Page 16 of Circle of Death
CHAPTER 17
MADDY HEADS INTO the mansion through the closest available door, a lower entrance that leads directly into the basement. Without his training toy, she figures maybe Dache will give up and leave her alone. As soon as she passes through the entrance, she hears voices from down the passageway. It’s the sound of grown men bickering.
“This could be useful.”
“It’s a piece of crap!”
“Don’t touch that! You’ll blow your hand off!”
She recognizes the voices. Burbank. Moe. Jericho. When she rounds the corner into a large underground storage room, there they are, sorting through a pile of equipment and parts on a long metal bench. Maddy pauses in the doorway. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Scavenger hunt?”
“Looks like Khan left a lot of shit behind,” says Moe. “Lamont told us to salvage anything we think we can use.”
As Maddy walks into the room, a chill comes over her. Just breathing the dank air reminds her that this level of the mansion was Khan’s hidden domain. One of the underground chambers was a cooler for storing the bodies of his victims. Another was used for testing poison formulas. The wine cellar down the hall was where Khan installed his personal communication center, the same room he tried to destroy with a lightning strike—with Maddy, Margo, and Lamont inside. They were all lucky to escape alive. Maddy hasn’t been in the basement since it was repaired.
“This asshole hadeverything,” says Jericho, sorting through a carton of antipersonnel mines and grenades.
“Be careful with those, please,” says Burbank. He’s at the other end of the table, fiddling with the dials on a military-grade radio. So far, he’s getting nothing but static.
Maddy steps up and starts picking through the random clutter on the table. Surgical saw blades. Vials of acid. Incendiary bullets. Bits and pieces of pure evil in the wrong hands. She pulls back from the bench and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s dizzy for a second, then levels out. The chatter among the others becomes a wordless hum in her head. Comforting. Strangely familiar. She realizes that these guys are exactly what she’d always imagined their ancestors were like. Capable. Eccentric. Obsessive. She can feel why Lamont feels better just having them around. She’s starting to feel the same way.
She turns away from the table and opens her eyes. She sees Moe leaning against the back wall, making a cat’s cradle with a length of twine. Maddy can tell that he’s bored with all the electronics and weaponry. Not really his thing. When she catches his eye, he puts down the string and jerks his head toward the door. “C’mon, Shadow Girl, let’s see what else is down here.”
Moe turns right out of the storage room and heads down a dimly lit passage. Maddy follows close behind him. After about ten yards, they reach a rusted metal door, half ajar. Moe yanks it open the rest of the way. Behind the door is a metal staircase, leading down. Light glows from below.
“What’s down here?” asks Moe.
“No clue,” says Maddy. “I didn’t even know the basement went down this far.”
Moe leads the way. The staircase takes a couple of sharp turns before ending in front of another door, this one gleaming stainless steel.
“Watch out,” says Maddy. “It could be booby-trapped.”
Moe runs his fingers along the perimeter of the door. He gets down on his hands and knees to peer underneath. “Looks clean.”
“If you say so,” says Maddy. Not sure why she trusts him, but she does.
Moe touches the metal handle lever and presses it down. Maddy expects it to be locked. But it’s not. It swings smoothly on heavy hinges, triggering a bank of lights that illuminate the space inside.
Moe peeks in and starts grinning from ear to ear. “Now we’retalking!” Maddy follows him through the door. They’re standing in an underground room carved out of the bedrock beneath the mansion’s foundation. The air smells of rubber and motor oil. Parked in the middle of the huge space is an array of massive vehicles.
“Holy crap!” says Maddy. “This must be Shiwan Khan’s motor pool.”
Maddy and Moe walk slowly down the row. Three massive personnel carriers. Two vans with one-way windows. A modified Humvee. A PA truck with roof-mounted speakers. All with brutish military designs. Sturdy. Functional. Intimidating.
“Interesting collection,” says Moe.
“If you like flat black and camo,” says Maddy.
When they reach the far end of the garage, Moe stops short. “Sweet God.” Maddy peeks over his shoulder. Sitting near the wall under a separate bank of bright lights is a massive armor-plated limousine with a midnight-blue finish. Moe steps up and runs his hand reverently along the side panel. He gives a soft whistle of appreciation. Maddy gets another chill, this one more intense.
“Khan’s personal ride,” she says softly.
Moe turns to her with a broad smile. “Not anymore!”
CHAPTER 18
I POUR MYSELF a cup of coffee and then fill another cup on the counter. Morning light shines through the cracked kitchen window. Margo is at the stove, scrambling eggs. Jessica is already sitting at the table in slippers and her favorite housecoat. I watch her closely as I hand her the coffee. No shakes. No trembles. She’s rock steady.
