The Witness Page 4

  Yana sat up straighter and met his eyes. She couldn’t resist a discussion about art, even after what happened to her. Her true passion was a safe place, and much easier to discuss than her supposed mugging.

  “Oh, but you must. They have the most comprehensive exhibition of Russian art outside of the homeland. Icons like the Virgin of Vladimir. Collections amassed by Peter and Catherine the Great. Shchukin and Morozov. Avant-Garde. Even Post-Soviet pieces.” Maggie lowered her head and picked at her thumbnail, one of Yana’s nervous ticks. “Not that I got to see any of it.”

  Aleksandar gave her some time to compose herself before asking the inevitable. “Is that where it happened?”

  She nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “Would you? I watch the news. They don’t like us, and I don’t trust them,” she said, not having to clarify who they were.

  “You did the right thing.” Aleksandar went back to his computer. More typing. “We’ll do everything we can to find the ones who did this to you.”

  “And my things?”

  “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Ms. Kostina. New York is a very big place and even if we do arrest the ones responsible, your belongings will most likely be long gone.”

  Maggie sniffed, eyes filling with tears again. “They took everything. My phone, my money, the key to my hotel room.”

  “We can help you with all of that. Now, do you have anything to confirm your identity and citizenship, Ms. Kostina? It’s just a security precaution,” he added when she frowned at his request.

  “I have my passport.” Maggie pulled out the counterfeit ID and passed it over.

  Aleksandar checked inside, his eyes flitting between Maggie and the photo of Yana. “If someone stole your bag, how do you still have your passport?”

  Maggie rubbed at her throat again, her voice scratchy as she spoke and getting worse. “My father told me to keep it in my pocket, in case of something like this. I did what he said, but I never believed it would actually happen.”

  “Do you want a drink?” Aleksandar asked.

  “Please,” she rasped, coughing.

  Aleksandar opened the door to a little fridge by his desk and brought out a cool bottle of water, condensation dripping down the plastic.

  “Could I have something hot?” Maggie leaned her head to one side and bore her neck which had the same bruising effect as her jaw. “They grabbed me by the neck and my throat hurts from the pressure.”

  Muscles twitched on Aleksandar’s jaw as he peered at the handy work of the supposed muggers, a dark look sweeping past his eyes. “Of course. Stay here and I’ll be back in one moment with some coffee.”

  “Thank you,” said Maggie. “You’ve been very kind.”

  Maggie waited until the door clicked shut behind him and dashed from her seat to Aleksandar’s. Grabbing the mouse, she caught the computer before the screensaver locked her out.

  “Kind, but stupid.”

  Men always underestimated women. While irritating to the highest degree, it also had its uses and had helped Maggie during missions more times than any gun had. Being overlooked came with advantages, and she exploited them to the fullest.

  A tab was already open on Aleksandar’s computer and she double clicked it into full-screen. Live video footage blinked back at her, a grid of squares for each camera in the building and the outside perimeter. Aleksandar himself came into view at the top left, heading down the hall and into what looked like a staffroom where a few people waited in line for coffee from a vending machine.

  Scanning each square, Maggie searched for her target. Emily Wallace was somewhere inside, for now, and she needed to move before the head of security came back. The alarm would be raised as soon as Aleksandar returned to find Yana missing. They needed to be gone before then, which didn’t leave much time.

  A feed at the bottom caught her attention. While not overtly different from the other rows of doors on the CCTV, the fact that two guards stood outside it certainly indicated something important lay inside.

  Or someone.

  Using the feeds to take note of the route to the door in question, Maggie headed out the office and down the corridor in the opposite direction from Aleksandar.

  No one was around; the upper floors of consulates weren’t generally used for dealings with the public. The door in question lay on the ground floor at the back of the building. Maggie took a different set of stairs down to avoid the guards by the front entrance. They would intercept her on sight if seen without a chaperone.

  With pricked ears, Maggie crept down the steps.

  Pressing against the wall at the bottom, Maggie inched to the corner and risked a glance around the edge towards the guarded door. The guards were still there, postures rigid and alert despite their bored expressions. Professionals.

  Maggie was no amateur, either, and without wasting another second, she rounded the corner into plain sight.

  “Help,” she called, running towards them and looking back over her shoulder like she was being chased. “Please, you have to help me.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked the man, stepping forward and away from his post.

  “You can’t be down here,” said the woman at the same time as she reached inside her suit jacket.

  “He’s going to kill me,” cried Maggie, wild with fear.

  The male guard moved to spring into action, but the female guard held him back as she scrutinized Maggie with narrowed eyes.

  “He’s got Aleksandar,” said Maggie as she grew closer, not stopping.

  Both guards paused at that and shared an alarmed look. It didn’t matter if either of them believed her. All Maggie needed was the precious few seconds worth of distraction to bridge the gap between them.

  Springing into the air, she shot out her leg and caught the man in the temple with a roundhouse kick. The steel toecap on her boots worked like a charm, and he crumpled to the floor with eyes rolling to the back of his head before he even registered her attack.

  The woman wasn’t so slow.

  What Maggie thought was a gun, turned out to be a baton. The guard flicked it out to its full length and swung it at Maggie like her head was a piñata.

  Maggie ducked just in time and slammed her fist into the woman’s gut. She doubled over, but in doing so swung again with the baton, this time catching Maggie in the arm.

  Hissing in pain, Maggie grabbed the bottom of the baton and pulled it towards her.

  The woman stumbled forward with the momentum and Maggie clipped her in the chin with an uppercut. Her head snapped back and Maggie kicked her square in the chest, sending her crashing back into the door.

  The impact left a dent in the wood, and as the guard struggled to get back to her feet, Maggie caught her with a right hook and sent the woman to the floor alongside her partner.

  Listening for signs of new arrivals, Maggie turned the handle to the door. It didn’t budge.

  “Shit.”

  An electronic reader was positioned on the wall next to the door, the light at red. Remembering Aleksandar’s card, Maggie bent down and rummaged through the jackets of the knocked-out guards. She found a keycard in the man’s jacket and swiped it through the reader. The light switched from red to green and Maggie entered.

  “Who are you?” said a girl.

  Emily Wallace stood up from a couch which took up most of the little box room. There were no windows and empty bottles of water lay scattered on the carpet. They’d kept Emily there for a while.

  “A friend.” Maggie checked the hall for signs of back-up. The coast was clear, for now.

  Emily crossed her arms. “I don’t know you.”

  Her braids fell over one shoulder, dark eyes innocent yet untrusting. A blue dress sparkled underneath an oversized hoody which Maggie suspected had been given to her by one of her captors. Black leggings covered her legs, ending in a pair of well-loved Converse on her feet.

  “I’m here to
get you out,” Maggie said.

  Emily exhaled in relief. “Did my mom send you?”

  “We don’t have time to talk.” Maggie reached out her hand. “Come with me. Now.”

  Maggie’s sharp tone must have frightened the girl. She could see the cogs working in Emily’s head, wondering if she could trust this stranger. One of many she must have come into contact since her abduction.

  “Or you can stay here,” said Maggie with a shrug. “Either way, I’ve got to go.”

  That did it. Emily reached out and took Maggie’s hand, letting her pull her out of the room and into the hallway.

  “Don’t mind them,” Maggie said, as she stepped over the guards and scooped up the woman’s baton along the way.

  Emily looked back at them, her legs having to do twice the work of Maggie’s to keep up the pace. “Did you do that?”

  Maggie shushed her. “Stay quiet.”

  Then the alarm began. It screeched in a high-pitched wail throughout the hallway, screaming like a banshee in Maggie’s ears.

  “Bollocks,” she swore, dragging Emily to the staircase.

  Emily dug her heels. “Shouldn’t we be running out the front door?”

  “Quiet,” Maggie hissed. “If they catch us, the only way we’re leaving this building is in a body bag. Got that?”

  Emily nodded, eyes wide.

  “Good, now do as I say and we might make it out of this mess alive.” Maggie forced a smile as her mind raced through her plans. She unclasped Yana’s bracelet and fastened it around Emily’s slender wrist.

  “What’s that for?”

  “It’s a tracker. If we get split up, I can find you.” Not that Maggie intended to lose sight of Emily. The bracelet was strictly a safeguard for the worst-case scenario.

  They travelled back upstairs and headed towards the front of the building. Voices carried down the hallway from around the corner in a mixture of alarm and confusion. Protocols for lockdown would already be in place. Civilians locking themselves in offices and safe rooms while security armed up, preparing to search the building to eliminate the imminent threat.

  At the end of the hallway, Maggie led Emily into a room to their left and closed the door.

  From the looks of it, the room was likely used for meeting and entertaining foreign dignitaries. The large lounge was brightly lit from the sun shining through the large windows. Plush sofas sat around well-polished tables, decanters of amber liquid and crystal glasses arranged like center pieces. Ornate paintings hung from the walls, portraits of stern looking nobles staring down at them with disapproving eyes.

  Marching footsteps sounded from outside and Maggie’s heart leapt in her chest.

  Darting her eyes over the room, she narrowed in on the grand piano in the corner. “Help me move this,” she ordered Emily, kicking the brakes up from the wheels of each leg.

  Emily complied as the racket through the door grew louder. The handle on the door began to turn and Maggie shoved the piano the last few feet just in time to stop it from opening.

  The handle moved to no avail. Muffled words followed, closely by the ramming of a shoulder into the door. Maggie kicked down the brakes and stepped back. It should hold them off long enough.

  Shoulders were replaced with feet and the door rattled in its frame.

  Emily’s hands shook and Maggie patted her shoulder. “They won’t get in,” she assured.

  “Get the axe,” called a rough voice beyond in Russian.

  Well shit.

  It was time to get a move on.

  The slamming grew louder and more violent as more guards joined the fray.

  “It’s a dead end,” Emily squealed, circling the room. “We’re trapped.”

  “Not quite.” Maggie moved to the windows and peered outside. It was risky, but it was their best shot at getting out unnoticed. Grabbing the curtains draping to the floor, she wrapped her hand in the thick fabric. Maggie threw a fist at the window and felt her hand break through, the glass shattering to the floor around them like sharp-edged diamonds.

  Clearing the rest of the glass away with her boot, Maggie swung her leg out over the window pane. No guards were outside the building yet, too concerned about who was inside rather than out.

  Wind whistled past her and brushed her hair from her face. It wasn’t a huge drop down to the sidewalk, but it was enough to break or sprain an ankle if you landed wrong. Worse if you failed to land on your feet at all.

  “Where are you going?” asked Emily, checking over her shoulder as the first blow from the axe collided with the door.

  “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” said Maggie, both feet on the window ledge now. “Now watch what I do. I need you to copy me, okay?”

  A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek, panic threatening to take over.

  Maggie clicked her fingers. “Emily, do you hear me? I need you to follow exactly what I do.”

  Emily nodded, wiping her face with the over long sleeve of her hoodie.

  The scaffolding framing the building next door jutted out four feet away. It was a simple jump, but Maggie didn’t want to risk Emily falling. Especially given how shaken she was.

  Another crash sounded against the door, a crack forming down the center as the axe chipped away.

  Careful of the glass, Maggie held onto the frame of the window to steady herself before moving. Feet planted securely on the ledge, she inched over and reached out for the stone pillar framing the window. The ledge was barley wide enough for her foot and she shuffled across to the edge of the consulate building. Maggie grabbed out for the corner pole of the scaffolding next door and swung herself around until her feet found purchase on the wooden slate walkway.

  Emily’s head bobbed out from the window. “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can,” said Maggie. “You have to.”

  Yelling echoed out of the window along with the collision of sharpened metal on wood. “They’re breaking through,” cried Emily.

  “Come on,” urged Maggie. They were losing precious time. “Your mother’s waiting on you.”

  Though Maggie didn’t even know her mother’s name, the white lie was enough for Emily. A steely look passed over her eyes and she clenched a determined jaw.

  “Take your time,” said Maggie as the girl stepped out onto the ledge. “Keep your eyes on your feet, and don’t look down any further.”

  Emily was painfully slow, but Maggie refrained from rushing her. “That’s it,” she encouraged, checking behind her for any signs of the workmen. It must have been their coffee break.

  A crashing came from inside the lounge, the voices of the guards clearer even from the outside.

  “It’s blocked. There’s a fucking piano.”

  “Climb over it.”

  They were through the door.

  Emily heard it too, and she moved faster towards the scaffolding.

  Maggie reached out her arms. “Almost there.”

  Emily fumbled forward. Her foot snagged and missed the ledge, falling out from under her. She screamed as she fell back into nothing but thin air.

  Holding the pole of the scaffolding, Maggie dove out and grabbed the scruff of Emily’s hoodie. A jolt of pain ran up her arm as she bore the weight of Emily, her muscles burning under the strain of the hanging girl.

  Emily kicked and flailed in panic, but Maggie dug her fingers into the fabric and hoisted her up with everything she had.

  Dragging Emily up, Maggie pulled her over the edge of the scaffolding and they fell back into the safety of the walkway. “I’ve got you,” panted Maggie. “You’re safe.”

  It was the second lie she told Emily Wallace that day. They were far from safe.

  Chapter 6

  Maggie led Emily down the street from the consulate and turned into 5th Avenue when the first group of Russians sped out the front door. The gates drew open and a detail of three SUVs with tinted windows pulled into the road.

  The traffic lights were red and Maggie and Emily wea
ved between vehicles as they crossed the road, ducking behind a delivery van to stay out of view.

  Scurrying across to the sidewalk, Maggie risked a look back as the lights flicked to green and the traffic began to move.

  The road was one way, but the SUVs waited with drumming engines at the junction, indicating left in Maggie and Emily’s direction.

  “We need to get off the street,” said Maggie, taking in her surroundings. The lavish Cooper-Hewitt museum sat directly across from them, once the mansion of industrialist Andrew Carnegie.

  Across from the mansion stood the Church of Heavenly Rest, it’s neo-gothic arches and foreboding presence far from welcoming. Maggie would seek no sanctuary there. Even its very name seemed like a bad omen.

  Maggie forced her pace to slow to a brisk walk and kept Emily close as they continued down the street. A row of parked cars lined their left, the brick wall that encased Central Park by their right.

  The park.

  “This way,” Maggie said, steering Emily past a hotdog cart and into the eastern entrance of Central Park.

  It was in the opposite direction of the British Consulate, but the direct route was too open. Too dangerous.

  Two point three miles lay between both consulates. Forty-seven minutes on foot. Less than that if running. It didn’t sound that long, but travelling the forty or so blocks through the city would be like a marathon with the Russians chasing after them

  A lot of things could go wrong between then. Taking the direct route down 3rd Avenue would be the fastest, but not necessarily the wisest. Yet the longer Maggie kept Emily Wallace out on the streets, the longer the enemy would have to track them down and kill them both.

  That meant taking an alternative route.

  The park was busy for the time of year. A cluster of school kids huddled around a teacher who bellowed for them to gather around and get into pairs. The wind was picking up and swept early fallen leaves that blanketed the pathways, rushing past Maggie’s feet like a river of yellow and green.

  A vendor selling cheesy t-shirts and hats had taken residence in the corner by the entrance. Some of the straggling school kids were harassing him, asking how much each t-shirt cost when the sign said everything was ten dollars.