Good dog.
With one man down, he needed to move even more quickly. It’d be just him and Atlas. Both Forte and Rojas were holding down the fort back at the kennels—Forte handling the police report and their intruder, Rojas seeing to his daughter as she came home from school. Both would be following to provide backup as soon as he could but it was a toss-up as to which of them could get free first.
He couldn’t afford to wait. The situation wasn’t optimal but he and Atlas needed to move quickly.
Cruz studied the warehouse and a door tucked away in an alcove set in the side of the building. Security camera was hanging by a hinge and obviously not operational. Could be the best entry point.
He headed for the entrance, pausing to hug the wall and study a large ventilation grate in the same alcove. Cover was rusted almost completely off. The ventilation shaft behind it was big enough to accommodate a full-grown man. But hell, he was heavy. Atlas might be lighter than his German shepherd counterparts but the dog wasn’t tiny either. The two of them in a rusted-out metal shaft were not going to get far without making a shit-ton of noise. They were not ninjas.
But he didn’t have to pass it by completely. Taking out his pocketknife, he pried the cover the rest of the way off and set it on the ground against the opening to the ventilation shaft.
Then he and Atlas stepped over to the door.
They stayed to one side and listened. Atlas sniffed along the bottom edge. No sign of danger around or on the other side. No indicators from Atlas that there was either person or improvised explosive device waiting to surprise them.
And Atlas would’ve scented either.
It took more precious minutes to quietly pick the lock. Not his favorite activity but luckily it was a simple one, old and not particularly secure. This entrance had definitely been overlooked while the hostiles were securing the location.
Once inside, Cruz eased the door closed behind them and immediately took them to one side to crouch under the cover of a set of stairs. He drew in a breath, deliberate and slow. The air was musty, thick with dust and stale. No one had opened any windows or doors on this level for a sufficient length of time to ventilate the place.
What he could see of the warehouse’s ground level was covered in more dust. It was a wide open space with random clutter along the outer walls. No places to hide and no places for hostiles to pop out and surprise him.
Atlas turned his nose upward, sniffing, and his big ears swiveled as the big dog studied the ceiling. Cruz strained hard to identify whatever Atlas was hearing in the quiet stillness.
It wasn’t complete silence, though. Now that he knew to listen more closely, there was a faint murmur coming from above. Not loud enough to identify voices or what was being said, only enough to recognize the rhythm of conversation.
Up they would go.
Cruz unhooked Atlas’s leash. Inside the warehouse with all the crap scattered everywhere, the leash could snag and it’d be best to let Atlas go ahead to react as necessary. In the meantime, letting the big dog loose freed up both of Cruz’s hands.
The two of them proceeded out from under the cover of the stairs and along the near edge of the room. Atlas was ranging forward, the way he’d been trained, nose to the ground and weaving back and forth in a snakelike path. Every few steps, the big dog would lift his head to catch any target odors in the air before returning his focus to the floor.
For his part, Cruz scanned the room and listened hard as he followed Atlas. Once they reached the far wall, Cruz put his back to the wall and considered their options for going up to the next level: stairs or a freight elevator.
Thus far, they’d managed not to pause in hallways, doorways, or windows. Riding up in an elevator was asking for attention and unless they both could climb out quickly, it was a kill box. Stairs weren’t easy either. In his experience, stairs were where men died.
Cruz approached the foot of the stairs and listened hard, peering up into the darkness. Atlas wasn’t any more enthusiastic but both of them could hear the murmurs of conversation more clearly.
Atlas gave a low, eager whine with an upward lilt, his head slightly tilted.
Up was where Lyn was.
A trickle of relief flooded through Cruz. Atlas must’ve recognized Lyn’s voice among the murmurs. The eagerness would only be for her. She was still alive and able to talk then. Which meant she was conscious. Hopefully, she wasn’t hurt.
Hang on, Lyn. We’re on our way.
They were halfway up the stairs when Atlas froze again, his posture tense. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbled in the big dog’s chest. Another guard approaching.
For the second time, Cruz gave Atlas the command to search out a human target.
*