66

MITCH’S HEAD HURT AND HIS EYES STUNG, BUT HE FORCED THEM OPEN. He couldn’t see the fire, but he could feel and hear it. The wall behind him was too hot to touch. The roar and crackle of hungry flames grew louder every second.

Dim red and yellow flickering lit the wreckage around him. The roof slanted down from one wall to the floor, like a giant lean-to. Wiring hung around them like jungle vines. Tools, bullets and debris carpeted the floor.

The woman—Allie—was still in the chair, but a beam lay across her and she wasn’t moving. He tried to crawl over to her, but his hands and feet were still duct-taped together. Someone needed to help her—and him.

“Hey, Ed.”

No response.

He looked around, but Ed was nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath to call out, but smoke burned in his lungs and he choked. His head spun, but he tried again. “Ed!”

Even though his voice was little more than a loud croak, help came. A figure approached, but he couldn’t make it out in the dim light and smoke. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him backward along the wall.

They were outside and a cacophony of new noises erupted. Sirens, shouting, gunshots, and explosions ripped through the air. Flashing red and blue lights competed with the bright white from the remaining lights on the security fence. Men ran all around him, shouting and carrying guns. Columns of smoke rose into the night sky. Floating fires and speedboat searchlights lit the water.

His rescuer pulled him out of the action and deposited him a few yards from the edge of the dock. “Thanks, Ed. I owe you, buddy. The girl is still in there.”

He was alone. A chilly sea breeze blew over him. It made him shiver, but it was a welcome change from the smoke-filled heat in the building.

He heard a low moan beside him and turned his head. Ed lay beside him on the cold concrete. So who had rescued them? He looked around, but whoever it was had disappeared.