Dana ignored him. She turned to Marcus, her eyes scanning the facility exits with cold, rapid calculation.
Listen to me very carefully, Dana said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. The front doors are covered. There are at least six deputies out there, and if Ramos is telling the truth, they are operating under shoot-to-kill orders. We do not engage law enforcement.
What do we do? Marcus asked, his voice trembling, all his former arrogance completely vanished.
We survive, Dana said. We take the maintenance tunnel beneath the pool. It leads to the boiler plant behind the athletic fields. My truck is parked near the tree line by the stadium.
What about the evidence? Marcus asked, pointing toward her office. Julian’s watch!
It’s in my pocket, Dana replied, tapping the reinforced seam of her cargo pants. And the thumb drive is secure. But that evidence is useless if we are dead in a morgue drawer before morning. Stick to my hip. You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. If I say drop, you drop. If I say run, you run. Understood?
Marcus nodded, his jaw setting with a newfound, desperate resolve. Understood.
Move.
Dana led the way toward the double doors marked ‘POOL ACCESS.’ Behind them, the glass front doors of the gymnasium shattered with a violent explosion of sound as heavy tactical boots kicked them inward.
Spread out! Sheriff Miller’s harsh, raspy voice bellowed across the hardwood. Clear the corners! If you see the woman, do not hesitate! She is classified as an armed and dangerous combatant! Fire on sight!
Flashlight beams danced across the ceiling like searching blades.
Dana and Marcus slipped through the pool doors just as the first flashlight beam swept over the spot they had vacated. The air inside the natatorium was thick with humidity and the sharp chemical bite of chlorine. The cavernous room amplified the sound of the storm outside, the rain pounding against the glass roof like a machine gun.
Dana moved silently along the wet tile edge of the Olympic-sized pool, her body low, her senses tuned to every frequency of the environment. Marcus followed in her shadow, stepping precisely where she stepped.
At the far end of the pool deck was a heavy, rusted steel door marked ‘BOILER ROOM – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.’
Dana reached the handle, tested it, and found it locked. She drew the nine-millimeter pistol she had confiscated from Marcus, reversed her grip, and drove the heavy steel butt of the weapon into the brass lock cylinder with three rapid, devastating strikes. The internal tumblers sheared with a sharp crack. She kicked the door inward.
Through the doorway, a narrow flight of concrete stairs descended into the dark, roaring belly of the campus heating plant. Steam hisses escaped from cracked valves, and the deep, industrial drone of the boilers drowned out the storm.
Down! Dana ordered, pushing Marcus through the doorway.
Freeze!
A flashlight beam pinned Dana against the doorframe from the entrance of the pool deck.
Standing fifty feet away was a young sheriff’s deputy, his shotgun raised and leveled directly at her chest. His hands were shaking, his eyes wide with adrenaline and panic.
Step away from the door! the deputy shouted, his voice cracking. Step away or I will fire!
Dana didn’t flinch. She kept her hands in plain sight, away from her waist, her posture calm, completely unbothered by the twelve-gauge barrel staring at her heart.
Son, Dana said, her voice cutting through the hiss of the steam with eerie tranquility. You have a choice right now. You can pull that trigger and spend the rest of your life answering to a federal tribunal for assassinating an active naval intelligence asset, or you can lower that weapon and pretend you searched the wrong room.
I… I have orders from the sheriff! the deputy stammered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Your sheriff is a paid asset of a cartel shipping military ordnance out of this county, Dana said, taking half a step toward the stairwell, never breaking eye contact. If you pull that trigger, you are an accessory to high treason. Think about your family. Think about who you’re protecting.
The deputy hesitated. The barrel of the shotgun dipped by half an inch.
That half-inch was all Dana needed.
She dropped backward through the boiler room door, pulling the heavy steel barrier shut behind her. An instant later, a deafening blast shattered the quiet, the shotgun pellets embedding themselves deep into the outer steel plate of the door with the force of a sledgehammer.
Go! Dana yelled to Marcus, shoving him down the concrete corridor through the clouds of blinding white steam.
