Down one hallway, several solid-core doors stood closed—utility rooms.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting uneven light and deep shadows between the cages.
Voices carried through the open space.
Close.
Rafe angled left, scanning the aisles between storage cages. Delgado drifted right, his weapon tracking the dark corridors that branched toward the utility doors. Brian focused his attention on the door to their left. It was ajar just enough to let a narrow band of yellow light through, but not enough to expose either side.
From deeper inside, a man laughed.
The sound bounced off concrete and metal.
Across the basement, Bowden and Bravo emerged silently from the secondary stairwell, moving low and deliberate between storage cages. No footsteps echoed. No gear rattled. Just controlled, measured progress.
Hawk caught Bowden’s eye and pointed to the open door. The captain gave a small nod and led his team toward it. Everyone’s head was on swivel, making sure no one could sneak up on them.
Both teams closed the distance to their target room without crossing fields of fire. They stacked up in position along the wall on either side of the doorway.
Hawk pulled a small retractable mirror from his pocket, extended the handle, then angled the round end so he could see inside the room in the reflection.
Everyone stilled.
Since Hawk needed both hands for the mirror and signals, his Colt M4 assault rifle hung at his side on its tactical sling, leaving him temporarily exposed yet still allowing him to grab it quickly. Brian shifted behind him, his 9mm handgun trained on the door in case it opened suddenly. On the other side, Bowden did the same.
Hawk lifted his hand with all fingers extended, confirming five hostiles.
He lowered his palm to knee height, angled two fingers to indicate the left side of the room, then cupped his hand over his own head—Tess was sitting or lying on the floor against the left wall, wearing some kind of hood.
Finally, the man tapped two fingers to his sternum three times, signifying proof of life.
Thank God. She was alive but incapacitated. If she had a hood on, she was most likely restrained as well.
Hawk shifted the mirror again, mapping positions of the gang members with more subtle hand signals—two guys were seated to the right, one pacing the center of the room, one stood along the far wall, and one sat closest to Tess.
As he tucked the mirror back into his pocket, someone inside spoke—self-assured and threatening. “Better hope your brother did what he was told to do.”
Brian’s stomach tightened as he recognized the voice.
Diego.
There was a faint shuffle. Footsteps. Someone made a hacking noise and then spit.
When Diego spoke again, he was closer to the door. “Time’s up, Bing. Is it done?” He was on the phone with Andy, but they could only hear one side of the conversation.
Brian checked his watch.
00:03:02
The call was early. Most likely, Diego was impatient and decided it was close enough to an hour.
Their time was up.
As Diego cussed Andy out and made threats, Brian met Bowden’s eyes.
Now!
The captain made the small circling motion with his hand. From behind him, Brooks stepped to the side, flash-bang in hand. Brian adjusted his footing, settling into muscle memory. Tess wouldn’t know what was coming. She wouldn’t be able to brace.