Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [141]
I quickly realize I’m not just in the cellar. The way the wind whips around me . . . the echoing sound . . . I thought the air tunnels were running above and below me. But as I look around at the rounded curves of the walls . . . This entire room is one giant tunnel. I’ve been standing in it the entire time. That’s the breeze I feel on my face. And that’s why all the air-conditioning units are here. The subterranean tunnels burrow up from below us, empty into this room, and feed all the machines fresh air. Glancing up at the dark arches in the ceiling, I see they’re not dead ends at all. Beyond the darkness are the passageways that run up through the Capitol. This is the hub that feeds the spokes of the building. Like air-conditioning ducts, the tunnels are all interconnected. That’s why Janos’s footsteps echoed on my left and right. Tap the metal grille on your right and you’ll also hear it from behind. It’s a good thing to know—especially right now.
Crouched down, I run between two parallel sets of air ducts and hear Janos’s footsteps in three different directions. All three of them are getting louder, but because of the whistling of the air tunnel and the faint churning of the machines, it’s still impossible to tell which set of footsteps is coming first. The only good thing is, Janos is having the same problem.
“We’ve already got help coming!” I shout, hearing it echo behind me. “Capitol police are on their way!” I’m headed toward the left side of the room. With the help of the echo, Janos should hear it from the right. It’s not the greatest trick in the world, but right now all I need is to stall. Buy some time and let Viv ride in for the rescue.
“Did you hear what I said, Janos?! They’re on their way!” I add, hoping to confuse him as my voice bounces back and forth through the room.
Once again, he stays silent. He’s too smart to answer. That’s why I decide to get personal.
“You don’t strike me as a fanatic, Janos—so how’d they get you to sign up? Something against the United States, or was it purely a financial decision?”
There’s a sharp skritch as he pivots and backtracks. The sound’s coming from behind him. He’s definitely lost.
“C’mon, Janos—I mean, even for a guy like you, there’s gotta be some limits. Just because a man has to eat, doesn’t mean you lick every piece of gum off the sidewalk.”
The footsteps get louder, then softer as he second-guesses. Now he’s annoyed.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I continue, stooping underneath a section of air vents and hiding behind one of the oval water heaters. “I understand life is about picking sides, but these guys . . . Not to stereotype, but I’ve seen you, Janos. You’re not exactly from their nest. They may want us dead now, but you’re not too far down the list.”
The footsteps get slower.
“You think I’m wrong? They’ll not only put a knife in your spine, they’ll know exactly which two vertebrae to stick it between to make sure you feel every single inch of the blade. C’mon, Janos, think of who we’re talking about . . . This is Yemen—”
The footsteps stop.
I lift my head, staring back across the room. Unreal. “They didn’t tell you, did they?” I ask. “You had no idea.”
Again, silence.
“What, you think I’m making it up? It’s Yemen, Janos. You’re working for Yemen!” I sneak out from behind the water heater and curve back in Janos’s direction, still crouching low. With a light tap, I hit another machine with the pliers. The more I keep moving, the harder it is to trace me. “How’d they hide it from you, anyway? Let me guess: they hired some CEO-type to make it look like an American company; then that guy goes out and hires you. How’m I doing? Hot? Cold? Feet on fire?”
He still won’t answer. For once, he’s actually off balance.
“Didn