Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

rifle’s barrel against the door. He was about to raise it up into the window and fire a cover shot when he had a second thought.
    They probably think I’m dead.
    He pressed his ear to the sliver of space between the door and the doorframe. He heard a man’s voice outside but couldn’t make out his words. What’s he saying? Who’s he talking to? Danny closed his eyes, willing all of his energy to his ears.
    What the hell is he saying?
    His eyes shot open after a few seconds. He wasn’t able to recognize any words, but he could distinguish the squelch from a radio. Whoever’s out there is getting orders before proceeding , he thought. That meant they had some time. He grabbed the backpack and strapped it to his back. Then he found the box of bullets in the duffle bag and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked across the living room at the kitchen, where his other duffel bag lay on the table. Inside it, underneath several clean shirts and pants, was a small paper bag filled with a few hundred in cash. He wanted it more than anything, but the kitchen featured a full-length window through which he could be easily seen. He silently twisted the deadbolt on the front door and slithered in the opposite direction to the bedroom.
    Sydney was huddled in a ball up against the foot of the bed.
    “You okay?” Danny whispered.
    She nodded. “What do we do now?”
    “We get out of here.”
    Sydney’s face fell. “How?”
    Danny pointed to the closet. “Monasteries aren’t the only buildings that have secrets.”
    Danny took the lead and crawled into the closet. As soon as Sydney was in behind him, he closed the door. He grabbed the mini Mag-Lite from his pocket and turned it on. He scooted over to the back of the closet and hoped that the new owner had the common sense not to change one small but important detail.
    Danny stopped moving the flashlight as soon as he saw what he was looking for gleaming in its beam. He grabbed the eye-ring and yanked. The trapdoor squeaked open. He propped it open and latched onto Sydney’s arm.
    “Ladies first,” he whispered as he shined the light on the hole in the floor. “It’s safe down there. Just watch out for the plumbing pipes.” Sydney disappeared into the hole. Danny wriggled off the backpack and followed her. He stood on the ground underneath the cabin and was chest-high in the hole. He grabbed the backpack and then the rifle and shoved them down into the crawlspace. Then he pulled whatever clothes he could find hanging above him off their hangers. He threw some of them on the closet floor in front of him, and the rest he tucked up behind the trapdoor. As he sunk down into the crawlspace and pulled the door closed above him, he hoped the clothes would hide the access door his dad had installed to service the plumbing pipes that snaked underneath the cabin.
    As Danny took the lead and crawled through the web of pipes, an alarm exploded in his brain. What have I done? He may have bought them some time, but now they were trapped underneath the cabin. Once the guards found it empty, it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out where they were hiding.
    Danny stopped. He was about to whisper to Sydney that they needed to go back when he heard the sound of boots crunching through the brushy perimeter no more than fifty feet from the cabin’s edge.

Chapter 22
    Nathan Broederlam was at the head of the conference table, frantically trying to regroup. He had read through every word of the lawsuit and had started over again, weighing the possibilities that could have set off Sydney.
    I know what the lawsuit is really about, Nathan.
    The Group took immense measures to ensure their secrecy. Nathan had helped create the lawsuit and was the only one who had copies of it, until now anyway. How did she know?
    I know who you really work for.
    But she didn’t actually say who it was. Was she just guessing, trying to get him to talk? Whether she knew Nathan was an agent for The Group or she was just pulling at straws, Sydney Dumas was a smart woman. Before serving on the ICJ, she was an international business law professor at the International University of Monaco. She was not afraid to speak her mind. Now she had risked her life, not once but twice. She had to be dealt with.
    Then there was the American. Nathan had no idea who he was. But then he remembered how Sydney positioned herself before she floated her theory. I know who you really work for. She made sure to whisper so the