Rachel then heard it, too.
The tramp of boots on the boardwalk overhead.
The gunmen had not fled as Rachel had hoped. They still hunted their prey.
Seichan pointed up, then shoved her arm out. Her pantomime was clear. If they stayed directly under the boardwalk, they’d be less likely to be spotted. But that meant moving as silently as possible.
Gray nodded and began to head toward the far side of the hypogeum. Rachel tightened her grip and stopped him. He stared back at her questioningly. She knew the layout of these levels. If they followed the boardwalk, they’d just hit a solid wall. Only a few ways still led out of the hypogeum.
She pointed along their path, made a chopping motion on her arm, and shook her head. It was military sign language for dead end. Turning, she pointed toward an exit few people knew about. Her uncle had shown it to her long ago. But to reach that spot, they’d have to abandon the shelter of the boardwalk and head out into the exposed maze.
Gray studied her with his face tight, his eyes hard pieces of blue ice.
Are you sure?
Rachel nodded. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, thanking her, reassuring her. For just a flash, she wanted those arms around her, holding her just as tightly. But he let go and crouched with Kowalski. They whispered too low to hear.
Seichan drew next to her. She also kept her attention on the two Americans. Rachel didn’t doubt the woman could read their lips. Rachel glanced sidelong at her. A purplish bruise was forming on Seichan’s cheek. Rachel also noted how much weight she’d lost since they’d first met years ago. Her face was more gaunt, hollow and haunted around the eyes. It left her looking like something carved out of stone, hard and unyielding. Still, there remained a cold fire in her dark green gaze.
Gray slid back and drew them all into a crouch under the boardwalk. He glanced up, listening as one of the hunters passed overhead. The gunmen were watching both halves of the hypogeum. Any flicker of movement, and both would be on them. From their high vantage, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
As the assassin moved past, Gray whispered, “We’ll need a distraction. Kowalski’s got one round left in his pistol. It’s not much but—”
The cautious tromp of boots suddenly changed cadence. The slow step turned into a heavy-footed run. Boots pounded toward their position.
Gray’s whispering must have been heard.
Kowalski lifted his pistol, ready to shoot, but Seichan placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder.
The pounding passed their position and continued down the boardwalk, heading toward the far side. They were running off. Something had spooked them.
“The police…” Gray guessed aloud.
“’Bout time,” Kowalski said.
Seichan did not share their relief. Her expression soured. She was on several terrorist watch lists, including Interpol’s.
Before they could make any decision, a new noise intruded. It came suddenly. The thump-thump of a helicopter. Gray stepped out from under the boardwalk and stared up. Rachel joined him.
A wasp-bodied black helicopter swept over the rim of the coliseum.
“That’s not the polizia,” Rachel said.
In fact, there were no markings on the craft.
As it banked over the stadium, a side door cranked open in the helicopter.
Gray grabbed Rachel’s shoulder. “Run!”
It was clear now why the gunmen had fled. Not from the police, but from a new level of assault. Why shoot fish in a barrel when depth charges worked so much better?
“This way!” Rachel yelled.
She ran, ignoring the protest from her knee, adrenaline burning away pain. She headed along a curving wall lined by stone cells. The others followed.
“What’s going on?” Kowalski bellowed.
Rachel took the first right passage, then the next left. She ended up at a dead end. “Back!”
They scrambled around. Rachel kept hold of Gray’s shoulder, limping. While she knew where the exit was located, she did not have this rat maze memorized. Backpedaling, she found the correct turn this time. Ahead, a straight passage ended at a narrow archway. That was it! The arch marked a staircase down to a lower level of the hypogeum.
She had started toward it when Gray grabbed her from behind and shouldered her back into one of the side cells. The others piled in, too. Gray covered her as a thunderous whump sounded that shook the walls and stones underfoot. A moment later, a wash of flames billowed past overhead, rolling smoke and reeking of poisonous chemicals.
Gray shoved her back out of the shelter. She stumbled, deaf, eyes watering. Overhead, the helicopter swept past, swirling smoke and flames. A black steel barrel was rolled to the lip of the open hatch.
Oh, no…
Panicked, knowing what was coming, Rachel sprinted down the passageway, gasping in pain as she hurdled rocks and sections of tumbled wall. The arched opening gaped ten yards away. Focused on her goal, her heel landed on a moss-encrusted stone. Her foot slipped, and her leg twisted. She stumbled—but never hit the ground.
Gray scooped her around the waist and carried her the last few steps. They dove together through the archway. Bodies shoved into them from behind. They fell as a group, tripping, tumbling down the flight of stone steps.
They landed in a pile at the bottom as the world exploded above them.
The blast, striking near the opening, immediately deafened them. Pressure slammed Rachel’s ears and felt like it cracked her skull. Rocks tumbled and bounced. Flames gusted down the throat of the stairwell, washing across the roof overhead. Her skin burned. Her lungs could draw no air.
Then in a rush, the pressure popped. The flames were sucked away, back out of the tunnel. Cool air drafted up from the lower levels and washed over them.
Hands shoved and dragged. They crawled away from the stairs down into the murky lower passages. After a few yards, they all slowly gained their feet. Rachel used the walls to haul herself up. She panted, felt like vomiting, fought the rising gorge. She took great gulps of cool air.
“Keep going,” Gray urged.
Rachel leaned on the wall as they stumbled away. They had to keep moving. The concussions and fires could drop the upper level on top of them. They had to get clear.
“Can you find that exit?”
She coughed. “I think…maybe…”
Gray grabbed her elbow. “Rachel.”
She nodded, regaining her balance, both inside and outside. “Yes. This way.” She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. The meager glow didn’t cast much light, but it was better than nothing.
Holding on to Gray’s shoulder, she set off. It wasn’t far, but this level was a rabbit warren of cells, passages, and cave-ins. She headed out, lost in the past as much as the present.