Sullivan scrambled up, his hands slipping on the slimy metal.

Giovanni hauled him through the gap with one powerful tug.

Then Giovanni reached down for me.

I grabbed his wrist.

His grip was like iron, lifting me easily into the dry, warm air of the room above.

We were in a concrete basement, smelling of heating oil and old dust.

The hatch clicked shut beneath us.

Giovanni slid a heavy steel bolt across the iron frame, locking it.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking down at me.

His dark hair was damp from the rain outside, and his grey suit jacket was gone.

“I’m fine,” I said, catching my breath. “But they are right behind us.”

“I know,” Giovanni said.

He held a black tactical radio in his left hand.

A small tablet screen glowed in his right pocket.

“Vance is upstairs,” Giovanni said.

“He thinks he has the perimeter secured.”

“What about Luca?” I asked, my heart squeezing.

“He is safe,” Giovanni said. “Dr. Sullivan’s team has him in the secure wing on the fourth floor.”