Page 68 of Alex Cross Must Die

One female voice rose above the others. “Get us out! Hurry! Before they come back.”

Holmes heard footsteps behind him. A second later, he felt Marple and Poe over his shoulder. Helene Grey pushed through the SWAT guys and raked her flashlight across the space. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

Holmes could make out a huddle of figures against a far wall, pulling against some kind of restraints.

“Don’t be afraid!” Grey shouted into the pit. “We’re here to help you!”

Holmes felt his repulsion being overwhelmed by rage. As he blinked, the horror came to him in quick, grisly snapshots.

He saw a large rectangular sunken space, a pit lined with thick metal walls. In the center was a cluster of men and women. Each prisoner had a metal band around one ankle. The bands were attached to cables looped through thick eyes in the wall.

There was a hole in the floor, rimmed with human waste. The prisoners were all dressed in identical blue PPI gowns, torn and soiled, with patches of raw skin showing through.

Holmes saw a cop moving along the wall, stepping through the filth to slice the cables with a bolt cutter. The freed prisoners surged forward, zombielike, moaning and weeping.

As Holmes reached the bottom step, a tall woman fell into his arms like a child. Her blond hair was matted, her expression feral and crazed.

In seconds, the whole crowd of prisoners pushed toward the door, almost engulfing the rescuers. “Stay back!” Grey shouted, hands raised. “Please! Stay back!”

Holmes turned to see Poe reaching down to pick up a young man too frail to stand. Then he saw Marple working her way into the dark shadows of the pit, tears streaming down her face.

“Zozi?”she called out. “Zozi Turner? Zozi and Eton Charles? Are you here? Can you hear me?”

There was no reply.

A woman’s voice rose from the pack, weak and raspy.

“Save it,” she said. “If they were ever here, they’re dead.”

CHAPTER 75

BACK ABOVE INthe kitchen, Poe watched as the wasted men and women made their way up the ladder from the tunnel. EMTs and paramedics reached down to help them to the top.

Poe walked over to the other side of the kitchen, where Grey was standing with Holmes and Marple. A young woman with huge eyes sat shivering on a stool. Grey had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The woman’s knees were bruised and filthy. The metal cuff was still on her ankle, with purplish bruises all around it.

“I’m Detective Lieutenant Helene Grey. These people are private investigators—Mr. Holmes, Mr. Poe, and Ms. Marple.”

The woman’s eyes darted back and forth from one face to another. She looked dazed and disoriented.

“I’m Davina,” the woman said. “Davina Kane.”

Poe felt a jolt. He recognized the name: the missing hotel maid.

“Davina,” Grey said gently. “How did you get here? Can you tell us what happened?”

The young woman closed her eyes and took a couple of quick breaths. Her answers came in short bursts.

“They took me,” she said. “On the street. At night. I was on my way home from work …”

“The Clairmont Hotel,” said Poe.

Davina nodded. “Part time. Housekeeping.”

“Whotook you?” asked Marple. “When? From where?”

“Two men. They asked for directions to a theater. I didn’t know the name. I felt something sharp in my arm. That’s all I remember.”

“And when did you realize you were here?”

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