Power and Empire

Ryan swung wide, keeping to the trees and keeping the small stone building in view. He came around in time to catch a glimpse of the Asian woman’s back as she pulled the door shut behind her. The building was maybe eight by eight and had no windows. It didn’t look like she’d been running from anyone. Jack scratched his beard, thinking through his options. One of them, probably the smartest one, was to walk away. He’d been never been very good at that.

He listened outside the building for a half a minute. Nothing. The lock fell quickly to his granddad knife. There was nobody inside, though there was only one door, so the Asian woman had to have gone somewhere. Ryan took a small flashlight from his pocket and played it around the small space. There was a lingering smell that he couldn’t put his finger on — but it wasn’t good. The building looked to be storage for the lawn maintenance department, with a couple Weed Eaters and assorted rakes and shovels. A row of plastic trash cans lined a platform along the back wall. One lay on its side, presumably tipped over by the woman. Ryan entertained the idea that she could be hiding in one of the cans. But that was stupid. To what end? She hadn’t even known he was following her. He peeked over the edge of each one anyway, at once relieved and disappointed to find them empty. The platform was about six inches high and made of weathered wood timbers. It was old, probably older than the building, making Ryan wonder if the place had been used as something other than storage in the past. Closer inspection revealed grass clippings sticking from under the edge of the wood, and, when Jack gave it a shove, it moved.

He pulled the overturned trash can out of the way, revealing four freshly disturbed timbers that formed a three-foot square.

“I’ll be damned…” he muttered, pushing what was essentially a trapdoor out to one side. “She’s gone underground.”

“Underground?” Midas said. “Speak to me, brother. What’s going on?”

“I’m going after her,” Ryan said. “Don’t be pissed, but I’m pretty sure we’re about to lose comms.” He coughed at the rank wind that hit him in the face when he moved the boards.

“Es huelte something something?” he said.

Midas came across the net, confused. “What?”

“That phrase from the graffiti I asked you about earlier,” Ryan said. “It means ‘This stinks,’ right?”

“Huele,” Midas corrected. “Esto huele mal.”

Ryan peered down into the blackness below, pausing for a moment in hopes of picking up any sound of the Asian woman. He heard nothing but the moan of the sickening breeze as it blew upward out of the inky hole.

“It sure as hell does,” he muttered, half to himself.

39

Each Campus operator carried the same basic components for Everyday Carry — firearm, knife, flashlight, and cell phone. Some of them, like Clark, carried little else, relying on their pistol and badass experience to get the job done. Dominic Caruso, who’d been trained by the FBI, carried things like extra nylon restraints that looked like shoelaces and even flat rubber stoppers used to block interior doors when searching buildings. Ryan fell somewhere in the middle. In addition to his pistol and an extra eight-round magazine, he carried two knives, a small Streamlight ProTac flashlight, and a Zippo lighter. His cell phone would be useless for communication underground, but it did provide a backup source of lighting. Adara had issued each operator a small trauma packet containing an envelope of Celox hemostatic gauze and a SWAT-T soft rubber tourniquet. The kit was just one more thing to carry, and he’d be a happy camper if he never had to open the damn thing, but given the dark hole in the ground over which his feet now dangled, he was glad to have it.

Ryan thought seriously about ripping up a piece of his shirt and plugging his nose, the smell was so noxious.

“Talk to me, Jack,” Midas said. “Give me a description of where you’re going down.”

“I’m sending you my lat and long now.”

“Perfect,” Midas said. “That way we’ll know where to look for your body. How about you wait for me and I’ll come back you up?”

“Stay put,” Ryan said. “Somebody needs to keep an eyeball on the Chinese delegation. I’ll be fine. Just going down to have a little look.”

“Copy that,” Midas said, sounding unconvinced. “My training says to trust the guy on the ground… but watch yourself.”

“Will do,” Ryan said, and lowered himself into the blackness.

Ryan found a rusted iron ladder just inside the opening and hooked an arm through the top rung while he dragged the wooden cover back into place. He was hesitant to use his light, concerned that it would tip off the Asian woman that he was behind her, and he counted nine rungs before his feet splashed into something cold and oozing. The awful smell told him it probably wasn’t water. Though it was only ankle deep, his Rockports were going to be good for nothing but a short trip to the nearest dumpster when he made it back aboveground.