CHAPTER 14

Sarah awoke from a nightmare-Rakkim on his knees, a hand clasped to his side, blood leaking through his fingers. She awoke from that nightmare and found herself in another. This one real.

Sounds of bubble wrap popping woke her up. A scrap of packing material left in the shadow of the alley where the security light didn’t reach. A scrap she had placed in the funnel point where anyone coming in the back way would have to step. The nearby trash can overflowed with cardboard boxes, Styrofoam, and packing material. Anyone walking on the piece of plastic might think it just an unlucky break…a bit of sloppiness from the tenants, but the footsteps outside were hurrying now. Whoever was coming for her was not fooled.

She rolled off the couch, fully dressed, everything she needed in the loose pants and zippered jacket she slept in. The apartment was on the third floor, the window open to the alley below-she didn’t have time to get away, but she had time to unlock the door to the hallway and leave it ajar, as though she had fled in haste. She had time to remove the piece of wood paneling behind the radiator. It was an old building, pretransition, with thick outer walls to keep the heat in. Gas and oil had been expensive then. There was room in the wall for her to hide, a tiny space she had lined with insulation. Footsteps pounded up the stairwell as she squeezed into the tiny hiding spot. She locked the panel back into place and prayed that the seam in the dark pine was aligned with the others. She lay flattened in the dark, the radiator hissing. Waiting. Just as she had rehearsed so many times, except that in rehearsal she hadn’t already been drenched with sweat. She thought of Rakkim and wondered if he was still angry at her for standing him up at the Super Bowl. Probably. He held a grudge. Footsteps in the hallway. Creak of the front door being pushed open. Her heart was beating so loudly it sounded like thunder.

Sarah closed her eyes, fought off the fear and the claustrophobia. With her eyes closed she could imagine that she stood in an auditorium, gathering her thoughts before giving a lecture. There were voices in the room now, and the sound of furniture being knocked over. She opened her eyes. There was a crack in the paneling from the radiator’s heat, a crack that allowed a glimpse of the men ransacking the apartment. There were two…no, three of them. She didn’t think they were Redbeard’s men…they were too loud, too clumsy. Most of them. One of them though…her eye was pressed against the crack, eyelashes brushing against the rough wood. While the others darted around, a bald man moved to the couch and placed a hand on the cushion, felt the heat from her body still lingering. She shuddered as though he had touched her.

“Go check the roof,” ordered the bald man.

Sarah saw a man in a long leather coat rush out the door, heard his footsteps beating up the stairs, not even trying to be quiet. It was the middle of the night, but the neighbors knew well enough not to investigate sudden noises.

“The bitch is gone,” grumbled a tall, freckled scarecrow.

The bald man picked up a container of half-eaten Chinese food on the coffee table, remnants of her dinner. Sniffed it. “Thermal this shithole. I’ll decide if she’s gone.” He put his feet up on the coffee table, dug in with the chopsticks. A glop of chicken and bean sprouts fell into his lap on the way to his mouth. He went back for more.

Scarecrow circled the living room, using a handheld thermal imager to look for her. He scanned the stuffed chair, the hutch, walked out the ceiling and the floor. He hit the walls too, the unit beeping as he passed the radiator.

Sarah bit her finger to stop her teeth from chattering, sweat pouring down her face.

Scarecrow kept walking. When he finished, he started toward the bedroom.

“Don’t forget to get around the closet,” said the bald man. “And behind the shitter!” He started on the leftover sweet-and-sour pork, chewing with his mouth open.

Leather coat came back. “Nobody on the roof. It’s a jump to the next building, but she could do it.” He laughed. “If she was motivated.”

The bald man licked the chopsticks clean, stood up from the couch. “Toss the place. I’ll hit the bedroom and check her personals.”

Leather coat tore a mass-produced picture of the Great Mosque in Jerusalem off the wall, examined the back, then threw it onto the floor. He moved around the room. The desk was emptied, drawers overturned. Bent the TV screen in half.

Sarah turned away from the crack in the paneling, listening to the sounds of destruction, breathing through her mouth. Roasting. She had rented the apartment months ago, hoping she would never need it. Hoped she would never need the hiding spot either. She couldn’t believe they had found her. She had been so careful. These weren’t Redbeard’s men…it had to be the Old One who had sent them. She peeked out again through the crack.

“Little missy travels light,” scarecrow said to the bald man, as they walked back into the living room. “Just a toothbrush in the bathroom, no purse, no notepad, no papers.”

The bald man sat on the couch with a quart of milk in his hand, drinking straight from the carton, and the idea of him raiding her refrigerator enraged her out of all proportion.

“I don’t know about Ibn Azziz taking over from Oxley,” said scarecrow. “They say he don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t pump whores. How can you trust somebody like that?”

“That’s what a grand mullah is supposed to be like, you heathen prick.” The bald man shook his head. “All that matters is if he pays the bounty.”

“I’ll take Oxley any day,” said leather coat. “Man knew how to throw a party-”

The bald man chucked the empty milk carton onto the floor, wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “This Ibn Azziz, he’s in a hurry. We’re going to work steady with this one.”

Sarah shifted slightly in the hiding spot and a raised nail scraped her arm. The Old One hadn’t sent these three men-they were bounty hunters. The Black Robes had a small army of mercenaries under contract for their dirty work, ex-army, ex-police, ex-cons. Even so, the Black Robes had never dared to challenge Redbeard directly. Now they were actually going after his niece?

“We got here five minutes sooner, we would have caught the bitch,” said scarecrow. “I could have bought a new car with my share.” He booted an antique mahogany bookstand, shattered the thin wood. “If asshole hadn’t stopped to take a piss…”

“I got a weak bladder,” said leather coat.

“Yeah, and if you didn’t have a weak bladder, I’d be riding in style tomorrow.” Scarecrow played with one of those Filipino flip knives that went snickity-snick. “Now maybe one of the other teams is going to collect the reward.”

Other teams? Sarah tasted dust in her mouth.

“We’ll find her,” said the bald man. “Little girl can’t hide forever.”

Scarecrow jabbed the couch with his knife, drove the blade in and out without passion. “What do the Black Robes want with her anyway?”

The bald man sat on the couch watching scarecrow play with the knife. “Don’t know. Don’t care, either.”

Sarah heard liquid splash on the floor, and leather coat saying, “Ahhhhhhhhh. That’s better.”

“You’re disgusting,” said scarecrow. Stuffing from the couch drifted across the floor.

The bald man stood up. “Let’s call it a night. She’s on the run now, scared and not thinking straight. We’ll catch little miss high and mighty another day.”

Sarah listened to them shuffle out, slamming the door behind them. She didn’t move. She stayed where she was, in the cramped darkness. She hated the dark. She had slept for years with a night-light on. Redbeard had tried to break her of the habit, but even he had been forced to give up. Rakkim…Rakkim had slept on the floor next to her bed when she had nightmares. It had been the only thing that helped.