Page 24 of Peak’s Code

"Somebody's been using this tunnel,” he said.

Maeve knelt beside the frame. “I think you’re right.”

"Why do you say that?” he asked.

"Because they are using it right now," she said, pointing to the concrete floor. There was a fresh muddy footprint that was still wet.

Peak instinctively drew his pistol. Maeve noticed that there wasn’t just one footprint, but dozens, and they were all leading in both directions. Someone had been moving through this underground chamber within the last hour. Peak and Maeve exchanged a look, and neither needed to say what they were both thinking. The tunnel hadn't simply been discovered, but it had become part of the enemy's operation. And whatever lay beyond that steel door was important enough to hide beneath the Grave Prowler’s own territory.

Peak

Every instinct he possessed screamed at him not to touch the door. They had found fresh footprints, an electronic keypad, and a steel security door hidden beneath the Grave Prowlers' property. Nothing about it made sense.

Peak crouched beside the muddy prints, running two fingers lightly over one of the impressions before rubbing them together. They were still damp. He looked up at Maeve. "I’m betting that these are less than an hour old."

She nodded. "I'd say thirty minutes."

"You can tell that?" he asked.

"The mud hasn't started drying around the edges,” she said.

He smirked. "You notice everything."

"I have to,” she insisted.

"Yeah." He understood that better than most, because he had learned to do the same thing.

Peak studied the keypad. "There’s no manufacturer's logo."

Maeve stepped beside him. "They sanded it off."

He looked at her. "You sure?"

She pointed to faint circular scratches around the center of the metal plate. "See those?" He did now. "They removed identifying marks. It was professionally done." Everything seemed to come back to professionals. Peak was starting to hate professionals because they planned for every worst-case scenario. He preferred criminals who acted on emotion because emotion created mistakes, and professionals created body counts.

"What do you think?" Maeve asked.

Peak slowly holstered his pistol. "I think opening this door could get us both killed."

She folded her arms over her chest. "So we're leaving?"

He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "No."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "I didn't think so."

Peak pulled his laptop from his backpack. "You brought your computer?"

"I bring it everywhere,” he said.

"You were escaping a firefight,” she said.

"I still brought it."

She laughed softly. "I like you."

He looked up from the screen. "That's probably your first mistake."

"It won't be my last." For some reason, that made him smile.