The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [18]
“Where’s the secure spur line?”
“Underneath us. It runs parallel to the city sewers, but it’s independent, clean, and secure. Computers control all exits.”
Laurel didn’t ask how they would reach the city sewers if all exits were secure. Your contact knows how to get you out. Follow his instructions.
From all four corners of the tank, strobe lights started to flash a slow cadence.
“They’ve armed the stunners,” Lukas said. “In thirty seconds, the condensers powering these lights will be on full charge. There are heat sensors overhead, and we’re warmer than anything else. As soon as we’re detected, these lamps will fire a sequence that will trigger epileptic fits. But don’t worry.”
“Why not?” Laurel asked.
Lukas checked his watch. “The bottom valve will close in twenty seconds. I’ll go first.” He pointed at Russo’s neck ring. When Raul had a grip on it, Lukas splashed toward the hole like an ungainly duck and jumped.
“You next,” Raul said.
Laurel was about to protest when Raul interrupted. “I need you down there to arrest Russo’s drop. He’ll fall like a sack.”
He was right. She gripped his arm and, refusing to think about what she was about to do, covered the distance to the hole in long strides and jumped feetfirst into the drain.
When darkness swallowed her, Laurel braced for the impact, but it never came. She dropped for a long time, her mind feebly registering that Lukas must have lied. The chute must be hundreds of feet long, even thousands. Then something hard and slimy touched her shoulders and butt, pressing harder and harder until she had to release the breath she’d carefully held. Her legs and arms shot up the walls of a smooth cylinder, its surface racing under her touch. She surrendered to gravity and momentum, choking a gasp when sharp pain radiated from her left buttock. Then a pinprick of light below her pierced the gloom. The light grew, with it she saw a rapidly approaching circle and, beyond, a figure with a striking likeness to Woody Allen. She almost laughed, but in the next instant she cannoned out of the tube, slammed down a couple of feet into a much larger cylinder, and climbed halfway up its wall before crumpling down into a heap in four inches of liquid flowing along the curved floor.
“Who’s next?” Lukas sounded impressed.
“Russo.”
“We had better try to grab him as he exits. He’ll be much faster. Switch on your flashlight and aim it inside the drain.”
She picked herself up and stumbled to the mouth of the tube, fingers fumbling at her flashlight.
Lukas aimed his light into the drain, illuminating a ball form hurtling rapidly toward them. “Here he comes.”
They stood on either side of the opening, one hand each stretched to catch him.
In a flash, the bundle barreled from the drain, dragging them to the opposite side of the sewer. A loud thump echoed from the mouth of the drain. Laurel froze. It wasn’t a good sound.
“That’s the valve closing,” Lukas said. “Within four or five minutes, the tank will be full again. An automatic security routine to prevent the inmates’ core temperature from rising.”
Had Raul made it? She had no way of knowing. The seconds stretched. What could she do with Woody in the sewers? Despite Russo’s slight weight, neither she nor Lukas was strong enough to carry him any distance. Do we leave him?
An instant later, Raul followed, his light blazing around his neck. He slid sedately the last few feet to the point where the drain met the main sewer and stayed seated on its rim, surveying their tangle of arms and legs. “A hell of a ride.”
Laurel reached to her left buttock, then checked her bloody fingers.
Lukas trained his flashlight on her and she instinctively shrank back. “Let me have a look,” he said.
She felt soft fingers, then pressure, then a sharp stab. “Ouch!”
Lukas held something small between thumb and forefinger. “A toenail. They drop off the inmates.” He flicked it aside, stood, and checked his watch. “We have twenty-nine minutes to leave this tube and a mile and a half to cover.