They rushed through the darkened building, found another guard down at the entrance, and two more on the inside. They moved Jason down zigzag stairs, and into a subbasement hallway that led to a concrete ramp lit by dim bulbs in rusted cages. The big guards urged him up the slope to a parking garage occupied by a single car and lots of dark corners. If Jason wanted to disappear a man, this would be a good way to do it, a quiet, clean kill, then in the trunk and gone. At the car, Ripley popped the trunk. Inside was a spare tire and a jack, a water bottle and a ratty blanket. “Get in.”

“No.”

“Get in the damn trunk.”

“You’ll have to kill me first,” Jason said.

Something primal showed on Ripley’s face. Jason might be injured, but he’d gone toe to toe with X more times than any man alive. Three guards or not, no one wanted to roll those dice. “Okay, tough guy. Back seat, but on the floor.”

“Ripley, no…”

“Shut up, Kudravetz. Get him in. Cover him up.”

Jason didn’t give an inch.

“Get in the car,” Ripley said.

“Where are you taking me?”

“We don’t have time for this.” Ripley drew a revolver Jason had not seen or suspected. Guards did not carry inside the walls. Not ever. “I’ll say please if it makes things easier.”

Jason let the fight bleed out of his limbs—no choice. They got him in the car, down deep in the shadows, beneath a blanket that smelled like mothballs and gasoline. Ripley and Jordan got in front, Ripley behind the wheel. Kudravetz took the back seat, and his face pale white as he stared down in the gloom. “Fuck this up, and you’ll kill us all.”

Ripley turned the key. The engine caught.

“Cover your face.”

Jason did, but kept enough of a gap to see a slice of concrete ceiling. The car lurched into motion, turned a tight radius, and angled up a second ramp. When it stopped, he heard steel rumble as a metal door rolled on heavy-gauge tracks. Then they were outside.

“One minute. We’re cutting this close.”

The main gate was brightly lit. Ripley spoke to a guard, and the gate ground open, so massive that Jason felt the vibration. The car rolled forward, and they were through. Jason saw treetops and firelight, then heard the rumble of the crowd. Jordan said, “Jesus, there must be a thousand of them by now.”

In seconds, bodies crowded the car, signs stabbing up and down as people yelled at the car and at each other, a wash of angry faces. Ripley intimidated with the big engine. Short lurches. Hard stops. Some backed off. Others beat on the car. When they were through, the sky opened up, and so did Ripley.

“Pursuit?”

“No.”

“Alarms?”

“Nothing yet.”