How could any of this be real? She had simply wanted to help bring bad guys to justice—
“We’re here, we’re here!” Pris shouted as the truck screeched into a parking lot, followed by angry sirens and flashing lights. Flipping off the ignition, she dashed out, followed by Dante.
Was it still daytime? It didn’t seem possible. From under her raincoat, Ariel heard the angry bark of authorities. Pris and Dante’s voices retreated into the distance, along with the shouts of the police. They would be running for the building. She didn’t allow herself to feel relieved. No one knew where the vault was. She’d only seen glimpses from Roark’s cameras as he’d sneaked around in dark offices.
Ariel couldn’t force herself to join the turmoil. She needed her closet.
Reuben’s van might be better. He wasn’t in it.
She peered out from the raincoat. The sirens and lights had stopped. She heard no voices. Ascertaining the direction of the apartments, she climbed out of the truck on the far side, staying low.
The lot in front of the building where Pris and the police had parked was blessedly empty, for visitors only, she imagined. The utility van sat at the far end. Would Reuben have left it open?
Thunderclouds boiled, as they often did on late summer afternoons. She’d still be conspicuous covering her head with a raincoat. She had to walk across the strange space and try the van door.
The Russian had spoken to Silver Fox. Silver Fox must have the key to the sarin box that the Russian couldn’t find. A vault wouldn’t have keys, would it? How did one learn the numbers of a combination lock? Roark had acute hearing. He would have listened to the lock.
Concentrating on the problem of opening the vault, she made it to the van. It was locked, of course. She sat down on the curb, out of sight of the building, and called Reuben again.
“Van keys?” she asked when he answered.
He swore briefly. “You’re here?”
“Yes. And Pris and Dante and policemen.”
“OK, stay put then. Key is in box under the driver wheel well. Combination three one four one.”
“Pi?” She poked under the car until she found a box. How was she supposed to see the lock? She crawled under and squinted at the keypad. There had to be a dozen better ways to do this.
“Yeah. Call me square. They took Roark’s phone, but he still has his mic. Let him know he should stay in there.” Reuben switched off again.
Reuben was the expert, but Ariel didn’t think leaving Roark locked in a closet was a very good idea.
Obtaining the key, she let herself into the van and set about learning the equipment.
It took her much too long. Roark’s camera still showed only darkness. She didn’t wish to scare him by speaking through the van’s microphone. Not yet.
She called up Evie’s camera. Jax was holding her back, so he was safe—if Evie didn’t gouge out his eyes once he let her go. The small room they were in was a little less crowded now. Most of the residents had been sent away. Policemen questioned a little blond lady and a man in a security uniform.
She could find no camera for Reuben. There was no camera in the office hall. She had to pray Pris and Dante were leading the police down it in search of the vault. If they led them into the board meeting—Roark would never be rescued. How much air was in a vault?
Before she tried speaking through the mic, she tuned into the boardroom again.
In a matter of minutes, it had turned to chaos. A tall, dissolute man with dark hair stood at the back door, holding an ominous-looking gun on the crowd. She recognized him from Pris’s photo and his resemblance to his son.
Roark’s dad.
Thirty-two
“Roark is locked in a vault.”
Evie startled at the unfamiliar voice in her ear. Ghosts didn’t talk through earbuds.
Given that Jax was holding her, and a policeman at the door prevented her from going anywhere, and there was a body on the floor in the next room, she wasn’t real focused. It took a second to recognize the impossible...Ariel?
That made no sense at all in any universe she could picture.
“Roark’s dad is in the conference room with a weapon.”