“Let’s go,” Ryan said, heading toward the east.
Following the embankment, they reached the concrete apron that capped the top of the tunnel they had observed the previous day. Long ago, a fence of some kind had skirted the apron to keep the curious from going over the side. But nowadays there were only a few gutted metal posts to show where the safety barrier had once stood.
Crawling on hands and knees to reduce their exposure, the companions started to creep across the apron when Krysty paused and snapped her fingers for attention. She jerked her head to the left, and they followed her toward a low rise in the concrete.
An iron grille covered a hole in the concrete. On the other side was a pipe with a ladder going down and out of sight. But more importantly, off to the side, a smudged footprint was cut in two by the grating. Ryan touched it with a fingertip, and the ash came off easily.
“Ha,” Jak whispered in triumph.
Looking it over closely, Ryan couldn’t see an exterior locking mechanism, or even hinges. Sliding the sling of his rifle over a shoulder, Ryan braced himself and tried to lift the grating, but it refused to budge. Krysty and Jak joined him at the task, and the trio put their backs into it. But the grille didn’t move an inch. The companions backed off a few yards.
“That’s where he went,” Ryan said bitterly. “But without explosives we’re not getting in. Either it weighs a ton, or else there’s some trick to holding it in place. Magnetic seal, mebbe. Or hydraulics.”
“Six inches of thick metal, I’m not sure even a gren would do the trick,” Krysty countered. “Plas-ex, sure. But J.B. has all of that.”
Ryan frowned. “Didn’t think we’d need any on a hunt.”
“Window no good,” Jak said, jerking a thumb. “Use front door.”
After a minute, Ryan nodded his agreement. There didn’t seem to be any other way into the tunnel without alerting the whole ville to their presence. The thief had effectively blocked any possible pursuit from this direction.
Going to their bellies, the companions crawled forward over the predark concrete, the rough material scratching at their clothes and scraping exposed skin. They stopped at the edge when voices could be heard, men complaining about eating vegetables and some bitch named Patrica. Gently putting down his rifle, Ryan unearthed the plastic mirror and looked around, then withdrew.
“Same as yesterday,” he mouthed. “Two guards armed with muzzle-loading longblasters, one with a handblaster on his belt. Searchlights on either side behind a sandbag wall. No sign of the med kit.”
Krysty looked at the low buildings nearby, and discounted them. The thief couldn’t live that close to the ville and stay hidden for very long. And he headed straight here, so the med kit was in the ville somewhere. Probably in the hands of the baron by now, or whoever ruled the place. They knew nothing of what was on the other side of the wall.
“If they don’t have it,” Krysty whispered, “then where did the thief go?”
“Let’s ask,” Jak suggested, drawing a gren from a pocket, a predark pineapple from WWII. The color coding showed it was a concussion grenade, used for distractions and evasions. Useless for battle, as the kill range was less than a yard, it was perfect for taking prisoners.
“Might lose one,” the Cajun said callously, wiggling the pin free. “Mebbe two, but only need one.”
Considering the matter, Ryan reluctantly vetoed the idea. “Still too damn noisy. If there are more guards inside the tunnel, we’ll have a major fight, with reinforcements coming from the ville. We have got to be quiet.”
“I say jump them,” Krysty said, drawing a sleek stiletto from her boot. “Toss a blaster far down the road, and when they start forward to investigate, we take them from behind. Knife in the lungs and nobody makes a sound.”
“Can’t breathe, can’t scream,” Jak agreed, nodding.
“Sounds good.” Ryan drew his panga, the curved blade streaked with dried blood from the previous night’s interrupted dinner. The sight shocked the man, as he had never gone so long before without cleaning the weapon. He had to take his mind off Dean and concentrate on killing the sec men. Then a familiar rumble sounded from the ruins, and a horn beeped in warning.