Shadow of Betrayal

“Maybe they covered it up when they decided not to finish it. Some sort of safety precaution.”

The possibility rang truer than Quinn wanted to admit. But there was one other fact that negated it.

“Then why did someone block the entrance with the rock?” Quinn asked. “These guys are serious. They would have checked this tunnel first. If it was unfinished, they wouldn’t have wasted the effort moving that slab in place.”

He ran his flashlight over the end of the tunnel, then flipped it around and tapped the metal handle against the surface. There was a dull echo from the other side of the concrete.

“It’s hollow,” Nate said, surprised.

“Apparently.”

“What do we have to do? Bust through? That won’t be too subtle.”

Quinn said nothing as he examined the surface. It was something near the edge where the end of the tunnel met the wall on the left that caused him to pause. He moved the beam of his flashlight closer, the circle of light condensing to a bright spot on the concrete. He then moved the beam up the wall a couple of feet, then tilted it down until it almost reached the floor before returning it to its original spot.

“What’s this look like to you?” he asked.

Nate stepped over and looked at the illuminated surface.

“The crack?” he asked. “We’ve seen tons of them on the way down. Wait… are you thinking we might be able to push this in?”

Quinn moved the light upward again. “What about here?”

“Another crack.”

Quinn shook his head. “Not another.” He moved the light down the wall back to where he’d started. The crack was continuous, curving gradually toward the center as it traveled up.

“Let me see that,” Nate said.

Quinn handed him the flashlight. Nate performed the same examination Quinn had a few moments before, looking both up and down the wall. The crack started near the floor and continued all the way up to an apex at the center of the tunnel’s dead end before traveling back down to the floor near the other wall.

“What the hell?” Nate said. “A door?”

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

“But how do we open it?”

“Excellent question.”

First they tried pushing on it, but it didn’t budge.

“Maybe it can only be opened from the inside,” Nate said.

A very distinct possibility, Quinn thought.

“Look for a release,” Quinn said. “Something that you’d press or maybe step on.”

They searched for five minutes but found nothing. Quinn stood staring at the wall, trying to think of another possibility. Twist the door like a dial? Doubtful. What if they needed to push the door at an exact spot? Perhaps, but… it didn’t seem like the right answer, either.

Maybe Nate was right and the only way to open the door was from the other side. If that was the case, they were done here, and might as well figure out a way to get off the facility grounds without drawing attention.

Quinn’s phone vibrated against his leg. He reached in and pulled it out. As he pressed his thumb against the screen to release the lock, he paused. His phone had rung in his pocket. They were a good fifty feet underground, and he shouldn’t have been able to get a signal. There was only one reason he could think of that would explain it. The facility must have been wired with an antenna so cell phones could be used. Large businesses did it all the time, wiring their buildings so you could still get a signal in the elevator or while you were sitting on the toilet. Progress.

He looked at the name on the screen. Peter.

“You got my email?” Quinn asked.

“Yes. Where the hell are you?”

“Exactly where I told you we were going.”

“Yellowhammer?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“And that’s where you took the picture?”

“Do you know him?”

“He… works with my client. His name is Kevin Furuta. He’s CIA.”

“CIA? What the hell is he doing here?”

Peter didn’t answer.

“What’s he doing here, Peter?” Quinn asked again.

“I’m not sure.”

“How the hell did he even know about this place?”

“After you told me about your meeting with Primus, I informed my client. He must have thought it necessary to send Furuta in for a look. Probably figured he could get in and out before you even arrived.”

“Pretty goddamn stupid, if you ask me,” Quinn said.

“I don’t disagree.” There was a pause. “Do you think you can get him out?”

“Get him out? I don’t even know if I can get in yet. And if I remember correctly, that’s not my priority.” But even as he said it, Quinn knew he’d do what he could.

Peter must have known it, too. “Keep me posted,” he said, then hung up.

Before Quinn put the phone back in his pocket, he realized he had a text waiting. It was from Orlando and had been sent while Quinn and Nate had been searching for the back door entrance.

Where are you?

She knows, Quinn thought.

He typed in a quick response that implied they were in a safe position doing a basic recon. Her response was almost immediate, and confirmed his thoughts.

Bullshit

He put his phone back in his pocket. They could argue about his decision later; doing it now and by text would be counterproductive.

“Did I hear you say that guy was CIA?” Nate asked.