hands of medics, leaving Blake free to join in the pursuit. He rushed through the alleys behind the bar until he found a large circle of cops crowded around an open manhole. Deputy Commissioner Foley was already on the scene. He glared at his watch.
“Where’s the DWP guy?” Foley grumbled impatiently.
Blake shouldered his way into the group. He peered into the gloomy shaft.
“They went down there?” he asked.
Foley nodded.
“And Gordon took SWAT in after him.”
The sewers were dank and dark and difficult to navigate. Slime coated the crumbling brick walls. Rats, lizards, and other vermin scurried in the shadows. Gordon and his men crept warily through the claustrophobic tunnels, watching their steps as they trod upon slippery maintenance walkways. Rusted, rickety guardrails couldn’t be trusted. Raw sewage coursed through the endless drains, the putrid odor turning Gordon’s stomach. Bile rose at the back of his throat.
He kept his gun drawn and his flashlight low. His eyes probed the Stygian darkness. His ears strained to hear which way the suspects had gone. For a few, frustrating moments, he was afraid that that the fleeing kidnappers had given them the slip, but then he thought he heard some furtive footsteps ahead, just around a corner.
He signaled the men behind him to be on their guard. Adrenalin rushed through his veins, keeping him sharp. He welcomed the extra edge. It had been a long time since he had led a raid like this.
Maybe too long.
Sure enough, the minute they rounded the corner, they were met with a furious hail of gunfire. Muzzles flared in the shadows. Bullets sparked off the walls,chipping away at the stonework and pelting Gordon’s face with bits of rock and mortar. The cramped tunnels amplified the deafening report of the guns, hurting his ears. The acrid smell of cordite competed with the stench of the sewers. Gordon and his men pulled back, seeking shelter while returning fire. In the oppressive darkness, he couldn’t even see who was shooting at them. Suddenly he envied the SWATs their body armor.
Where the hell are our reinforcements?
A sudden explosion lit up the tunnels behind them, sending the SWAT men flying. They smashed against the walls before splashing into the sewers. Staggered but still standing, Gordon felt a scorching heat at his back and turned to see bright orange flames engulfing the tunnels and spreading toward him. Dashing into the intersection up ahead, he fled through the tunnels, frantic to get away from the inferno.
The smoke and flames chased after him.
Putting another turn between himself and the flames, he paused to get his bearings. On his own now, he held on tightly to his pistol. He sagged against a damp wall, breathing hard, and checked to make sure he hadn’t lost his glasses in the confusion. His ears rang from the explosion.
Loose gravel crunched somewhere behind him. He spun around, but not swiftly enough. A heavy blow struck him in the head.
* * *
A fireball erupted from the open shaft. Blake and the other cops jumped back to avoid being scorched. Startled shouts and curses escaped their lips. Blake felt the heat of the flames against his face.
“Come on!” he blurted, realizing that Gordon was in trouble. “We gotta get down there!”
An older cop snorted.
“That was a gas explosion, kid.”
“Gas?” Blake challenged him. “This is a sewer!”
Foley stepped forward to take charge. He wiped the soot from his face.
“No one goes in until we know what’s down there.”
“But we know what’s down there, sir! The police commissioner!”
Foley shot Blake a dirty look, visibly annoyed by the young cop’s outburst.
“Somebody get the hothead out of here,” he ordered. “And get me a DWP guy!”
Realizing there was no point in arguing, Blake backed off and retreated from the passage. He couldn’t believe that Foley and the others weren’t rushing to find Gordon, fire or no fire. There were miles of tunnels underneath
“Where’s the DWP guy?” Foley grumbled impatiently.
Blake shouldered his way into the group. He peered into the gloomy shaft.
“They went down there?” he asked.
Foley nodded.
“And Gordon took SWAT in after him.”
The sewers were dank and dark and difficult to navigate. Slime coated the crumbling brick walls. Rats, lizards, and other vermin scurried in the shadows. Gordon and his men crept warily through the claustrophobic tunnels, watching their steps as they trod upon slippery maintenance walkways. Rusted, rickety guardrails couldn’t be trusted. Raw sewage coursed through the endless drains, the putrid odor turning Gordon’s stomach. Bile rose at the back of his throat.
He kept his gun drawn and his flashlight low. His eyes probed the Stygian darkness. His ears strained to hear which way the suspects had gone. For a few, frustrating moments, he was afraid that that the fleeing kidnappers had given them the slip, but then he thought he heard some furtive footsteps ahead, just around a corner.
He signaled the men behind him to be on their guard. Adrenalin rushed through his veins, keeping him sharp. He welcomed the extra edge. It had been a long time since he had led a raid like this.
Maybe too long.
Sure enough, the minute they rounded the corner, they were met with a furious hail of gunfire. Muzzles flared in the shadows. Bullets sparked off the walls,chipping away at the stonework and pelting Gordon’s face with bits of rock and mortar. The cramped tunnels amplified the deafening report of the guns, hurting his ears. The acrid smell of cordite competed with the stench of the sewers. Gordon and his men pulled back, seeking shelter while returning fire. In the oppressive darkness, he couldn’t even see who was shooting at them. Suddenly he envied the SWATs their body armor.
Where the hell are our reinforcements?
A sudden explosion lit up the tunnels behind them, sending the SWAT men flying. They smashed against the walls before splashing into the sewers. Staggered but still standing, Gordon felt a scorching heat at his back and turned to see bright orange flames engulfing the tunnels and spreading toward him. Dashing into the intersection up ahead, he fled through the tunnels, frantic to get away from the inferno.
The smoke and flames chased after him.
Putting another turn between himself and the flames, he paused to get his bearings. On his own now, he held on tightly to his pistol. He sagged against a damp wall, breathing hard, and checked to make sure he hadn’t lost his glasses in the confusion. His ears rang from the explosion.
Loose gravel crunched somewhere behind him. He spun around, but not swiftly enough. A heavy blow struck him in the head.
* * *
A fireball erupted from the open shaft. Blake and the other cops jumped back to avoid being scorched. Startled shouts and curses escaped their lips. Blake felt the heat of the flames against his face.
“Come on!” he blurted, realizing that Gordon was in trouble. “We gotta get down there!”
An older cop snorted.
“That was a gas explosion, kid.”
“Gas?” Blake challenged him. “This is a sewer!”
Foley stepped forward to take charge. He wiped the soot from his face.
“No one goes in until we know what’s down there.”
“But we know what’s down there, sir! The police commissioner!”
Foley shot Blake a dirty look, visibly annoyed by the young cop’s outburst.
“Somebody get the hothead out of here,” he ordered. “And get me a DWP guy!”
Realizing there was no point in arguing, Blake backed off and retreated from the passage. He couldn’t believe that Foley and the others weren’t rushing to find Gordon, fire or no fire. There were miles of tunnels underneath
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