Page 33 of Trust No One

They reached it in less than a minute. The sign beside a door said ‘FBI’. He tried it. Locked.

Of course it was. The FBI wouldn’t leave a door open in their basement. Security was tight at the FBI. They didn’t want people strolling freely into their building. He’d bet a lot of money there was a guard on the other side of that door.

Mel stared up at the sign for a moment, then turned to him. “Does this orient you? Do you know where we are?”

“Yes and yes. We’re heading south from the library. Even if we could get in here, we can’t wander around the FBI building without badges and authorization, so we’ll keep going. There’ll be another building that will be easier to use as an exit.”

They kept walking, and he felt Mel relaxing a little beside him. Her fingers weren’t crushing his anymore, and her shoulders had relaxed. “What are we going to do when we get to a building we can use to exit?” she asked.

“We’re gonna walk out of the building and head back toward the library. Hopefully find a way to get our car and drive away without the watchers spotting us.”

“You think they’ll eventually go into the library to look for us?”

“I’m guessing they will. And if they don’t find us, they’ll drive away. Spread out and look for us.”

“So with any luck, by the time we get back to the library, they’ll be gone?”

“I hope so.”

She nodded beside him. “Okay.” She nodded ahead of them. “I think there’s another door up there.”

“Let’s take a look.” He walked a little faster.

The sign beside the door read ‘National Archive Museum’. He tried the door, but it was locked. Pursing his lips, he patted his pocket and found the Leatherman tool he’d tucked inside it that morning. He pulled it out of its leather sleeve, selected a tool and opened it. Squatting in front of the door, he inserted the tool in the lock and played with it for a few moments. He heard a snick, felt the doorknob rotate in his hand and stood up, smiling.

“This baby came through again,” he said, folding up the tool, replacing it in its sheath and sliding it into his pocket. He patted the pocket, feeling the familiar weight. “Modified for the CIA SpecOps group to include a lock pick.” He turned the doorknob and the door opened into what looked like another workroom.

He pressed a finger to Mel’s lips, letting his fingertip slide along their smooth surface. “Quiet,” he breathed into her ear. “Stay close.”

They stepped into the room and listened.

He heard the hum of machinery in the distance. Close by, he heard nothing. No one breathing. No grinding machines. No shuffling feet.

When they’d stood in the darkness for at least five minutes, hearing no signs of life, he pulled out his phone. Turned on the flashlight and swept the room with it.

They were in a storage room. It was lined with shelves holding boxes and crates. The flashlight illuminated cobwebs in the corners. Clearly a room that wasn’t visited very often.

Glancing back at Mel, gesturing for her to stay put, he walked across the room and found a door in another wall. When he saw the beam of light beneath the door he drew in a deep breath.

Trying to be silent, he turned the doorknob slowly. When the door clicked open, he drew a breath, then eased it open just enough to peer through the crack. In front of him was a dimly lit corridor. He listening carefully. Heard nothing.

Turning, he motioned Mel toward him. When she reached his side, he said, “It’s a corridor. I think we should move into it and find a staircase. If we’re lucky, it’ll take us into the museum proper. Then we can blend in with the visitors and make our way to an exit.”

Mel drew a deep breath. Blew it out. “Okay. I’m game if you are.”

“If anyone stops us, let me do the talking. And play along with whatever I do or say.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

They walked silently into the corridor, heading toward a break in the wall that he hoped was a staircase. When they reached it, he tightened his grip on Mel’s hand and began ascending it.

They were five or six steps from the top when Dev heard footsteps beneath them. He immediately turned Mel toward the wall and pressed his mouth against hers.

She tensed, and he slid his mouth toward her ear. “Go with it,” he whispered, moving back to her mouth.

Dev touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, and she slowly opened to him. He tugged one of her arms around him, and she immediately wrapped the other arm around his shoulders. She must have heard the footsteps, too.

He’d danced his tongue into her mouth, and she was leaning hard against him when he heard someone clearing his throat below them.

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