They both edged over to the hole on opposite sides and crouched. Grant did a silent countdown with his fingers. When he reached one, they jumped up and unloaded their magazines into the pit. Two screams were followed by the thump of falling bodies and the sound of ejected shell casings clinking on the metal steps of the ladder.
The tear gas had dissipated enough that they didn’t need the masks any more. Grant took his off, and Morgan did the same. Both of them reloaded.
They peered into the hole and saw two corpses. Neither looked Russian.
The hole had been dug through the concrete slab into the dirt below to create a pit large enough for six men to stand comfortably. A four-foot-high tunnel opened to the north.
Grant climbed down the ladder while Morgan covered him. Keeping his rifle aimed at the tunnel, Grant hopped off the ladder next to it in case someone was lying in wait inside. He gave the tunnel the same treatment as the pit. Rounds bounced around the shaft. No one returned fire.
He ducked down and saw that the tunnel was empty. But this was no bare-bones prison escape tunnel. A track was laid down its center and electric lights had been strung along the entire length of its ceiling, powered by wires leading back up to the kitchen. The tunnel curved a few hundred yards away so that the other end was out of sight. Walking that far in a crouch would take time they didn’t have.
Grant was happy to see a five-foot-long flatbed cart lay at their end of the track. One of the dead men had fallen against it, and Grant nudged him aside with his foot. A simple lever control protruded from the front of the cart.
Morgan jumped off the ladder and saw the railcar.
“They don’t mess around,” she said.
“This is high-quality construction,” Grant said. “The cart’s electric-powered, controlled either from the cart or from this lever on the wall. They could move a lot of drugs this way.”
“Looks like our two corpses were getting ready for their turns.”
“There’s only one cart. And it’s too far to scuttle.”
Morgan stared at the cart for a moment, as if she were fishing for another option. “There’s not much room for two of us.”
She was right. The small dimensions of the cart meant they’d have to snuggle up. “You ride behind me and keep your rifle pointed straight ahead while I drive.”
“All right. Get on.”
Grant knelt on the cart and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He positioned himself so that he could operate the controls. “Climb aboard.”
Morgan squeezed on, pressing herself against Grant’s back. Her breath was hot on his neck.
“Ready?” he said.
“Just go.”
Grant put the cart in gear, and the small electric motor hummed. They rolled forward at a decent clip. Other than the threat of imminent death, the ride was quite relaxing.
“Vince hears nothing about this,” Morgan said.
“Are you telling me that you’re going to file an incomplete report?”
A beat, then, “Shit.”
“I hope you include that I was a perfect gentleman.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“What’s not to enjoy? I’m about to go into battle with a beautiful woman behind me and a gun at my side. Could I be any studlier?”
Grant wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a faint chuckle.
They rounded the bend, and Grant saw movement a hundred yards ahead at the end of the tunnel.
“Maybe we’re not too late,” he said.
“Just a little closer and I can take a shot. All I can see are legs.”
“They’re going to be expecting one of the other guys. Wait as long as you can before you shoot. We might surprise them.”
As they got closer, Grant could hear the men speaking in Spanish. They were standing in a pit similar to the one under the Mexican house. Two pairs of knees were visible.
Neither man was paying attention to the tunnel.
The cart rolled forward, and only when they were within thirty feet did one of the men crouch down to see who was coming.
“
Morgan answered with the crack of her M4, cleanly dispatching him. She shot the other man in both legs. He collapsed in pain but defiantly drew a pistol, and she finished him off.
Shouts came from above as Morgan scrambled out of the tunnel, her rifle aimed skyward. Grant crawled after her. They stood with their backs to opposite sides of the pit, each covering one half of the rim.
This would be the tricky part. The enemy had the high ground.
“Were you ever a cheerleader?” Grant said.
She looked at him like he was nuts. “What?”
He gestured that going up the ladder was a bad idea. The men up there would have a bead on it and take her out as soon as her head rose above floor level. To surprise them, Grant would have to give her a boost.
Morgan frowned and then nodded reluctantly.
While she kept her rifle to her shoulder, Grant grabbed her around the hips and hoisted her up. Even in her full battle gear, he lifted her easily.
He raised her until she could see over the rim.
Bullets zinged by and she returned fire.
“One down!” she cried out. “They’re in the next room. Let’s go!”
Grant dropped her and went up the ladder two rungs at a time. At the top he knelt beside the ladder and aimed his weapon at the door while Morgan climbed up. It looked like they were in a storage room of some kind of office-park rental.
As Morgan came up out of the pit, a man suddenly appeared in the door to Grant’s right, aiming a pistol at her head. Grant didn’t have time to bring his gun around.
He did the only thing he could. He jumped in front of Morgan. Two slugs hit Grant in the chest. The body armor took the brunt of the rounds, but it still hurt like hell, as if he’d been pounded by a sledgehammer.
Despite struggling for breath, Grant rushed the man and grabbed his arm, breaking it against the door jamb. The gunman screamed. Grant swung him around and tossed him past Morgan into the pit.
The man landed on his neck with a sickening crunch.
Morgan hopped off the ladder and put the rifle to her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“
“Where’s the Killswitch?”
Tires screeched outside in reply.
Two men in the next room shouted toward the fleeing vehicle.
“
“
Grant barreled through the doorway while they were distracted and took each of them down with one shot.
Morgan dashed to the front door, and Grant went after her. They emerged into bright sunlight beating down on a long row of warehouses and offices.
He got out in time to see a white van tear around the corner and out of sight. They didn’t even get a shot off.
“Did you get the plate?” Grant asked.
Morgan shook her head. “Too far away. Dammit!”
She took out her phone to report their location using her GPS, but there was no way the roadblocks would be in place yet. A plain white van like that was on every other street. Finding it would be virtually impossible.
