After twenty minutes of watching the bunkhouse, Paolo saw something in the dirt by the far end of the structure. Only as he came up to him did he see it was one of his team-Todi, they called him. Out cold.
Paolo patted himself down, looking for his phone, only to remember Philippe had stripped him of it in the study, and he’d gotten out of there without it. He patted down Todi-he had a gun but that was all. He untaped the injured man, for all the good it would do.
Paolo entered the bunkhouse with his razor gripped tightly in his right hand, ready for a fight. With his one good eye, he saw two more men, also hurt and unconscious, tied up and stretched out on the floor. He decided to clear the building. He didn’t need anyone coming up from behind him as he untied his buddies.
He moved like a wraith through the small corridor, room to room, his shadow bending as it followed. Finding each of the rooms empty, he proceeded to where he’d left the little girl.
He stood above the crawl space access door in the back closet of the back room. A fabric loop protruded from the carpet. The carpet had been cut perfectly to match the pattern.
Paolo pulled on this, lifting the trapdoor. He stepped back, anticipating a gunshot. A cool wind wafted up through the crack. Nerves tingling, he stepped forward, prepared to jump.
He’d practiced such tunnel raids in his training, though he’d never used the skills. He counted down from three, jumped into the dark space, and rolled upon impact. He crashed into a pony wall of lumber that braced the trailer’s central support beam. With a vertical clearance of less than four feet, he squatted on his haunches, his razor held out in front of him. He struggled to see clearly.
Two low cots with sleeping bags. The girl was awake, sitting up, eyes wide, looking right at him.
The crawl space was as large as the bunkhouse itself, framed in with plywood and blue foam insulation. The floor consisted of dirt and rock. Several electrical boxes, strung together with Romex wiring, ran from one porcelain light fixture to the next, dividing the structure in half. Light from the hole seeped down, just enough to see dimly corner to corner.
They were alone here, the three of them.
How that was possible, he wasn’t sure. Had whoever had tied up the guards missed the trapdoor?
Clunk. A sound from above. The trailer’s front door came softly shut, though not softly enough.
Paolo replaced the carpeted trapdoor from below, sitting it into its frame. He duckwalked over some plastic pipe and took up a position to afford him the greatest surprise. He trained his one good eye toward a spot in the blackness.
The razor pressed tight between his fingers.
Come and get it.