by C. J. Lyons
My ears rang as the bullets finally stopped coming. We were back near the ladder before Ryder finally let me go. He rolled off me, fingers fumbling slightly as he reloaded, his breaths coming short and fast.
“Ryder, are you hit?” I crowded close, my vision useless, running my hands over his body.
“I’m all right,” he gasped. “The vest caught it.”
“Them,” I corrected as I found two warm, metallic, flattened shapes with my fingers. “You sure that’s all? No blood?”
The stink of the smoke from below made me cough as I traced my hands up to his neck, felt his pulse—barely elevated, steady and strong. Then I felt his arms and legs. No blood.
“Just need a moment. What are they doing? They’ll use the smoke as cover to regroup, but you’ll be able to see them with the binoculars.”
I leaned over him and looked below—from our new position, the pipes partially obstructed the view, but I could make out the two leaders, Grey and Tyrone. “Nothing. They’re just standing there. Like they’re waiting.”
My eyes watered from the smoke, and I had to lower the binoculars to wipe them. Ryder coughed, then grabbed his chest. “You probably cracked a rib.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “If we can’t get the sprinklers going, we need to leave.”
“No. That’s what they’re waiting for. They want to force our hand, make us move to where they can shoot us.”
He pushed his night vision goggles up and rubbed his face on his sleeve. “I know. It’s what I’d do. I’ll cover you, and you follow the catwalk. Catch up with Flynn and keep going until you reach Devon and the others.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll pin them down, and they’ll either have to retreat or risk getting caught in their own fire—those firefighter suits only buy them time, can’t protect them forever.”
“No,” I insisted. “You’ll be a sitting duck.”
“Duh. That’s why they call it a diversion.” He shifted position, pain tightening his eyes. “Are they moving?”
I looked. “No. Still waiting.” As I turned back to him, the grenade shifted in my pocket. I glanced past him to the ladder leading down. “I have a plan.”
“Really? What?” He looked half serious and half ready to laugh.
“We give them what they came here for,” I said. I held the grenade up for him to see. “And then I kill them all.”
Chapter 37
DEVON KNEW BETTER than to disappear lest he cause an uproar among the parents, so he kept to himself in a corner of the dormitory as he listened to the battle unfold over his earbud. Flynn’s play-by-play kept him oriented, but the news was definitely not good for the home team.
“Ryder and I are holding the high ground,” Flynn reported. “But, Devon, they’ve got flamethrowers. The sprinkler system isn’t working.”
That explained the stench in the air. When he’d been prioritizing repairs, he’d never dreamed he’d need to move the sprinkler system to the top of the list. Not like he’d invited any fire marshals down to his secret underground lair to do a safety inspection.
“Can you reach the cutoff valve?” he asked.
“I’m there already. It’s not working.”
“Lefty-loosey...”
“Ha-hah. It’s not that kind of valve. More like a lever with a big green arrow pointing to on and a red one pointing to off.”
He held his phone, flipping through the maps he’d created of the tunnel sections. “The drug dealers must have shut off the main valve to keep their stash from getting wet.”
“Where is it?”
“Hang on, I’m looking.” He paced in a circle, turning his back to the parents watching him. “Got it. In the yellow section, near St. Tim’s.”
“I’m halfway there, but Rossi and Ryder are pinned down, taking heavy fire.”
“I’m not far. Go, back them up. When the sprinklers turn on, use the diversion and get out of there.”
“On it.”
Devon memorized the fastest, safest route to the water valve and moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?” one of the young mothers asked, her voice loud enough that everyone turned to stare. “Not running out on us, are you?”
Anger lanced through him. He didn’t have time for this shit. “Three people are fighting for their lives out there, trying to save your children, and they need my help.” The woman’s jaw dropped. Before she could say anything, he jerked his chin at Louise. “Dr. Mehta, while I’m gone, you’re in charge.”
He left, stalking down the hall, hoping to burn off some of his anger. He hated when emotions took control. That was the sure path to making stupid mistakes.
He’d made it through the locked doors and to the yellow section when the other line on his phone rang. He answered without looking—only a handful of people had this number.
“Is this Mr. Devon Price?” a man’s voice came over the line, startling him.
He glanced at the screen. Ryder’s number—at least it had been before his phone had been taken from him. He hauled in a breath, trying to force his voice to a normal register. “Yes, Mr. Lazaretto. What can I do for you?”
The man chuckled. “Very good. This is Tyrone Lazaretto. I like that you’re quick on the uptake. As for what you can do for us, I believe you have several properties we wish to acquire. In exchange for the life of your daughter and the others.”
So. They’d discovered Esme was related to him. He shouldn’t be surprised. Given the resources the Lazaretto family controlled, a simple birth certificate database search was child’s play. Devon kept moving. The water valve should be—there it was. A big red metal box labeled Fire Control.
“Which properties are we talking about? Seems as if you and your men are currently permanently damaging the value of one of my primary holdings. Not the best grounds for negotiation.”
“Simply a means to get your attention. You have my word. You and your people can leave in safety once we get what we came for.”
“I have sick children here.” He opened the box and found the main valve for the sprinklers. Flynn was right. It was turned off. He tried to flip it, but it was frozen in place. Damn.
“Yes. I’m aware.”
“I understand you might be able to offer them a chance at a treatment. Under my and my physician’s supervision, of course. These are our children, not lab rats for you to experiment on.” Devon allowed his anger to flow through to his muscles, slipping the phone into his pocket and using both hands on the valve. He tried not to grunt as he bent with his knees and pushed on the lever.
It moved. At first grudgingly, but once he got it past the halfway mark, it slid the rest of the way until it rested against the helpful green arrow.
He grabbed his phone, checked to see that he hadn’t lost the call. No, still connected. He waited, refusing to be the first to break. There was a long pause, long enough for sweat to gather at the base of Devon’s back.
Finally, the voice returned. “Very well, Mr. Price. You have a deal.”
“You’ll treat the children in exchange for—”
“I think you know already, Mr. Price.”
“You want Tommaso’s research. I have it.” The thumb drive was still in his pocket. He didn’t mention that he also had copies and so wouldn’t be losing much by making the bargain. “Where shall we meet?”
“Come now. The lives of all those children, surely they’re worth more than that?”
Devon clenched his fists, not answering despite the fact that he knew exactly what Lazaretto wanted.
“We are tired of these games, Mr. Price. Angela Rossi. Bring her to us.”
<<<>>>
I WAS GLAD I was too far away from Ryder for him to reach me. The look on his face—I’d never seen such a mixture of horror and regret.
“Give me that.” He barked the words as an order.
I stood, gripping the thin railing, and edged across the metal grating
of the catwalk closer to the ladder and farther from him.
“Rossi, stop. Don’t go.”
I hesitated, then turned back.
“Don’t do it.”
“It’s the only way.”
“No. It’s not.” Ryder used the railing to haul himself to his feet, pain lancing through the small, muffled noise that escaped him. I held up a hand as if to keep him at bay. Not him. His pain. Worse, his disappointment. In me.
“Don’t you understand?” I pleaded my case. “They’re targeting children. You’re not saying that those men deserve any iota of compassion, of human regard, are you?”
“No. I agree with you. There is evil in this world. You and I, we’ve both seen it. I’m not saying these men don’t deserve to die. I’ve already killed three tonight.”
“Right. Self-defense. Isn’t that the same as what I want to do?”
“I’m saying—” His brow creased with frustration. “I’m saying don’t let it, them, doing what you’re talking about...I can’t lose you to that.”
I swung my face heavenward, resisted the temptation to laugh. “You’re missing the point, Ryder. I’m already lost.”
Without looking at him, I turned to the ladder. The stench from the fire filled my nostrils even though I couldn’t see any flames. With the smell came smoke, but even that was invisible up here in the shadows.
“Stop!”
I froze. Ryder had never raised his voice to me before. Not like that.
He grimaced and came close, settling both palms on my shoulders, leaning in. Blocking out the rest of the world, hidden by the maze of pipes and conduits, it was just me and him.
“I get that you’re dying. I really do. But that’s not the problem.”
“Really? Then what is?”
“It’s the choices you’re making. It’s as if you don’t care anymore.”
“How can you say that? Everything I do is to protect you, to save those children—”
“What about saving you, Rossi?”
I shrugged his hands off my body, turned away, head down. “I’m beyond saving. We both know that.”
“No. You’re not.” He coughed, muffled it with his hand. “Look at me. Please.”
Reluctantly, I faced him.
“You might think you know when you’re going to die, how you’re going to die. But it’s not true. It’s all a lie. A delusion.”
“Now who’s being delusional? You’ve talked to Louise. You know how little time I have—” I stopped as he shook his head, denying my words. So typical of Ryder. Despite everything he’d seen and done, he was still at heart a man of faith. Foolish enough to have faith in me.
“Who cares?” he retorted. “You’re dying, I’m dying, we’re all dying. That’s my point. Maybe the fatal insomnia will kill you—or maybe it will be something else. It doesn’t matter. We’re all facing a death sentence. Each and every one of us from the moment we are born into this world.”
He reached for me once more, this time resting his hands on my hips, drawing me close. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but I knew they were from the smoke, not for me. At least that’s what I told myself, blamed my own tears on.
“It’s not the dying that matters. It’s the living.” His voice dropped, low and hoarse, almost a whisper.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t fight back with the only weapon left to me? I should just let those kids die?”
“No. No. I’m saying you’re not fighting alone. I’m saying you matter. Not just what’s going on with your body and mind, but your soul. Who you really are. Don’t let that part of you, the woman I fell in love with, die before the rest of you.”
I flinched. “I’m sorry if you don’t approve of my methods.”
“Methods? You’re talking about killing yourself and taking as many people as you can along with you!”
“Better me doing the dirty work than someone who has a future. After all, what do I have to lose?”
The look on his face as his hands fell away from me gave me my answer. He shook his head sorrowfully. “You have so much to lose, Rossi. So very much. I wish I knew how to make you see that.”
Somewhere deep inside me, I felt a twist of pain, sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes. Not from smoke. Real tears. And yet my eyes were suddenly dry.
He was right. I was no longer the woman he had fallen in love with. I was broken, contaminated by memories not my own, my brain filled with so many lifetimes, too many lives, and yet I felt so empty, so very empty.
I left him there. Scrambled down the ladder to the tunnel floor. Better for everyone. Safer. Less painful.
These were the lies I told myself. Only, even I no longer believed them.
Chapter 38
RYDER LUNGED FOR Rossi, but she moved too fast, and the ladder would support only one person at a time. A hand landed on his arm, hauling him back. Flynn.
“What the hell?” she asked.
“Rossi has a grenade. She’s going to kill herself and try to take as many of them with her.”
Flynn simply nodded. “Not a bad plan. Except for the part where the doc dies. Come on.”
She began moving down the catwalk away from the Good Sam corridor and the men below. And Rossi. Ryder glanced down, but couldn’t spot Rossi through the pipes. He followed Flynn if only to get a better line of sight. “Where are you going?”
“Devon’s going to turn the sprinklers on at the main valve.” As if in answer to her words, a loud gurgling shook several of the thinner pipes. A moment later, there was the sound of water falling. The smoke increased, but it clung to the ground.
Flynn rubbed her hands together as if she’d performed a magic trick. “There. That will take care of the fire.”
“Who cares about the fire? We need to stop Rossi.”
The look Flynn gave him was pitying. “She’s not an idiot. The doc won’t use that grenade here where it would cause more harm than good. We’re too close to the hospital, and she knows you’re nearby. She’d never risk hurting you.”
Too damn late for that.
Flynn kept moving. He rushed to catch up, his ribs stabbing with each step, but his breathing grew easier as they moved past the smoke. “Where are we going?”
“She’ll want a contained area so she can be sure she’s only risking bad guys, right? Someplace isolated, away from any innocents. I know where she’s going.”
“Where?” How bad had things deteriorated that he was taking tactical advice from a kid? How the hell had he let things get so out of control?
“The bell tower at St. Tim’s. We can beat her there, set up an ambush.”
<<<>>>
DEFINITELY NOT ONE of my better ideas, I couldn’t help but think as I stepped off the ladder in time to get drenched by the sprinklers. It made for a nice diversion, though. The Lazarettos were scrambling, dropping their now-useless flamethrowers, fighting through smoke made thicker by the water squelching the flames.
I waited a safe distance from them. Close enough that when they aimed a light in my direction they could see who I was, far enough that they couldn’t easily reach me.
As soon as their light hit me and one of them called my name, I turned and ran. They followed. A few shucked their fire gear to move faster, but as soon as they outpaced the others and threatened to close the distance, shots rang out from above. One more down, then another one left hobbling, grasping his knee with both hands.
I glanced heavenward, giving Ryder and Flynn a nod of thanks before resuming my flight. From eleven down to five, not bad. Maybe I wouldn’t need to follow through with my plan after all.
As I kept racing down the corridor, holding the binoculars up to my eyes to keep my bearings, the covering fire from above ended. I risked taking a quick look at the map Flynn had sent to my phone and realized that I’d come to the point where the catwalk she and Ryder were on diverged from the path my corridor took.
Men’s footsteps pounded behind me. I thought furiously about where to lead them. Th
e catwalk and tunnels didn’t converge again until past St. Tim’s. But that meant Ryder and Flynn would reach the cathedral before I did. I hoped they’d planned some kind of ambush. If not, I’d have no choice but to lead the Lazarettos safely away to where no one could get hurt if I detonated the grenade: the bell tower.
Chapter 39
AN EMPTY CATHEDRAL at four in the morning the day after Christmas. As he and Flynn took positions in the cathedral’s antechamber at the top of the steps leading up from the tunnels, Ryder tried to decide if it was the best place to die or the worst. Good place for an ambush, but also no cover, so every time they took aim, they’d be exposing themselves to the enemy. At least they had the high ground.
Flynn was on her belly, making herself the smallest possible target. “I can cover everything except the far left corner. The way the stairs curve, there’s a blind spot there.”
He stood, sighting his weapon, shuffling back and forth until he had the area covered. “Got it.”
“Yeah, why don’t you paint a bull’s-eye on you while you’re at it.”
The clatter of footsteps came from below. “It’s me,” Rossi called. “Me, me, me. No bad guys.”
“We got you,” Ryder shouted back. “Get up here.” He tried to keep the fury from his voice, but seeing her made his adrenaline spike. “Are you okay?” he asked when she reached the top of the stairs.
Rossi stepped over Flynn, who looked up only long enough to flash a wink. “I’m fine.”
He glanced away from his position to see for himself. “That was either the stupidest or the craziest thing I’ve ever—”
“Gave you the chance to take three more of them down,” she retorted.
“How far back are they?”
“About thirty yards. But they aren’t moving fast. I think they know it’s a trap.”
“No duh,” Flynn snorted.
“Get out of here,” Ryder told Rossi. “We’ve got this. Go hide in the rectory, tell Father Vance not to trust the city cops. He’ll protect you.”
