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As they walked, their feet crunched on trash and broken glass. She saw rivulets of water running down some of the walls and wondered where the water came from. And wondered why it didn’t simply burst through the tunnel ceiling. She stepped over and through puddles of stagnant stinking water, eyes ahead, trying not to dwell on how alien and terrifying this world was.
They’d climbed at least forty feet down a series of wooden ladders, then struck out in the direction Dendritte pointed. The ceiling over their heads was lower in some places, making Nicholas bend down. There were only the four of them. The rest of Dendritte’s cops were stationed around the aboveground area, with photos of Manfred Havelock, guarding known exits out of the underground in case they were too late. They were the fail-safe—if the four of them didn’t return in an hour, her other men were to come in after them.
Dendritte was right, there were street names, of a sort. Some were very old, carved into the stone, some much newer, spray-painted on the walls. They went deeper and deeper, sometimes angling up, then down, mostly downward, lower and lower beneath the real world above. Dendritte seemed like she knew exactly what she was doing, where she was going.
They saw walls covered in red and black graffiti, insults written by the cataphiles to the police. She’d heard Dendritte say the cataphiles used the tunnels to host parties, drink with their friends, or escape from the police after committing crimes.
Mike wondered if they would cancel their parties if they knew what was down here behind a locked door in a hundred-year-old lab.
She heard Sophie breathing heavily behind her. Despite the pain meds, Mike knew her back had to be hurting badly, but she hadn’t said a word. Sophie had guts.
Sophie stumbled and Nicholas caught her, righting her before she slammed headfirst into Mike.
“You okay?”
“I am. This place—it’s like it’s dead, yet I can almost feel it breathing around me. Isn’t that strange?”
Nicholas agreed. He wondered about Commander Dendritte. Why had she chosen this assignment? He couldn’t imagine trying to track a criminal down here, with only a flashlight and a map that was always changing. And that meant Havelock
had to be somewhat familiar with the catacombs, or had a guide like they did. Even so, he was taking a huge risk.
Dendritte stopped, shined her light on the walls.
“Regardez-vous. Look at this.”
They gathered around her. She ran her hands along a carving in the stone wall. “See? RUE JACQUES. In the Révolution, the street names with Saint in them were dropped. The Rats have made certain that guideposts down here match what is above. And see the other numbers? We are twenty-five meters below the street. That is over eighty feet,” she added to Mike.
Mike glanced at Nicholas. “As deep as the sub under the loch. Incredible.”
Sophie asked, “Are we close?”
Dendritte dropped her light from the walls. “Oui, yes, very close. Follow me.” She walked for another one hundred feet, then stopped and shone the light on the walls again.
“Ah, ici. Here, you look.”
Mike shined her flashlight on the wall as well. “Nineteen G thirteen R. This is it. We have found the spot. I do not see a door, only the wall—”
The wall began to crumble. The cinder base slid open with a loud grind and two men burst out. There was an odd whistling sound, and the commander suddenly fell to the ground, her flashlight spinning to hit against the tunnel wall. Nicholas grabbed Mike and Sophie and dragged them down to the floor behind her. In that instant Nicholas realized exactly how Havelock had known where to come. He’d hired Rats, and they’d not only showed him the way, he’d set them to guard the tunnel entrance. They were dressed in heavy overcoats, big boots, their faces unshaven and brutal.
Mike grabbed the unconscious commander to protect her from the two men, but one of them was coming her way. Before she could draw her Glock, he hit her hard in the back with his fists, then wrapped his big hands around her neck. She heard Nicholas and the other Rat scuffling next to her. She tried to kick back at him, tried to twist away, but he was squeezing harder and harder. She was getting light-headed and dizzy.
A second later, the beam of a single flashlight began bouncing around. Sophie, she’d found Dendritte’s flashlight. The sudden light distracted the Rat and she was able to jerk free and whirl around to face him. She looked into the man’s face as she kicked him hard in the hip, then launched herself two steps up the wall, twisted hard in a somersault, landing behind him, and slammed her Glock on the back of his head. He fell hard, landing on her ankle, twisting it under him. She had no choice but to fall as well; it was that or let the ankle snap.
As she went down, she saw Nicholas and one more man, this one even bigger, punching each other, twisting, kicking. But this Rat wasn’t März. Nicholas kneed him in the face, then knocked him onto his back. Then he was on him, his neck between his hands, and Nicholas was choking him. It didn’t take long. When Nicholas let his head drop, he came slowly to his feet.
“Mike?”
“Here. I’m okay, but this idiot is unconscious and he’s pinned my leg. Where are Sophie and Commander Dendritte?” She yelled their names, and their names came back to her as a hollow echo.
She yelled again. There was no answer. The two women were gone.
87
Nicholas heaved the man off Mike’s leg and pulled her to her feet. She cursed under her breath, but Nicholas heard her and tightened his hold around her. “My ankle’s sprained and isn’t that just wonderful?”
He said, “At least your thick boots kept the ankle from breaking. Can you walk?”
She gritted her teeth and took a couple of steps. It hurt, but she could do it. Mike said, “Those two men—the Rats—they ambushed us to take the commander and Sophie?”
