Superstalker: A Lady G Thriller

Chapter 22 - Legacy

The thumping had a rhythm to it, so it wasn't hard to track, the sound taking us to a room around the corner from the aisle going to the tunnel. Stage junk was piled inside it like the other rooms, only this one was bigger. A drinking bar with a thick layer of dust on it ran along one wall. A long grimy mirror behind it and shelves for bottles told me we were in the old speakeasy.

The SWATs took up positions behind storage boxes and pieces of scenery, and aimed their SIG rifles at a curtained alcove where the thumping seemed to be coming from.

Sergeant Gibb went over and moved aside some boxes piled in front of the alcove and flung aside the dusty curtain.

The thumping stopped.

At first it looked like it was just a blank wall that the curtain had covered.

Then the thumping started again.

Gibb motioned a pair of SWATs to come over and stand on either side of the alcove. Then he called, "Whoever's in there come out, hands on your head."

Silence.

Then more thumping, louder.

Gibb stepped forward and gave the wall a closer look. He felt around the edges, it clear now that the wall was some kind of door. But he couldn't find any handle or switch to open it.

He pounded on the door. "Open up," he yelled, adding a couple curses.

The thumping stopped - and then got louder still, faster. Someone was definitely signaling for help. Or maybe it was a sucker signal. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who remembered that Sickblade had Dempsey's gun.

Chances were pretty certain that Gaga was in there. And Sickblade with her, the man maybe suicidal now and wanting to go down in a blast of glory.

Decision time.

Gibb called another SWAT over and gave him orders I could only hear part of. But enough to know that what the guy took out of his knapsack was a good-size hunk of plastic explosive. He stretched it out, the stuff like putty, and started packing it around the rim of the door. My guess was that Gibb wanted to make a no-bullshit impact to knock whoever was in there off-balance, me hoping they weren't going to blow up Gaga. The SWAT stuck a fuse in the mushy explosive, set the primer going, stepped back and turned away. The rest of us covered our ears and ducked.

BAM!

Before I even got my head up, the explosives guy and two other SWATs had wrenched the door the rest of the way open and pushed through.

No gunfire, so I ran over and looked to where they went.

Which wasn't far.

They were bending over Gaga, who was lying on the floor of what I could see now was an elevator. Her hands were cuffed behind her, bare feet propped against the wall she'd been kicking. The cuffs and the dark had kept her from finding the switch to open the elevator door.

No sign of Sickblade.

I pushed my way inside the tight space and kneeled next to her, pulled away the scarf that was tied around her mouth. She blew out her breath and said a raspy thank-you.

"You OK?" I asked, feeling stupid soon as I said it.

She nodded she was, but that blast must have had her ears ringing, never mind scaring the shit out of her.

Sergeant Gibb was right in her face. "Where's Sickblade?"

"He left," Gaga said. "The tunnel."

Gibb cursed again, pissed that the team assigned to guard it had left it vacant. But everyone had been watching for Sickblade to try to get into the building, not out. And, of course, there'd been that "officer-down" situation with Dempsey. Gibb yelled for the team to get their asses back to the tunnel and find Sickblade, everyone, including probably Gibb himself, knowing that wasn't likely to happen.