Page 11 of Secret (Chicago Underground 6)
One red circle, another. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”
“Yeah, well, for your own good, put that fucking light out. If someone sees us, we’ll get docked for being unsafe. And you’ll be paying me back for it.”
A snort. “So you can spend it on, what’s her name, Candace?”
The red light lifted. The guy took a long drag, then blew out just as slow, taking a final hit.
He flicked the cigarette. It flew in a long red arc. It only took a second for my fevered, oxygen-deprived brain to figure out where it would land. On us. Almost anyway, but it was enough—I tensed. Luke felt it, and through him, Major did too. They turned, ready to strike, to defend us against an attack that wasn’t coming. And in doing so, their defense would expose us. With one hand, I grabbed Major’s wrist, the one pressing against the wall by my head. Trust me. With the barest breath, I said, “Wait,” and I knew Luke heard me because his body stilled.
The little red cigarette landed at our feet, creating a small glare on Luke’s shoe. Luckily, the men were already heading the other direction. When their footsteps had faded and fifty-two beats had passed, Major blew out a breath. “Jesus,” he muttered. “That was too fucking close. Next time we run into someone, we don’t sit around like ducks. We disarm them.”
“We’re too wired,” Luke countermanded. “We almost blew our positions because of a fucking cigarette.”
“I would have got them.”
For the first time, I approved of the arrogance in Major’s voice. I needed some of that surety.
“We stick to the plan,” Luke said, and that appeared to be that.
The word airport was really overselling the Barracks. It was actually a set of five hangars, each with a small circuit of offices in the back. The hangars were organized into a pentagon, facing a circular pavement that led out to a singular runway.
The design of the place was simplistic, which would work in our favor. The downside was that we didn’t know which hangar Henri would be in. If we went busting into the wrong ones, we would set off alarms, and Henri would have time to bolt. So it was important that we find the right hangar before going in.
Which is why they’d brought gadgets. Specifically, heat-sensing goggles.
The building next to us was completely empty. One down, four to go.
We crept around the side, where Major checked out the next one. “Four below, two upstairs doing the horizontal tango.”
“Having fun there?” Luke asked.
“Nothing like infrared voyeurism to make my night brighter.”
“Let’s go in,” Luke said.
“We don’t know he’s in there.”
“Six people total? Those are good odds. And we’re here. Let’s go.”
“Five,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Five that could be Henri. Those are the odds. I’m assuming Major saw an old-fashioned boy-girl party upstairs, which means one of them is female.”
“Shit, that could be him,” Major said. “Having a good time while his hired helpers do all the work.”
“How was he taking her?” I asked.
“What?”
“The position,” I muttered impatiently. “What position was she in?”
“Uh…missionary.”
“Not Henri,” I said decisively. Neither man questioned my conclusion.
“He could still be on the first floor,” Luke said.
