A perfect shooting solution for him.
One way to put it. The other was: sitting duck.
Climbing into hell. Practically sliding down the rails as she'd seen sailors do on some TV submarine movie, going from deck to deck.
She hit the floor of the spacious tunnel - open and without any cover whatsoever. Natch. Drawing her gun fast, she lunged to the side, where at least it was darker and their unsub would have a harder time placing a lethal shot. There she crouched and spun the muzzle 180 degrees, squinting to spot threats.
That she hadn't pulled any fire didn't allay her concern; he might still be near, aiming her way and waiting for any other officers to enter the target zone before he began squeezing off rounds.
But as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she noted that this portion of the tunnel was unoccupied.
Heart tapping, breath loud through the mask, Sachs peered in the direction of the hiss, which was now a piercing sound. She moved up to the wall on the other side of which was the access chamber where he'd drilled the hole in the pipe. She glanced in fast, low, in case he was aiming head or chest toward the doorway. All she could see in the one-second look was mist roiling in shifting curtains, pastel colors, like the northern lights. It was backlit by a muted white lamp - maybe one the unsub had set up to illuminate his drilling. The hypnotic swirls, beautiful, would be from the particulates of streaming water flowing from the pipe.
Sachs was reluctant to do a typical one-person dynamic entry, look high, go in low, two pounds' pressure on a three-pound trigger. Shoot, shoot, shoot.
Not here. She knew she had to take him alive. He wasn't operating on his own, not with a plan this elaborate. They needed to collar his co-conspirators, too.
Also, any weapons discharges might mean she'd end up shooting herself; the pipe and the concrete surfaces of the tunnel would easily send the copper jacketed slugs and fragments zipping in unpredictable directions.
Not to mention what a 9mm parabellum round would do to a vial containing the deadliest toxin on earth.
Closer, closer.
Peering into the wall of mist, looking for shadows moving, shadows in position to fire a weapon. Shadows charging out with a hypodermic syringe loaded with propofol.
For his final skin art session.
But nothing other than the shimmering particles of water vapor, refracting light so beautifully.
Into the chamber, she told herself. Now.
The cloud rolled closer and withdrew, surely from the breeze created by the stream of water. Good cover, she thought. Like a smoke screen. Sachs gripped the Glock and, with her feet in a perpendicular shooting position, not parallel, to minimize his target area, she moved fast into the room.
A mistake, she realized quickly.
The spray was much thicker inside and soaked the filter of the mask. She couldn't breathe. A moment's debate. Without the protection, she'd be susceptible to the botulinum toxin. With it, she'd pass out from lack of air.
No choice. Off came the mask and she flung it behind her, inhaling the damp air, which, she hoped, contained only New York city drinking water and not poison powerful enough to kill her in all of five seconds.
Breathing, breathing ...
But so far, no symptoms. Or bullets.
She continued forward, swinging the gun from side to side. To her right she could see the dark form of the massive pipe; the puncture was about fifteen feet in front of her, she guessed; from a vague image of a thin white line - the stream of water - shooting up to the left and hitting the far wall about ten feet off the ground. The hiss grew louder with every step.
The whistle made her ears throb with pain and threatened to deafen; the good news was that it would also deafen him, so he wouldn't sense her approach.
Smells of moist concrete, mold, mud. The sensation took Sachs back to her childhood, father and daughter at the zoo in Manhattan, one of the houses, reptile. 'Amie, see that? That's the most dangerous thing here.'
She'd peered inside but couldn't see anything other than plants and rocks covered with moss. 'I don't see anything, Daddy.'
'It's a leeren Kafig.'
'Wow. What's that?' Snake, she'd wondered. Lizard? 'Is it dangerous?'
'Oh, the most dangerous thing in the zoo.'
'What is it?'