The Plantation - By Chris Kuzneski Page 0,135

passable. He hoped it was, since he and Chen were looking for a way out of the moat, but he realized he wouldn’t know for sure until he explored the mysteries that lay farther ahead.

CHAPTER 63

HOLMES and Greene laughed with childlike enthusiasm as the first few explosions tore through the house. In their minds every blast meant a few less soldiers that they’d have to deal with, and if the second part of their plan was going to be successful, they had to keep the number of MANIACs to an absolute minimum.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Drake wondered from his position on the ground. “If these troops are as skilled as you claim, will they really be fooled by something so simple?”

The comment knocked the smile off Holmes’s face. He had known Edwin Drake for less than a few hours but had learned to despise the man. “I’ll tell you what, Eddie. If you don’t want to participate in phase two of my plan, you can take off your cloak and start walking. It won’t make a damn bit a difference to me.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he insisted. “But—”

“But what? You call my plan foolish, then claim you didn’t mean to offend me? Fuck that, and fuck you! If you keep it up, I’ll put a bullet in your ass myself.”

The smile on Greene’s face got even wider because he disliked Drake as well. “So what’s it gonna be? Are you in or out? We gotta know now.”

Drake glanced at Kotto for some moral support, but none was forthcoming. Kotto had just watched his house detonated for the sake of the plan, so he wasn’t about to give up on Holmes and Greene’s idea anytime soon.

“Fine,” Drake relented. “What would you like me to do?”

“Just lie there quietly until Levon and I change our clothes,” Holmes ordered. “When it’s time to do something else, we’ll let you know.”

AFTER helping Chen inside the tunnel, Payne headed west in hopes of finding the exit but found something more exciting.

Payne traveled less than twenty yards down the concrete shaft when he noticed the artificial light of his lantern start to burn brighter than it had just seconds before. At first he figured the chemical compound in his torch was simply heating up, but after a few more steps, he realized that the added radiance wasn’t coming from him. The extra burst of light was shining from somewhere up ahead.

Concerned by the possibilities, Payne hid his light in his pocket and inched silently toward the source of the phantom glow. With weapon in hand, he crept along the smooth edge of the wall until he came to a strange bend in the tunnel. For some reason the passageway turned sharply to the left, then seemed to snake back to the right almost instantly—perhaps to avoid a geological pitfall of some kind. Whatever the reason for the design, Payne concluded that the epicenter of the light was somewhere in that curve.

Pausing to collect his thoughts, Payne reached into the leather sheath that hung at his side and pulled out a nine-inch hunting knife that had once belonged to his grandfather. Even though it was nearly fifty years old, the single-edged bowie knife was sharp enough to cut through metal and sturdy enough to be used in hand-to-hand combat. In this case, though, it possessed a less obvious attribute that he hoped to take advantage of: a mirrorlike finish.

By extending the weapon forward, Payne hoped to see what was lurking around the corner without exposing himself to gunfire. Sure, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see much in a simple reflection, but if he was able to get a small glimpse of what was waiting for him, he’d be better prepared to face it.

“Show me something good,” he whispered to the knife.

And surprisingly, it did.

Payne couldn’t tell how many people were gathered up ahead—they were huddled too close together for him to get an accurate count—but he had a feeling he knew who they were. They were escaped slaves, part of the original Plantation shipment that had been sent to Nigeria several weeks before Ariane had even been abducted. People who—

Wait a second, he thought. If these were actually escaped slaves, what were they doing sitting in this tunnel? If they’d somehow gotten free from Kotto’s house, why weren’t they running down this passageway toward the outside world? Common sense told him that was what they should be doing. And

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