72. Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter seventy-two
Noble growled a curse as Zeqiri limped across Ban Jela?i? Square, moving faster than an injured man had any right to move. The Albanian captain had the aluminum case clutched to his chest and hobbled across the cobble stones at a fast trot, leaving behind him a trail of bright red droplets.
The bullet to his hip should have put Zeqiri out of commission.
Few people can run with a hunk of lead in their pelvis.
Either the bullet, by some unfortunate turn of circumstance, had completely missed the bone, or the former Captain was made of sterner stuff than Noble had imagined.
Either way, he was up and running, and he had the virus.
He swatted an old lady aside as he charged across the square, sending the elderly woman sprawling.
Overhead an army of pigeons wheeled in the bright morning sky while Croatians screamed and ran.
Most people had fled to the nearest open shop.
Businesses devoid of customers suddenly found their sales floor packed.
Only nobody was buying. Most people cowered on the floors.
Others pulled out their phones to capture the chaos and upload it to social media, where the firestorm of likes would feed their sense of self-worth.
Noble, ears still ringing and eyes burning from gun powder hanging in the air, pushed to his feet and started after Zeqiri.
He took three whole steps before he knew something was wrong.
His left foot felt… wrong. Every time he landed on it, Noble felt like something was out of place, like his foot wasn’t landing right.
He’d heard plenty of stories of guys who hadn’t realized they were shot until much later, after the adrenaline wore off. Zeqiri was living proof. The Albanian had a 9mm slug bouncing around in his belly and he ran like a tight end sprinting for the end zone.
Noble stopped just long enough to lift his foot.
A bullet had lodged in the heel of his hiking boot.
The misshaped hunk of lead protruded from the thick rubber heel at an angle.
Noble’s brows went up. Apparently, Zeqiri wasn’t the only one who’d managed to miss a critical injury.
The bullet stuck in the bottom of Noble’s boot had probably been a ricochet.
Must have skipped off the cobble stones and lodged there.
If it had hit direct, it would have punched all the way through, and Noble would have a shattered foot at the very least.
Satisfied he wasn’t bleeding out from an unseen injury, Noble put his foot back down and dashed across Ban Jela?i? in pursuit of Zeqiri.
The Albanian had reached the far side of the square and now hobbled along a broad footpath between buildings leading to a steep embankment covered in thick green ivy.
Set in the hillside, nearly hidden by a dense green hedge, was a stone arch that plunged right into the side of the earth.
Noble rounded the corner just in time to see Zeqiri disappear into the opening.
Running awkwardly on the bullet lodged in his shoe, with a gun in one hand, Noble clawed his phone from his pocket and dialed.
He didn’t bother calling Burke. No time to wait for Burke to call Langley and loop Sam in.
He went straight to the source. Sam could deal with the fact that a contractor had her private number later.
Right now, the important thing was stopping Zeqiri before he could disappear with a deadly virus.
Sam picked up on the second ring. Noble didn’t wait.
“Sam!” he shouted as he ran. He had no idea how loud his own voice was.
He could barely hear from all the shooting.
“Sam, the buyer’s dead. Zeqiri has the virus and he’s on the move.
He’s left the square and he’s headed into some kind of underground tunnel.
There’s no name… just a big stone arch covered in ivy.
I’ve got no idea where this goes or where it comes out.
I’m following him in. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have cell service. ”
***
Sam’s eyebrows went up when her private cell started to buzz.
She glanced once around the room before pulling it out.
Deputy Director Nguy?n watched her with interest. Sam offered him a timid grin as she pressed the connect button and put the phone to her ear.
Jake wouldn’t be calling this number unless it was life or death.
“Goodman, this is Samantha,” she started to say. “You’re on speaker—”
But Jake didn’t wait.
“Sam, the buyer’s dead. Zeqiri has the virus and he’s on the move.
He’s left the square and he’s headed into some kind of underground tunnel.
There’s no name… just a big stone arch covered in ivy.
I’ve got no idea where this goes or where it comes out.
I’m following him in. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have cell service. ”
Sam turned to the nearest tech and snapped her fingers but the net ninja was already pecking furiously at her keyboard. A second later she said, “He’s headed into Gri? Tunnel. It’s roughly eleven hundred feet of tunnel with six different exits.”
Sam relayed all of that to Noble and then said, “Goodman, there’s a fast reaction team en route to your location. They’re…” She checked the green blip on the flat screen. “Five minutes out. Maybe less. Do not let Zeqiri out of your sight.”
When Jake didn’t respond, Sam said, “Goodman? … Goodman?”
She checked her phone. The call had dropped.
***
Cold washed over Noble as he plunged into the tunnel. The arched cavern drove straight into the hillside for forty feet before the path disappeared around a sweeping curve. He’d lost Sam. Her voice cut out unceremoniously. He dropped the phone in his pocket.
Recessed bulbs in the roof cast the passage in a wan blue twilight separated by pockets of blackest night.
Noble raced along, his heels echoing on the smooth stone floor, keenly aware of the threat created by the pools of dark shadow.
Zeqiri might have stopped in one of the stygian pockets, where the shadows were darkest, and be waiting with his gun aimed, for Noble to sweep around a corner.
Every time Noble passed from the darkness into the harsh glare of an overhead, the sudden change obliterated his night vision, filling his eyes with soft furry blobs.
To somebody walking, the change would barely affect them.
They’d be moving too slow and the change in lighting was too gradual.
For Noble, at a sprint, it shocked his ocular receptors.
He hurried along, watching the path ahead for any sign of movement, and marking the floor for spots of blood.
A young couple, strolling hand in hand, materialized ahead.
Noble’s hand started to come up, holding the gun, until his eyes adjusted, then he pressed the weapon down near his thigh.
The couple looked back over their shoulders, like they’d just passed a bloodied man sprinting for his life, clutching an aluminum box.
“How far?” Noble shouted. “How far ahead is he?”
The man shrugged and the woman waved a hand vaguely in the direction they had come. Likely neither spoke English and Noble didn’t have time to look up a translation. He kept running.
The bullet kicked loose from his heel and went spinning across the floor. Suddenly he was no longer running at an awkward angle, both heels were landing uniform. It made putting one foot in front of the other easier, but his lungs were starting to burn.
He reached an intersection and slowed just long enough to check for blood. Little red droplets trailed away to Noble’s left and he followed. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, breathing heavy. Sweat slicked his palms making it difficult to keep his grip on the Browning.
The passage ahead curved away again and, as Noble swept along the tunnel into the spill of an overhead bulb, shots rang out.