Damn, it felt like I was out there a lifetime, yet it was just a few seconds.
The elevator doors slid apart, their sudden arrival surprising even the men standing next to them. In seconds they had the banner maneuvered inside and were supporting its base. Alicia saw the end of everything right then, right there, as Crouch’s throat was squeezed; and sprinted forward with every ounce of energy that she had left.
Like most battles she fought, it became a total melee. There was nothing clinical about battle, especially unarmed combat. Mostly it was just varying shades of chaos.
The terrorist leader hauled back on Crouch’s throat. The merc leader jabbed his improvised weapon at Terri, forcing her toward the doors. Cutler fell at her side, catching hold of a window-rail to steady himself.
A mercenary that had fought free of the staircase melee ran headlong for the doors.
Alicia missed his shirt by inches. He kept on sprinting, now leaping the fallen Russo.
Someone jabbed crazily at the inner buttons. Crouch’s face was bright red as he was hauled practically off his feet, heels dragging. The banner slipped and was then heaved back upright. Terri feigned an attack at her captor…
Alicia saw it clearly.
The attack made the man focus solely on Terri, reach out a hand to steady her, and bring his weapon to bear.
It gave Cutler precious seconds to make a move.
The American thief darted away from the elevators, putting distance between himself and the enemy. He ran until he couldn’t go any further, pressed into a corner. Alicia reached out a desperate hand, clawing at empty air.
The last things she saw were Terri’s boots as she was swung bodily inside, and Michael Crouch’s bulging eyes as he was choked into submission.
As the doors glided shut, all hell broke loose.
Whatever fight remained in the struggling aggressors quickly dwindled away. The four agents that had been pitted against them crawled over and tugged zip-ties tight around their wrists before practically collapsing with exhaustion. On their knees, they shouted at each other and tried to unclip radios.
Alicia figured how long it took to reach the ground floor. Half a minute? Then the walk through the casino. Another sixty seconds maybe. It would take them a little longer to subdue Crouch and Terri and make them presentable perhaps. Beyond that, it was game over.
And here in Vegas, that expression held an ominous note of finality.
“Is there another elevator bank?” she asked.
Caitlyn and Austin threaded their way through the spent agents. The young woman ran a hand through her short hair and pointed at the corner wall that ran away to Alicia’s left.
“That way!”
With her chest heaving, every sinew burning, she heaved on Russo, dragging the man to his feet and put one foot before the other.
We can make it. We have to.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Crouch fought and gasped for breath, doubled over as the elevator fell. Something like a jackhammer pounded in his head. Blood dripped onto the floor at his feet; he knew that it was Terri’s because Omar had cut her with his weapon for enabling Cutler’s escape. Even now, the crazed mercenary was promising worse and threatening to sell her to the Far East’s worst slave-trade merchants. Ricci was ordering his two remaining men to make ready with the banner; restating its importance for the hundredth time. Crouch massaged his throat gingerly — he had never felt such strength. This man Ricci was a clandestine ninja it seemed, and even he had been thrown off by the bouffant haircut.
Now Ricci turned to Omar. “Leave her alone. You will devalue her.”
“You think I care?” Omar fumed. “All my men — captured or dead.”
“Get a grip. You will have to spend all that money yourself now, no? All that remains is for you to keep your head and get away. I will help you.”
Crouch found the pounding was easing up now and looked up at the inflection of tone in that last line. It wasn’t nice, but Omar missed it, focusing on the cash.
“All right, we will help each other. Just the casino and then we’re out of here.”
He righted Terri and took a look at her neck. The gash he’d purposely made wasn’t too large and had already congealed over. Terri stayed quiet as he adjusted her coat and pulled the collar up to hide the wound. Then, he glanced over at Crouch.
“Stand up, soldier.”
Crouch had been faking it, bent double in a corner of the elevator, scribbling a quick note, breathing as if his throat was still on fire, and he now rose with an apparent effort. “I’m fine.” He decided to lean against the side of the elevator, resting against the sign that somebody had positioned there.
Omar hauled him around and checked for injuries. “A bit crimson around the gills, but he will pass.”
Crouch made sure he stayed with his back to the sign.
Ricci nodded as he watched the floors flash by. The elevator only stopped once, and the man’s violent glare was enough to stop anyone from joining them. In less than a minute it had reached the casino floor.
“Remember,” Ricci said. “You will both obey. If I am forced to chase you or if I lose you, my men and I will kill every innocent person in sight. That will be on you.”
Crouch heard the words of a madman and knew he spoke the truth. Ricci was far beyond the real deal and into the realm of lethal fanatic. When the doors slid apart he stood and waited for Ricci to give the order.
“Get out. My men will bring the banner last.”
They walked steadily through the casino, the noise of slot machines growing louder and louder. He was terribly aware that there was nothing more he could do. Not now. The note had been planted, but it was touch and go whether Alicia and the team would figure out where to look for it. They were inside a casino, for God’s sake; every surface was gold!
But… the surveillance cameras might help.
He stayed central along the path, wandering nowhere. An incessant dinging drowned out his thoughts; someone winning at the slots. Similar noises assaulted them from every direction. Crouch saw the watchful glare on Ricci’s face and knew he was simply waiting for the FBI agents upstairs to get in touch with the security downstairs. Every muscle was a coiled spring, the fists clenched just waiting and wanting to be unleashed.
They were three quarters of the way through the casino before blood began to spill.
Terri found the worst of all possible problems plaguing her mind.
Did Cutler have even the slightest chance to help me too?
There had been a moment, a split-second that she just couldn’t shake, when Cutler broke away from Omar’s shadow and then… right then… had almost appeared to lean toward her. Had he been about to throw himself into the fray? Had warning bells sounded at the very last instant?
Did he make a choice?
Ordinarily, she’d say no. It wouldn’t matter so much, and she’d be able to brush it under the table. But today was different — today was all about clinging on to life.
She replayed the moment over and over in her head, but it had happened all too quickly. The problem was — she had seen something and now needed to refute it.
The descent in the elevator flashed by. The fact that her neck was bleeding barely registered. Her head was in a different place. Damn Cutler. She’d chased and chased him, halfway across the world, from country to country and through dangerous cities — helped him out with a violent gang — and was now a marked and hunted woman. Part of her knew that Ricci would ensure she was sold to the old gang. Part of her knew he’d prefer to sell her to some slave trader. He was a cruel, violent man with no sense of humanity.