Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

“What about the air vent,” Joe said, studying the louvered metal grate that covered it.

“People don’t really climb through air ducts,” Kurt said from inside one of the stalls. “Mostly because they are designed to carry air and people are heavier than air.”

“Especially after all those hors d’oeuvres at the party.”

“Look at this,” Kurt said, waving Joe into the stall and pointing to the floor, where a fine layer of white dust lined the polished granite tile.

“Looks like drywall dust,” Joe said.

“My thoughts exactly,” Kurt said as he found a seam that had been hastily covered by a quick-drying plaster—although it wasn’t dry yet.

With a little effort, Kurt was able to dig his fingers into the seam and pull the panel out. It was a three-by-three-foot square. Just big enough for someone to climb through. “Either they have very large mice or she went through here.”

“Where does it lead?” Joe asked.

Kurt put his head inside. “I saw these on the building schematics. It’s a crawl space between the walls. Lots of pipes and electrical wire. It’s dark to the right side, but there’s a sliver of light perhaps a hundred feet down on the left. It looks like the crack beneath a door.”

“Can we fit?” Joe asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Kurt said, climbing in.

Joe locked the bathroom stall door and followed Kurt into the crawl space. He did his best to replace the panel once he was inside and then turned, immediately banging his head on one of the pipes. The impact reverberated through the dark.

“Keep it down,” Kurt whispered.

“I can’t see anything,” Joe said.

“Hold on.”

As Joe watched, a bluish white light filled the space, courtesy of the screen on Kurt’s phone. It was enough to navigate with, and Kurt began clambering forward. Joe followed until they reached the spot where the light was filtering in.

“Inspection panel,” Kurt said. A small handle in a square metal door presented itself, and Kurt ducked down, twisted the handle, and eased the door open.

“What do you see?” Joe asked.

“Back office hallway and a fire escape.”

Kurt wedged his broad shoulders through the narrow door and out into the hall. Joe followed, squeezing through and straightening up once he was free.

Kurt glanced back at him. “You’re a mess.”

Joe looked at himself. His spotless white jacket was smudged with black grease and swaths of gray dust. He took it off and removed his tie, stuffing them back into the crawl space before closing the door.

“I was getting tired of that monkey suit anyway,” he said. “Which way now?”

“Good question,” Kurt said. “Not much she can do back here. If she wants to intercept the hackers, she’ll have to beat them to whatever mode of transport they’re going to be using.”

“There’s a helipad on the roof,” Joe said.

“And a garage underneath the building,” Kurt added.

“If she was going to take the elevator, she wouldn’t have come this way,” Joe said.

“That means she’s on the stairs.”

Without delay, Kurt moved down the hall to the fire escape and eased the door open. Like most fire escapes, the stairs were metal, descending in a rectangular zigzag. Even before he was fully inside, Kurt could hear rapidly moving footfalls echoing in the space.

He moved to the edge of the rail as Joe slipped inside and shut the door. Gazing down, he spotted a woman’s hand on the rail moving rapidly toward the basement. But it was not alone— another hand trailed hers.