Dead Hand: A Cold Poker Gang Mystery Read online

  He glanced at Pickett as they headed off down the tunnel to the right. She seemed to be doing fine, but her eyes were large.

  He had a hunch, his were as well.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  October 20th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  PICKETT COULDN’T REMEMBER another time in her long career that she had felt this afraid and this out of control. And being out of control scared her more than she wanted to think about.

  And the tunnel and the creepy shadows their lights were casting made it worse.

  Far worse.

  They were a long ways from the bright lights and the excitement and people on the streets overhead. They might as well have been on another world down here.

  It took them only a minute to reach the walled-up entrance to the old tunnel. As the picture they had studied showed, there was only a small hole about the size of an attic trap door at floor level. It was stained with black from the seepage of water over the decades.

  The man with the scanning device moved up to the hole, stuck the device in and then said softly, “Clear. Mike, we are in position and setting charges.”

  “The other team is also in position at the other entrance,” Mike said through their communications link. Picket was amazed at how clear his voice was in her ear. It was as if he was standing right beside her.

  Two of the men quickly set devices in a rectangle about the size of a large front door while the other two took positions guarding up and down the tunnel in both directions.

  Pickett and Sarge moved over with their back against the same wall and turned off their lights, not saying anything. The two guarding the tunnel in both directions had both turned off their lights as well, so now the only light was from the two working around the hole.

  Seemed like time stretched at that point and she forced herself to take long, slow, deep breaths.

  After a moment Sarge touched her arm and she put a hand on his hand and squeezed. This was all scaring her to death, and considering what she had seen in all her years of being a detective, that sort of surprised her.

  And clearly Sarge was nervous as well. But the plan was solid and above them the police and Mike’s people were taking down everyone associated with any of the businesses.

  Will and the Chief of Police had presented a judge they had cleared of any chance of connection to the August Tux Shop family with the evidence they had all compiled. The judge gave the Chief a sweeping search and arrest warrant that covered above ground and below ground and all personal homes with the words, “Get these sons-of-bitches.”

  Mike and Will had convinced the Chief that they didn’t dare let too many detectives in on the raid since there was no telling if any of them worked for these scum. And with the help of Sarge and Pickett, they had convinced the Chief it would be better if Mike’s people with help from the Cold Poker Gang members took care of the underground threats first.

  At the same time as the raid, Will’s computer people would download all computer information to make sure there was no chances of anything being destroyed.

  Pickett wondered how all the raids were going. But her priority, the most important thing she could think about was rescuing anyone who might still be alive down here.

  She took another deep breath and squeezed Sarge’s hand again. Even with trained fighting forces with them, this was still the scariest thing Pickett had ever done.

  “Ready,” one of the two men said as they stepped back away from the devices they had planted, pressing themselves against the wall on either side of the small hole.

  “Ready,” the other team said just a fraction of a second later.

  “Blow them,” Mike’s voice said.

  Pickett didn’t have a chance to get her hands over her ears to muffle the explosion and it ended up she didn’t need to. The sound was more like someone dropping something heavy on the ground right near where she was standing.

  Very little sound.

  Just a very solid thud.

  Sarge squeezed her hand and let go as they started toward the door-sized hole in the concrete. They both clicked on their lights as they approached the light dust cloud rolling away from the new door-sized hole in the concrete. The two men who had set the charges were already through the hole.

  “Clear,” one of them said after a moment.

  The concrete debris in the doorway was nothing more than powder now as Picket went through. Not even a piece left big enough to stumble over.

  This older tunnel was lower and she could touch the ceiling easily. And a lot narrower and it smelled of rot and sewer and the air felt stale and heavy.

  Three of Mike’s people were at full run forward at this point with only one of the soldiers holding back with her and Sarge. That was the plan, for three to move in quickly the quarter mile along the old tunnel before she and Sarge and the fourth soldier came along as backup.

  She had no doubt they wouldn’t be needed as backup. It was to keep her and Sarge safe.

  As they moved, as silently as they could, she kept expecting to hear gunshots ahead. The lights from the three had vanished around a slight bend in the tunnel.

  Nothing.

  They should be at the main area by now.

  No gunshots.

  Just the sound of her own breathing in her ears.

  And the silence of a long-abandoned tunnel.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  October 20th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  SARGE MOVED AS quietly as he could down the tunnel. It felt claustrophobic even more than the larger tunnel they had just come from. He almost felt as if he would hit his head at times, so he walked slightly hunched over.

  Ahead there was no sound at all.

  He would have expected gunshots, but he knew the three men ahead would have switched over to night vision and might have just taken out anyone silently who might have been there guarding the tunnel.

  From the images they had gotten, they knew that an artificial large room had been built off of one side of the old tunnel. And from there, the vast maze of rooms seemed to spread out through the ground.

  The victim’s cars were all off to the other side of the old tunnel in a massive room.

  Beside him Pickett seemed to be doing better than he was. He had no idea that tunnels could bother him this much. Once this was done he hoped to live the rest of his life without ever going underground in a tunnel again.

  Especially a tunnel that was only a few inches taller than he was and smelled of mold and busted sewer lines.

  Suddenly, the word “Clear” sounded in his ear.

  “Clear here as well,” another said.

  “Underground secured,” another said. “No one was home.”

  Mike’s voice came back in Sarge’s ear loud and strong. “Well done. Wait for the detectives to arrive on scene before opening up any of the doors in the maze area. And stick with them.”

  “Copy that,” the response came back.

  Sarge glanced over at Pickett who looked intent as they picked up their pace to just under a jog.

  Sarge was damned happy there was no one down here. They had all believed that might be the case. There would be no need to have anyone remain down here if all the doors were secured and there was no way for anyone to escape so far underground, especially if every inch of the place was monitored.

  But they had had no choice but to go in expecting a force here.

  Sarge and Pickett reached the large room that had been cut out of the tunnel just as Robin and her escort did from the other direction.

  “Hold positions,” Mike’s voice said loudly in Sarge’s ear. “We are bringing the lights back up and will be able to follow your progress on the monitors from here as you work your way into the maze area.”

  “That’s great news,” Robin said, nodding as she stood with Pickett and Sarge in the large open area. It looked like nothing more than a wide area in the tunnel and some garbage had been piled off to one side as if
some homeless person was living there. One steel door blocked the way into the maze beyond.

  Two of the special forces men were studying the door and then one said softly, “Mike, we have a problem here. Hold on bringing up the power.”

  “Copy,” Mike said.

  The other men in Mike’s team quickly moved the three detectives back along the tunnel and out of direct sight of the door. Then the men spread out, moving silently and fading into the shadows almost like ghosts, leaving the detectives standing with their backs against the wall and alone.

  Sarge had no idea what the two might have seen exactly at the big metal door, but if he had to bet, it would be explosives. The one thing they all had feared.

  They stood in the tunnel for what seemed like an eternity, no one talking, until finally Mike’s man said, “We have the door cleared. Let us go through and see what we find on the inside.”

  “Copy that,” Mike said.

  Sarge could hear a slight thump and then the sound of a heavy metal door opening slowly.

  The sound was damn creepy in the old concrete tunnel.

  Beside him Pickett actually shuddered, then laughed softly.

  Then there was nothing again.

  Silence.

  And pure, complete silence in the small, underground concrete tunnel possibly filled with explosives was about as loud as anything Sarge had ever heard.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  October 20th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  PICKETT FOUND HERSELF almost holding her breath as the seconds of intense silence ticked on and on.

  They were mostly standing in the dark and she knew the former Special Forces team were around them, but she couldn’t see a one of them.

  This was every nightmare she had ever had as a child and when that big metal door had opened with a scraping sound, it was everything she could do to just not bolt.

  And then she had laughed at her own fear. She hoped not loud enough for anyone to hear. The laugh had helped.

  After what seemed like the longest time, one of the Special Forces men said, “Mike, this entire place looks like it is rigged to explode.”

  Sarge looked at Pickett at the same time as she looked up at him in the dim light. She could see he was as worried as she felt, not for her own life but for all the victims they expected were in that place.

  “All are set on two-hour timers and all the timers are going,” the man said. “No motion detectors or any other problems. Just straight timers. No telling if we could find and disarm them all in time.”

  “We’ll look for the security system up here to shut them down,” Mike said, his voice clearly angry. “In the meantime, you work with the detectives to get anyone that is locked up down there out of there. Check each door as well for explosives.”

  “Copy that,” the man said.

  “People,” Mike said, “we are switching to the backup plan and bringing everyone who can climb stairs up that nine-story stairwell into the parking garage. We’ll stage medical and transportation help there. I have five more teams with detectives headed to help now in the evacuation, if there is one needed. Follow the search pattern we set up and detectives let my people clear an area before going into any space in that complex.”

  Pickett nodded. They had prepared for this and Mike was issuing orders clearly and calmly.

  One of the former Special Forces men appeared next to Sarge and said, “Detective, you are with me. Stick close.”

  The guy was about as tall as he was and had huge shoulders and black on his face. Sarge knew better than to ask the man’s name.

  Sarge nodded and then smiled at Picket as one of Mike’s men appeared in front of her and said the same thing. Her escort was as tall as Sarge and just as strong looking.

  A moment later they were through the big metal door and into what looked like a modern living room with a low concrete ceiling. In the lights from their headlamps, Pickett could see couches, a small kitchen, and a number of computer stations.

  Considering they were nine stories underground, it felt comfortable and looked completely normal.

  A dozen large hallways led off from the one main room and Pickett followed Mike’s man down the one to the far right as they had planned.

  Pickett knew the hallway branched a number of times and contained over three-dozen suites of room. They had figured in this instance, if they had to evacuate anyone down here quickly, they would start with the closest suite of rooms and work to the back.

  Mike’s man stopped at the first large steel door and did a quick inspection as Pickett watched from a few steps away, then ran a hand-held device over the entire door, then nodded.

  “It’s clear, detective. But explosives all along this hallway.”

  He pointed up at the small devices that looked like small smoke alarms and Pickett nodded. She couldn’t think about that now.

  Mike’s man put a small device near the latch and there was a low thud and the door pushed inward.

  Mike’s man stayed to one side and Pickett stayed to the other, backs pressed against the wall. Nothing exploded and no gunfire, so Mike’s man went in first, low and to the right and Pickett went in low and to the left.

  What they faced in their lamp-light was a replica of a modern living room, right down to couches, chairs, television, paintings on the walls. There were even fake windows with blinds drawn.

  A light carpeting covered the floor.

  To one side sat a large modern kitchen and a dining area that could hold six. It was tiled in a modern-looking pattern.

  There was no one in sight, but even in the dim light Pickett could see all the cameras in the upper corners of the rooms. These poor people had been recorded doing everything every moment of every day.

  Pickett just shuddered. One of her worst nightmares.

  Mike’s man went silently down the hallway off the living room, checking for explosives before signaling the all clear.

  “Suites are not rigged that I can tell,” he said to Mike.

  “Las Vegas Police!” Pickett shouted. “Anyone in here?”

  She opened the first hallway door and was greeted by a man sitting up in bed, looking both shocked and scared. The room was large and well-furnished with a desk and computer and everything.

  “Get dressed quickly,” Pickett said. “We’re getting you out of here. Wait for us by the kitchen.”

  The poor guy nodded and climbed out of bed,

  Two more of the hallway doors opened and two women stuck their heads out to be met by Mike’s man pointing a gun at them. Both were wearing pajamas.

  “Las Vegas Police,” Pickett said as Mike’s man lowered his weapon. “Get on your robe, we’re getting you out of here. Hurry.”

  There were three more in their rooms, all scared and surprised. But as far as Pickett could tell, they looked healthy.

  By the time Pickett and Mike’s man had them headed out of the door and into the main room and then out in to the drainage tunnel, ten minutes had passed.

  Pickett knew that was far too long.

  One of the men and two of the women were crying, but all looked unhurt, at least physically. Pickett didn’t want to think about the mental damage this had done to them. She didn’t want to know how long they had been locked up. She would find all that out later.

  Sarge and Robin both had a group of six victims each as well and all of them seemed to converge on the main living room at the same time.

  Eighteen victims in ten minutes.

  They had less than ninety minutes left if Mike and his people couldn’t get the explosives stopped.

  That wasn’t enough time to even begin to get out everyone that might be down here.

  Not even close.

  They needed a lot more help to get here very, very quickly.

  Or they needed Mike to find a way to disarm those explosives.

  PART SEVEN

  Counting Down a Very Short Time

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Octobe
r 20th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  SARGE WASN’T LETTING himself think about the horror he had walked into. Six people, locked away in what looked like a large six-bedroom home, recorded every moment of every day.

  The level of sickness here just made him want to stop, but he couldn’t. They didn’t have much time to rescue all the people that might be down here. Over the years this place had taken thousands. No telling how many still survived.

  When he and Mike’s man left the first group of rescues in the drainage tunnel and turned back into the main living room area, he said clearly, “Mike, we are going to need a lot more help.”

  “Seven teams are on the way now and will arrive in less than ten minutes, another ten teams will be on site in twenty with more following,” Mike said. “And Will and I are working to find the connection to the explosives and try to shut it off when everyone is clear or our time is about to run out.”

  “Thank you,” Sarge said, as he and the former Special Forces man assigned to him ran back down the hallway toward the next door to the next suite. Mike’s man checked the door much quicker this time and blew it open and they didn’t hesitate, but went in low and quick.

  Again, as the first one they had gone into, the suite was a massive living room, with a kitchen off to one side and a dining room. It looked normal, like any home.

  Disturbingly normal.

  “Las Vegas Police,” he shouted as they started down the hall.

  A man looking angry opened one bedroom door right ahead of them. “What are you doing here?”

  The guy had a gun at his side. Clearly he was one of the jailers spending a night with one of the victims.

  “Drop the gun,” Sarge said.

  The guy just sneered and raised the gun.

  Both Sarge and Mike’s man fired, twice each.

  The guy went down like the sack of shit he was, a shocked look on his face.