Security: Jack Randall #4, page 18
“Better yet, let’s go see him.”
He swept the mess of paperwork into a drawer and locked it. His computer flashed a message at him but he ignored it in favor of getting upstairs.
THE TUNNELS
“Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know,” Greg said. “It hasn’t been that long yet, give him some time.”
Twice they had heard terrorists speaking in the tunnel and once a forklift had driven by. It made Jack wonder what they were doing. Only once had one of them stuck his head in to make sure they were all still caged. That told Jack they were busy with something. But what? What was all the manpower for? He had too many questions and not enough answers. He’d like to do a recon and see what they were up to, but his first priority was to get these men out of the tunnel.
A nudge from Greg and a pointed finger drew his attention back down the tunnel. A small shape darted across the gap and then reappeared a minute later from behind a stack of lumber. Jack waved him forward while Greg silenced the chatter caused by his arrival.
Mitch smiled and held up the bolt cutters.
“I got ’em, but man, these guys are everywhere. I almost got caught. Had to hide in the cab of the Caterpillar for a few.”
“What are they doing?”
“I’m not sure. King’s showing the lead guy around. They definitely know each other. They’re looking up at the overhead a lot and marking spots on the wall.”
“Did you find some noise makers?” Greg asked.
“There’s a truck and two loaders parked next to the Caterpillar. Keys were in three of the five. I couldn’t check the rest without getting caught.”
“How about the elevator?”
“The lights are still on. That’s all I know.”
“How many?”
“Maybe ten between us and it. Hard to tell. Everyone’s dressed like us and they’re all black or kinda dark, you know? I just couldn’t tell one from the other from where I was at.”
“Good work, Mitch. Now back up and hide while we cut this chain.”
Greg examined the chain. He had to cut it so they could get out quick but still have it look like the chain was intact. He pulled out a pocket knife, stooped down and cut off a length of his bootlace. He tied links with a slipknot before cutting it. The chain hardly moved, but one tug on the bootlace and the whole thing would fall off.
“Nice,” Jason said. “What now?”
“Now we need those volunteers. Get everybody together.”
• • •
Ten minutes later they left the cage and split into two groups. Greg split off with Mitch and two others while Jack and Jason took the other group. Jason eyeballed the gun in Jack’s hand as they snuck through the maze of supplies.
Jason whispered, “You had that all this time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was no need to. Now stay behind me and pay attention. How far can we go? I want to get as close to the elevator as we can without getting caught.”
“There’s another set of doors between us and the cage. Mitch said they were there so we better stop soon.”
Jack stuck his head up over a pallet of parts for a split second. The open area in front of the two doors was just up ahead of them.
“Okay, we’re close. Everybody find a place to hide.”
The men so far had been quiet enough. Jack and Greg had made them empty their pockets and jump up and down until they were satisfied they would all be stealthy enough to move without making noise. They had ditched their orange vests and some had even followed Jack’s lead and rolled on the dirty floor to darken up their coveralls. They found dark corners to hide in. Jack found a hiding spot where he could see in both directions. The terrorists were using the water tunnels to travel since they had fewer obstacles. So far they had been lucky. He hoped Greg and his crew were too. As long as nobody saw the empty cage before Greg got them started they might just have a chance.
• • •
Down the tunnel in the other direction Greg followed Mitch through the supply maze. They found the next bulkhead door and Greg stopped to listen for twenty seconds. Motioning the others to stay he crawled forward and stuck his head out and into the tunnel. The vehicles were parked right where Mitch had said they were. He noticed that the truck was aimed right down the center of the tunnel going south. The others were pulled off to the side and parked facing north. He looked at the truck again. Its position gave him an idea. He crawled backward to Mitch and Wallace.
“Nobody there. I’ll take the truck, you guys get the others, okay?”
Each of them nodded. On the way down the tunnel they had each scrounged a weight of some kind. Greg hefted a chunk of cement. About five pounds, he guessed, it should work fine.
“Do you think Jack is far enough?”
“They had a shorter trip. Probably waiting for us.”
“Let’s go.”
“Iraq refugees find no refuge in America.”
—Seattle PI
—TWENTY-FOUR—
THE TUNNELS
Mustafa could not believe it. He stood outside the empty cage and looked around frantically. Where did they go? The chain was still in place! He tugged at it and it fell off the cage and gathered at his feet. He spun around with the rifle in front of him, searching the dark tunnel for his former co-workers. He heard something and he shuffled to the tunnel entrance. A motor. To the south. Another joined it and the engine screamed, filling the tunnel with its usual noise. A third and then a fourth started.
He screamed over the din.
“Ahmed! Ahmed! They are escaping!” His voice was lost in the echo of the motors. He raised the rifle and fired into the floor. The wood splintered and showered him with fragments but the report of the rifle overpowered the sound of the engines and echoed up the tunnel. He dropped the backpack he had been carrying and limped down the tunnel as fast as he could.
• • •
Jack had managed to sneak a little closer to the men at the tunnel entrance. They seemed to be going over a large map of some kind. The man in charge looked familiar. He had seen the face before somewhere, but couldn’t place it.
The sound of a distant engine brought their heads up.
“What is that noise?”
“I don’t know, Ahmed.”
They listened closer.
“I said no noise! They are to use the electrics!”
A faint scream was heard followed by what could only be rifle shots. They dropped the map on the table and grabbed their rifles before charging out the door.
Jack watched the door until he was sure they would not return before waving the men forward.
“Jason, you lead them and get the elevator started. I’ll bring up the rear.”
“Okay.”
The men shuffled past Jack and disappeared into the tunnel. Jack watched a group of terrorists run past the entrance toward the noise. All of them were carrying assault rifles. He looked down at the Browning in his hand. He had two magazines. Thirty rounds total. Plus his backup which held only two. The odds were against him. He couldn’t afford to get into a gunfight, especially in these tight quarters. At best he could slow them down, maybe enough for Jason to get everybody out. He found a dark vantage point and waited.
• • •
Greg flinched at the sound of the truck starting. The noise bounced off the walls and shattered the quiet. He heard the others turn their engines over as well and seconds later scream at their highest RPMs when they placed the weights on the gas pedals. The decibels clembed, rattling his teeth. He held the wheel and swung himself half out of the cab. He propped the chunk of cement against the pedal. The truck roared in response. The others waited for him in the tunnel entrance. He grinned in their direction as he reached back in and dropped the truck into low gear. It leaped forward and slammed the door into his back, almost knocking him off the step. He shoved it back open and jumped away, hitting the curved wall of the tunnel and rolling away from the truck. The engine fought with the transmission while the truck screamed its way down the tunnel. Greg scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the tunnel entrance.
“What was that for?” Wallace asked.
“A bonus. It’ll keep them guessing. Let’s move.”
They heard rifle fire. The men froze and Greg had to shove them forward.
“Don’t stop, keep moving!”
They made it into the shadows of the supplies before Greg heard the shouted voices behind him. Two shadows passed the entrance at a dead run in pursuit of the truck. It was working.
Now if they could just make it to the elevator.
• • •
Jason was relieved to see the power still on at the elevator. The cage was open and the men piled in as he and another started the hydraulics. Their loud hum was lost in the noise from the tunnel and he watched the needles slowly climb. Within a minute he had the pressure he needed. He inspected the cage again. As expected they had engaged the safety lock. He pulled it open before turning to the junction box. Tracing the wires to their exiting conduit he located the governor. He needed a screwdriver!
“Screwdriver?!”
“We all emptied our pockets! Remember?”
“Shit.” He reached in and carefully grabbed the wire. He gave it a yank. It bent but held. He grabbed it again and this time pulled out whatever slack he could before yanking it harder. It came away and grounded out on the box, sparking twice and giving him a shock that numbed his hand.
He shook the hand. “Dammit!”
“Push!”
Jason spun to see the men trying to squeeze in. It was very tight. There was only so much room and the door had to be closed before the safety would let it climb. Jason pushed on the last man. There was nothing left.
Jason shut the door.
“Jason, wait, we can get you on!”
Jason latched it and pinned the safety.
The sound of engines died in the distance. The one retreating noise was not enough to cover the noise of the hydraulics.
“Jason, get on!”
“There’s not enough time!”
Jason hit the button and the elevator leaped up, much faster than the men were used to. Their faces pleaded with his until they disappeared up the shaft.
“Now what?”
Jason spun to find Jack behind him.
“Sorry, no room.”
“Damn.” Jack looked behind them. The sound of rifle fire filled the tunnel. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll figure something else out.”
Jason saw a roll of paper in Jack’s hand.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not sure yet. Later. We’ve gotta move.”
“What about Greg?”
“Greg will have to take care of himself. Let’s go!”
• • •
“Just follow me.”
Greg glanced behind him to see that he didn’t have to say that. The men were right on his ass. They ducked for cover when a pair of men ran across the space in front of them. Greg frowned at the delay, they needed to hook up with Jack at the elevator before these guys discovered the cage empty. He was about to move them across when they heard more rifle fire from the tunnel.
“What are they doing?”
“Shooting at the truck I think. If they manage to stop it they’ll know they were duped. We gotta move. Listen, we cross the open area up there like this; I’ll move up to the entrance and cover you guys. All of you move across at once, got it?”
He got ready nods all around. Moving was much better than standing still in their book.
• • •
Mustafa cursed his leg and the Americans who had taken it as he hobbled down the tunnel as fast as he could. Others had passed him twice while racing after the truck. The prosthetic rubbed against his stump, the pain becoming too much to run any further. He stopped at the next bulkhead door, rubbing the leg and moving slower, his metal foot no longer slapping the concrete and announcing his presence. Perhaps he would cross over to the other tunnel and find a forklift to drive?
• • •
Greg waved them forward. He wanted to be more careful but time was against them. He turned around to check their progress just as Mustafa entered the doorway.
• • •
A figure running across the doorway startled him. Seeing the motion again Mustafa raised the rifle and fired a burst. A yell of pain emboldened him and he fired again.
• • •
“Shut it off!” Ahmed yelled.
They had chased the slow moving truck until they were close enough to shoot out its tires. Yet the beast drove on, its engine screaming as it pumped high RPMs into the uncooperative transmission. It began to smoke and they fired more rounds into the cab in an effort to stop it but it continued on until the transmission finally failed and the sound became one of grinding metal. A man jumped up on the step and emptied his rifle into the cab. He flung the door open to reveal the empty interior.
He turned the key, ending the chase and silencing the truck. Smoke filled the tunnel and they coughed. A draft moved it slowly to the south. The men chattered as they searched for new targets.
“Silence!”
Ahmed listened closely. Over the sound of the cooked engine snapping they heard a faint hum.
“What is that?” he asked.
Before he could get an answer they heard more rifle fire.
“Get back!”
He turned and sprinted back the way they had come, his men close on his heels.
• • •
Greg’s leg was jerked to the side. He let out a half-yell. Numbness hit and he struggled to stay on his feet. Mitch caught him, making it to the cover of the crates. Greg grabbed a shoulder for support and pointed down the tunnel.
“Just go!”
He and Mitch weaved through the maze as best they could but the others quickly outpaced them. The numbness turned to burning. Greg bit his lip. Blood filled his boot and he felt it squish with every step. There was no time to check it, they had to keep moving.
“Leave me here, Mitch. Catch up with Wallace.”
“Fuck that.”
“But—”
“Shut up and run. I can hear the elevator from here!”
Their pursuer fired over the obstacles and bullets skipped off the ceiling. Ducking lower they drove on. They passed the next bulkhead entrance, past the now empty cage and on toward the scream of the hydraulic motors. One more entrance and they were there. But would the cage be there waiting?
The pain was greater now and increasing with every step. Mitch shrugged him up higher and they moved on.
• • •
Ahmed dabbed the floor with a finger and held it to his nose. It was a smell he was familiar with.
“You hit one of them,” he told Mustafa.
His men started to follow the blood into the crates but Ahmed stopped them.
“No. Two of you there—” he pointed to tunnel one, “—and two there.” He pointed at the other. “Run to the elevator and wait. They are slower now. Mustafa and I will drive them to you.”
The men sprinted into the tunnels.
“Are you ready to do some hunting, my friend?”
Mustafa slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle. Ahmed led them into the crates.
• • •
Jack pulled himself back from the wall of the crate and tried to form a picture of the tunnel as best he could through the gaps. He and Jason had located crates full of discarded packing material. Now covered by a padded blanket he watched and listened.
The steady pitch of the hydraulic motor changed and he heard a distant clang of metal striking metal echo down from the top of the elevator shaft.
“They made it,” Jason whispered from the next crate over.
“Shh.” Jack heard voices from the outside tunnel. A few seconds later two Somali men entered, out of breath and covered in sweat. They paced the open area and looked over the stacked supplies to the south. Two more arrived and one of them pointed to positions at either door. They were clearly waiting for someone. One of them broke away from the others and examined the hydraulics. He gazed up the shaft and listened to the sounds now echoing down from the top. Jack watched him from four feet away.
The pump changed pitch again and the cable began moving through the pulleys. The Somali jumped back.
“It comes back!” he yelled.
Another joined him. They stared at the thick cable as it traveled down and back up again.
“What do we do?”
“Stop it!”
“How?”
The closest Somali pushed buttons at random. Most of them did nothing. Eventually he noticed the large red one at the top of the panel and slapped it. The cable stopped with a loud screech and the pump shut off. Loud metallic clangs came from up the shaft.
Jack lowered his gun and listened. He heard no sound from the elevator shaft. If it had arrived with people on board he would have had to shoot the Somalis as best he could from inside the crate. A losing battle but one he would have had to fight or the people in the cage would have surely died. Now he was thinking that the crew had sent the cage back down empty. He let the slack fall off the trigger and tried to control his breathing.
Sit still, Jason, he thought, just sit still.
• • •
The sound of the pump dying made Mitch pause. Greg held his breath and listened as well.
“Pump stopped. The elevator is off.”
“Shit. We need to find a place to hole up.”
A noise behind them made Mitch hoist Greg to his feet and move. They shuffled forward until they met the open space at the cage. Two dark shapes moved out of the crates. Greg clawed for the gun in his back but was thwarted by the coverall.
“It’s okay, it’s Wallace and Jacobs.”
The two men ran up to them.
“What happened?”
“He got shot in the calf back there. Thanks for waiting,” Mitch scolded.
“Sorry.” Wallace took over from Mitch. Jacobs examined the leg before pulling the bandana from around his neck and tying it over the wound. Greg gritted his teeth when Jacobs yanked the knot tight.
“There’s guys at the elevator. They shut it down,” Wallace reported. “We gotta hide.”
