“Well,” Lieutenant Hale said while scratching his chin, “there’s obviously something going on behind this door. But we now have safely established that we can’t blow it off its hinges like the first one.”

“That goes without saying, LT,” grumbled Zimbardo whose eyebrows had been singed in the blast. It was a long trek, following the residual heat signatures, but with a little luck (and muck) they followed the trail to the maintenance access. It had been a simple detonation before they were inside the sally port.

“OK, team. What do you propose we do?”

“We could wait it out, see if anyone’s willing to talk.” Tanzer suggested.

“And how would we do that? We blew the intercom with the blast. I say we leave a detachment here to keep an eye on things and call the home office to get the best locksmith we can down here. Maybe they can bypass all the wiring and pop the lock.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Tanzer with a yawn. “Does this mean I can go home?”

“Maybe. Zimbardo? How’s the frequency holding up? Can we make a call topside?”

“You bet, LT. What are you thinking?”

“It’s late. You fellas need some rest.”

“So do you, sir. You’ve been up longer than any of us.”

“Agreed. Make the call up top. Kenyatta and his squad are coming on shift. Get them down here to keep watch till morning. Then we’ll return at 08:00 with the locksmith.”

“Already on it.”

“Well, Captain. It seems you can call it a night. But I want you back here with us in the morning.”

Tanzer began to protest, but caught himself and simply nodded. He wanted to get to the people on the other side just as much as Hale did. By his rationale, if he could complete his original mission, maybe—just maybe—the CEO would reward his thoroughness. It was his only hope of getting out of this alive.

“Then I think you remember the way out. We’ll hold position till the reinforcements arrive. Meet us back here at 08:00 or I’ll have your hide.”

With a sleepy bob of his head, Tanzer slunk off into the shadows.