the wall next to the doorway, then a flashlight came into view in Agent Douglas's hand. She aimed it through the new opening. At first it seemed to have no effect, then the camera moved closer to the threshold and tilted downward.
"Can you see it?" she asked.
There was a short landing, then five or six steps descending into the darkness.
"A stairway?" Peter said.
"Yes," she confirmed. "Appears to be pretty solid. Made of wood, I think."
"Can you see how far down it goes?"
The image from the camera moved through the doorway, then tilted downward with the slope of the staircase. Even then, the optics and the compression caused by the satellite transmission kept most of the room's details in darkness.
"It goes pretty far. Definitely more than one story."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked, trying to imagine what she was describing in his mind.
"The floor of the room is a good one and a half to two stories down. The stairs double back halfway down so they can fit."
"Can you make out anything on the floor below?"
"Not really," Agent Douglas said, then paused. The view on the camera swung methodically from side to side and up and down as she examined her surroundings. "Okay. I'm heading down."
The camera bobbed upward once, then angled down as Agent Douglas moved her right foot onto the top step.
"So far so good," she said.
Her left foot came into view, then settled on the next step down. Peter could hear her breathing, deep but steady.
Another step down.
Then another.
Then, "Shit!"
Before Peter had even registered what she had said, a bright flash and loud explosion overpowered the monitors, turning the image on the screen into a blur of whipping shapes and colors. There was nothing recognizable or coherent.
"Agent Douglas!"
The roar from the speakers became a series of booms and crashes.
Then, just as suddenly as the incident began, it stopped, the image from the camera now as still as those on monitors one, two, and three. And the only noise was an occasional creaking or muffled thud.
"Agent Douglas?" Peter repeated into the mic.
There was no response.
"Tasha," he said, using her first name. "Can you hear me?"
She remained silent.
CHAPTER
6
"I'M SENDING IN THE STRIKE TEAM," PETER SAID.
"Hold on," Chercover said. "We need to think about this for a moment."
"For God's sake, she might still be alive. I don't give a damn what you want to do. I will not leave an agent down."
Peter snatched up his cell phone from where he'd left it earlier, next to monitor three. He had prepped it for just such an emergency, and only had to touch the screen once to connect the call.
The strike leader answered after a single ring.
"Situation's gone critical," Peter said. "Move in fast. Agent down, condition unknown. Booby-trapped, but no hostiles have been spotted. Go. Now." Once he was off the phone, he looked back at his clients. "Next time maybe you'll listen to me when I have concerns about an operation."
Furuta turned toward Peter, slow and deliberate. There was no concern at all in the man's eyes for the situation. "Risks are part of the job. Agent Douglas has always been aware of that. We would assume you would be, too. But if you are unwilling to take those risks, maybe we need to rethink our working relationship."
As Peter was about to respond, a movement on one of the monitors caught his attention. He turned to get a better look.
"What is it?" Chercover asked, looking at Peter.
"I thought I saw something."
He was pretty sure it had been monitor three, the hallway view. But it was empty now, like it had been before. Perhaps it had just been a glitch in the transmission, some digital artifact that had appeared on the screen for a split second, drawing his attention.
He had almost convinced himself that was it, when a man appeared on monitor two. He was thin, and was dressed neat enough that Peter guessed he wasn't homeless. But with the low light, making out facial features was out of the question, as was detecting skin tone or hair color. He was
"Can you see it?" she asked.
There was a short landing, then five or six steps descending into the darkness.
"A stairway?" Peter said.
"Yes," she confirmed. "Appears to be pretty solid. Made of wood, I think."
"Can you see how far down it goes?"
The image from the camera moved through the doorway, then tilted downward with the slope of the staircase. Even then, the optics and the compression caused by the satellite transmission kept most of the room's details in darkness.
"It goes pretty far. Definitely more than one story."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked, trying to imagine what she was describing in his mind.
"The floor of the room is a good one and a half to two stories down. The stairs double back halfway down so they can fit."
"Can you make out anything on the floor below?"
"Not really," Agent Douglas said, then paused. The view on the camera swung methodically from side to side and up and down as she examined her surroundings. "Okay. I'm heading down."
The camera bobbed upward once, then angled down as Agent Douglas moved her right foot onto the top step.
"So far so good," she said.
Her left foot came into view, then settled on the next step down. Peter could hear her breathing, deep but steady.
Another step down.
Then another.
Then, "Shit!"
Before Peter had even registered what she had said, a bright flash and loud explosion overpowered the monitors, turning the image on the screen into a blur of whipping shapes and colors. There was nothing recognizable or coherent.
"Agent Douglas!"
The roar from the speakers became a series of booms and crashes.
Then, just as suddenly as the incident began, it stopped, the image from the camera now as still as those on monitors one, two, and three. And the only noise was an occasional creaking or muffled thud.
"Agent Douglas?" Peter repeated into the mic.
There was no response.
"Tasha," he said, using her first name. "Can you hear me?"
She remained silent.
CHAPTER
6
"I'M SENDING IN THE STRIKE TEAM," PETER SAID.
"Hold on," Chercover said. "We need to think about this for a moment."
"For God's sake, she might still be alive. I don't give a damn what you want to do. I will not leave an agent down."
Peter snatched up his cell phone from where he'd left it earlier, next to monitor three. He had prepped it for just such an emergency, and only had to touch the screen once to connect the call.
The strike leader answered after a single ring.
"Situation's gone critical," Peter said. "Move in fast. Agent down, condition unknown. Booby-trapped, but no hostiles have been spotted. Go. Now." Once he was off the phone, he looked back at his clients. "Next time maybe you'll listen to me when I have concerns about an operation."
Furuta turned toward Peter, slow and deliberate. There was no concern at all in the man's eyes for the situation. "Risks are part of the job. Agent Douglas has always been aware of that. We would assume you would be, too. But if you are unwilling to take those risks, maybe we need to rethink our working relationship."
As Peter was about to respond, a movement on one of the monitors caught his attention. He turned to get a better look.
"What is it?" Chercover asked, looking at Peter.
"I thought I saw something."
He was pretty sure it had been monitor three, the hallway view. But it was empty now, like it had been before. Perhaps it had just been a glitch in the transmission, some digital artifact that had appeared on the screen for a split second, drawing his attention.
He had almost convinced himself that was it, when a man appeared on monitor two. He was thin, and was dressed neat enough that Peter guessed he wasn't homeless. But with the low light, making out facial features was out of the question, as was detecting skin tone or hair color. He was
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