We walked quickly, footsteps echoing, lights flashing off in our wake.
"Where does it come out?" I asked.
Kaufman didn't answer.
"You don't know, do you?"
"I knew nothing about the lower prison cells, let alone this escape route. Curry had been to the cells, but he didn't know about this either. Your brother had to . . . persuade a retired architect to part with the plans. He didn't have a hard copy, of course, but his memory was good."
Or Sean made it good. Bribery or threats. Sean's a carrot guy, but you can't rise to his position without learning to use the stick, too.
Curry had said that Sean was in Miami, with Bryce. When he'd learned of our arrest, he would have called Thomas right away. There would have been some back-and-forth as Thomas claimed to know nothing about the operation, until finally he'd have said, "Oh, right, that operation. I haven't heard back from Josef yet." A few hours would pass, then Thomas would confirm that we'd been taken. A lawful arrest. We were being brought to Nast headquarters, where the Cortezes could meet the Nasts to discuss the matter.
But before Sean or any Cortez got on the plane . . . Hmm, there seems to have been a processing problem. We weren't where we were supposed to be. We'd be found, of course, in time. You can't misplace prisoners. Not for long anyway.
The growing rasp of Adam's breathing told me he was finding this long uphill trek tough. By the time we made it to the top, he looked ready to keel over.
"Give us a sec," I said.
"I'm fine," Adam said. "I can rest when we're safe."
The exit door had another blood tester. It opened for me, too, and we came out in a room that looked so much like the entry point that I almost wondered if this was yet another diabolical twist of engineering--make it seem like you're climbing to freedom, only to put you back where you began. Even Kaufman stood there, gaping around, until Adam tried to push past and the officer resumed the lead with a gruff, "Allow me, sir."
As we stepped from the secured passage, Kaufman and Curry took out their guns. It seemed odd, seeing weapons in the hands of supernaturals, but I suppose it was our way that was truly odd--the archaic refusal to use anything but su
pernatural powers. Guns would stop an attacker faster. More permanently, too, which may be why most of us clung to the old ways.
We crossed the room, expecting to find an exit. There wasn't one, and we kept circling, only to end up right back where we began.
"Um, sir . . ." Curry said.
"There is an exit," I said. "We just need to find it. Since the room is obviously empty, I say it's safe to split up. Adam? Sit."
He lifted his eyebrows. I took his arm, led him to a sturdy crate and whispered, "Please. Before you fall over."
He listened. Playing tough guy was fine if it kept us on the move. It wouldn't be so fine if we had to make a difficult escape and he collapsed.
As the officers scoured the walls for hidden doors, I turned my gaze upward. The ceiling was at least twelve feet from the floor. I cast a light ball and scanned the darkness overhead. Sure enough, there was a trapdoor.
"They aren't making this easy, are they?" Adam said as he peered up at it.
Curry shook his head. "It can't be that difficult. Thomas Nast isn't a young man."
I walked over and cleared the old crates and boxes obviously left to make this look like a storage room. Only when I moved my light ball right to the wall did I see rungs.
Kaufman wanted to go up first, but this was where supernatural power trumped firepower. I could cast my sensing spell at the top and make sure all was clear. Or I could if the spell worked. I didn't tell him that part.
I climbed. Then I cast. I could pick up the faint pulse of life. Faint meant distant. No one was right above us.
I tested the trapdoor. Below, Kaufman reached up to tap my ankle--he wanted to go first. I was only making sure the door didn't need an unlock spell. It didn't, so I let the guy with the gun go ahead of me.
Once Kaufman reached the top, he cracked the hatch open, then slowly lifted it. Curry had his gun raised with one hand, the other flexing beside it, ready to activate some half-demon power--ice, fire, maybe telekinesis. He didn't need to. The room above us was clear. Kaufman climbed through, then waved for Curry to come next so he could stand guard while Kaufman helped us out.
I went last--I wanted to be beneath Adam, in case he lost his footing. He didn't. He went up and through, and so did I, coming out in . . .
Another storage room--of some kind of fast-food restaurant, the wire racks around us stocked with boxes of cups and napkins.
Adam pulled a bag from an open box. "After thirty-six hours without caffeine, I'm thinking maybe I'll take this along."