The Edge of Obsession (Black Ops Confidential 2.5)

Sion got out of the car and hit a button. The trunk popped up with a click. She walked around to it.

A shovel, rope, highway flares, and toolbox lined the trunk’s dingy black fabric. Grabbing the shovel and propping it against the taillight, she placed her backpack in the trunk, unzipped the clamshell and shoved rope and road flares inside.

Sion removed a headlamp from the toolbox and turned it on. Not really necessary in the moonlight, but he’d disabled all the car lights, even the trunk.

He picked up the shovel, laid it across one shoulder, then they headed across the desert.

He pointed at her goggles. “What are those?”

“Night vision goggles, but I doubt we’ll need them.”

He put his headlamp on his head and nodded. “This’ll do.”

Two hours later, they came to the coordinates, so said the app developed by her sister Gracie. It was not available to the public. That was one of the best things about being a League operative—access to things that no one else could get their hands on.

“Let’s split up to search,” she said.

“Good idea.”

He got to work. Never once did he complain about his leg, but she’d noticed his gait had gotten worse as they’d walked.

“Ach-y-fi.” Sion tripped over a bit of brush with a hop-skip. He bent down to rub his leg. “Things got daggers.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. Watch the bushes.”

She smiled as he gave the shrubs a wide berth. Hmm, watch the bushes. That reminded her of a mission in Costa Rica where the entrance to an underground hideout had been beneath a flowering plant.

Putting on protective gloves, she went to the nearest shrub and pulled. Nothing. And to the next… Again, nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“Once on a mission—” She cursed internally as she grasped the top of a dead bush, fully expecting its withered roots to silently give way, but there was a creak of steel and wood.

“What the hell?” Sion said.

Holding up a finger, heart pounding, she pulled the shrub the rest of the way open. She bent to the hole and scanned the outside. The brush was attached to a rusted lid and circular ring that reminded her of a submarine. The mechanics were rudimentary. No alarms. Hugging the inside of the dirt walls, welded to the metal ring around the opening, was a ladder.

Sion knelt beside her. “Let me go.”

She put a finger to her lips and shook her head. The creak was loud enough to alert someone to their presence, but no need to give information that might help anyone who might be hiding down there. Like the number of people up here.

Dropping her backpack, she removed a thin steel, bendable cord. When she inserted it into her cell, the end of the tube lit up.

Kneeling by the side of the lid, she pulled the cord longer, lowered the end into the chamber. An image appeared on her phone screen. A 360-sweep revealed a five-by-five space tightly packed with boxes and a shelving unit with pottery jars at the back.

Hmm. Storage? She zoomed closer to the jars. There was a door behind the jars.

Sitting down, she dropped her legs over the mouth of the opening.

Sion grabbed her arm.

She looked up at him, at the concern on his face. “It’s empty,” she mouthed.

With a nod, he let go of her.

Heart rocking harder than a drum solo, she took out her gun, flicked down her goggles, then dropped over the side.

As her feet hit the compact earth in the underground storage facility, she realized she would’ve been better off with thermal goggles. NVGs required more ambient light. Still, she could see fairly well. Gun raised; she scanned the darkness.

She neared the shelving unit, peered around the jars, and inspected the rusted steel door. The handle and lock looked new. This place was still in use. Chances were good that this area extended beyond what was visible.

Lords and ladies, the League needed to add more underground warfare to their roster. A firefight in an underground lair would prove a challenge.

One arm on the top rung, Sion lowered himself down. The area was a comfortable height for her, but he had to bend his six-foot-seven frame at the neck. He scanned the area with his headlamp.

Keeping her eyes down to avoid any glare through her glasses, she twitched her chin in the direction of the shelving unit. His light fell on it. He signaled to let her know he’d seen it.

As soundlessly as possible, she visually inspected the jars. No trip wires. She looked under the shelves. No sensors. She slid a few jars. They weren’t attached to anything. She scanned the legs of the shelving unit. Nothing.

They could move it without fear of setting off an alarm.

A glance over her shoulder showed her that Sion was making the same inspection of the rest of the chamber. He was a quick study.

She helped him clear the rest of the area, and then they moved back to the rack. With a few sweeps of her hands, she told him what she needed him to do. He nodded. They moved the jars first, placing them in a corner. And then, together, they lifted and slid the metal rack far enough back to allow the door to open.

Once cleared, the door, rusted and ancient, practically dared them to enter. Her hands sweated in her gloves. Scanning the door closely, she couldn’t find any alarms. Obviously, no one had expected company in a place in the middle of the desert, miles from humans, hidden under a shrub. No wonder Geraldo had never found it.

Dropping her backpack, she unzipped a side pocket and took out her lock-picking kit. It took her a few moments to pick open the new locks.

With a signal to Sion, she kept her gun raised, providing him cover. He grabbed the handle and heaved open the rusted door with one brutal yank. A burst of dust and underground air choked with a rotting, rancid smell pushed out.

She gagged, turned her head. Sion put his arm up and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. He issued a low, pained keen that let her know he was familiar with the smell of death.

Behind the door lay a tunnel braced by wood beams. It sloped downward, preventing her from seeing far inside. Dropping her bag again, she pulled out a compact tactical medical kit. She removed two paper masks, the kind a doctor might wear. Better than nothing.

After they put them on, she signaled him, advancing past him down the unknown hollow.

He followed.

The tunnel expanded and broke off into earthen side chambers stacked with varying levels of decomposing corpses.

“Fuck.” Sion threw his light along the bodies. He began to scan. “Not here. Not here. Oh, Sophia, please don’t be in here. Not here.”

His gloved hand reached out to one and then another body. He pushed hair from a face. A heartbreaking choked sound muffled by his mask.

“Is it her? Sophia?”

“Too old,” he said, placing his hand over her eyes. He lowered his head. “Who would do this?” he whispered.

Dada put a hand on his arm. “Sion.”

He dropped his arm and turned to her. “I… So many.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Whatever information you need, whatever I can help with, anything

. I’ll do anything to bring these fuckers to justice.”

Finding herself struck wordless with affection for him, wordless in the middle of this nightmare, she nodded, silently promising these women that the person responsible for this would pay. Even if that person wasn’t part of the mission she was technically here for.

Swallowing her distress, she asked, “Do you have a photo of Sophia? This will go quicker if we are both looking for her and Rosa.”

And she needed it to go quickly. Even if Sion’s heavy breaths and anguished eyes didn’t tell her he would soon lose it, the toxic stew of decaying bodies would have prompted her unease. They gave off hydrogen sulfide, carbon dioxide, and methane.

He reached into his pocket. He took out a photo of a young girl. A child sitting at an easel, painting.

She glanced up at him. “Who is she?”

He swallowed. “After football, I had a long recovery. It changed me and made me want to help others. So I went and taught art therapy in El Salvador. That’s where I met Sophia.” He let out a long breath. Anger this time. Better anger than sadness. “After they killed her father, they came into my class. It was five against one. Hard as I fought, they took Sophia from my class.” He shook his head. “I had to convince her father, had to convince so many parents, to let the kids come to class. It’s my fault.”

Dada’s heart trembled, cracked, and fell to pieces in her chest. This was it. Why he was here. She’d wondered, but nothing had made sense. “You changed your life, aligned with organized crime, worked for Walid to find this girl? That’s why you’re here?”

A long moment of silence and then a broken, “Let’s look for them.”

She didn’t need him to explain all the details; she understood. “If Sophia’s not here, and I pray she isn’t, I will help you find her. Promise.”

With a nod that seemed all he could manage, Sion tucked away the photo. The stench of death soaked into their clothes. The quiet of the underground tomb surrounded them. Neither spoke as they bent to the gruesome task, holding hope that two lives had been spared this awful fate.