For a second or two we just looked at each other and then the building creaked, just its now usual settling or warning sound, but enough to shake us out of the moment and put some urgency back in our minds.
"OK, let's do this," Drew murmured. "I'll get in as quick as I can so you can follow."
He turned his attention immediately to the hole in the wall and hoisted himself up inside. I watched as he disappeared, a slithering shape fading away into black. For a moment I stood in the stairwell, listening to the sounds of the doomed building, realising I felt exposed and alone, Drew only metres away, but already out of sight.
It was incentive enough to haul my butt up on in there, somehow managing the manoeuvre on the second attempt. Within seconds I'd caught up with Drew's still form some distance down the air duct. We were already shrouded in shades of black, the light from the stairwell hardly illuminating the space around us at all. I wasn't even sure if someone looking in the hole from the outside could spot us, but I really didn't want to stick around and try that theory out.
"I'm here," I announced to Drew, wanting to indicate he should move forward about now.
"Slight problem," he whispered back and my stomach fell. "I can feel a gap in front of me and I can't seem to reach the other side."
"A break in the air duct?" I checked.
"Yeah, the edges are jagged where it's twisted away, God knows how far down the gap goes."
We lay in silence for a moment, then I asked, "Can you see light from a cover ahead?"
"No," he whispered back.
"Then you're going to have to use your cellphone, take the chance." We were so not giving up yet.
"OK," he replied, but it sounded unsure.
Our options were limited. Use the light to go forward, or abandon the sabotage/intelligence gathering and back on out of the air duct.
It would have been easy to go for the second option, to take the path of least resistance. But when has Kelly Quayle ever done that?
Drew's cellphone light came on brightening up the tiny space we were in and I heard us both suck in a breath of tense air. Nothing happened, then Drew let the air out and lowered his cell.
"Well?" I queried.
"Well," he shot back in a faint whisper. "It's a short drop to what appears the concrete base of this floor, but it's a minefield of broken air duct and twisted pipes for about three metres ahead, which might as well be three hundred metres because I have no idea how the hell to get through any of it."
I felt him move forward despite those words and then watched as he twisted onto his back and hauled his upper body out of the end of the part of the tunnel we were in. He held onto the upper edge of the air duct as he did it, sliding out his legs until he was standing on the concrete floor he mentioned and looking back towards where I lay.
"There's space here, come and have a look," he whispered.
I shuffled forward on my forearms and let him help me out of the end of the duct, until I was standing beside him looking at the carnage of the air conditioning system on the sixth floor of the District Court.
"Crap," I murmured as I took in the sharp edges, knife-like metals twisted up into sculptured representations of a bomb having gone off. A hiss of steaming air wafted out of a broken pipe halfway along, and dust covered every available spot, hiding more hazards than outlining them. It was a complete and utter clusterfuck of a man-made construction.
"What now?" Drew asked, his tone indicating his reluctance to go through any of that.
I shook my head, disheartened. "I have no..."
A gunshot sounded out, a flash of brightness illuminating the far side of the lethal obstacle course through what had to be an air duct grate up ahead. The sound ricocheting around the internal walls where we hid, bouncing off the sides and echoing around our heads. Muffled screams and shouted commands broke through the panic pounding in my ears.
The AOS? Had they breached the building already?
"Every time you fail to answer my questions," a voice sounded out in the ensuing silence, a silence that sounded louder than the gunshot that had just gone off. "Another person will be killed."
That accent. Kiwi mixed with something else. Declan King was of Haitian descent. I was going with that deep, strange, compelling yet immeasurably evil voice being his.
"Must we add to the pile of corpses, Justice Crane?" King went on almost casually. "It's a simple question. Who else is privy to the details of this case?"
My eyes darted to Drew's, his looked a little wild. I could understand that, he must have known who this Justice Crane person was, and like me, he was having trouble getting past King's statement. The one thrown out there so easily, "
Must we add to the pile of corpses, Justice Crane?"
How many had died already? I didn't dare think of Dom being amongst them.
Then a woman's voice answered. Shaking, relatively young sounding, totally not what I expected the good Justice Crane to sound like at all.
"I...I've already told you all I know. I'm only the judge presiding." Then firmer, making me feel a measure of appreciation for her strength in front of such a heinous man right then, "You already killed the defence lawyer, perhaps you should have thought of getting answers before you shot him in the head point blank."
A sound of something hard hitting something softer rang out on the air, followed by the Justice's scream of pain and the shouts of defiance and concern from what had to be the hostages watching this all unfold. King barked something, his men started yelling at those in the room... and Drew jumped forward and practically ran head first through the obstacle course.
The first scrape of metal through skin made me bite my tongue from screaming out loud in pain. By the third, I was breathless, sweating profusely and a shaking had started up in my limbs. I'd also started to go at a snail's pace, picking my path through the lethal twisted metal spikes, moving sideways, ducking low, stepping over too high obstacles, but thankfully catching the material on my clothes more than my fragile flesh.
Drew, on the other hand, had made it to the grate. I couldn't fathom how he'd achieved it without bleeding out. Part of me knew that he hadn't made it unscathed. Part of me was too coward to think that thought through to completion.
By the time I reached him, he was breathing too deeply, straining to catch any air, and his hands were clenched in fists at his sides, ready to punch his way through the wall, I think. He also sported several darkening and widening patches of red on his clothes. Evidence of the damage his thoughtless and impulsive actions had caused.
What the fuck had he been thinking?
I reached down and lifted the edge of his shirt up to get a better view of his injuries, more concerned with what was directly in front of me than what was going on on the other side of the air duct cover. Drew didn't stop me, his mind was clearly on the other side of the wall.
Most of those cuts and scratches I located were superficial, still bleeding, but not profusely. They'd clot soon and only weep if he did too much. I was aware that in light of what had just happened and considering where we were and why, that the possibility of him doing too much was pretty high.
I did find a deep laceration around his biceps, so without thinking too much on it, and aware that conversation and whimpering from some of the hostages covered any noise I could make, I ripped off a piece of his shirt, making the movement slow and careful, so as not to jostle his injury nor alert those on the other side of the wall to us being here. I had to use my box cutter knife to get the material completely free, Drew's business shirt was well sewn together, making it physically impossible for me to just pull it apart at the seams.
Once free, I wrapped his arm tightly, not tourniquet tight, but tight enough to hopefully still any further blood flow from the deep cut on his upper arm. When I finished I made one more sweep of his body, thankful that we were in a big enough space to achieve it without having to climb on top of each other and make a shit load of noise. I repeated the process twice more before I was satisfied that I'd found the worst of his injuries and contained any major blood loss.
Only then did I allow myself to pay heed to what was on the other side of the small cover Drew hadn't shifted from throughout my tender and makeshift care. I took a quick glance up at Drew's face to see he was enraged and a little panic stricken by what he saw, and then I sucked in a deep breath and looked through the gaps in the grate, aware we could only see part of the room, one half still out of sight due to the location of our spy hole and the fact several black clad, well armed military personnel were standing in a row blocking off the rest of our view.
I did a quick headcount of the mercenaries, finding six in the room visible, along with an impeccably well dressed, dark skinned man in a pristine suit. He carried a gun, the only evidence that he was something other than he appeared; a business man, or a lawyer, or a high powered millionaire. The cut of his clothes was perfect, the material lush and very fine, the colour a subtle dark grey, complemented by a blood red silk tie. He had a pointed handkerchief in his breast pocket. For a moment I couldn't tear my eyes away from such an insignificant but incongruous piece of attire.
What the hell was a criminal overlord and murderous thug doing wearing haute couture?
He tapped the gun against his thigh as though in contemplation, while he stared down a thick, but proud nose at a huddle of dark clothing on the floor. A mop of dishevelled long red curls spurted from the top of the pile, indicating that this was probably the female, Justice Crane. I stared hard, trying to determine if she was still breathing. I couldn't see any blood around her, but her clothing might have soaked it all up. After several long drawn out moments I finally picked up the measured rise and fall of her chest.
I turned my attention to the rest of the room, picking up on - from what I could see - ten live hostages off to the side. Two of the six mercenaries I'd counted stood over them, large guns aimed at their heads. I'm not particularly up on what type of gun is what, but these required shoulder straps and two hands to hold. They were large, like those seen on TV, the only name I know of being an AK-47, and even then I don't know for sure what they look like. Big, black, long barrelled and mean looking did it for me.
I returned my attention to King.
"Inform me when she regains consciousness," he declared, turning and moving to a part of the room I couldn't see.
That was it. That was all the intel we could gather. And not one of the faces in that room was Dom's.
I looked back at Drew, whose eyes it seemed hadn't left Justice Crane's. As though by sheer will alone he could get her to wake up, if he just looked at her long and hard enough. He must have known this judge well.
Then a sickening thought entered my brain and I quickly looked back at her fallen form.
I couldn't see her face, nor any part of her skin. But her voice hadn't sounded old and her hair was a lustrous and shiny, thick red. Had Drew known her better than just an acquaintance? Just a colleague? I wasn't sure I liked that thought. But the way he'd lost all reason and tore through a minefield just to see what was happening to her left little doubt in my head that theirs was more than a working relationship.
He didn't look like he was going to move any time soon and quite frankly I was feeling a little out of sorts. I couldn't put a name to it, but it left a foul taste in my mouth and ants crawling over my skin. I was desperate to get out of here, but touching Drew, while he looked at her so intensely, was beyond anything I had courage enough to do.
I turned away and walked back towards the obstacle course, hunkering down out of sight behind a scrunched up piece of broken air duct. The jagged edges of twisted metal matching my emotions right then.
I pulled my cellphone from my pocket and scrolled through to find ASI. Putting it to my ear I told myself those weren't pathetic, frustrated and angry tears brimming my eyes.
"Kelly, what have you got for me?" Eric's answer to the call.
"We've found King, near the east stairwell on level six," I whispered back.
"Good girl. What else?"
"Six armed men that I could make out, but my view of the room was obscured. King has a pistol too."
"Excellent. Types of guns?"
"Large, like those AK-47s you see on TV, but more modern. All in dull black. Shoulder straps, two hands needed to hold it, and a long barrel."
"OK, any amo visible on their outer clothing?"
I frowned, trying to recall what I'd seen. "I think they had items on their belts, the amo may have been there."
"OK. Number of hostages?"
"I could make out ten alive," I swallowed, not wanting to mention I couldn't see Dom. To say it aloud felt too final. I wasn't ready to admit defeat yet. "I couldn't see any dead." My voice cracked. "But it sounded like King shot one just before we managed to see inside the room. He mentioned a pile of corpses."
Eric was silent for a long moment, while I shakily breathed through the reality of what I'd seen and heard.
"OK, sweetheart," he finally said. "Has King said anything that could give us an idea of his plans?"
I sucked in a breath to get myself in order again and whispered, "He was questioning a Justice Crane." Oh, how I hated saying her name. Drew still hadn't moved from his silent, fuming vigil. Not even to check that I was OK. "Something about a case she's presiding over. She mentioned that King had shot the defence lawyer in the head. " I closed my eyes, this was harder than I realised. Before I could pretend it wasn't so bad. Sure the building was unsafe, explosions were going off. And sure the bad guys carried guns, I'd heard the shots.
But now I was in amongst it all, unable to pretend it wouldn't reach me.
"OK, Kels. Anything else? It's important." Eric's voice was soft and caring, understanding threaded through every word.
"King asked her who else knew of the details of the case. But that's it. That's all they said to each other before he knocked her out with, I'm guessing, the butt of his gun to her head."
A low whistle. "She's alive still?"
"Yeah. King asked to be told when she gains consciousness, then he walked out of sight."
"So, the room's bigger than you can see. Any idea how big, and any way you can get a glimpse of what we're missing?"
He wanted us to go on. He wanted us to gather more intel, so the AOS was prepared.
I wasn't sure I had it in me to go on, and one look around the torn metal I was hiding behind let me know Drew certainly didn't look like he was ready to leave just yet.
"I don't know," I murmured, closing my eyes, because looking at Drew right now physically hurt.
And I couldn't understand why.
Frustration bubbled up inside me, filling my mouth with acrid bile. I wiped at my face, telling myself it wasn't to still the tears but remove some of the grime.
"OK, Kels," Eric said softly. "This is what's going to happen. The AOS know you're there. They now know what you've told me. They've moved their go-time up to fifteen minutes. If you can find anything else out by the time a quarter hour is up, it would really help. If not hunker down, they'll get you out of there once they've secured the scene. But retreat would also be a good idea. I can't guarantee that a stray bullet wouldn't hit you guys where you hide."
"OK," I whispered.
"What are you going to do?"
I didn't know. I looked back at Drew. I listened to the mercenaries taunting the hostages. I pictured Dom somewhere in there, just out of sight. I heard the building groan in protest. And then I flicked my eyes back towards the darkness of the obstacle course, feeling every cut and nick as though I was being slashed by that metal all over again.
And then I thought of that woman discarded on the floor, of her strength of character to stand up to Declan King.
I still had no fucking idea what to do.
"I'll be in touch," I finally whispered and ended the call.
Fifteen minutes. Run, stay or go on? It hardly seemed long enough at all.
I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep, dust-filled breath of air, and stifled the consequent need to cough afterwards. Then hauled my aching body to my feet and returned to Drew.
"We need to get out of here," I said softly at his side.
He shook his head, but didn't utter a sound.
"Fifteen minutes before AOS move in. We could be caught in the crossfire," I tried.
He closed his eyes slowly, hands fisting tightly at his side.
"Go," he murmured.
"Who the fuck is she?" I demanded in a hissed whisper, before I could stop myself.
"What?"
"Justice Crane. Who is she to you?"
He finally turned towards me, sadness and sorrow in his eyes. "Just a colleague," he whispered, but he didn't reach for me, and the truth was hidden in the fact that he couldn't seem to move much at all.
"Just a colleague," I repeated. "Someone important to you?" He nodded, held my gaze, but still didn't elaborate. "An old flame?" I asked, and fuck it all, my voice hitched on the last word.
Something flickered across those grey eyes, and then instantly he wrapped his hot hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close.
"
Sternchen
," he whispered, lips pressed to my forehead. "It's in the past." Oh, fuck it. "But I can't stand to see her like this."
I battled with an emotion I couldn't identify, those fucking useless and telling tears burning my eyes. Was I that naive to think he didn't have a past before me? No, I don't think so. But was it too much to ask that the past be just that and for me to be more important than an old flame? No, I don't think so either.
Anger and confusion and frustration and defeat washed up inside me and I jerked back out of his hold.
"Well, I'm leaving," I declared. Waiting, hoping, he'd stop me or follow.
He did neither. A slow, so inappropriate smile curved
both
sides of his lips.
"You're jealous," he whispered, seemingly amused and pleased with this idea.
"I am not," I replied, a little more forcefully than I intended. Drew's eyes slanted towards the grate, but no shouts of alarm were heard on the other side.
But he did grip my upper arm and pull me further away from the cover. Further away from
her
.
And why did that satisfy me so much? Fucking hell, I was becoming a freak.
"You're jealous," he repeated, leaning in, nose to nose. "Of my past," he added, his eyes holding mine expectantly. "Rather ironic, don't you think, little star?"