Fury's Goddess. Alex Archer

       Annja shrugged. “They might just be parked up to discourage curious trespassers like us.”

       “Ah.”

       “I’ll take point.” She held the FLIR ahead of her and got a bearing. Annja stuck close to the walls and fences of the community. She was impressed with the layout. The place had obviously been designed to grant the residents the feeling of status, but it was still homey.

       She glanced behind her at Frank. He was no ninja, of course, but he might just turn out to be all right.

       As much of a wannabe Casanova as he was, he seemed to realize this assignment could really help further his career. If he wasn’t so focused on scoring with the ladies, they might make this a compelling piece of television.

       Annja approached a corner and paused. The area around it was wide-open and offered views in each direction. They could see a lot, but Annja and Frank could also be seen. If someone was looking.

       Annja paused. She and Frank needed to head west, which would put them right in line with another corner of the complex. The question was, what was waiting down there that they couldn’t see? If the police were stationed there, they would see Annja and Frank.

       She turned and gestured for Frank.

       “What’s up?”

       Annja pointed. “This corner exposes us. We’ve got no cover for at least a hundred yards, and if the cops surprise us, we’ll be caught in the open. I don’t like advancing unless I’ve got cover and concealment.”

       Frank studied his map. “We’d have to go outside the fence to use the ground to conceal us.”

       “We can’t backtrack now. We’ll waste too much time.” Annja looked at the map over Frank’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

       “I don’t know. I got this off the computer. Figured we’d find out once we got here.”

       She peered closer. It looked like an extra culvert running out of the complex, but not one that was easily accessible. So how did you get into it?

       She looked at the road. And grinned. “A manhole.”

       Frank frowned. “A manhole?”

       “Yeah. You don’t happen to have any tools with you, do you?”

       “Like what? Something to pry a lid off?”

       “Preferably.”

       Frank shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

       Annja could use her sword, of course. But how would she explain that to Frank? She never wanted anyone at work to know her secret if she could possibly avoid it. That her life had been forever changed on the day she’d brought the broken shards of Joan of Arc’s sword together for the first time in hundreds of years. That the sword had become whole once again—right in front of her. That the sword of Joan of Arc had somehow chosen her and was now the sword of Annja Creed.

       But they needed to get into the manhole.

       Annja made a decision. “Can you go back down to the hole in the fence and see if there were any tools there?”

       “What are you going to do?”

       She pointed. “I’ll scout ahead and see if there’s anything I can use. Otherwise, I’ll sneak up and see if we can avoid the manhole trip.”

       Annja watched him go and then moved out into the road, locating the manhole cover. It was bolted down. This was going to have to be quick.

       She reached into the otherwhere and grasped the sword, which hung there, waiting for her. Holding it in her hands flooded her system with strength. The sword blade cast a grayish glow into the night, and Annja desperately hoped it wouldn’t attract anyone.

       She shoved the point under the lip of the cover and then pried with all of her strength. She heard the bolts give one at a time, reluctantly at first, but then they came off fast.

       Once they were out, she leaned into the sword and the cover came loose.

       Annja slid it back slowly, hoping the grating sound on the asphalt wasn’t as loud as she thought it was.

       She shoved the FLIR into the hole and scanned around. A few rats scurried for cover, splashing through the darkness.

       But otherwise, it seemed deserted. Annja put the sword away and waited for Frank to return.

       Another thirty seconds passed before he came hustling around the corner with a big screwdriver. He held it up like a trophy until he saw Annja squatting near the opening.

       He dropped to all fours. “How the hell did you manage that?”

       Annja frowned. “I found a pry bar farther up. But of course once I got the lid up, I dropped it down there somewhere. Probably never find it now.”

       Frank shrugged. “At least you got it open.”

       “Yeah.”

       He looked into the hole. “We really have to go in there?”

       “If we want to get to the crime scenes, yes.”

       Frank blanched. “It stinks down there.”

       “And it’s only going to get worse.”

       Frank eyed her. “Does any of this stuff ever bother you?”

       Annja nodded. “All of it. Now get going.”

       He hesitated and then jumped. Annja heard him splash and then followed him. It was a short drop of only five feet. Annja stood and hauled the manhole cover into place. At least now they hadn’t left a calling card behind.

       Frank’s voice cut through the darkness. “Flashlight coming on. Watch your eyes.”

       Red light lit up the culvert. Annja looked ahead and then behind them. “Which way?”

       Frank pointed. “There.”

       “On we go.”