?Wait.?
She didn?t wait, she walked out of the room, down the hall toward the stairs and the flames. Smoke billowed. Mike coughed. ?Are you crazy?? he yelled after her.
But of course she was.
Mike crossed to the other side of the room, threw open the window. Wind and rain lashed him. He stuck his head out, looked down. A three-story drop.
Hell.
Out of the bedroom. No sign of the old woman. He turned away from the flames, limped down the hall as fast as his knees would let him, ignoring his throbbing wound. Another room. Another window. He looked out and this time had some luck. A rooftop below. The mansion?s third story was smaller than the rest of the house. He swung a leg out the window, then the other leg. He eased himself out and down, hung from the windowsill, and dropped eight feet. Pain shook his knees when he landed. He slid down the wet rooftop and tore a fingernail digging into the shingles to stop himself. He managed to stop himself just in time, feet hanging over the edge. He belly-crawled until he found a drainpipe at the corner of the house, shinnied down, slipped, lost his grip, and fell the final six feet, landing hard on his back.
Mike lay there, sucked for air, rain stinging his face. Above him the windows of the house glowed orange.
He stood up, limped around the house to the gate, found the Cadillac. He looked back at the Cornwall mansion one more time.
Outside, thunder shook the sky and rain battered the earth.
Inside, there was fire.
43
In an old brick building in the bad part of Budapest, the man with the voice shoved sensitive documents into a paper shredder. He also stuffed an attache case with computer discs and other documents he needed to keep. He?d already erased three computer hard drives. He was in a hurry but didn?t dare leave a trail.
The man with the voice had disappointed some dangerous people. He?d received no confirmation that Enders had been terminated, and Ortega would not even return his phone calls. A seemingly routine matter had blown up in his face.
Time to vacate. His villa in Spain? No, not far enough. He owned a nice condo that overlooked Sydney Harbor in Australia. Yes. That would do.
The alarm chimed on the computer. He checked the display.
They were in the building. They?d found him, and they would get him. The man with the voice had many talents, but he was not a soldier. So they would get him, and they?d ask many questions and it would not be pleasant.
He took a revolver from his desk drawer, put it in his mouth.
Well, it had been good while it lasted.
He pulled the trigger.
44
Mike drove, kept going. He didn?t want to stop, no matter what. Let the pain burn his neck and back. He wanted to go home.
Mike said,
He drove, eating up the miles, the storm fading into memory behind him.
But he couldn?t keep it up for long. His body ached, sleep dragging him down. He pulled into a rest area in
