Andrew Grant - Even

“Where is he?” Lavine said.

Tanya nodded in my direction. She looked nervous.

If Lavine had been sensible and headed back to the corridor for help I’d have had a problem. But he didn’t. He came over to gawp at me. People can never resist the sight of a body. I should know.

I stopped breathing altogether as Lavine approached. He stepped into the gap I’d left next to the wall, bent over me, then knelt down for a closer look. I could feel his breath on my cheek. It was damp. I guess he was worried, wondering how to explain this fiasco to Rosser.

Before he could move away I whipped my right leg up, hooked it around the back of his head and dragged him down toward me, trapping his neck between my thighs and jacking myself up into a sitting position at the same time. My arms were still above my head, and in one continuous movement I swung them over and brought them down in front of me, slamming the edges of my fists into his left temple like a pair of sledgehammers.

Tanya rushed over and stood for a moment, staring down at the pair of us entwined on the floor. She looked completely aghast. Then, without me asking, she began to haul Lavine’s slack body off my leg.

“David, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” she said. “How are we going to fix this?”

“Give me a hand,” I said. “I need his keys.”

“What’s going on inside your head? Why did you attack him? Talk about making yourself look guilty. Who’s going to believe you now?”

“Tanya-keys.”

“Things were bad enough already. Now you’ve made them a thousand times worse. Just be quiet for a minute. I need time to think.”

“We don’t have any time. I need to be out of here before they come looking for Lavine. They’ll wonder where we are.”

“You’re running away? Things are getting a bit tough, and this is how you react?”

“I’m not running away, Tanya. Never have, never will.”

“Then what are you doing? You might as well sign a confession. Do you want to die in jail?”

“Stop thinking inside the system, Tanya. I gave it a chance. It came up short. Now it’s time to take care of business for myself.”

“How?”

“Find out who’s framing me.”

“Then what? Have you thought about this at all? Have you got any idea what you’re going to do?”

“Bring them back here. Accept Rosser’s apology. Go back to work.”

“You’re taking the law into your own hands? You really think that’s the best way to go? You’ll be a fugitive. A cop killer. The FBI, NYPD, everyone you can think of will be out there, hunting you down.”

“They can try, Tanya. It’s nothing new. And who else is going to sort this crock out? Lawyers? I don’t think so. Washington? Too busy throwing me to the lions. London? Sitting back, watching. You? Running around, delivering messages?”

Tanya turned away. Her breathing sounded sharp and fast but she made no attempt to speak.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, without moving. “I’ve been trying to help ever since I got your call.”

“I know. But if you really want to do something helpful, please, get me the damn keys.”

Tanya found them in Lavine’s pants pocket, which was the first place she looked. She pulled them out, stalled for a moment while she pretended to examine his Bart Simpson key ring, and then very hesitantly released my wrists.

“OK,” she said. “So I’m an accessory now. What else can I do?”

“Nothing,” I said, taking Lavine’s gun and $130 in bills from his wallet. “London has washed its hands. You can’t get involved.”

“Hello? News flash-I am involved. I want to be. What London’s doing is wrong. I’m not going to just stand by and see you stabbed in the back.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely. Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“You’ll end up in hot water.”

“Not necessarily.”

“OK then. Maybe there are a couple of things you could do.”

“Tell me.”

“Keep your phone on. Hook me up with the right people when I’m ready to come back in. No one too trigger-happy.”

“You’ve got my number. What else?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said.

Something on the wall had caught my eye. About waist height, fifteen inches in from the corner. From a distance I thought it was just a dent, but looking up from the floor I wasn’t so sure. I moved closer and saw it was actually the mouth of a metal socket. It was square, about half an inch across. The plaster had been chipped away all around it, disguising the shape. I ran my hand across the surface and into the narrow alcove that formed where the two walls met. I reached up inside the dusty channel but didn’t find anything. Then I moved my hand down again and my fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. I took hold, pulled, and it came away from its moorings quite easily. It was a steel bar, shaped like the starting handle from a vintage car. One end was squared off. I tried it in the socket. It fitted perfectly.

I turned the handle gently, but nothing happened. I tried a little harder, and very gradually the entire side wall began to move. It was sliding away toward the far side of the room and gathering up like a concertina between two banks of windows. I could have wound it all the way back to join our room up with the next one, but there was no need. I stopped after a dozen turns, leaving a space just wide enough to squeeze through.

I poked my head through the gap and quickly scanned the room. It was a similar size, also empty, with nothing on the walls. I didn’t go through. There wasn’t time for a thorough inspection, but that didn’t matter. I could see enough from where I stood. A socket for winding the folding wall back into place-this time with a metal plate around it-and a door leading to the corridor. Everything I was going to need.

Tanya had her back to me, still gazing down at Lavine.

“That other favor,” I said. “Tell them I overpowered their guy on my own. Don’t mention that you found the keys. Then say I knocked you down, and you don’t know what happened after that. OK?”

“Do you think they’ll swallow it?” she said.

“Just keep it simple, don’t elaborate, and stick to your story.”

“I’ll try.”

“Oh, Tanya?” I said, pulling the handle free from its socket. “One last thing. I need you to scream.”

She didn’t disappoint. I kissed her-just for luck-then hooked her legs out from under her. She went down, hard, already yelling before she even landed on Lavine. I dived through into the next room. The handle slotted into place and I quickly started turning. A door opened in the distance. It sounded like the boardroom. Rosser and the others coming to investigate. More footsteps thundered down the corridor. Two people, running. Coming from the opposite direction. The agents who had been stationed by the elevators.

The wall inched across as if it were being pulled by a snail. I turned the handle even faster and the edge finally slotted home just as I heard the door fly open on the far side. People rushed in. I heard them milling around. Their voices were raised. They sounded angry and confused. I moved over to my door, eased it open a crack and peeped out into the corridor. It was clear. I opened the door wider and slipped through. Then I had to wait there for a moment, easing the door closed against the mechanism so it didn’t bang into the frame.

But thanks to Tanya, there was no one around to see me.

Stairs are your enemy, my Escape and Evasion instructor used to say.

He repeated it constantly, never missing a chance to drum it into our heads. At first I thought he must be mad, but pretty quickly I came to see his point. Run up or down enough of them and your legs turn to jelly, however fit you are. Bad if you’re carrying a tray of coffee back to your office. Worse if there are people with guns waiting for you at the other end.