“Go, I’ll hold them off,” said Jerome, backing through the door.
Leopold headed for the stairs and dragged Sophie behind. The narrow staircase was poorly lit and steep, zigzagging its way up to the roof. Glancing behind, he saw Jerome take up his position at the foot of the stairs, blocking the way.
“What are you waiting for?” Sophie hissed, tugging at his wrist. “We need to get out of here.”
Leopold held his ground. Despite his old friend’s orders, he couldn’t just leave without making sure Jerome knew what he was doing. Fortunately, he needn’t have worried.
As the first officer bounded through the doorway, Jerome thrust out a giant palm and struck the man in the nose, snapping his head back and throwing him into the wall. Another cop followed and a jab to the throat put him out of commission before he could take another step. A third officer pushed through, followed by a fourth, then a fifth, clambering over the bodies of their comrades. Their shouts were drowned out by the noise of the alarms.
Leopold could barely see Jerome any more, his view blocked by the rabble of policeman attempting to drive the bodyguard back. It was only a matter of time before they broke through and Leopold knew their freedom depended on making it to the roof before that happened. He felt Sophie pulling at his arm again and he turned to look at her, catching the fear and panic in her eyes.
“Okay, you win. Let’s go.” He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with Sophie not far behind. The climb to the top felt like an eternity, adrenaline making him feel as though he were moving in slow motion.
His heartbeat thumping in his ears, Leopold finally reached the summit and threw all his weight against the metal door blocking their path. It held fast.
“It’s locked,” said Sophie, catching her breath. “We’re stuck. We should give ourselves up before someone gets hurt.”
He lowered his shoulders and tried again. “No. It’s not locked, just stiff. We keep moving.” He grunted with the effort, slamming his body into the metal. The door began to give way as a barrage of shouts echoed up the stairwell.
“It’s working! Let me help.” She squeezed in next to him and pushed.
The door let out a metallic screech as the warped hinges began to give way. Leopold felt fresh air on his face as a crack of light appeared, their path to freedom tantalizingly close.
“Nearly there, keep going.” Leopold grunted with the effort, his muscles straining.
With a final push, Sophie added an extra jolt and the door burst open. Stumbling through the doorway, the consultant froze. The roof was slanted and clad with smooth tiles, only a narrow strip separating them from a sixty foot plummet. The dwindling sunlight cast long shadows across the scene, making it almost impossible to make out a clear path.
“What are you waiting for?” Sophie hissed, forcing the door back into its frame. “We need to find a way out of here. That door won’t hold them for long.”
“One wrong move and we could slip right over the edge.” He glanced out toward the precipice.
“So what do we do? Just wait here to get picked up?”
“No. Look over there.” He pointed to the far side of the roof. “We’re in a pretty old part of the city. Most of these buildings were designed to share essentials like gas and water. There should be some kind of access between the two.”
“You’re certain?”
“There’s only one way to be sure.” He grabbed hold of her hand. “Follow me.” Leopold crept forward, his eyes scanning the surface in front of his feet for any signs of loose tiling or other trip hazards, but the lack of light was making progress slow and difficult.
“Can you hear that?” Sophie asked.
Tilting his head, Leopold caught the faint but unmistakable sound of sirens, lots of sirens. They were getting closer. “Someone must have called for reinforcements. Try to ignore it.”
“Ignore it? Half of the Paris police department are about to show up, and I don’t think –” A loud, metallic clang cut her off mid-sentence.
Leopold put his finger to his lips. “Ssh. Keep quiet, and keep low.”
The sound came again, a grinding and screeching of twisted metal.
“It sounds like they got past Jerome,” said Leopold. “We’re out of time.”
EIGHTEEN
“Stop the car.” Mary stared out of the back window of the cab as the vehicle slowed to a standstill. Her jaw dropped.
“Madame,” the cabbie looked at her over his shoulder. “This is not a safe place to stop. You would rather I let you out around the corner?”
Mary didn’t reply. The streets outside were teeming with police, most of whom were running in the direction of the Commissariat Central front doors. Three marked vehicles had formed a blockade across the main roads leading away from the station, their red and blue lights flashing. Yellow police tape stretched across the sidewalk, keeping the pedestrians at bay. A few armed officers had their weapons drawn and were stalking the perimeter of the building, dressed in full body armor. If Mary had been in any doubt that Leopold was nearby, all uncertainty now vanished.
Always desperate for attention. She fished a twenty Euro note from her purse and handed it to the driver. Stepping out onto the road, she shut the car door and the driver sped off. Narrowly avoiding a collision with a camera-wielding spectator, she dragged her luggage over to the sidewalk and found an empty seat near an impressive fountain. Ignoring the water splashing onto her shoes, she watched the chaos unfolding across the street.
As the sun set over the skyline, the street lamps flickered into life and cast long shadows across the sidewalk. Squinting at the dozens of prowling silhouettes, Mary pulled out her cell phone and noticed several missed call alerts. She didn’t recognize the number, but made an executive decision and hit redial.
The call connected and someone picked up. The sound of strong wind at the other end crackled in the speaker, but Mary could just about make out a voice. A woman’s voice, with a strong French accent.
“Allô? Is that Mary?”
“Who the hell is this?”
“Hang on.”
Mary heard a scuffling sound and a familiar voice came on the line.
“You’ve caught me at a bad time, Mary.”
“Leopold? What the hell are you doing? Where are you? What’s with all the cops?”
“Like I said, this isn’t the best time.” There was a brief pause. “Are you nearby?”
“I’m at the fountain, looking straight at the police H.Q. You’ve made quite a mess, Leopold.”
“Entirely necessary, I assure you. Long story short, we’re up on the roof. Someone set me up and I need to get out of here. It’s my only chance to figure out what’s going on.”
“This is the most –”
“We can talk about it later,” Leopold interrupted. “Look, I need your help.”
Mary resisted the urge to scream down the phone. “You need help?”
“If we can get across to the next building before they see us, the police will think we slipped out on one of the lower floors.”
“So?”
“On the northeast corner of the building there’s an alleyway. See it?”
Mary squinted. “What about it?”
“See the cop standing there?”
“The one with the submachine gun?”
“That’s the one. I need you to distract him.”
“Distract him? Why?”
“We can make it across the gap between the two buildings using the pipes that run along the walls, but I’ll need you to keep the attention away from us for a few minutes. Can you do that?”
“Leopold, I –”
“Can you do it, Mary?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Then get moving. We’ve got people trying to break a door down up here. Not to put you under pressure or anything.”
“I’m on the way. Just make sure you get your ass down here so I can kick it back to New York, where
it belongs.”
“I knew you’d –”
She hung up the phone, cutting him off. She watched the armed police officer standing guard near the alleyway across the street. He stood with both hands on his weapon, glancing up and down the road. Apparently satisfied the escape routes were covered, he turned to survey the alleyway behind him.
Shit. Her phone still in her hand, Mary ditched her luggage and sprinted across the road, making a beeline for the armed policeman.
Don’t look up, don’t look up. Shit, shit, shit.
Mary summoned a final burst of strength and lengthened her stride. As she drew close, she let out a high-pitched squeal and fell to the ground, rolling unceremoniously into the nearby wall.
“Madame? Etes-vous blessé?”
Looking up from the floor, Mary saw the armed officer approach, one hand held out. She took it, and he helped her onto her feet.
“Que s'est-il passé?” he asked. His nametag read “Beaumont.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.” Mary smiled and pushed back her hair. “Erm… Parlez-vous Anglais?”
Beaumont nodded. “Yes, English is fine. What are you doing here? This is a secure area. You need to step back.”
“I was mugged. Someone stole my purse and now I’ve hurt my leg.” She hobbled slightly to prove the point. “Can you help me? Please? I don’t know what else to do. I’m here by myself and I don’t know anyone. I just need a little help.” She looked up and caught a glimpse of movement on the roof above. She quickly dropped her gaze. “Please?”
Beaumont’s features softened slightly. “There’s a medical team close by. I can get them to come. Can you walk?”
She hobbled slightly, but retained her balance. Stealing a brief glance into the shadows above, she noticed two figures shimmying their way slowly across the gap between the buildings.
“I – I don’t know,” she replied, wincing in mock pain. “Can you take me?”
“I can’t leave my post.”
“Maybe you could just… can you just help me stand? My leg hurts too much to walk.”
“It’s not safe for you here. If you could –” A scuffling noise cut him off and he turned his head to check behind him.
Mary felt her heart in her throat. Without stopping to think, she threw herself forward and wrapped both arms around Beaumont’s waist. “I’m so sorry!” she spluttered, as he jerked in surprise. “I tripped! I can’t stand up straight with this leg… Please, can you just help me over to the corner? I’m sure someone can take me from there.”
Beaumont glared at her. “Madame, please take your hands off me.”
“Look, just help me hobble over to the corner. I’m sure someone else can take me from there.”
He paused. “Please, be quick. I can take you.”
“Thank you, thank you. Erm… Merci.” Mary smiled and took the officer’s arm. He led her away from the alleyway and toward the huddle of cops at the street corner.
“Just make sure you stay out of the way,” said Beaumont.
“Of course, no problem,” said Mary. “I’m just having a really bad day, that’s all.”
NINETEEN
Peering through the Yukon Ranger Pro night vision scope, Dieter Reiniger contemplated the carnage unfolding in front of him. Sitting in the relative safety of his black VW two blocks from the Commissariat Central, the assassin could make out the action as though he were just a few feet away, all rendered in sharp focus through the high-resolution LCD display.
Blake and the French girl had somehow managed to escape onto the roof and across to the adjacent building, but the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. Reiniger counted himself lucky for that small mercy. Mary Jordan had shown up, as expected, meaning she and Blake would attempt to regroup somewhere close by.
Reiniger lowered the monocular and took a deep breath. The building next to the police headquarters looked like a regular office complex, the perfect place for Blake and the others to rendezvous undetected. Thankfully, it was also the perfect place to put an end to this mess and get the mission back on track. There was still time.
Stowing the scope in the glove box, the assassin swung open the driver’s door and stepped out into the street, resting his hand against the gun holstered beneath his jacket. Making his way toward the chaos ahead, he ran through the plan in his mind. By the time he reached the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice, Reiniger knew one thing for sure – Blake and his friends weren’t making it out of the building alive.
TWENTY
The automatic lights kicked out a flood of luminescence as Leopold stepped into the deserted hallway. The office building had been easy enough to breach thanks to a poorly-secured skylight, and most of the interior doors were unlocked. In the harsh neon light, Leopold could understand why – most of the offices were stripped bare, leaving empty expanses of dusty carpet and rows of deserted cubicles.
“What is this place?” whispered Sophie, as they made their way through the corridor.
“Looks like whoever was here moved on a long time ago. Did you send Mary our rendezvous point?”
“Oui, but what if the police pick up my SMS?”
“When they check for cell phone usage, it’ll take them some time to sift through the background noise. By which time, we’ll be long gone.”
“Gone where?”
He ignored her question. Turning a corner, Leopold noticed a stairwell door at the end of the hallway and waved Sophie forward.
“The parking basement is this way.” He led Sophie down the bare concrete steps at speed, their footsteps echoing against the cold walls as they descended into the belly of the abandoned office block. Leopold could taste the dust and damp, the unmistakable scent of neglect hanging heavy in the air.
“How will she get in?” Sophie asked, as they reached the bottom and made for the door. “This place is locked up.”
“She’s a cop, so I doubt she’ll have much of a problem breaking into an empty building. Just hope the police don’t get the same idea.” He rattled the handle. “Locked. Dammit.”
“You’ve not had much luck with doors today.” She stepped forward.
He caught the faint scent of her perfume as she passed and felt his spirits lift momentarily. He shook it off.
“Looks like we’re going to have to find another way out,” she said, leaning hard against the door. “This thing won’t move.”
“Looks like lady luck’s decided to leave us both hung out to dry.”
“So melodramatic,” said Sophie, rolling her eyes. “Maybe we can –” A sudden noise cut her off.
Glancing down, Leopold saw the door handle shake violently. He took a step back. “Get behind me and keep quiet.”
“Hey!” she protested as Leopold yanked her backward.
“Shh. Try to resist the urge to open your mouth for once.”
Fuming, Sophie bit her lip and complied. The door handle shook again, faster this time, and Leopold heard a loud thump from the other side of the wall. He tensed, ready to move.
“What do we do?” she hissed.
Leopold raised his finger to his lips, keeping his eyes fixed on the doorway. He caught the faint but unmistakable sound of metal on metal, then a series of clicks. The sound of lock tumblers falling into place.
“Get ready.” He put his hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
“For what?”
The door flew open. Leopold saw a sinewy figure stride toward them, obscured by the shadows. His fists clenched tight, he waited for the right moment. He could make out the figure’s face in the dull light. A face he recognized.
“Mary?” He stepped forward. “What the hell took you so long?”
Mary whipped around. “Dammit, don’t do that,” she snapped. “It’s bad enough I’ve got to find my way around this creepy place in the dark. I don’t need people jumping out of the shadows at me.”
Leopold raised his palms. “Okay, okay. Can you get us out of here?”
“There?
??s an old access hatch that leads up to street level, just across the other side of the parking lot. The lock was practically rusted off. We should be able to get out onto the main road without being spotted. Assuming the police haven’t decided to broaden their search perimeter, that is.”
“As far as they know we’re still running around inside the station. But they’ll figure it out eventually.”
“We’d better get going then.” She paused, glancing down at Sophie. “Who’s this?”
“Mary Jordan, meet Sophie Bardot,” said Leopold, helping the art restorer to her feet. “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”
“Save the pleasantries for later,” said Mary, looking Sophie up and down. “Follow me.”
Setting at a brisk pace, the NYPD sergeant led the way through into the gloomy parking lot. “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked, not breaking her stride. “And what happened to Jerome?”
“It’s a long story,” said Leopold.
“Then tell it quickly.”
“I was hired to consult for the Louvre. While I was there, I discovered a major security flaw and informed the art director. Jerome and I left to speak with Mademoiselle Bardot, which is when I got the call.”
“What call?”
“The art director was murdered shortly after we left the museum. The police got hold of my cell phone number and asked me down to the station.”
“Jesus, Leopold, what are you getting me into? And why the hell did you bring her along?”
“She insisted.”
Mary shook her head. “You’re kidding me. Where do you find these people?”
“We were taken into an interview room,” Leopold continued, ignoring her. “They told us a fingerprint had been found near the murder scene. My fingerprint. You can figure out the rest.”
“So this is a frame job?”
“Looks like it.”
“But why?”
“That’s what we need to figure out,” said Leopold. “I’ll need you to pull some favors. Think you can do that without raising any red flags?”
“If I act fast, sure.”
He nudged Mary as they walked. “Just like old times.”
“Don’t get cute.”