“Clumsy fool!” She jerked away from his helpful hands.
The nearby door clicked closed, and she wheeled around. In an instant, her trained eyes registered that Dirk, Summer, and the blue binder were gone. Boxed in by Perlmutter and Trehorne, she dove across the table, rolled onto her feet on the opposite side, and drew her gun. She rushed to the door, flung it open, and charged in.
The door opened onto a stairwell landing. She heard the clatter of footfalls and looked over the rail, catching a glimpse of Dirk and Summer on the floor above. She raised her gun and fired a single shot, which reverberated like a cannon in the stairwell. An instant later, a door slammed.
Martina hesitated, then pulled a two-way radio from her pocket. “The two younger ones have entered the second floor, east side,” she said in Russian. “They have the documents.”
42
“Why is she shooting at us?” Summer asked as they burst onto the second floor.
Dirk pushed his sister ahead. “Let’s not stop and ask her.”
They had stepped into a small map room whose occupants had already cleared out. A doorway at the far end led to a larger map and document reading room. Dirk looked to the far room, then pushed Summer toward a side door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
They found themselves in a large, dimly lit bay. They took a second to let their eyes adjust, thankful that the alarm blaring throughout the building was muted inside. The bay contained one of the Archives’ many large book depositories. Wedged into the cavernous bay were row upon row of sliding bookshelves standing eight feet high. As they padded down a narrow opening between shelves, Summer noted the books contained Britain’s tax collection rolls. They reached the end of the shelf only to find more rows beyond.
Dirk gazed at a back wall to his left, then turned to Summer. “Stay here and keep an eye on the door—and a tight grip on that binder. I’ll run down and see if there’s another exit at that end.”
“Okay. I’ll follow if we have company.”
As Dirk ran off, Summer stepped a few feet in the opposite direction, keeping an eye down the aisles toward the door they had entered. The next row of shelves to her left ran short, ending at a wall with a large canvas cart filled with books. Curious, she scurried down the aisle and found a freight elevator just beyond. She pushed the call button, then hurried back down the row to regain her view of the entry door. It still seemed quiet.
But as she resumed her watch position, a voice called from nearby. “I believe the Archives are now closed.”
Summer nearly jumped out of her shoes as she turned and faced a familiar man with blond hair.
“I’ll take the documents,” Mansfield said in an easygoing voice.
Summer noticed he was nicely dressed in a sport coat and slacks, and held a Beretta aimed at her midsection. It took a moment for her to place his face. “Wasn’t it enough to blow up half of the Canterbury?” She intentionally spoke in a nervous, high-pitched voice.
“Not when there are still tales to tell. Your brother?” he asked, waving his gun from side to side.
“Coming on the elevator with security.” She took a half step back as she motioned over her shoulder at the freight elevator.
They stood facing each other in a narrow track between bookshelves, but Summer had eased past the end of the rack. “What is so important in the files?”
Mansfield could see she was stalling for time. He reached out his free hand. “Give me the folder. Now.”
A loud ding announced the arrival of the freight elevator. Mansfield turned and peered over Summer’s shoulder toward the opening doors. A second later, a rumbling emanated near his feet. He looked back to see Summer leaping to the side as one of the towering bookshelves toppled toward him.
Two shelves over, Dirk had his shoulder pressed to a center rack and was sho
ving against it like a charging rhino.
Before Mansfield could brace himself, the twin sliding shelves slammed into him. His chest caught a high shelf that jammed his ribs. He winced as a collection of dusty tax books cascaded onto him, dropping him to the floor as the shelves bounced off him.
Dirk let go and sprinted toward the elevator, shouting to his sister, “Lift!”
Summer was already on the move, reaching the open elevator ahead of him. She jabbed the lowest-floor button and glanced back at the bookshelves. The two mashed shelves around Mansfield began to part. A hand emerged from the pile of books, aiming a gun in her direction. Dirk was still several paces away.
“Get down!” she said, ducking to the side of the elevator door.
Dirk took a step and leaped, sliding headfirst into the elevator. As the twin doors rattled to a close, two shots splattered into the elevator’s back wall.
“You all right?” Summer asked.
“Yes.” Dirk climbed to his feet. “Where’d he come from?”