Page 67 of Alex Cross Must Die

Holmes stared at the oranges, then realized that he couldn’t smell them. Another scent was making its way into his chemosensory system. Far more powerful. He jumped back from the kitchen island like it was a hot stove.

“Over here!” he shouted.

Four huge SWAT guys moved across the kitchen like an NFL front line. They braced themselves against one side of the island and pushed. The basket tipped over. A dozen oranges bounced onto the floor and rolled in every direction.

The SWAT team kept shoving and grunting. Suddenly, there was a loud metallic snap from the base of the island, like a latch breaking. The whole unit swung aside to reveal the floor underneath.

“Holy shit,” said one of the SWAT guys. The crowd in the kitchen leaned forward. Holmes moved in first. There in the floor, set flush with the footprint of the island, was a neat rectangular hatch.

Holmes went clammy. He glanced over at Poe, then at Grey, then at Marple. He put his hand over his mouth, stifling his gag reflex. The smell was coming from beneath the hatch.

“There are people down here!” Holmes shouted.

The dog was in the kitchen now, sitting on his haunches.

“Why isn’t the dog alerting?” asked Poe.

“He’s a cadaver dog,” said Holmes. “Whoever’s down there is still alive.”

CHAPTER 73

HOLMES STOOD CLOSEas the SWAT team lifted the hatch cover—two inches of wood backed with another inch of solid steel. One of the biggest SWAT guys held it open while a squad of four stood around the opening, rifles aimed into the darkness underneath.

“There’s a ladder!” one of the cops shouted, shining a flashlight into the hole.

Holmes lunged forward and swung his feet onto the third rung, knocking a gun barrel out of the way. The flashlight beams hit his face as he dropped into the hole, two steps at a time.

“Hey! Asshole! Stop!”

His feet touched ground. He stepped away from the ladder and heard the bang of boots following him down.

Holmes plunged ahead, hands against the walls, toward the horrible smell. He could feel the cops behind him. The beams from their flashlights shot past him into the tunnel ahead.

Holmes kept the lead, pacing the distance as he went. Ten yards. Now twenty.

He rounded a corner and stopped. He could see the end of the tunnel.

It ended at a huge metal door.

Holmes felt a hand grip his shoulder as one of the SWAT guys yanked him back and shoved him against the wall, face-first. He heard the rustle of gear and then a shout.

“Breach!”

There was a flash of sparks and a loud boom. Holmes felt the shock wave against his eardrums, and for a second, all he could hear was a loud hum.

When he looked back, the massive door was blown off its hinges. Through the haze of smoke, Holmes got a glimpse into the opening and the dark space beyond. As the hum in his head receded, he heard a wild mix of voices, male and female. Screaming. Sobbing. Wailing. The smell was now like a thick vapor. One of the cops pulled off his helmet and vomited into it. Another shouted into his shoulder mic.

“Medical! We need medical!”

Holmes pushed his way through to the opening as the cops waved their flashlight beams across the interior.

It was like staring into the pit of hell.

CHAPTER 74

IN THE NARROWshafts of light, Holmes could make out shapes below. Voices rose from the shadows, cracking and desperate.

“Help us! Please!”

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