Decker followed. “If you can say that after what happened in the van, you’re dedicated.”

“Or stupid.”

“Sometimes it’s one and the same.”

The rain was falling at a steady clip, blocking out the noise made by their shoes trampling over brush. Decker tightened the hood on his waterproof jacket. His hands were encased in nylon gloves. By the time they reached the door, it was pouring. They ducked under an awning as the rain beat tom-toms on the cloth. Decker reached for the door—locked of course. He pointed the flashlight’s beam between the metal escutcheon and the doorframe.

“It’s a latch bolt,” Decker said.

“Which means?”

“I can probably open it with a credit card. The point is…do I want to do it?”

“You may only have one bullet,” Jonathan told him. “But they don’t know that. Besides, the lit window is on the opposite side.”

“Someone may be guarding the doors. He’ll hear me as soon as I try to spring the latch.” A long hesitation. “Well, there’s a quick way to find out.”

Shoving Jonathan against the wall, Decker covered his brother’s body with his, then quietly tapped the door.

Nothing.

Another gentle rap failed to produce any response.

“Take off the plastic from your shoes.” Decker was doing the same thing. “It makes too much noise.” After the plastic bags had been removed, he handed Jonathan the gun. “Cover me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do you see anyone else around?” Decker took out the credit card and gently maneuvered it between the bolt and the catch. A moment later, the doorknob rotated without any hindrance. “I’ve got it. Kill the light. Let’s hope the alarm doesn’t trip.”

Jonathan turned off the flashlight. Decker began to turn the knob… millimeters at a time. Finally, he pushed on the handle and the door crept inward.

Slowly… slowly… slowly.

The door freed itself from the frame.

Nothing sounded.

“The alarm’s off,” Decker told his brother. “Is that good or bad?”

“Don’t know, but it’s a safe bet that Chaim’s inside.”

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Decker pushed the door inward.

Inch after inch.

A quarter of the way open.

Then halfway.

When there was enough room for them to squeeze through, Decker grabbed his brother, pulled him inside, and silently closed the door.

Darkness was the welcome mat. Even after his eyes adjusted, Decker couldn’t make out anything distinct. The interior was a vast space of specters and phantoms, of giant shadows and black holes. Rain slithered down the tall windows, dripping like open veins of black blood. A flash of lightning from afar, a clap of distant thunder. Neither man moved or spoke. A few moments passed; then Decker heard blurred background noises—a hint of human speech. It was hard to tell because of the clacking of the rain.

He took several steps in the direction of the sounds. An unwanted smell reached Decker’s nose at the same time his sneaker caught on something, pitching his body forward. He barely recovered without making noise. He looked down, then bent down to study the solid object at his feet.