by Cindi Myers
Emma gasped, and clung to Graham. Only his solid, warm presence kept her grounded in that sudden, disorienting absence of light. He put one arm around her. “They’ve dragged the cover back over the hole,” he said.
“We’re trapped.” Emma shut her eyes tightly, and pressed her face against his chest. “We’re buried alive.”
“Don’t panic.” His fingers dug into her arm. “That’s what they want—for us to feel helpless. We’re not helpless.”
He might not be helpless, but that’s exactly how she felt. She was at the bottom of a mine shaft, underground in pitch-darkness with no light or food. She’d even lost the water Graham had tossed to her. The only thing keeping her from losing her mind was the man beside her, solid and strong and calm despite the impossibility of their situation.
“I think they’re gone now,” he said.
“So we’re alone.” The words added to her despair.
“The rest of the team will look for us.” He took his arm from around her and she started to protest. “I’m just taking off my pack,” he said. A few seconds later, light surrounded them. She blinked in the brightness. Graham handed her the mini Maglite. “You take this. I’ve got another one.”
She shone the flashlight around her prison. “It’s not as bad as I feared,” she said. No slime covered the walls, and they were alone in the chamber, with no spiders or rats or other creepy-crawlies for company. She retrieved the bottle of water from the floor and drank. “What do we do now?” she asked.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked.
“This morning.” Her stomach growled. “Yesterday morning, I guess.”
“Eat this.” He pressed a wrapped sandwich into her hand. “I hope you like peanut butter.”
“I love peanut butter.” She took a bite and almost moaned with relief.
“What happened this morning?” he asked. “At Prentice’s.”
“Everything was fine,” she said between bites of the sandwich. “I showed up for the interview, we talked. He was his usual self, polite and businesslike. He said he stopped using Bobby as a pilot weeks ago because Bobby was drinking too much and he was worried about safety.”
“Was Bobby drinking too much?”
“Not when he was with me, but we only saw each other a few times. He certainly had a lot on his mind, worries about Robby and money problems—the kind of problems that might drive a person to drink.”
“And of course, Prentice didn’t know anything about what Bobby had been up to since then.”
“Not a thing. He did tell me he’d started a fund to pay for Robby’s medical bills. I thought that was really generous of him.”
“Oh, he’s generous, all right.” Graham shifted, and stifled a grunt.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. What happened when you got ready to leave?”
“Nothing, really. I got in my car and started driving toward the gate. I did think it was a little unusual that he didn’t have one of the guards escort me—that’s the way it’s always worked before. No one goes anywhere on the ranch without an escort. But I just figured they were busy, and since I’d visited so many times, Richard trusted me to see myself out.”
“I answered your call, but all I heard was a cry and a sound like squealing brakes.” The memory made him sick to his stomach.
“I don’t remember much about the next part. I think someone in the backseat of the car grabbed me, then knocked me out—maybe with chloroform or something. I felt pretty sick when I first woke up.”
“You woke up down here?”
“Yes. I was tied up, hands and feet, but I managed to cut the ties. I still felt pretty bad, so I lay down and slept, until you showed up. Thank God you did.”
“I knew you had the appointment with Prentice, and I was betting the call came while you were still here. The rental company was able to track the location of your car.”
“Where was it?”
“In a gully in the Curecanti Recreation Area. A long way from any road, but not too far from Prentice’s ranch. From there, Randall Knightbridge and his dog, Lotte, were able to track you to where another vehicle must have picked you up. We came back after dark and followed the tracks of that vehicle to here.”
“You didn’t come by yourself, I hope,” she said.
“No, Randall, Michael Dance, Lotte and Marco Cruz were with me.”
“What happened to them?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I sent them to search for the main entrance to the mine while I waited with you.” He looked up toward the ceiling. “They haven’t come back yet. That’s not a good sign.” If the people who had thrown him and Emma down here and left them to die had killed members of his team, too, they wouldn’t want to be alive when Graham got out of here.
“Maybe they’re okay,” she said. “Maybe they got away and went for help.”
“Maybe so.” He couldn’t afford to dwell on what might have happened. He had to focus on right now, and what he and Emma needed to do to survive.
She finished the last of the sandwich. “What else do you have in that magic pack?” she asked. “Maybe a phone to call for help?”
“It didn’t survive the fall.” He held up the phone, its screen shattered, bits of plastic hanging off it. He dropped it back into the pack and took out a flat plastic box. “I’ll need you to help me fashion a sling for my shoulder and wrap my ribs. There are some bandages and gauze in this first aid kit.”
She brushed crumbs from her hands. “All right. But just so you know—I never did get my first-aid badge in Girl Scouts.”
“There’s a booklet with diagrams in with the supplies.” He began unbuttoning his shirt. “Do the ribs first.”
She helped him out of the shirt, but even though she tried to be gentle, she didn’t miss the sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth as she slipped it off his injured shoulder. “Do you think it’s dislocated?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just separated. Take the gauze and wrap it as tightly as you can around my ribs.”
Getting the gauze tight was easier said than done, but after several false starts she managed to encase several inches of his torso in gauze. She pressed her lips to his chest, just above the white line of gauze, and breathed deeply of his clean, masculine scent. “Thank you for coming after me,” she said. “I knew you would.”
He wrapped his free arm around her. “Kiss me,” he said.
“You do love to give orders, don’t you, Captain?” But she kissed him, a deep, lingering kiss meant to communicate better than words how thankful she was that he was here with her.
They might have done more than kiss, but the sharp edges of the rock walls made sitting, standing and lying down uncomfortable. And Graham still needed his shoulder tended to. Reluctantly, she broke off the kiss and reached for the triangular bandage and the first aid book. “Let’s see if I can figure this out,” she said. “There’s some ibuprofen in here, too. You should take that.”
After he had washed down two ibuprofen with water, she helped him back into his shirt, then unfolded the bandage and managed to fashion a descent sling. She sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. “Feel better?” she asked.
He nodded. “When we’re out of here, I’ll show you just how much I appreciate your help.”
“Are we going to get out of here?” She hated the wobble in her voice, hated the panic that clawed at the back of her throat like a wild animal waiting for the chance to tear down the fragile wall of self-control she’d managed to construct. She’d always thought of herself as a strong woman, one who wasn’t timid or afraid of anything.
But she’d never been in a situation like this before, attacked and buried underground by an enemy she didn’t know or understand.
“We’re going
to get out of here.” Graham sounded strong, and confident. “This shaft was dug to provide fresh air for a mine tunnel,” he said. “All we have to do is find the main entrance to the mine.”
And hope it wasn’t blocked by rock or a steel plate, she thought, but she didn’t say that. “There’s a tunnel leading off from this shaft,” she said.
“Then we’ll start there.” He slipped the strap of the pack onto his uninjured shoulder. “I’ll lead the way. You can keep that light, but switch it off to save the battery. Stay close to me.”
As if she needed to be told the latter. She wasn’t going to let him out of touching range.
The tunnel leading away from the shaft was tall enough to walk upright for the first hundred feet or so, then narrowed so that they had to crouch, then crawl. Emma’s knees ached and the rock scraped her hands, but she bit her lip and kept going. Graham wasn’t complaining, so neither would she.
“I can feel air flowing past,” he said. “We’re on the right track.”
Suddenly, crawling didn’t hurt so much. She increased her speed; when she got out of this she was never going into a cave again. She might even have to avoid basements.
Graham stopped so abruptly, she bumped into him. “What is it?” she asked.
“There’s a side passage here.”
“Is that where we need to go?” she asked.
“It looks like someone’s been using it for storage. There are a bunch of boxes and stuff.”
“Has someone been using it recently?” she asked. “That could be a good sign that the entrance is still open.”
“Very recently.” He turned into the passage, and she followed. The tunnel opened into a rock chamber, the ceiling high enough they could stand upright once more. She massaged her aching knees and looked around, following the beam of Graham’s flashlight. On first glance, it looked as if someone had been using this side tunnel as a trash dump. Rusting tin cans, old glass Coke bottles and discarded mining tools filled one corner. But as the beam of the flashlight arced across the space, Emma realized the trash had been swept aside to make room for the wooden crates and plastic tubs with lids that lined one side of the chamber, along with half a dozen red plastic gas cans. She squinted at the stenciling on the side of one of the crates. It appeared to be in a foreign language—was that Russian, or maybe Arabic?
Graham let out a low whistle. “I don’t believe it,” he said.
“Believe what?”
“Take a look at this.”
She moved to his side and stared at the object spotlighted by his flashlight. “Is it a bomb?” It lay on its side, a six-foot-long bullet shape with four metal fins at one end.
He played the light along the sinister black shape. “I’m pretty sure it’s the missing Hellfire missile we’ve been looking for.”
Chapter Thirteen
Graham studied the missile, the pain in his shoulder and side momentarily forgotten. His hunch had been right—the cargo that had cost Bobby Pace his life had been destined for Prentice’s ranch. This discovery busted his case wide-open. He’d caught the billionaire practically red-handed. No way would he be able to wriggle off the hook this time.
“Is this the mysterious cargo Bobby was carrying in his plane when he died?” Emma asked.
“This is it.” He moved closer to the missile, and directed the light onto the numbers embossed on one of the tail fins. “The crate was damaged on impact, but we still have the pieces. The numbers on it should match the numbers here—and the ones in the army’s records.”
“Richard Prentice stole this from the army?”
“Not directly. The missile apparently went missing some time ago. He probably purchased it on the black market.”
“But...why? Is he a collector or something?”
“It’s more sinister than that, I’m afraid. Rumor is, he’s purchased an unmanned drone. With this missile, he can arm the drone.”
“Does he plan to start his own war?”
“He already has, at least if what we believe is true—that he’s the power behind the crime wave in the area. His billions have funded the meth labs and illegal grow operations, the human trafficking and artifact destruction and murders, thefts and other crimes.”
“But...he’s made so much money legitimately—through real estate and the companies he owns. Why risk all of that to do something illegal?”
“So he can make even more money? Crime on the scale he’s operating definitely pays. Or maybe it’s just an extension of his desire to gain power and defy the laws of the government he hates.”
“It’s unbelievable,” she said.
“Not many people have wanted to believe it,” he said. “But with this proof, they’ll have to.” He looked around the chamber. “I wish I had my phone. I’d like to take some pictures.”
“Speaking of pictures, I took some interesting photos at Prentice’s house.” Emma rubbed her forehead. “I’d forgotten until just now.”
“Pictures of what?”
“You’re going to think it’s silly, but at the time it seemed important.”
“If you thought it was important, I’m sure it was.”
“I had to use the bathroom before I left the house—we’d been drinking a lot of coffee. While I was in there, I snooped in the cabinets. Everything was normal, except one cabinet was locked, which I thought was strange.”
“What was in the cabinet?”
“How do you know I opened it?” She attempted—but failed—to look indignant.
“I don’t think you’d bother taking pictures of a locked bathroom cabinet.”
“All right, I opened it. It was a cheap lock and it popped with no trouble.”
“What was inside?”
“Makeup. Hair products. Tampons.”
Definitely not the answer he’d expected. “So he has a girlfriend?”
“That’s the thing—when I first arrived, I was struck by how happy and relaxed he looked. I even teased him about being in love. He didn’t deny it, but he refused to say anything more.”
“Maybe he likes to keep his private life private.”
“But what woman locks up all her personal stuff—and in a downstairs guest bathroom?” She shook her head. “It just seemed weird to me. And what’s so special about this woman? And why does no one know about her? I read everything about the man to prepare for my initial interview with him. Except for a seven-year marriage when he was much younger, which ended in divorce, he’s remained acutely single. He’s photographed from time to time with various socialites or the daughters of foreign dignitaries, but there’s never even a hint of a woman—or man—he might be seriously dating. I even asked him about it and he said it was because he was married to his job.”
“The kind of money he has can buy the attention of almost any woman he wants, and the discretion to keep relationships silent.”
“But why be so secretive?”
“It’s a little strange, but it’s not a crime.”
“I know, but I took the pictures, anyway. And I was in there so long he knocked on the door and asked if I was all right. I wonder if, after I left, he went in there and found the broken lock. He’d have known I did it. If he was trying to hide something, he might have sent someone after me to make sure I stayed quiet.”
“That’s going a little far to protect the identity of a girlfriend,” Graham said.
“Maybe she’s married. Or famous. Or both.”
“Or maybe this has nothing to do with a girlfriend.” He turned back to the missile. “We’ve got evidence of a much bigger crime right here.”
“Then why toss me down here with all this evidence?” she asked.
“Because he didn’t think you’d ever get out,” Graham said.
She wrapped her arms around him a
nd laid her head on his shoulder. “If you hadn’t showed up, I might have died down here.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “You’re too strong to merely give up. You’d have eventually made your way to the entrance.” He patted her shoulder. “Which we still have to find. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Crawling through the tunnel was an agonizing process. His knees, ribs and shoulders protested with every movement. But he could still feel a strong flow of fresh air from the air shaft behind them toward some opening ahead.
After another half hour of crawling, the tunnel widened and became taller. Graham struggled to his feet, then turned to help Emma.
“I see an opening!” she cried, and pointed ahead, where pale light streamed through a gap between the rocks.
They raced toward the opening and began clambering up a pile of rubble that half blocked the mine entrance. Emma had almost reached the top, ready to run outside, when Graham grabbed her and pulled her back, just as bullets slammed into the rocks near where her head had been seconds before.
In the ringing silence that followed, she clung to him, breathing hard. “Did you see anyone?”
“No. I just had a feeling. If I’d dumped two people in here, but I wasn’t sure of their condition, I’d station a gunman outside, to pick them off when they emerged.”
“That’s sick.”
“Does that really surprise you?”
She glanced up at the opening, longing on her face. “I guess not. So what do we do?”
He withdrew his service weapon from the holster at his side. “I can create a distraction while you make a break for it.”
“But where would I go? There might be half a dozen of them out there, waiting to grab me. Besides, if I leave, you’ll be stranded.”
He removed his hand from the gun. “You’re right. We need to get a better idea of how many people are out there, and where they are.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“I’m going to try to see out, without them seeing me.” He put on the night-vision goggles, then took off the pack and dropped it at her feet. “You stay down here. I’ll be right back.” Keeping low, he crawled up the cascade of rubble that had either fallen, or been dumped into the mine entrance. He kept to the side of the opening, out of the moonlight, but opposite the direction from which he thought the gunfire had come. He doubted Prentice or whoever was behind this would send more than two people to babysit the cave opening, but he couldn’t take the chance that he was wrong.
