Thirteen Page 49

The man said nothing, but his gaze settled on me and in that gaze I saw something colder than any glower from Josef Nast. It took me a second to find my voice. When I did, I leaned against the bars and whispered, “I saw you. And no, Malcolm, I will not tell Jeremy you are here.”

 

*


I asked the guard—Curry as he introduced himself—if my mother was down here. He said no, and he didn’t know where she was, but that Sean’s men were searching for her.

He led us down the corridor into an empty room with chairs and desks and an ancient refrigerator and microwave.

“The guards?” I whispered.

“Only one on duty. He was called from his post.”

I arched my brows. “It’s that easy?”

“To call him from his post, yes, because even if a prisoner does manage to get out, there’s no place to go except up—straight into Nast headquarters.”

“Seriously? We’re in the basement? How do they hide this?”

“It’s not just a basement.” Curry opened a door and ushered us into a long hall with rusty pipes overhead. “Do you smell the water? Best construction in the world can’t make this place any drier. Ninety-five percent of folks up top don’t know these cells exist. Another four percent were told it was closed down twenty years ago. That’s what Sean heard, too.”

“He never checked?” Adam said. That seemed odd for Sean. At one time, yes, he preferred to bury his head in the sand. That had changed, though.

“He probably did,” Curry said. “I know I did. But the old doors are all sealed. They made a new one. A hidden door from the processing room. Prisoners go in to be processed and sent to one of the prison complexes and then …”

“They’re misplaced,” I muttered. “Through a chute in the floor.”

“Something like that. Point is—” He opened another door and led us into what looked like a storage room. “The only way out is right through the middle of security central. And there’s no way to bribe or disable that many guards.”

 

“So how will we—?”

As we walked into the room, Captain Kaufman stepped from behind a wire rack stacked with boxes. He extended his hand. I shook it and introduced him to Adam.

“You did meet,” I said. “But you were unconscious at the time.”

“My apologies for that,” Kaufman said. “Those men weren’t part of my team. That isn’t how we do things.” He waved toward the cells. “This isn’t how we do things.”

“It’s how Josef Nast does things. And I’m betting Thomas knows this place is down here, too.”

Kaufman shifted uncomfortably. Even if he was loyal to my brother, he wouldn’t disparage the man who was still in charge.

“Just get us out of here,” Adam said.

Kaufman and Curry led us into more storage. No metal racks and neat wooden boxes here. This was a hole in the ground, stuffed with rotting crates and stinking of dead rats.

“Let me guess,” I said. “There’s a secret passage in here, right through the sewers.”

Kaufman flicked on his vest light. Curry did the same. I started to cast a light-ball spell then stopped. I could see fine by their lights.

Kaufman stopped in front of a door. A big, metal door, right there, plain as day. Beside it, a security scanner was set into the concrete wall.

“That’s a lousy secret hatch,” I said.

“It’s not a secret. Not to anyone who works down here.”

“Then how—?”

Kaufman took my hand and pulled it toward the box.

“Fingers outstretched please, Miss Nast.”

My hand went into the box. A mechanical whir. Something tapped my thumb. Then—

 

“Yow!” I yanked my hand out. My fingertip was bleeding. “If it requires virgin blood, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Kaufman just stood there, ramrod straight, watching the door. I glanced at Curry. He was puffing softly, anxiety building to panic as we waited for …

Another whir. Then a clank. A green light flashed over the door. Kaufman grabbed the handle. As he glanced back at me, his gaze went to Curry, who looked ready to piss his pants with relief.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Curry looked at me. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean … I’m sorry.”

Kaufman pulled open the door as Adam murmured, “Nast blood.”

I shot him a puzzled glance as we walked through.

“The door lock,” Adam said. “It’s some kind of DNA reader.”

“It’s an escape route for the family,” Kaufman said as he prodded us along.

A door that would only open to those with Nast DNA. That’s why Curry had been worried. He hadn’t been certain I really was Sean’s sister, only that Sean himself believed it.

Speaking of which, “So there’s an escape route for the family that my brothers don’t know about? That doesn’t help them, does it?”

“They’d be told if the situation required it,” Kaufman said.

Yes, but it proved where Thomas Nast’s priorities lay. Better to keep the top-secret jail a top secret from anyone who might argue against it, even if that meant possibly denying his grandsons access to an emergency escape.

On the other side of the door, lights flicked on automatically as we walked. God forbid a Nast should need to carry a flash-light. Or learn a witch’s light-ball spell.

There was no stench of dead rat here. No dripping concrete walls or mud floor either. It wasn’t exactly a state-of-the-art jetway, but it was clean, sterile even, a long metal tube with railings on either side as the floor gradually sloped upward.

We walked quickly, footsteps echoing, lights flashing off in our wake.

“Where does it come out?” I asked.

Kaufman didn’t answer.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I knew nothing about the lower prison cells, let alone this escape route. Curry had been to the cells, but he didn’t know about this either. Your brother had to … persuade a retired architect to part with the plans. He didn’t have a hard copy, of course, but his memory was good.”

Or Sean made it good. Bribery or threats. Sean’s a carrot guy, but you can’t rise to his position without learning to use the stick, too.

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