One …
Two …
Three.
The doors whooshed open and the crowd shiftedto one side to allow commuters to clear out of the cars.
I moved with the crowd, stepping away andletting him fall, trying to pull my knife back. But the S&Wdidn’t have a blood groove, and suction held it fast.
By the time he hit concrete, I had blendedinto the sea of commuters. I wasn’t worried about fingerprints—theknife handle had been treated to resist latents—but I didn’t likebeing unarmed.
Screams cut through the ambient noise. Peoplepushed and scattered. I saw a dark-haired man ramming his waythrough the crowd, moving quickly from my right. Trying to help?Afraid of missing the train?
No. Another Persian assailant.
How did all of these assholes get into thecountry? Didn’t TSA have a goddamn no fly list?
The people departing the train cleared thedoors, and the crowd surged forward. I caught a glimpse of Kirkushering Julie into a subway car.
The new arrival noted the same thing. Heveered in the direction of the train.
I angled my trajectory to head him off,bouncing between harried commuters. A voice said something over thepublic address system, impossible to decipher.
One woman elbowed me as I tried to pass.“Hey, wait your turn.”
I refused to give ground. “You don’t want toget on this train.”
She gave me a sour look but wisely allowed meto squeeze past, not that she really had a choice.
I reached the door a split second before thePersian did and jumped inside, taking two running steps and thengrabbing the pole used for standing commuters. Channeling my innerstripper, I whirled around, leading with my feet, anklestogether.
As the Iranian stepped onto the train, Iplowed into him with both heels.
He flew backward, flying into thesharp-elbowed woman and sending both of them sprawling onto theconcrete platform.
I fell to the floor of the train, landinghard on my hip.
He recovered before I did, rising to hisknees, pulling a pistol out of a shoulder holster, pointing thebarrel square at my chest.
The explosion was deafening, bouncing offsteel and cement.
I flinched, expecting the impact, expectingthe pain.
The Iranian flinched, looking surprised.
A moment later he slumped to the ground,trying and failing to plug the bullet hole in his chest with hishands.
I guess Kirk was trustworthy after all.
The subway car erupted, screams, crying,stampeding people. I grabbed the pole to keep from being swept out,peering past the surge and into the car, searching for Kirk andJulie. Kirk had concealed the gun and was moving with the crowd,pushing Julie toward the open door, acting as if they were part ofthe panic.
I did the same, getting to my feet andrushing through the door in front of me. With a gun going off andtwo dead on the ground, there wasn’t a chance in hell the stationagent in the booth would let the train go on as usual. We’d have tofind another route downtown.
The sharp-elbowed woman lay on the groundbehind the dead Persian spy. She looked up, staring at me withshell-shocked eyes.
“You should have listened to me,” I said as Istepped over the body and blended with the crowd.
I caught up with Kirk and Julie at theclosest subway newsstand.
“The two of you. Put these on,” Kirk shoved aYankees baseball cap, and I LOVE NY tee shirt, and a pair offuchsia sunglasses into my arms.
I grabbed Julie and ducked into the bathroom.Suppressing my Chicago Cubs fan sensibilities, I shoved my hair upunder the hat.
I gave Julie the tee and glasses. She waslistless, her jaw slack.
“You hanging in there?” I asked.
She stared at me like she hadn’t realized Iwas standing next to her.
“You should get away from me.” She bit herlower 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, butchoked it back.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said.
“Really?”
“Yes,” I lied.
She reached out to hug me, then caughtherself 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. Idoubted it would fool the Iranians or the Venezuelans or whateveradditional intelligence agencies happened to be after us, but itmight keep the cops off our tails. Eyewitnesses in stressfulsituations tended to remember the simple things, if they rememberedanything accurately at all. Changing the general look of ourclothing and length of my hair would hopefully get us off theNYPD’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 asI expected.
“The ferry terminal is at the tip ofManhattan. That’s a long damn way.”
“Then let’s shoot for the Columbus Circlesubway station.”
He nodded. “Ever get the feeling we’reretracing our steps?”
“It has occurred to me.”
We emerged from the subway to find rush hourstill in play and Lincoln Center’s fountain rimmed with summertourists and New Yorkers alike. The faint beat of helicopter bladessounded overhead, and my stomach seized until I spotted it. Policethis time, not ideal, but at least it wasn’t Hawk Nose and hisfriends.
I eyed Kirk. In the sunlight I could detectthe sheen of fresh blood darkening his pant leg, seeping through mymakeshift bandage. If we had to do much walking, I wasn’t sure hewould last.
Ditto if Julie sneezed on him.
I had to admit, I was relieved to have Julieaway from mass transit. Ever since finding out who she really was,what she really was, the knowledge that her blood could wipe outmuch of the city weighed heavily on me. The odds of getting her allthe way to the tip of Manhattan, then across the harbor to StatenIsland, seemed astronomical and growing. Even if she died, shestill 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 hairand trickling down his forehead. He picked up the pace, his
