A cop car, its bubble light spinning wildly, squealed to a halt, blocking the mouth of the alley. Jim Gordon emerged from the car, brandishing his trusty Smith & Wesson pistol. A rumpled brown trench coat protected him from the night’s chill. He hurried to take charge of the situation. Anyone who would brazenly abduct a congressman deserved his personal attention.

SWAT troopers converged on the murky passage, massing on both corners, just out of the line of fire. They exchanged hand signals and counted down silently before rounding the corner, their rifles aimed high and low. Gordon sprinted after them.

He half-expected to find the armed felons waiting in ambush, but instead the dead end appeared to be completely empty. Only heaps of trash and obscene graffiti greeted his eyes. A high brick wall, topped with razor wire, blocked the other end of the passage.

What the devil? Gordon thought. Where did they go?

Searching for the hostiles, the troopers looked upward, raising their rifles toward the rickety fire escapes overlooking the scene. Laundry hung like flags, flapping on makeshift clotheslines.

But Gordon had another idea. He scanned the filthy, litter-strewn pavement.

“Manhole!” he shouted.

A cast-iron manhole cover, about midway down the passage, appeared slightly off-kilter. Responding to Gordon’s summons, two armored SWAT troopers wrenched the heavy disk free and rolled it aside, exposing a deep, shadowy cavity. Gordon snatched a flashlight from the nearest SWAT guy.

The beam probed the open shaft. A rusty ladder descended deep beneath the city streets. A pungent odor wafted up from the sewers. Gordon thought he heard footsteps splashing through the tunnels below. A shredded cobweb, recently disturbed, hung in tatters.

“You three,” he ordered the nearest men, “down with me.” He glanced over at the remaining troopers. “You two, head down to the next exit.”

The men looked around uncertainly.

“Where?”

The hell if I know, Gordon thought. “Get the DWP down here…now!” He wished he could wait for somebody from the Department of Water and Power himself, but there wasn’t any time. For all he knew, the men behind the congressman’s abduction were making their escape. He had to go after them.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he led the way down into the gloom, scrambling down the ladder as swiftly as his aging bones could manage. The three SWAT men hustled after him.

Gordon hoped they wouldn’t end up lost down in the tunnels.

Congressman Gilly had been safely delivered into the hands of medics, leaving Blake free to join in the pursuit. He rushed through the alleys behind the bar until he found a large circle of cops crowded around an open manhole. Deputy Commissioner Foley was already on the scene. He glared at his watch.

“Where’s the DWP guy?” Foley grumbled impatiently.

Blake shouldered his way into the group. He peered into the gloomy shaft.

“They went down there?” he asked.

Foley nodded.

“And Gordon took SWAT in after him.”

The sewers were dank and dark and difficult to navigate. Slime coated the crumbling brick walls. Rats, lizards, and other vermin scurried in the shadows. Gordon and his men crept warily through the claustrophobic tunnels, watching their steps as they trod upon slippery maintenance walkways. Rusted, rickety guardrails couldn’t be trusted. Raw sewage coursed through the endless drains, the putrid odor turning Gordon’s stomach. Bile rose at the back of his throat.