The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) (28 page)

But she didn’t.

Archer shut the door behind them quietly. They both stood there in silence, listening, pistols up, in the aim. Even if someone was inside somewhere, a homeowner could tell if the atmosphere was different somehow. Katic moved forward and swept the place quickly, Archer staying where he was by the door. She reappeared soon after, looking relieved. There was no one here. They were clear. Katic holstered her sidearm, nodding to Archer, who lowered his and tucked into his belt, hidden under the coat, the safety catch on.

‘
Turtle
,’ Katic suddenly called.

Archer looked at her, then heard a rustling and scuffle from the room next door. The next moment, the door was pulled back and a girl in pink pyjamas appeared, running over to her mother. She swept her daughter up into her arms, giving her a strong hug and kiss and exhaling a long sigh of relief.

‘Turtle?’ Archer asked, watching the mother and child with a smile.

‘That’s our code word,’ Katic said, looking at her daughter proudly. ‘What do we do when I say
turtle
?’

‘We find a hiding place and curl up in a ball. Like a turtle,’ the girl said, beaming, hugging her mother and giving her a kiss.

Archer smiled. It was a good plan. Katic was well-prepared and he liked her even more for it. The two of them turned, and headed off to the bedroom, Katic telling her daughter they needed to pack up for a trip. Archer took the opportunity to walk into the living area and examine the apartment around him.

It was cosy, new enough to still be well-maintained but old enough to
have some
atmosphere
. The interior was lots of golden lights and wooden floorboards and comfy-looking furniture. Given the
East
Village
’s history, he figured this single apartment was probably once home to maybe ten or twenty immigrants fresh from
Poland
or the
Ukraine
, long before the hipsters and artists arrived later in the 20
th
century. Maybe it had been an art studio once. It had that feeling of quiet focus. It was a nice place, just about as good an apartment a mother raising a child in
New York City
with a monthly Bureau pay-check could afford.

Aside from the living area, there seemed to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. As Katic rustled away in the girl’s room, packing some clothes, Archer walked forward and looked closer at the decorations and ornaments in the living room. Plenty of books, which showed Katic was a reader. All kinds too. He saw Shakespeare, Faust, Virgil. The classics. Then some fiction to balance it out. Clancy, Connelly, Child. No chick-lit. Education and thril
lers, knowledge and adrenaline.

Below the books, he saw a picture frame holding a photograph of Katic with a man and the child. The father. He had to be. His daughter had his smile. He was young, mid-twenties, around Archer’s age and looked like a nice guy. The three of them were together on a playground, smiling at the camera, the brown and golden leaves on the trees and on the ground around them showing it was autumn, or fall as the Americans called it. Archer glanced around, but there were no traces in the apartment of the man in the photo. He didn’t know what had happened, but he guessed that smile on his face had faded at some point since.

He turned to find the girl standing there, staring at him. She was out of her pyjamas, and dressed in a white t-shirt and blue dungarees, white sneakers on her feet.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘My name’s Archer.’

He offered his hand. She thought about it, then stepped forward and shook it.

‘I’m Jessie.’

‘Pleasure to meet you. Do you have all your things?’

‘Archer. Like a bow and arrow,’ she said, ignoring his question.

‘That’s right. Where’s your Mum?’

‘She’s finishing packing up. Apparently we’re going on a trip tonight.’

‘We are.’

‘Are you coming?’

‘I think I am.’

‘I want to stay here, but Mom said I couldn’t.’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘He’s not here. He’s in Heaven.’

Archer paused.

‘I’m sorry.’

She nodded. ‘Do you have a dad?’

‘I did. He’s in Heaven too.’

At that moment, Katic reappeared. She had a holdall swung over her shoulder, lightly packed, enough for one night. She was still dressed in her dark work-suit, but her hair was now loose and over her shoulders. She looked great.

‘Ready to go?’ she asked, with a smile.

Archer went to reply, but something suddenly made him stop.

He paused.

He heard something, a soft noise outside the front door.

A creak.

In the same instant, he ran forward, scooping up the girl, and pushed Katic into
her bedroom, slamming the door.

And behind them the lock on the front door exploded.

Houses in the old neighbourhoods like the
East
Village
were often as dry as tinder, and fire escapes had been installed to provide safe passage if someone inside the building was trapped or found themselves in trouble. The architects probably hadn’t envisaged escaping gunfire when they installed the metal steps, but danger was danger, whatever its form.

Katic ran to the window, pulling it open, whilst Archer locked the door and grabbed a chair, jamming it under the handle. Katic had swept the girl up in their arms and she was already outside, making her way rapidly down the metal steps. Archer backed up fast to the window, and heard rushing footsteps and the reloading of a shotgun, a double-crunch as another shell was racked into the barrel. He grabbed the Sig from his pocket and fired five shots through the wooden door, splinters bursting from the door into the air, the empty shells flying out the ejection port of the weapon, the air stinking of gun-oil and cordite, the gunshots echoing in the air. It would buy them time. Whoever was on the other side of the door didn’t know what to
expect from inside the bedroom.

Archer ducked outside and hurtled down the metal stairs, and heard another boom as the shotgun blew the lock off the bedroom door. In the courtyard below, Katic had fired the engine in her car already and Archer jumped off the rail, skipping the last flight and dropping to the ground. He raced over, pulling open the passenger door and jumping inside.

‘
Go!’
he said.

She didn’t need an invitation. She was already flooring it. There was another boom, and Archer heard a smash as one of the brake-lights was hit. Jessie screamed, covering her ears, as her mother screeched the car forward. They were facing
1
st
Avenue
on
14
th
Street
, the opposite side they had arrived, and the car sped down the street. Archer looked over his shoulder, past the girl on the back seat, and looked up at the top of the fire-escape as it came into view.

The
re were two men standing there.

One had white tape and a splint over his nose, and a pump-action
Ithaca
in his
hands.

Another man was with him. He was older, with red hair, and
was also brandishing a shotgun.

They stood there,
side-by-side, watching them go.

It had been close.

Too close.

They got lucky with the traffic lights, and hit a green straight away, and Katic sped on over 1
st
Avenue, speeding down 14
th
Street towards 2
nd
, headed towards Union Square. She turned a hard right when they got to 3
rd
, and they moved off uptown, gaining more and more distance from the apartment. Archer breathed a sigh of relief and checked Katic and the girl in the car beside him. Jessie was in tears, upset and scared, but both of them were unharmed.

‘It’s OK, baby, it’s OK. I’m here,’ Katic said, reaching behind and rubbing her daughter’s leg as the girl sobbed, terrified. As the girl grabbed her mother’
s hand, Katic turned to Archer.

‘Who the hell was that?’

SIXTEEN

As they headed uptown and Jessie began to calm down, Archer and Katic discussed where they could hole up as the car sped on through the streets, putting more and more distance between them and the apartment. Katic had plenty of friends and colleagues in the area, but right now neither of them knew who they could trust. They also didn’t want to draw anyone else
into the danger unnecessarily.

As they talked, the streets flashing past, she realised she’d left her purse and cash at the apartment, so Archer would have to cover them financially. He didn’t have much on him but he had a room booked in his name at the Marriott in
Times Square
. They decided to head straight there to hole up and figure out what to do next. But whatever they did, they had to get off the road immediately. They had a busted tail-light courtesy of the shotgun blast. If an NYPD cop pulled them over, he would be very interested to say the least when he discovered who was inside the car.

To avoid the vast amount of cops swarming in and around
Times Square
, Katic drove up
8
th
Avenue
and approached the hotel from the west. They moved through the entrance to the parking lot under the Marriott building itself on 45
th
and reversed into an empty slot on the first lower level, Katic applying the ha
ndbrake and killing the engine.

Before they got out, the two of them sat there and figured out a plan, Katic reaching around her seat and holding Jessie’s hand to comfort her. They couldn’t stay in the room booked under his name. Gerrard had known where he was staying and Siletti would probably have got the information out of him before he killed him. So they worked out their options, Jessie climbing over to sit in her moth
er’s arms, scared, hugging her.

Katic came up with an idea. They examined it from every angle, and decided it was a good one and the best they could come up with. Satisfied, they stepped out of the car, the rear of the vehicle parked against the wall to conceal the busted tail-light. Katic quickly helped her daughter out and shut the door, smoothing her hair down and wiping away her tears, reassuring and hugging her. Then taking her daughter’s hand, Katic locked the car and the three of them headed up to the lobby.

Upstairs, Archer stayed with the little girl whilst Katic approached the reception desk. Together, they watched her speak to the receptionist then take her to one side, showing her badge, and feeding her a story of how she was in witness protection and was in charge of the man and child with her. As agreed, she said that they needed to use the reservation under Archer’s name, but switch rooms and change his name on the record. Archer saw the receptionist was eager to assist, excited to be involved, and with a child present she couldn’t be more happy to help. He didn’t mind about the room switch. He had travelled light, and apart from a suit, he hadn’t left anything in the old room that couldn’t be easily replaced. During the brief conversation between Katic and the receptionist, Archer felt Jessie’s hand slide into his. He looked down at her and smiled, sq
ueezed it gently, reassuringly.

After the receptionist complied and passed them a fresh key-card, the trio reunited and walked through the lobby into the heart of the building, Jessie releasing Archer’s hand and taking her mother’s again. Katic had done a great job calming the girl down on the way here and in the basement, and Archer saw
Jessie
was looking at the giant interior of the building in awe, distracted, her fear momentarily forgotten. He didn’t blame h
er. It was an incredible sight.

The lobby was spectacular. As you looked up, you could see the floors one-by-one, white and lit up golden by lights lining each floor. In the middle of the lobby, a square column served as the pillar for the elevators to slide up and down, ferrying guests back and forth in small capsules, like something out of a space-station you’d see in the movies. The place was white and golden, like a different world. Jessie’s eyes were as wide as saucers, her mouth open as she stared up. Archer had done something similar when he’d first walked in here himself. And given their current predicament, staying here was perfect. It was like a giant hive, endless floors with endless rooms, and in a city this big they could tuck themselves away and hide out for the evening, hidden from sight and high above the streets.

The three of them moved to the elevators just as one arrived at the ground floor. The doors opened, and a group of people stepped out mid-conversation. The trio let them pass, then stepped inside the empty capsule, looking like a young family. Katic hit the button for 21, and the doors shut. Jessie watched out of the windows, excited, as they moved rapidly up and up into the hotel, her face an inch from the glass pane.