Free Shadow of Betrayal by Brett Battles

thought. Damage to the floor outside the doorway. The door itself is gone.” Pause. “I’m looking in now. Damn. You said there was a staircase, right?”
    “Yes,” Peter said.
    “Not now. Morgan, fire up the spot.”
    Five seconds later there was a flare of light on monitor four, the one that displayed the feed from the camera Agent Douglas had been carrying. The dark shapes that had been filling the screen suddenlybecame bits of concrete and pieces of wood. But there was no sign of the agent.
    “Sir, it’s a mess down there,” Perkins said. “Looks like the whole stairway has collapsed.”
    “Do you see Agent Douglas?”
    “If she’s there, she’s buried. I’ll take one of my guys down with me.”
    There was a few minutes’ delay while the gear was prepared.
    “Rappelling down now,” Perkins said. For several seconds there was only the muffled sound of someone sliding down a rope. Then, “Okay, we’re on the ground.”
    “Watch your step,” Peter said. “There could be other traps.”
    “Copy that.”
    Light ebbed and flowed on monitor four as the team searched the debris.
    “Stop!” Peter yelled.
    A foot had just passed within view of the image on the monitor.
    “One of you is near her camera. Both of you take one step back.”
    The foot reentered the frame.
    “Okay, hold there for a second,” Peter said. “Perkins, you move your foot first.”
    “Copy.”
    The foot in the screen remained stationary.
    “Anything?” Perkins asked.
    “Have your man move now.”
    There was a second delay, then the foot began to rise.
    “That’s it,” Peter said. “About three feet to your man’s right.”
    The image remained stable for half a minute, then it rose into the air and whipped around the room until it stopped on the face of a man with short brown hair.
    “Must have gotten dislodged as she fell.” Perkins’s lips moved on monitor four, but his voice still came out of the speaker on monitor three.
    “Chances are she’s in that same general area,” Peter said.
    Perkins set the camera down on something elevated, giving the three men back in the hotel suite a broad view of the room. It seemed to be some sort of old machine room. Unfinished cement walls andfloors, and to the left the edge of a rusty furnace. But the dominant feature was the pile of rubble in the center of the room. The majority of debris appeared to be the wood that had made up the staircase, but there was a good bit of concrete mixed in. It must have been dislodged from the ceiling and walls by the blast.
    Perkins and his man worked their way through the pile, pulling away planks and chunks of concrete. After several minutes, Perkins’s partner stopped and bent down.
    “I’ve got a hand,” he called out, his voice distant over Perkins’s microphone.
    The two men began working together to move everything surrounding the spot. Soon Peter thought he could see an arm, then a shoulder. Perkins leaned down and placed his fingers on the exposed wrist.
    “Pulse?” Peter asked.
    “Faint, but she’s alive,” Perkins said.
    Obviously listening in on the conversation, Perkins’s men on monitor one jumped into action. They moved over to the van and pulled a stretcher out of the back. One of them then stayed on the stoop while the other took the stretcher inside the building.
    “Stretcher on its way to you,” Peter said. “I’ll call ahead to get medical set up.”
    “Copy that,” Perkins said.
    For the next several minutes the team worked quickly and efficiently. Soon Agent Douglas was in the van, heading for medical attention. Thankfully, for the moment at least, she was still breathing.
    The images on the monitors were now still and quiet.
    “We can’t let this opportunity slip out of our hands,” Furuta said, his voice rising. It was the first emotion Peter had seen from the man.
    “I agree,” Chercover said. He looked at Peter. “You need to get someone in there tonight. You can do that, can’t you?”
    Peter