Blink of an Eye (Kendra Michaels #8) - Roy Johansen Page 0,52
the way you came in. There’s a metal door in the back of the room. See it?”
He walked toward the rear door, which was adorned by a rusty metal sign that read MUNICIPAL ACCESS ONLY.
“Grab the handle and give it a good pull. It will open. There’s another piece of tape there on the doorjamb. Rip off the tape, step through the door, and close it behind you.”
He pulled open the door, which groaned on its hinges. He tore off the tape and walked through the door. After it closed and locked behind him, Lynch froze. “I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s why there’s a small flashlight in the right pocket of that jacket. You’ll need it.”
Lynch fished out the flashlight and turned it on. A set of stairs descended into the darkness in front of him. “Where does this go?”
“Down. Way, way down. But you must hurry, Mr. Lynch. You have quite a bit of ground to cover.”
* * *
“Where in the hell is he?” Kendra looked frantically from one monitor to the other in the makeshift command center.
“We lost him after he left the library plaza,” one of the techs said, still staring at his monitor.
A female tech, who was monitoring the news networks, pulled off her headphones. “MSNBC says Lynch went into a side door.”
Kelland cursed. “Putting aside the fact that we’re getting our surveillance info from cable news stations when we have half the freakin’ law-enforcement officers in the city on the job…We think he’s in the library?”
Jessie nodded. “Looks like it to me. He headed down those stairs and never came out the other side.”
Kendra’s eyes darted from one monitor to the next. “That explains why the kidnapper wanted this to be so public.”
“What do you mean?” Kelland said.
“You said it yourself. Who needs the resources of the FBI and the LAPD when you can have half a dozen TV stations following him in real time? He’s able to track every step Lynch makes.”
“Well, we still have something the kidnapper probably doesn’t,” Metcalf said. “Infrared. Kelland, do you have a scope on that building yet?”
“Our helicopter is moving into position now,” one of the techs said. “We should see any and all body heat signatures in the library. I should be able to superimpose it over building blueprints I just downloaded from the city planner’s office. I’ll put it up on monitor four.”
The team huddled around and waited for the helicopter to lock in on its position. After a moment, the color HD image of the library was replaced by a black-and-white image peppered with occasional bursts of orange and red.
“Those are lighting fixtures,” Kelland said. “But, dammit, where’s Lynch?”
“He’s not there,” the tech said, his eyes darting over the monitor.
Kendra joined him in studying the image. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. No one’s in that building.”
“That’s crazy. He has to be there,” Kendra said.
A heavyset man in a white short-sleeved shirt stood up from another table. He was holding a large book. “Excuse me. I think I know.”
Kelland stepped aside for the man. “This is Ken Delano, the city planner.”
Delano held up the book. “He’s in the pit.”
“The pit?” Kendra said.
“An underground system of tunnels that allows access for electrical, plumbing, and traffic light maintenance in the greater downtown area. They run from the convention center on the south end up to the Music Center on the north and as far east as Union Station.”
“What makes you think Lynch is in there?” Jessie said.
Delano pointed to a diagram in his book. “There’s an access point on the east side of the library. Right where Mr. Lynch entered.”
“Where are they taking him?” Kendra said.
“Anybody’s guess.” Delano pointed toward the pathways extending from the library. “It could be anywhere along the system.”
Kelland turned back to his techs in front of the computer monitors. “I need you to put maps of these passageways onscreen. We’ll redistribute our people along those routes. Now!”
* * *
Lynch played the beam of his flashlight off the concrete walls of the subterranean tunnel. “I see lighting fixtures down here. You planned everything else…Couldn’t you have flicked a few on for me?”
“So sorry,” the voice said in his ear. “Not possible without alerting your friends to your location. You should be approaching an intersection any time now.”
“I see it. But I can only go straight or turn right.”
“Take the turn. You’ll find a gift.”
“For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
He turned right and almost ran into a bicycle. It was leaning against the wall of the passageway.