Debra Webb - Colby Justice

Ben possessed that flexibility because of his former occupation. He’d spent more than a dozen years rescuing those trapped deep beneath the ground or under tons of earthquake rubble. He could contort his body in ways that were definitely not natural. Though he was six feet in height and weighed a solid one-hundred-seventy pounds, he was utterly lean. Every pound was muscle, trained to bend and contract with ease.

Penny Alexander reportedly possessed a similar physical ability. According to Michaels and Ruhl, the woman was an incredible gymnast. She certainly had the body for it, Ben noted, his gaze roving her frame. The insulated suit she wore left no room for speculation. It clung to every lean line and sculpted curve.

She turned her palms up, those vivid green eyes letting him know she’d noticed that he was sizing her up and wasn’t particularly happy about it. Her eyes were all that was visible of her face with the full face and head covering that worked much like a ski mask but was made from that same special spandex.

He ignored her questioning look. There was no time for explanations or playing etiquette games. He reached into his backpack and removed the magnetic climbing holds. After a moment of hesitation, likely to banish her frustration, she did the same. Pulling his pack onto his chest rather than his back, he then gripped one hold in each hand and gestured into the metal tunnel’s opening. She would go first.

With a nod of comprehension, she moved into position. Taking care not to make any more sound than necessary, she pressed the round, magnetic surface of each climbing aid to the smooth, metallic wall inside.

Using body language and other noiseless methods of communication as much as possible would be essential since there was no way to know how or when the enemy would be monitoring a particular area of the building. Though the security system was of no use to those at the command center across the street, there was no way to be certain to what extent the enemy had access.

Slowly, Alexander scaled her way into the narrow space. When she’d moved upward far enough, Ben followed. Reaching the first floor wasn’t a problem. It was the bizarre turn and then the ten-to-fourteen-feet incline, depending upon where they were in the building, that presented the dilemma. A ninety-degree angle combined with the climb going up or the drop going down made the task undoable without assistance. He could reach the angle, but he couldn’t move past it without a climbing partner. The opening was too narrow for anything besides his body. There wasn’t a millimeter to spare.

Alexander would need to move beyond that point and then literally wrench him past it. He hoped like hell she was as strong as she claimed to be; otherwise, they had wasted their time.

And that of those inside.

He had briefed her on every aspect of the journey. She felt confident she could accomplish each physical task. He hoped that would prove the case.

There was no margin for error.

The soft glide of their bodies over the metal was very nearly soundless. Each time either of them settled their magnetic climbing assists onto the surface of the metal wall there was a pause in the whispering glide followed by the more distinct contact of the magnetic handholds. Small tap, extended slide. Over and over the rhythmic sounds echoed around them.

Ben’s forward movement stopped as Alexander reached the first ninety-degree angle. She pushed her backpack through first, then pulled and wiggled her way through the narrow opening.

When she’d cleared the angle, Ben moved into position, his head even with the opening. The seemingly endless tunnel widened at the point beyond the angle. On each floor, there would be such an angle and then a wider spot. A perfect place for a breather after the push to get him through this particular sharp and treacherously narrow turn in the metal tunnel. And before making the upward climb.

Shifting the weight of his body to one hand, he passed his backpack through the opening. Twenty or so seconds later, she threaded a rope to him. A powered lift would have negated the need for a partner, but the requirements to work optimally with metal would have generated far too much noise and ultimately too much risk of being overheard. This was the only option. He wrapped the rope she’d sent his way around one hand, then passed her first one magnetic climbing assist, then the other. His respiration escalated as nothing but the rope held him in place. He attempted to provide as much assistance as he could with no way to obtain reasonable purchase with his hands or feet on the slick metal walls.

His head and shoulders cleared the opening. A blast of air hit him in the face. Whenever the heat kicked on, the necessary air to fuel the push would flow through this metal tunnel. Alexander had positioned herself as a lever, feet planted against the wall on either side of her for added support. She pulled hard, the shaking of her arms a warning that she struggled to tug his weight through the tight squeeze. He hoped her strength held out.

Metal pierced the suit and the skin on his right side. The sensation startled Ben. The next drag on the rope ensured that the penetrating object tore through his skin. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t stop. He had to reach the next point.

One more hard pull and he scooted past the angle. He low-crawled onto the horizontal surface and allowed his muscles to relax. Mentally inventoried the injury as he attempted to reposition himself so that he could inspect the damage.

Alexander relaxed as well, allowing her visibly quivering muscles to melt with relief.

Ben removed a glove and checked his side with his fingers. Warm, sticky fluid. Blood leaked from the suit. He bit back the oath.

“We have a blip on the thermal scanner in the vicinity of the first floor,” Michaels informed him.

Blood wasn’t the only thing leaking through the suit. Damn it! Body heat was showing up on the scan. Adrenaline seared through his veins as he tugged the glove back into place.

Having observed his movements and then heard the same report in her earpiece, Alexander reacted. She slid her body over his, ensuring the main portion of her torso covered his injured side. Then she tapped her mic three times in question.

The seconds ticked off with Ben holding his breath.

“Clear,” Michaels responded. “No movement above.”

To Alexander, Ben whispered, “You’re going to need to patch this before we move forward.”

It would be impossible for him to get into the needed position to attend to it himself. Taking the risk of speaking directly into her ear, no matter how softly, was one he’d had no choice but to take. The flow of air helped camouflage any sound, but that wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes. Still, being caught on a thermal scan was by far the more likely and dangerous scenario, since it would alert the enemy not only to their presence but also their precise location.

When she hesitated, he added, “There’s tape in my pack.”

Alexander nodded, then dragged his backpack to her. She sifted through the items inside, dredging up the special tape needed to seal the rip in the shielding suit. She located the injury and quickly applied layer after layer of tape over the wound. The pressure she applied sent pain shooting down his leg and up his side. Just his luck to have something as stupid as this happen right off the bat.

He’d ignored a hell of a lot worse than this. All he had to do was focus on the goal.

When Alexander had moved up alongside Ben, Ian reported via the communications link, “The blip has disappeared.”

They were in the clear…for now.

“How bad is it?” Alexander asked, her face close to Ben’s ear, her voice scarcely audible above the drone of airflow.