The Burning Wire (Lincoln Rhyme 9) - Page 88

She didn't respond to the questions but whispered back, "Don't touch anything metal."

"Sure. Why not?"

"A hundred thousand volts. That's why."

"Oh. Sure."

She plunged down the stairs, half expecting to hear a horrific crack and see her vision fill with a blinding burst of spark. Down the first flight of stairs, then down the second one.

The estimate was wrong. The journey was down three very steep flights.

As they approached the bottom, they heard rumbling and hums. Loud. It was also twenty degrees hotter down here than outside and the temperature was rising with every step of the descent.

Another level of hell.

The tunnel was bigger than she expected, about six feet across and seven high, but much dimmer. Many of the emergency lighting bulbs were missing. To the right, she could just make out the end of the tunnel, about fifty feet away. There were no doors Galt could have escaped through, no places to hide. To the left, though, where Joey Barzan was supposed to be, the corridor disappeared in what seemed to be a series of bends.

Sachs motioned the other two to stay behind her as they moved to the first jog in the tunnel. There they stopped. She didn't believe Galt was still here--he would get as far away as he could--but she was worried about traps.

Still, it was a belief, not a certainty, that he'd fled. So when she looked around the bend she was crouching and had her Glock ready, though not preceding her, where Galt might knock it aside or grab it.

Nothing.

She looked down at the water covering the concrete floor. Water. Naturally. Plenty of conductive water.

She glanced at the wall of the tunnel, on which were mounted thick black cables.

DANGER !!! HIGH VOLTAGE

CALL ALGONQUIN CONSOLIDATED POWER

BEFORE WORKING

She remembered the Algonquin worker's comment a moment ago about the voltage.

"Clear," she whispered.

And motioned the officers along behind her, hurrying. She certainly was concerned about the Algonquin worker, Joey Barzan, but more important she hoped to find some clues as to where Galt might've gone.

But could they? These tunnels would go on for miles, she guessed. They would have been a perfect route by which to escape. The floors were dirt and concrete, but no footprints were obvious. The walls were sooty. She could collect trace evidence for days and not come up with a single thing that might yield a clue as to where he'd gone. Maybe--

A scraping sound.

She froze. Where had it come from? Were there side passages where he might be hiding?

One of the officers held up a hand. He pointed at his own eyes and then forward. She nodded, though she thought the military signal wasn't really necessary here.

But whatever makes you comfortable in situations like this. . . .

Though not much was making Sachs comfortable at the moment. Again, the bullets of molten metal zinged, hissing, through her mind's eye.

Still, she couldn't pull back.

Another deep breath.

Another look . . . Again, the stretch of tunnel ahead of them was empty. It was also dimmer than the other. And she saw why: most of the lightbulbs were missing here too, but these had been broken out.

A trap, she sensed.

Tags: Jeffery Deaver Lincoln Rhyme Mystery
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