivia had first been having discipline problems. Harley obeyed immediately but gave one final joyous howl as he followed Lynch down the path toward Kendra.
She braced herself. “Olivia told you where I was? I’m surprised she didn’t call and warn me.”
“Why should she?” Lynch dropped down on the bench beside her. “Both Olivia and Jessie have far too much respect for you even to hint that you couldn’t handle me with one hand tied behind your back.” He grinned. “Though I prefer you have all appendages available and ready for action when we’re together. It’s much more enjoyable.” He took her hand. “Besides, they both knew that we had to come to some sort of detente before going forward. So did we, or you would have made it much more difficult for me to find you. As Jessie said, all I had to do was tap into what I knew about you. When you’re hurt or need healing, you always go to Olivia.” He was toying with her fingers. “I’ve always been a little jealous of that aspect of your relationship. You’ve never shown it to me.”
“Bullshit,” she said bluntly. “If I had, you’d have run the other way. We both know you appreciate your freedom as much as I do.”
“Do I?” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed his lips on the palm. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I found I was feeling very vulnerable when Jessie was telling me about your encounter with Adrian.”
“Vulnerable? Not likely.” She should pull her hand away, but she didn’t. His touch was making her feel safe and secure for the first time since the night Dee had disappeared. “I’ve never seen you vulnerable.” But the fact that she was feeling this need for him showed just how vulnerable she was to him. It would be okay. She could allow herself to accept these moments of comfort for a short time. “And I wasn’t trying to hide from you. I knew you’d be coming after me when I left that meeting this morning. The minute you walked into the conference room, I could see you were committed and nothing I could do would make any difference.”
“Commitment isn’t such a bad thing in a situation like this.”
“No, it isn’t. We’re lucky to have you. I’d be the last person to slam the door in Adam Lynch’s face when Dee’s life is on the line.”
“Even when you have such a dynamo as Kelland on the case?”
“He’s been very helpful.”
“I can imagine,” he murmured, before reminding her: “And you did your best to keep me out of the investigation.”
“Because you have your own life and career. Nothing could have shown me anything plainer than when I woke up one morning and found you’d left me without saying a word.” She held up her hand as he opened his lips. “I know, top secret. Most of the time I can accept it. But this time for some reason it hurt, and it brought home that maybe I don’t have the stamina for that kind of relationship. One thing became crystal clear: I can’t keep running to you to solve my problems.” She smiled wryly. “But here you are. So it seems I’ll have to deal with handling it later.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. I do have to warn you that I’ll be preparing battle strategy, but I can hold off for a little while.” He leaned back on the bench. “In the meantime, it’s a beautiful day and we’ll try not to worry about what’s going down with Dee until tomorrow. We’ll talk and have dinner with Olivia, and I’ll tell you what I can about Tibet.” He reached out, and his fingers gently touched the hair at her temple. “And then you’ll let me hold you until it’s time for us to leave. No sex. No pressure. You don’t need that right now. I just want to be with you. I’ve been looking forward to that since the minute I got on that plane for Tibet. I figure we can leave here at three in the morning and be at Pershing Square in L.A. by six. Sound okay?”
“It sounds very unusual for you.” She looked at him curiously. “But very much okay.”
“I was afraid of that.” He sighed. “I’m being sensitive and trying to demonstrate a complete lack of clumsiness. But now I can’t get out of it even if I wanted to.” He chuckled. “And I don’t.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Now should we take Harley around the dog park one more time before we head back to the condo?”
* * *
Next Day
Kendra and Lynch arrived at Pershing Square shortly before 8:00 A.M., their journey delayed by hordes of journalists and fans lining the downtown streets.
Lynch cursed. “Crazy. This is what happens when you project your ransom note in letters eight feet high.”
Kendra looked at the barricades lining the sidewalks in front of the Hill Street jewelry stores. “The kidnappers knew it would happen. They planned for this.”
“Planned what?” Lynch said. “All of L.A. knowing I’m carrying a suitcase packed with twenty million? How the hell is this going to work?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Pershing Square, an elevated concrete park in the heart of downtown, was now surrounded by police barricades. After a uniformed officer checked off their names on a printed list, he ushered Kendra and Lynch up the dozen short steps that would take them to the main plaza. Kelland was there with a dozen FBI agents and over fifty uniformed police officers. No one seemed to have any purpose, except for a small group of officers surrounding an armored car in the middle of the plaza.
“Glad you could make it,” Kelland said. “Lynch, our command center is in the tent on the other side of the plaza there. We’re going to put you in a Kevlar suit.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Kelland frowned. “We’re not letting you make the drop without some kind of protection.”
Lynch patted his jacket. “I’m already wearing my own protective suit. Custom-made for me in Abu Dhabi. It’s made of Dyneema, much stronger and more flexible than Kevlar.”
“I’ve heard about it.” Kelland nodded approvingly at the clothing. “Ever been shot wearing that?”
“Twice. And only a cracked rib and a nasty bruise to show for it.”
“We’ll give you a helmet.”
“No, thanks.”
Kendra rolled her eyes. “Take it, Lynch. This isn’t the time to be worried about helmet hair.”
“Trust me, I wear the mussed-up look exceedingly well. I just don’t want anything interfering with my hearing or sight lines.”
Kelland shrugged. “Your choice.”
Kendra glanced around the plaza. “Have we heard anything from the kidnappers yet?”
“Not a peep.” Kelland checked his watch. “Eight thirty is still twenty minutes off, so they may wait until the last possible second.”
Lynch looked up at three news helicopters buzzing around the plaza, then at onlookers watching from offices and building rooftops. “How in the hell are we supposed to get instructions?”
“Kidnappers’ problem.” Kelland motioned for them to join him in walking toward the blue tent on the plaza’s far side. “We’ll be here at the appointed time with the specified cash.”
“We saw the armored car,” Kendra said. “I take it that belongs to Noah Calderon.”
“Yep. He and his security men are already in the tent. My guys are drooling at the sight of all that money. They’ve taken down some major drug lords, but I don’t think any of ’em have seen that much cash in one place before.”
They ducked into the tent and were immediately greeted by a row of six monitors cycling through views of and around Pershing Square. Agents wearing headsets staffed consoles in front of the monitor bank.
Several other FBI agents stood around a coffee-and-Danish station, while others just stared at the stack of cash on a folding table.
“Good morning, Dr. Michaels.”
Kendra turned to see Noah standing in the corner of the tent. Jessie stood next to him.
“Good morning, Noah,” Kendra said. “You seem awfully chipper for someone who’s about to put twenty million dollars on the line.”
Noah shrugged. “All for a good cause.” He extended his hand. “Mr. Lynch, I understand you’ll be custodian of my money. I knew I could trust you the moment I met you.”
Lynch shook his hand. “That’s the plan. But there’s no guarantee it’ll still be your money at the end of the day. My job is to hand it over and stay alive.”
Noah nodded. “And hopefully get Dee back.”
“That’s up to the kidnappers,” Jessie said. “Who really thinks we can trust these people? They’ve already murdered three men.”
“No one here trusts them,” Kelland said. “But if Lynch and that pile of money can draw them out, we’ll be better off than we are now.”
Kendra turned back toward the cash, which was being closely guarded by two uniformed employees of the armored car company. The men sported identical mustaches, and for some reason Kendra found that bizarre under the circumstances.
She looked from one to the other. “Does the facial hair come with the uniforms?”
Neither man smiled.
“Tough crowd,” she murmured.
Lynch looked at the money, separated into neat stacks and bound by blue paper bands. “Unmarked, nonsequential, untraceable?”
“Absolutely,” Noah said. “You wouldn’t believe what a pain in the ass it was to get that much cash without at least some of the serial numbers being consecutive.”
“Pardon me if I don’t tear up for you,” Kelland said sarcastically. “The Bureau regrets putting you to such bother. May I remind you that you’re the one who offered to help keep Delilah alive.”
“And I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t deserve your rudeness, Kelland.” Noah picked up a stack of thousand-dollar bills and rifled through it. “They specified that it must fit in a container one by one by two feet. So they obviously don’t mind big bills.”
Kelland picked up a black leather satchel and handed it to Lynch. “You’ll carry it in this unless they instruct you otherwise.”
Lynch looked inside the empty bag and felt its sides. “No tracking devices in here, right? They were very specific.”
“No trackers,” Kelland said. “But our agents will have eyes on you from rooftops all over the downtown area.”
Lynch handed the satchel to another agent, who began loading the money into it. “Good. Because there’s about a hundred thousand other people out there who will also be watching me. And thanks to that projected ransom note, they all know I’ll be carrying twenty million dollars in cash.”
Metcalf ducked into the tent, holding a tall cup of coffee. “Don’t tell me the great Adam Lynch is getting cold feet.”
“Assassins and soldiers of fortune have never worried me. Greedy mobs are another matter entirely. I’ve seen riots break out over free doughnut giveaways. I can only imagine what twenty million will do to people.”
Metcalf smiled as he watched the cash being packed. “You’ve been in tough spots before, Lynch. I’m sure you’ll work your way through this one.”
“Now I am worried, Metcalf.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m not used to hearing words of encouragement from you.”
“Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Kendra checked her watch. “It’s almost time. Any guesses how they plan to communicate their instructions? Skywriting? Dropped leaflets? Another PowerPoint?”
“Some of the cops outside were taking bets when I came in here,” Kelland said. “If you want a piece of that action, I’d hurry.”
“Racketeering concerns aside, I’ll pass.”
“Your choice. I got twenty dollars on a messenger service delivery. I just hope that—What the hell!” His gaze was on two LAPD cops escorting someone through the crowd outside and then into the tent. “Surprise. Surprise. What’s he doing here?”
It was Congressman Matt Dalborne, Kendra realized, and he looked very sheepish as he made his way across the tent toward her. “I apologize for getting in the way like this.” He turned to Kelland. “I thought my presence might help to keep the media at bay while this circus was going on. Instead, thanks to the LAPD I seem to have become a part of the circus. Just tell me where to stand to keep out of your way.”
“It’s a little late,” Kelland said sharply as he pointed to a corner. “And I won’t appreciate it if politics has anything to do with you showing up here.”
“Absolutely not,” Dalborne said quietly as he obeyed the order. “I just wanted to help. Kendra will tell you that I was at that concert when Delilah was taken. We’d already formed a bond at the school. This shouldn’t have—”
Kendra’s phone rang. She looked at her screen, and the caller ID lit up: DELILAH SAYS HI.
Jessie gasped. She’d seen it, too. “They spoofed the caller ID display.”
Kendra held up her still-ringing phone and showed it to everyone in the tent.
“Shit,” Dalborne murmured.
Kelland snapped his fingers and pointed to Kendra’s phone. One of the techies said, “We’ve got it. We’re recording.”
Everyone else had fallen silent.
Kendra answered the call and hit SPEAKERPHONE. “Hello.”
“Hello, Kendra Michaels.” The low, masculine voice sounded heavily synthesized.
“Who is this?”
“I have Delilah Winter. That’s all you need to know.”
Kendra spoke in an even tone. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
“We left her bracelet at the cemetery. We could have left her ring. The silver one that has ‘forever’ engraved inside. She’ll be wearing it when we return her to you.”
Kendra glanced at Jessie, who nodded her confirmation.
“You’ve killed three people. How do we know you haven’t killed her?”
“You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“Not good enough.” Kendra held the phone closer to her mouth. “We have your money, but we’re not authorized to give it to you without proof of life. You need to do better than a couple of her trinkets.”
A long moment of silence.
Noah looked nervously to the FBI agents. He looked as if he was about to speak, but Lynch held up a hand to silence him.
The caller finally responded. “What do you propose?”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Not possible.”
“Right now,” Kendra insisted. “Or the twenty million goes back into the armored car. It’s a beautiful sight, believe me. It’s a lot to kiss goodbye. Work with us.”
The caller paused for a long moment. “You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Michaels.”
“A reasonable bargain. We need to know she’s alive.”
“Give me a question for her.”
“Excuse me?”
“A question for dear Miss Winter. Something that only she can answer. Something that will prove to you that she is very much alive.”
Kendra looked at Jessie and held the phone in her direction.
“Answer me,” the caller demanded impatiently. “That’s as far as I can go.”
Jessie quickly stepped forward. “The one thing Dee was afraid of when she was a little girl. She had nightmares about it. Tell us what that was.”
“Interesting. One moment.”
The line went silent, as if it had been placed on mute. A few seconds later, the caller returned.
“She says it was an orange ceramic cat in her mother’s bedroom. It had green eyes, and it terrified her.”
Jessie looked to Kendra and then the others. She nodded.
“Okay,” Lynch said. “How do we get the money to you?”
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“My name is Adam Lynch. I’ll be bringing the money.”
“Very well. There’s a trash receptacle just outside your command center. An LAPD officer standing next to it.”
“You’re watching us?” Lynch asked.
“The whole world is watching. CNN has a particularly good angle right now.”
“Good to know.”
“Bring in the contents of that bag. You’ll need something in there.”
Metcalf bolted out through the tent’s opening. “I’m on it.” He returned in less than fifteen seconds and dumped the contents out into the middle of the tent. There were several empty coffee cups, empty paper bags, and half a dozen cardboard food containers.
“What are we looking for?” Lynch asked.
“A dark blue zipper pouch.”
Lynch found the pouch and unzipped it. It contained a small cell phone and a wired earpiece.
“Put the phone in your pocket and insert the earpiece.”
Lynch did as he was told. A moment later, the phone rang and the earpiece lit up.
“Tap the button on your earpiece.”
Lynch tapped the button.
“Do you hear me in the earpiece?”
“Yes. Loud and clear.”
“Good. Leave your own phone, weapon, and any tracking device right where you are. You’ll soon be scanned. If you’re detected with a tracking device, Delilah Winter will pay the price. Do you understand?”
Lynch pulled out his phone and semiautomatic and laid them on a nearby folding table. “I understand.”
“There must be no one following you or walking with you.”
“Got it…”
“Good. Then walk north on Olive to Fifth Street. I’m transferring you to someone else for the remainder of the transaction. The others will also be leaving the conversation at this time.”
Kendra’s phone went dead.
Lynch grabbed the money satchel and took one last look back at the group.
Kendra moved toward him. She’d seen him in some of the most dangerous situations imaginable, but for some reason she’d never been more frightened for him than she was at that moment.
Lynch gave her a reassuring wink. “It’ll be okay.” He looked toward the group and patted the satchel. “Anyone want coffee? I’m buying.”
He ducked out of the tent.
Typical Lynch. Trying to defuse her worry with a wink and a quip.
It didn’t work.
Kendra whirled toward the monitor bank. “Do you see him?”
One of the techies nodded. “Yep. We’ll be able to follow him on almost any downtown street.”
Kendra joined the others around the monitor bank. “Come on, Lynch,” she whispered to herself. “Make the damn delivery and get your ass back here.”
* * *
“Turn left.” It was now an entirely different synthesized voice in Lynch’s ear.
“Someone new,” Lynch said. “Perhaps an introduction is in order?”
“We’ll become quite well acquainted later. Just make the turn.”
Lynch turned left onto Fifth Street. Police officers were attempting to keep a wide perimeter between onlookers and Lynch, but groups of people were gathering on the opposite side of the street. “I’ve already started attracting a crowd,” he said quietly.
“Not a surprise, Mr. Lynch. Just hold on to that bag.”
Lynch looked up as helicopters roared overhead. “And I’m guessing the news stations are giving you a good look at me.”
“Again, all part of the plan.”
Lynch walked past the Biltmore Hotel and crossed Grand Avenue. “Care to give me a hint where I’m headed?”
“Turn left again, Mr. Lynch.”
Lynch stopped. He was standing in front of the Los Angeles Central Library. “Here?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the library isn’t open yet.”
“Never mind that. Walk across the main plaza. Ever been to this library, Mr. Lynch?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Pity. It’s quite beautiful.”
Lynch looked up as another helicopter buzzed overhead. “Where are we going?”
“Step around to the left. You’ll walk down a short flight of steps running down the side of the building. See them?”
“Yes.” Lynch walked across the plaza and took the red brick stairs down, under cover of a row of cedar trees.
“You’ll see a black door on your right. Step inside, Mr. Lynch. It’s unlocked.”
He pushed open the door and strained to see beyond. Only darkness.
The voice grew more insistent. “Step inside, Mr. Lynch.”
He walked through the doorway.
“Tear the tape off the doorjamb and close the door behind you.”
Lynch saw a slender piece of duct tape stretched over the doorjamb’s locking mechanism. He tore it off and pulled the door shut. It locked behind him with a loud click.
Lynch took two steps forward and a light flicked on. He whirled around. He was in what appeared to be a landscaper’s workroom, with several electric edgers, tree trimmers, yard shears, and a power mower neatly arranged against the wall.
“It’s a motion-activated light,” the voice told him. “You’re still quite alone.”
Lynch looked around. “I’m leaving the money here?”
“Oh, no. We’re just getting started. Look for a dark nylon bag on the floor. Pick it up and look inside.”
Lynch spotted the bag crumpled up in the corner. It was a medium-sized gym bag with a long shoulder strap. He lifted it and peered into the unzipped main compartment.
“You’ll find a windbreaker and a baseball cap in there.”
“I see them.”
“Take them out and put them on.”
Lynch put on the navy-blue windbreaker and matching hat. “Done. Not quite my style, of course.”
“I’m sure those broad shoulders of yours fill it out quite nicely.”
“How kind of you to notice.”
“I’m not the only one. I think CNN’s morning anchor has a bit of a crush on you. Now, Mr. Lynch, take the money out of your satchel and place it into the bag.”
He transferred the bills into the gym bag, keeping the stacks piled neatly. He tossed aside the leather satchel. “Okay.”
“It’s time to go now. But not the way you came in. There’s a metal door in the back of the room. See it?”
He walked toward the rear door, which was adorned by a rusty metal sign that read MUNICIPAL ACCESS ONLY.
“Grab the handle and give it a good pull. It will open. There’s another piece of tape there on the doorjamb. Rip off the tape, step through the door, and close it behind you.”
He pulled open the door, which groaned on its hinges. He tore off the tape and walked through the door. After it closed and locked behind him, Lynch froze. “I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s why there’s a small flashlight in the right pocket of that jacket. You’ll need it.”
Lynch fished out the flashlight and turned it on. A set of stairs descended into the darkness in front of him. “Where does this go?”
“Down. Way, way down. But you must hurry, Mr. Lynch. You have quite a bit of ground to cover.”
* * *
“Where in the hell is he?” Kendra looked frantically from one monitor to the other in the makeshift command center.
“We lost him after he left the library plaza,” one of the techs said, still staring at his monitor.
A female tech, who was monitoring the news networks, pulled off her headphones. “MSNBC says Lynch went into a side door.”
Kelland cursed. “Putting aside the fact that we’re getting our surveillance info from cable news stations when we have half the freakin’ law-enforcement officers in the city on the job…We think he’s in the library?”
Jessie nodded. “Looks like it to me. He headed down those stairs and never came out the other side.”
Kendra’s eyes darted from one monitor to the next. “That explains why the kidnapper wanted this to be so public.”
“What do you mean?” Kelland said.
“You said it yourself. Who needs the resources of the FBI and the LAPD when you can have half a dozen TV stations following him in real time? He’s able to track every step Lynch makes.”
“Well, we still have something the kidnapper probably doesn’t,” Metcalf said. “Infrared. Kelland, do you have a scope on that building yet?”
“Our helicopter is moving into position now,” one of the techs said. “We should see any and all body heat signatures in the library. I should be able to superimpose it over building blueprints I just downloaded from the city planner’s office. I’ll put it up on monitor four.”
The team huddled around and waited for the helicopter to lock in on its position. After a moment, the color HD image of the library was replaced by a black-and-white image peppered with occasional bursts of orange and red.
“Those are lighting fixtures,” Kelland said. “But, dammit, where’s Lynch?”
“He’s not there,” the tech said, his eyes darting over the monitor.
Kendra joined him in studying the image. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. No one’s in that building.”
“That’s crazy. He has to be there,” Kendra said.
A heavyset man in a white short-sleeved shirt stood up from another table. He was holding a large book. “Excuse me. I think I know.”
Kelland stepped aside for the man. “This is Ken Delano, the city planner.”
Delano held up the book. “He’s in the pit.”
“The pit?” Kendra said.
“An underground system of tunnels that allows access for electrical, plumbing, and traffic light maintenance in the greater downtown area. They run from the convention center on the south end up to the Music Center on the north and as far east as Union Station.”
“What makes you think Lynch is in there?” Jessie said.
Delano pointed to a diagram in his book. “There’s an access point on the east side of the library. Right where Mr. Lynch entered.”
“Where are they taking him?” Kendra said.
“Anybody’s guess.” Delano pointed toward the pathways extending from the library. “It could be anywhere along the system.”
Kelland turned back to his techs in front of the computer monitors. “I need you to put maps of these passageways onscreen. We’ll redistribute our people along those routes. Now!”
* * *
Lynch played the beam of his flashlight off the concrete walls of the subterranean tunnel. “I see lighting fixtures down here. You planned everything else…Couldn’t you have flicked a few on for me?”
“So sorry,” the voice said in his ear. “Not possible without alerting your friends to your location. You should be approaching an intersection any time now.”
“I see it. But I can only go straight or turn right.”
“Take the turn. You’ll find a gift.”
“For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
He turned right and almost ran into a bicycle. It was leaning against the wall of the passageway.
“See it?”
“The bike? Yes. The handlebars almost buried themselves into my groin.”
“It has an electric motor. It’s very fast and very quiet. Climb on and switch on the headlight.”
Lynch swung a leg over the bike frame and settled onto the narrow seat. He powered on the headlight and rotated the handle grip back toward him. The bike lurched forward and moved almost silently down the narrow corridor.
“I see some light ahead,” Lynch said.
“It’s just daylight filtering down from sidewalk gratings. No one will see you.”
“Still no hint about where I’m going?”
“Still no hint. But if it’s any consolation, you’ll make far better time down here than you would at street level.”
“I have no doubt.” He sniffed as he passed the patches of daylight filtering down. “Hey, I wouldn’t be in Chinatown, would I? I think I just caught a whiff of the spring rolls from Plum Tree Inn. Just heavenly.”
“We’re not going to Chinatown, Mr. Lynch.”
“Too bad. There are very few disputes that couldn’t be solved over a large platter of bok choy.”
“We’ll settle for the contents of that gym bag.”
“Point taken. How much farther do I have to go?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re finished.”
In the next nine minutes, Lynch tried to keep his bearings, but he was only certain of his location when he saw access signs for the Grand Avenue Music Center complex.
Soon the voice shouted out one last command.
“Stop!”
Lynch eased off on the throttle and rested his feet on the passageway’s concrete floor. “What now?”
“Welcome, Mr. Lynch.” This time the voice came from behind him, different from the one from his phone.
Lynch threw down the bike and spun around. Two men stepped from the shadows, wearing black tactical suits and face masks. Both men carried guns, and one walked with a distinct limp.
Lynch smiled. “You wouldn’t have gotten that limp on Desert Route 19 a couple days ago, would you? Because if so, I know the young women who gave it to you. And neither of them is the least bit sorry.”
Lynch could tell that he’d provoked a strong reaction. The man leaned forward and balled up his free hand. His tightening jaw was visible even through the mask.
Excellent, Lynch thought. The man was already having trouble controlling his anger. That would make him easier to take down if the situation demanded it.
The other man was still a question mark. He was tall, and he moved with steady, more deliberate motions. He bent over and picked up a large electronic wand.
“I’m not carrying a weapon,” Lynch said.
“I’m not worried about weapons. We need to make sure you’re not being tracked.”
“I’m not.”
“We’ll see.” The man switched on the wand and waved it in Lynch’s direction. After a moment he put down the wand. “It appears you’re telling us the truth.”
The limping man pointed toward the gym bag Lynch was holding. “You have something that belongs to us.”
“And you still have Delilah Winter. I was hoping to see her here.”
“That was never a part of the deal.”
Lynch shrugged. “Twenty million dollars is an awful lot to give away on faith.”
The tall man chuckled. “You’re talking as if it’s your money.”
“I just want to see an innocent young woman returned safely.”
“She will be.”
“Where? When?”
“When and where we decide.”
The limping man stepped forward and snatched the gym bag. He unzipped it and shone his flashlight inside at the stacks of currency.
“Unmarked and nonsequential serial numbers,” Lynch said. “Per your request.”
The tall man adjusted his sensor wand and waved it over the bag. The device emitted a low-pitched tone.
The man inhaled sharply, every muscle tensing. “What are you trying to pull here?”
“It’s your bag,” Lynch said. “There’s nothing in it but the cash.”
The man pulled out a stack of bills and checked it with the wand. Again it emitted a tone. He rifled through the bills, then tore off the paper band. He held the band up and waved it past his wand.
Another low-pitched tone.
“You scumbag,” the man said. “There are tracking chips in these paper bands.” He glanced around. “Your friends could be here any second.”
“You’ve got to be wrong. Check it again.” Lynch stepped back warily as the two men turned on him. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Like hell you don’t. Your friends just signed that songbird’s death warrant.”
The other man smiled through the opening in his mask. “And yours.”
BLAM!
Lynch ducked just in time to avoid the bullet as it whizzed by him and ricocheted around the passageway’s concrete walls.
Lynch rolled.
BLAM! BLAM!
Two more misses.
Gotta put something between himself and these guys. Fast.
The bike. Lynch grabbed it and hurled it at the men, knocking them off balance. Before they could recover, Lynch punched the taller man and knocked the gun from his hand. He grabbed the man by the back of his neck and rammed his skull against the wall. Lynch spun toward the other man.
Too late. The guy was ready with his gun.
BLAM!
Lynch’s ears buzzed and his vision blurred. He’d been hit. Maybe on the forehead, maybe on the temple. But in either case, why was he still conscious?
BLAM!
He flew backward as another bullet struck his protective jacket. It may have shielded his vital organs, but his insides still felt like they were exploding. He rolled into the darkness and moved his hands across the floor.
The gun.
Gotta find that gun. It was here somewhere.
But a fog was creeping over his forehead, matched by the warm stickiness in his hair.
Blood.
The fog was thicker now.
Fight it.
Stay awake.
Stay alive.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Both men fired indiscriminately into the dark passageway, but they were flying blind and none of the bullets found their mark. Lynch rolled over to hug the passageway’s inside wall.
The gunfire stopped.
“Let’s go,” one of the men said to the other. Lynch was too woozy to know which one was speaking. “And leave the money.”
“Leave it?”
“It isn’t safe. It will lead them straight to us. Hurry!”
Their two sets of footsteps pounded away, echoing in the concrete corridor.
Lynch forced himself to stand.
His head buzzed even louder. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to die in this hole.
Gotta get to the surface. There at least he had a chance.
He cocked his head. There was another sound, behind the buzzing. A distinctive clattering of steel wheels on rails. Trains.
Trains?
He staggered forward. He heard a P.A. system, blaring announcements of some kind.
He was beneath a train station. Of course. Union Station.
The sound was filtering down from a grate. He grabbed a rusty iron rung protruding from the wall and pulled himself up.
Damn. This wasn’t going to be easy.
He climbed another step as blood drizzled over his forehead and eyes.
His head throbbed, but his bruised ribs pained him more.
Dammit!
Pain. Sharp, stabbing pain.
He tasted blood on his lips. Ignore it. Fight through it.
He climbed a few more feet. The announcements were now louder and more distinct. The Amtrak Pacific Surfliner was now boarding…
One more rung. Then another. And another after that.
He stopped. Everything was spinning, and he felt his grip loosening.
No. He couldn’t pass out now. Not when he was so damn close…
He looked up and focused on the grating. Busy commuters walked back and forth over it. A luggage cart rolled over and momentarily darkened the narrow passageway.
Focus. Climb.
He pushed himself upward, racing against his receding consciousness.
Just a few more feet…
Made it.
No time to celebrate. He still had to get topside.
With his left hand gripping the rung, he shoved the fingers of his right hand through the crosshatch grating and pushed upward.
It didn’t budge.
The iron grating was heavy, and his ribs weren’t making things any easier.
Again.
He grunted and pushed with everything he had.
It was happening. He cleared the rim and pushed the grating over just enough for him to squeeze through.
He lifted himself up the three remaining rungs and emerged in the bustling art deco main terminal.
Success!
A woman screamed. Not that he blamed her. He knew he must’ve been a bloody mess.
He collapsed onto the floor. As consciousness left him, he was vaguely aware of two cops rushing in his direction.