Noah had his arm around Ami.
For a moment, they’d had a future.
I slid the photo inside my coat and went to find Bandoni.
He’d gone back into the hallway and was on the phone. When he hung up, he said, “SWAT has cleared the building near the Four Seasons. Nothing. But a security cop found a dark-blue cargo van with a bull bar on the front parked in a garage near Fourteenth Street. Belongs to one Kurt Inger. The Feds aren’t taking any chances. They’ve set up a perimeter, deployed snipers, and got plainclothes special agents on patrol along the pedestrian walkway. Soon as our douchebags pop out of hiding, they’ll nail ’em.”
“I’m still excited about hunting for cardboard boxes. Aren’t you?”
“Beats hemorrhoids.” He heaved a sigh and put his phone away. “Let’s keep looking.”
We walked through the rest of the third floor but found nothing of interest.
Back at the elevator, the lights above the door showed that the elevator was stopped in the basement. I pressed the call button.
Bandoni said, “Second floor next?”
“Got nothing better to do.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
The elevator was still in the basement. I pressed the call button again.
“Maybe Lloyd started moving things out from down there,” Bandoni said. He put his phone to his ear.
I slipped my hands in my pockets, stared at the lights over the elevator, waiting for them to change. I wondered if I should call Cohen and tell him not to bother coming out.
My idle gaze caught on a mark on the wall just to the right of the elevator door near the call button. A hooked line inside an upside-down triangle, drawn with black marker. A casual mark, of no consequence.
Unless you’d seen it before.
A shepherd’s crook. The Phoenician letter P.
Adrenaline exploded into my blood like an electrical current hitting water.
The Superior Gentlemen might be hiding somewhere near Denver’s Lower Downtown, waiting for the start of the student march. The discovery of Kurt’s van just about guaranteed it.
But the women were here, in this empty building, where no one would find them. Where, I shuddered, no one would hear their screams.
“Lloyd ain’t answering,” Bandoni said. He pressed the call button.
“Ami,” I whispered and pointed to the mark. “She’s in this building.”
“What are you talking about?”
The lights went out.
CHAPTER 27
“What makes a real hero? You’re asking my opinion?” Gunny leaned back with his cigar. “A real hero knows when he’s finished. When his sanity’s gone MIA and his body won’t do what needs doing and he’s hanging on by a thread that’s seriously unraveling. A real hero knows when to walk away and make room for someone whose balls are still swinging free. ’Cause here’s the deal.” Gunny leaned forward and stabbed the cigar in my direction. “Walk away at the right time, and you might have a chance of coming back.”
—Gunnery Sergeant O’Rourke, Habbaniyah, Iraq. Private conversation.
“Fuck,” Bandoni said.
Above the elevator, the emergency lights shone. The B glowed a steady red.
I said, “Bandoni, look.”
I used the flashlight on my phone again and shone it at the mark on the wall.
He grunted. “Noah’s tattoo.”
“And the symbol on Ami’s shirt. What if they’re holding the women here?”
“Wouldn’t it be more straightforward to figure Ami drew it when she cleaned the place for Top-A?”
“Helen said she and Erica always cleaned this office. Not Ami.” Adrenaline made my head light. “That’s why Kurt told Noah about the new office space for Water Resources, even though it cost him a cleaning contract. It was so the Superior Gentlemen could move in here, away from prying eyes.”
My light caught Bandoni’s angry, startled face.
“Okay, good thought,” he said. “Let’s find Lloyd, and then we’ll figure out the rest of it.”
I gave the call button a final furious stab. “We’ll have to take the stairs.”
Bandoni groaned. “My lucky day.”
We started down, our shoes squeaking on the tile, the light from my phone tossing our shadows against the wall.
Behind me, Bandoni’s breath rasped in and out like a bellows. Even with the help of gravity, he was moving slowly. As we approached the second-floor landing, he lost his footing. I spun around fast, but he’d caught himself, both hands white-knuckling the railing. Sweat glistened on his red face.
I climbed back to him. He had a hand pressed to his chest.
“Is it your heart?” I said.
“Indigestion.”
“Let’s rest for a minute.”
Another labored breath. “If you insist.” His suit rustled as he sank to the steps, and then he groaned. “Shine your light over here.”
He had a tiny bottle in his hand—brown glass with a blue screw cap. He opened it and shook out a miniscule white pill, which he placed under his tongue.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Nitroglycerine.”
“For your heart? Jesus, Bandoni. When were you going to tell me?”
“Now.”
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
He held up a finger. Seconds ticked by. Then he said, “Here’s the plan. In about five minutes, I’m going to feel like a new man. As soon as I do, we’re going to get down these stairs and find Lloyd. Then we’ll look for the women.”
“Then you do think they’re here.”
“It’s as good a guess as any. What I can’t figure out is why Lloyd—” He groaned. “Why he didn’t answer his phone. Maybe he’s having a heart attack.”
“Is that what’s happening with you?”
“No. It’s angina. Had it for years.”
For a minute, the only sound I heard was my blood, roaring in my ears.
“They’d have the women in the basement, right?” I said. “No windows. Controlled entrance and egress.”
“Yeah.”
“So why is the elevator stuck down there?”
Bandoni said nothing.
“And what about the lights?” I added.
“What about the lights?”
“What if Craze and Markey and the rest aren’t hiding near Lower Downtown? What if they’re here?”
“Then, rookie.” He grunted. “We’ll get to be the heroes.”
Another minute went by.
“I swear.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m never going to look at a Ding Dong again.”
“Scared straight?”
“For the moment. Shine the light again?”
He had the bottle out.
