Zero Hour (NUMA Files 11)

ked but calmer.

“Put your weapons down,” he said, then added: “Quietly.”

They did as ordered.

Kurt nodded toward one of the rock-crushing machines. “Over there.”

The three men shuffled toward the machine. Kurt kept his distance in case they tried something rash.

“Two of you are going to end up tied to this machine,” he told them. “Whoever doesn’t want to spend the night like that can take me to Thero.”

“Take you to Thero?” one of them asked. He spoke with a South African accent.

“Who’s Thero?” another said with an Irish lilt.

“The man who brought you here,” the South African said.

“Quiet,” Kurt said. “Which one of you wants to show me the way?”

The three men looked at one another as if they were baffled by the question.

“Why would we take you?” the third man said.

“Because I have an appointment,” Kurt said, “and I don’t want to miss it.”

The confused look returned. Apparently, biting humor wasn’t their strong suit.

“You mean, which one of us wants to go with you and die first,” the South African said.

Kurt stared at him. The statement made no sense. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” the South African repeated.

Kurt felt like he was in the Twilight Zone. He took another look at the men. They were filthy, wearing rags. Their weapons were crude. Suddenly, it made sense.

“You three are miners here,” he said. “You’re trying to escape. Whose idea was it?”

Two of them pointed at the Irishman.

“Rats,” the Irishman replied. “The lot of you.”

A broad smile creased Kurt’s face. “More like three blind mice,” he said. “The question is, exactly where were you running to?”

For the next few minutes, Kurt pried information out of the miners, learning their names and a little bit about the operation. Masinga, the South African, had been there right from the start.

“Eight months ago, I stole a key from one of the guards,” he explained. “But he never reported it lost because Thero would kill him for losing it.”

“Took a lot of patience not to use it right away,” Kurt noted.

Devlin, the Irishman, spoke up. “Apparently, patience runs in his family.”

Masinga smiled. “I hoped a day would come when escape would mean more than just dying in the cold. Devlin here says he came on a ship. He says he knows how to get back to it.”

“I hate to tell you,” Kurt said, “but you’re going the wrong way. Nothing but excavation tunnels back this way.”

The other two prisoners looked menacingly toward Devlin.

“That’s what you get for listening to me,” Devlin said. “I’ve been here only two days.”