"I don't know what you're talking about?—"
"Commander Garrison. Your sister. Where is she?"
The woman's eyes flick toward the closet.
Sullivan moves to the closet, yanks it open. Empty except for clothes and boxes, but there's a trap door in the floor. Clever.
"Basement access," Sullivan reports.
Rivera's voice crackles through. "We've got the exterior basement entrance covered. No movement yet."
I signal Santos to secure the sister, move to the trap door. It's dark below, no sound, no indication of occupancy. Could be empty. Could be an ambush.
"Gwen." I keep my voice low. "Can you pull up any blueprints on this property?"
"Searching." I hear more keyboard sounds. "Found it. Basement is small, single room, no subdivisions. One entrance from inside, one exterior door on the north side."
"Windows?"
"A couple small ones on the east wall, ground level."
The exit points are limited. If Garrison's down there, she's trapped.
"Rivera, cover those east windows. She tries to bolt, take her."
"Roger that."
I peer down into the darkness, let my eyes adjust. I can see a concrete floor far enough below to hurt if I land wrong, and a wooden ladder leading down. There's no movement, no sound.
"Commander Garrison, this is Captain Caine, United States Marine Corps. The building is surrounded. Come up with your hands visible."
Silence.
Then I hear faint shuffling. Someone's down there.
"I'm going down," I say into comms. "Sullivan, cover me."
"Copy."
I holster my sidearm, grip the ladder, descend quickly. I hit the concrete floor and immediately press against the wall, weapon drawn. The basement is cramped, cluttered with storage boxes and old furniture. And in the far corner, pressed against the wall near the exterior door, stands Commander Garrison.
She's got a knife. Not a gun, which means she either left her service weapon somewhere or never brought it. Desperation makes people stupid.
"Put it down," I say calmly. "There's nowhere to go."
"You don't understand." Her voice shakes. "They'll kill me if I talk."
"Who will?"
"The people I work for."
So there is a bigger fish. Rivera will want to hear this.
"Then we'll protect you. But you need to put down the knife and come with me."
She looks at the exterior door. I can see her calculating distance, odds, chances of making it. Outside, Rivera's team is waiting. She won't get far.
"Don't," I warn.
