Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,94

world, and every person stationed here would have absolutely no idea how their loved ones were faring.

And yet they’d put their heads down and do their jobs without complaining.

It was humbling. And inspiring.

“How can we help now?” Jules asked both Koehl and MacInnough. “I imagine guard duty is going to be stepped up over the next few days. And as long as we’re here, we’re available to assist.”

CHAPTER NINE

Tarafashir

“Give me Emma and cover Ash’s eyes,” Sam gruffly told Robin, who immediately knew that whatever had happened out in that alley, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Don’t look,” Sam told Emma as he covered her head with the sheet that Gina had been holding for him while he made sure their path to freedom was clear.

It was now.

Robin was aware of the figure of a man lying face down in a greasy puddle of …

It was raining, but not that hard—a light misting that made the empty street seem almost to shine.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin, moving closer to Sam, whose answer was a curt nod and a hard look. Shhh.

They had to be silent, and to move as swiftly as possible.

Ash was going for baby-of-the-year award, having fallen back to sleep in the frontpack Robin wore beneath his monk-costume-sheet. Sam, superhuman that he was, was not only carrying Emma beneath his disguise, but was now also helping Gina carry Mikey, with an arm of support around her waist.

The good news was that Gina and Emma were no longer throwing up.

The bad news was that Sam and Robin were going to leave an unmistakable trail behind them.

But Sam was already on top of that, and whenever Robin couldn’t take another step farther, Sam seemed to know it, and he steered Robin toward the gutter, which was already disgusting. And when Robin was done, Sam covered up what he’d left behind, which had to be hell for Sam.

But onward they moved, every turn taking them further into the center of the city, and farther from the hotel.

And then, seemingly arbitrarily, Sam stopped them, tucking them more deeply into the shadows by ducking down behind a pile of trash—an old, sodden mattress and broken furniture. Finger to his lips, he set Emma down, wrapping her in the sheet that he took from his shoulders.

Then he turned, giving his attention to a small door that Robin hadn’t even realized was there among the battered bricks of the building’s foundation. It was hobbit-sized, made of blistering and warped wood, with a big rusting metal lock sealing it shut.

Sam took out a knife, the blade flashing as it caught a stray bit of light, and Robin realized that he must’ve taken it from that guard in the alley.

He used it now, not to pick the lock as Robin had first assumed, but instead to pry off a set of hinges that connected the door to the brick wall. The nails popped easily out of the damaged wood, and Sam lifted the entire door from the wall.

And that was why they’d stopped here, at this particular building. It had a seemingly secure door leading into its basement—a door with hinges on the outside.

Sam held up a hand, signaling for them to wait while he went through that door first.

Time seemed to hang as Robin worked his way through a long list of what-if scenarios. What if Sam didn’t come back? What if he came back shouting Run! Run! What if, while he was gone, someone discovered them, crouching there? What if Ash or Mikey or Emma started to cry? What if Gina passed out—she was looking pretty pale. What if Robin passed out—but he couldn’t pass out. He wouldn’t. He had to be ready in case Sam came bursting out of that basement, telling them to run.

But then, thank God, Sam appeared in the doorway. He reached his arms out, gesturing for Robin to give him Emma. Gina and Mikey went in next, then Robin passed Ash in to Sam, so that he could muscle the door back into place behind them.

It was dark in there, but Sam used his cell phone as a flashlight, the light from its screen bright enough so Robin could see the rough-hewn walls and the dirt floor, the ancient pipes overhead.

Like most basements around the world, it was cluttered with cast-off and long-forgotten junk. A half a bicycle, a semi-truck tire, a broken cricket bat, a pile of ancient and dust-covered empty bottles, a set of broken and rusty gardening tools,