maintenance access?'
Andrea turned and pointed toward the ceiling above a lab table. A square panel was marked by an electrical hazard symbol.
Monk turned to Creed. 'Get her up there. Keep moving.'
'What about you?'
'Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you. Now move it!'
As Creed lifted Andrea onto the table, Monk dropped to one knee. He needed to buy the others as much time as possible to get away. Monk knew it was vital to get the woman to safety. Dr. Malloy must have told her something, something worth killing her over. Whatever that was, Monk wanted to know.
Creed already had the maintenance hatch open and used both arms to shove Andrea through it.
Sheltering behind the dead body in the chair, Monk snapped his briefcase and let it drop open on the floor. All the while, he kept an eye on the door. Locked or not, he knew the door would offer no more protection than a piece of tissue paper. Especially with the firepower behind these bastards.
And Monk was down to the last two rounds in his pistol. He needed the fresh magazine in his briefcase.
As he reached for the spare, the doorknob exploded into the room, along with a good section of the jamb. The door swung open from the impact.
Monk caught a fluttering glimpse of a black slicker and fired at it. Twice. His pistol slide locked open as he ran out of ammunition.
The gunman spun out of view.
Monk snatched for the new magazine while ejecting the spent one. From the corner of his eye, he spotted an arm wave beyond the doorway. A black metal object the size of a baseball flew into the room.
Oh, crap...
Grenade.
Monk dropped both pistol and spare cartridge. Still on one knee, he lifted his open briefcase, caught the grenade inside, and snapped the case shut between his palms. Standing and swinging his arm around, he underhanded the briefcase back through the open doorway.
Even before it passed the threshold, Monk was moving. He turned, leaped to the tabletop, then bounded straight for the open ceiling hatch. Creed's boots had just vanished ahead of him.
'Go!'
Too late.
The explosion deafened and flashed brilliantly. The blast wave shoved Monk up into the crawl space between floors. He struck some HVAC ductwork with his head and collapsed on top of Creed. They struggled for a bit to untangle themselves. Monk took an elbow to an eye.
Cursing and dazed, Monk waved the others onward. He doubted the gunmen would follow them, but until they were somewhere safe and sound, somewhere with lots of guns, he wasn't going to let his guard down.
They stumbled onward, half deaf, half blind.
As Andrea had said, the maintenance space was equipped with catwalks to assist the work crews. Using the walkways, it didn't take long to climb out of the bowels of the building and into the chaos above. Police had already converged on the place. Squad cars, SWAT vans, and a gathering media circus greeted them in the fields outside the building.
As they stumbled into the open, police surrounded them immediately. Even before Monk could begin to explain, a hand grabbed him, pulled him aside, and showed him a badge.
'Homeland Security,' the mountain of a man declared. 'Dr. Kokkalis, we have orders from Washington to get you all to safety.'
Monk didn't protest. He liked those orders just fine. But as they were led off, he glanced forlornly back at the building.
Kat was going to kill him.
That briefcase was damn expensive.
Chapter 6
October 11, 6:28 A.M.
Fiumicino, Italy
Where was she?
Gray crossed out of the terminal of Rome's main airport and headed toward the taxi queue. Horns blared and tour buses rumbled. Even this early in the morning, the airport was snarled with traffic and congested with travelers coming and going.
Gray kept his phone pressed to his ear as he hustled through the crowds. His way was made easier by the lumbering giant who forged a path ahead of him, like a water buffalo fording a flooded river. Gray followed behind in his bodyguard's wake. Joe Kowalski was not a happy traveler. The former seaman clearly preferred the high seas to commercial air travel. He continued to grouse as they headed toward the taxi line.
'Could those seats have been any tighter?' The hulking man cracked his neck and wore a sour expression. 'My knees were practically rubbing my ears. Like that airline wanted to perform a damn prostate exam on me. And I wouldn't have minded that if we'd had one woman stewardess.' Kowalski glanced back at Gray. 'And that gal with a mustache doesn't count.'
'You didn't have to volunteer to come,' Gray answered as he waited on hold on the phone.
'Volunteer?' Kowalski scowled. 'At time-and-a-half pay? That was like putting a gun against my back. I've got a girlfriend to support.'
Gray still failed to understand the relationship between the former seaman and the university professor, but at least she had him showering more frequently. Even the black stubble atop Kowalski's head was trimmed into cleaner lines.
Gray waved an arm to keep them moving. He remained on hold with the office of the Comando Carabinieri Tutela del Patrimonio Culturale, where Rachel worked. Before leaving Washington, the plan had been to rendezvous with her outside the international terminal, but she was not anywhere among the throngs of travelers. He had tried calling her apartment and her cell phone, but there was no answer. Thinking she was stuck in traffic, Gray had waited in the terminal for an extra half hour.
During that delay, he had used the time to check in with Sigma. It was a little past midnight back home. The director had filled him in on the details of the operation that had blown up in New Jersey. Monk had been involved in a firefight. It all involved a possible ecoterrorist group, but details were still sketchy.
Hearing that, Gray had an urge to hop on the plane and head back home, but Painter insisted that they had matters locked down for the moment. A key person-of-interest had been secured and was being questioned. Gray was ordered to maintain his current status.
Finally a woman's stern voice spoke in Gray's ear, speaking rapidly in Italian. After dating Rachel for over a year, Gray had acquired some fluency with the language.
'Lieutenant Verona is not in the TCP today. According to the roster, she's on leave. Perhaps another officer might assist you-'
'No, thank you. Grazie.'
Gray hung up and pocketed his phone. He knew Rachel had been planning to take time off, but he'd hoped she was at the station for some reason. He grew worried. Where could she be?
Kowalski hailed a taxi, and they climbed inside.
His partner glanced at him. 'How about that hospital?' he said. 'The one where her uncle is being treated?'
'Right.' Gray nodded. He should've thought of that. Maybe her uncle had taken a turn for the worse. Such an emergency would've pulled Rachel away. Distraught, she could easily have forgotten about the time.
Gray dialed information and got connected to the hospital operator. An attempt to reach Vigor's room failed. He did reach a floor nurse.
'Monsignor Verona remains in intensive care,' the woman informed him. 'Any further inquiries must be made through his family or through the polizia.'
'I just wanted to know if his niece might be there visiting. Lieutenant Rachel Verona.'
The woman's voice warmed up. 'Ah, his nipote Rachel. Bellissima ragazza. She spent many hours here. But
