I grabbed Julie and ducked into the bathroom. Suppressing my Chicago Cubs fan sensibilities, I shoved my hair up under the hat.
I gave Julie the tee and glasses. She was listless, her jaw slack.
“You hanging in there?” I asked.
She stared at me like she hadn’t realized I was standing next to her.
“You should get away from me.” She bit her lower lip.
“My job is to protect you, Julie.”
“I could make you sick.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
She looked ready to burst into tears, but choked it back.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said.
“Really?”
“Yes,” I lied.
She reached out to hug me, then caught herself and shrank back.
Poor thing.
When we emerged, Kirk was waiting for us, dressed in a dark blue NY tee. He gave me his white button down, and I pulled it on as an over shirt and rolled up the sleeves.
As far as disguises went, it wasn’t much. I doubted it would fool the Iranians or the Venezuelans or whatever additional intelligence agencies happened to be after us, but it might keep the cops off our tails. Eyewitnesses in stressful situations tended to remember the simple things, if they remembered anything accurately at all. Changing the general look of our clothing and length of my hair would hopefully get us off the NYPD’s radar.
One concern in a mile-long list.
“We need to get out of here,” I told Kirk. “Think you can hoof it for a while?”
He looked about as excited about the idea as I expected.
“The ferry terminal is at the tip of Manhattan. That’s a long damn way.”
“Then let’s shoot for the Columbus Circle subway station.”
He nodded. “Ever get the feeling we’re retracing our steps?”
“It has occurred to me.”
We emerged from the subway to find rush hour still in play and Lincoln Center’s fountain rimmed with summer tourists and New Yorkers alike. The faint beat of helicopter blades sounded overhead, and my stomach seized until I spotted it. Police this time, not ideal, but at least it wasn’t Hawk Nose and his friends.
I eyed Kirk. In the sunlight I could detect the sheen of fresh blood darkening his pant leg, seeping through my makeshift bandage. If we had to do much walking, I wasn’t sure he would last.
Ditto if Julie sneezed on him.
I had to admit, I was relieved to have Julie away from mass transit. Ever since finding out who she really was, what she really was, the knowledge that her blood could wipe out much of the city weighed heavily on me. The odds of getting her all the way to the tip of Manhattan, then across the harbor to Staten Island, seemed astronomical and growing. Even if she died, she still represented a threat.
It was something I would have to deal with, sooner or later.
“Come on,” I said.
Kirk nodded, sweat already soaking his hair and trickling down his forehead. He picked up the pace, his lips tight with pain.
“You’d better take this.” He handed me the Ruger.
He’d proven himself a good shot, but he was probably right. Running on a bad leg didn’t improve marksmanship. As long as he could shepherd Julie, I’d take care of the rest. I slipped it into my holster just as my phone buzzed.
“Is Ginny there?” Jacob’s electronic voice asked.
“I’m sorry, she left for Phoenix yesterday,” I said, giving the appropriate response.
“Tell me you’re not near Lincoln Center.”
We kept walking. “Are you asking me to lie?”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Get out of there.”
“The police are on their way, I know.”
“The city is on lockdown. They’re calling that tunnel explosion a terrorist act, and some dead Iranians were just discovered in the subway. They’re buttoning up Manhattan. National Guard has been called.”
Shit. So much for our plan to get to Staten Island. I needed to come up with another way out of the city, and I had to do it quickly.
“Listen, I found out some interesting things about our Julie.”
After I filled him in, Jacob was silent for a good ten seconds before speaking.
“What are you going to do with her, Chandler?”
I wished I knew. “I’m not sure. Get her out of New York, for one.”
“You know the threat she represents.”
I glanced at Julie. She looked beaten. Afraid. Confused. It wasn’t her fault our military turned her into a germ warfare incubator.
But life wasn’t fair, and the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.
“I know,” I told Jacob. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“If the enemy gets her, or even if Uncle Sam gets her and she’s brought back to Plum Island …”
“I know, Jacob. Right now, my main goal is getting her away from here.”
“How?”
I glanced up at the NYPD chopper overhead. It was a long shot, but with Kirk’s help, I might be able to make it work.
“What’s the closest helipad to Lincoln Center?”
I heard the clacking of a computer keyboard over the phone despite the traffic noises all around me.
“Probably your best bet is the Port Authority Helipad at 30th Street and the Hudson.”
“Thanks, Jacob. Oh, and Mr. Kirk is now working for us.”
“You turned him.”
“His deep-rooted sense of patriotism won out in the end.”
“So you offered him money.”
“How do you know it wasn’t my feminine wiles?”
“Was it your feminine wiles?”
“Partly. We also owe him sixty grand.”
“I’ll make arrangements. I trust your judgment, Chandler, and hope this doesn’t have anything to do with him looking like Colin Farrell.”
“I can’t entirely rule that out.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe you two will have a chance to hook up.”
“Maybe.”
“If you live long enough.”
“If any of us do.” I ended the call and squinted at Kirk. “We need a cab.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, and we spotted the men at the same time. More Iranians. Two of them threaded through the pedestrians, each with a hand hidden under their jackets, eighty meters away and rushing toward us at an alarming speed.
Shit. That hadn’t taken long.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” I said, but we were already running, weaving through pedestrians, Kirk gimping along with his arm behind Julie, gingerly guiding her in the right direction. Traffic flowed by on the street, cab after cab with silhouettes in back seats, vacancy lights off, and not a pedicab to be found.
Each equipped with two good legs, the men were closing fast.
I felt the beat of chopper blades in my chest and scanned the sky between buildings. A purple Bell 427 hovered overhead.
