Shadow of Betrayal

There was a short landing, then five or six steps descending into the darkness.

“A stairway?” Peter said.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Appears to be pretty solid. Made of wood, I think.”

“Can you see how far down it goes?”

The image from the camera moved through the doorway, then tilted downward with the slope of the staircase. Even then, the optics and the compression caused by the satellite transmission kept most of the room’s details in darkness.

“It goes pretty far. Definitely more than one story.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, trying to imagine what she was describing in his mind.

“The floor of the room is a good one and a half to two stories down. The stairs double back halfway down so they can fit.”

“Can you make out anything on the floor below?”

“Not really,” Agent Douglas said, then paused. The view on the camera swung methodically from side to side and up and down as she examined her surroundings. “Okay. I’m heading down.”

The camera bobbed upward once, then angled down as Agent Douglas moved her right foot onto the top step.

“So far so good,” she said.

Her left foot came into view, then settled on the next step down. Peter could hear her breathing, deep but steady.

Another step down.

Then another.

Then, “Shit!”

Before Peter had even registered what she had said, a bright flash and loud explosion overpowered the monitors, turning the image on the screen into a blur of whipping shapes and colors. There was nothing recognizable or coherent.

“Agent Douglas!”

The roar from the speakers became a series of booms and crashes.

Then, just as suddenly as the incident began, it stopped, the image from the camera now as still as those on monitors one, two, and three. And the only noise was an occasional creaking or muffled thud.

“Agent Douglas?” Peter repeated into the mic.

There was no response.

“Tasha,” he said, using her first name. “Can you hear me?”

She remained silent.

CHAPTER 6

“I’m sending in the strike team,” Peter said.

“Hold on,” Chercover said. “We need to think about this for a moment.”

“For God’s sake, she might still be alive. I don’t give a damn what you want to do. I will not leave an agent down.”

Peter snatched up his cell phone from where he’d left it earlier, next to monitor three. He had prepped it for just such an emergency, and only had to touch the screen once to connect the call.

The strike leader answered after a single ring.

“Situation’s gone critical,” Peter said. “Move in fast. Agent down, condition unknown. Booby-trapped, but no hostiles have been spotted. Go. Now.” Once he was off the phone, he looked back at his clients. “Next time maybe you’ll listen to me when I have concerns about an operation.”

Furuta turned toward Peter, slow and deliberate. There was no concern at all in the man’s eyes for the situation. “Risks are part of the job. Agent Douglas has always been aware of that. We would assume you would be, too. But if you are unwilling to take those risks, maybe we need to rethink our working relationship.”

As Peter was about to respond, a movement on one of the monitors caught his attention. He turned to get a better look.

“What is it?” Chercover asked, looking at Peter.

“I thought I saw something.”

He was pretty sure it had been monitor three, the hallway view. But it was empty now, like it had been before. Perhaps it had just been a glitch in the transmission, some digital artifact that had appeared on the screen for a split second, drawing his attention.

He had almost convinced himself that was it, when a man appeared on monitor two. He was thin, and was dressed neat enough that Peter guessed he wasn’t homeless. But with the low light, making out facial features was out of the question, as was detecting skin tone or hair color. He was a shadow in clothes.

“Who the hell is that?” Chercover asked.

Peter didn’t answer.

The man ran into the lobby, then pulled the door open just enough to peek through and make sure there was no one on the stoop waiting for him. Once he saw that it was clear, he jerked it open the rest of the way and stepped outside.

Peter switched his attention to the exterior shot of the building. The man closed the door behind him, then ran down the steps and took off west on the sidewalk. Within seconds, he was no longer visible.

“Who the hell was that?” Chercover repeated.

Again, Peter said nothing. They’d all been watching the same feeds, so they all had the same amount of information.

Peter gritted his teeth. If Chercover had only waited for him to get a team in place, like he wanted, then maybe the explosion could have been prevented.

Peter glanced at his two guests. They were both staring at the monitors, no emotion on either of their faces. Real pros. Undoubtedly each had witnessed agent-down situations before. Peter had, too, countless times it seemed. And while he also tried to keep his emotions suppressed, he was only partially successful. He could feel a tick under his right eyebrow, a twitch that only flared up when things got out of control.

He raised the microphone back to his mouth. “Agent Douglas?” he said.

If she could hear him, she wasn’t responding. Chances were, during the fall, her earpiece had been dislodged, and she wouldn’t have been able to hear him no matter what.

“Agent Douglas,” he said again.

“Leave it alone,” Chercover said. “She’s probably dead.”

Peter looked over at the old man, then raised the mic to his mouth again, his eyes locked on Chercover’s. “Agent Douglas?”

“Is that your strike team?” Furuta asked.

He was pointing toward monitor one. On it, a dark van had pulled up in front of the abandoned building.

The phone Peter had used to call the team began to vibrate. He picked it up and pressed Accept.

“We’re here,” Perkins, the team leader, said.

“You’re looking for a room in the basement. There was an explosion, so there’ll probably be some damage in the hallway. But it should also lead you to the right room. Be careful. The staircase that was just inside the door is damaged, and the floor is nearly two stories below.”

“Copy that,” Perkins said.

“Agent Douglas is down there somewhere. Find her, and get her out.”

“Anything else?”

“A man left the scene about two minutes ago. I don’t expect him to come back, but there might be others. If you find someone, take them alive. I want to talk to them.”

“Got it.”

Peter gave him the signal settings he’d been using with Agent Douglas so they could communicate by radio, then hung up.