Soft voices carried in from outside as the guards climbed the front steps. At this point, flight was their only option.
“Follow me,” he said.
“What are we doing?”
“I’m going to see if there is another way out of here.”
He led her down the central hallway, his eyes scanning their surroundings. After passing several rooms, they finally emerged in the kitchen. He crossed and tried to turn the back doorknob. It didn’t budge, and this one was locked with a dead bolt. He thought about going out through a window, but it would take too long and make too much noise.
For now, they were trapped.
He looked around for anything that might help. A moment later, his eyes rested on a familiar sight — a cutlery set on the counter near the stove. Knives were no match for guns, but it was better than having no weapon at all. He crossed to the counter and slid a utility knife out of the block.
Danielle opened a drawer and removed a meat cleaver.
When Patrick saw what she was doing, he shook his head. “Put it back. Fighting back is the one thing that might get you killed. If I can’t get us out of this, then turn yourself in.”
“Sorry, but I’m protecting myself.” She gripped it tightly at her side. She wasn’t going to budge.
Before he could reply, the front doorknob rattled. The men had likely found the badge and were about to force their way in. Patrick considered their options. The back door was locked, and running to another room would only delay the inevitable.
There has to be something we can do.
Danielle looked across the room. “What’s that?”
She pointed at a door he hadn’t noticed before. He stepped over and ripped it open. The interior was dark, so he yanked a string that dangled from the ceiling. A single bulb came on, illuminating a long pantry lined with shelving.
A series of sharp thumps carried from the front of the house, followed by the splintering of wood. The attackers were kicking in the door.
“Get in,” Patrick said.
Danielle didn’t need to be told twice. Still clutching the cleaver in a balled fist, she slipped inside and crouched behind a row of mops and brooms. Before turning out the light, Patrick made a quick inventory of the items stored on the shelves. He looked for anything that might help. Maybe something flammable he could ignite and toss out into the kitchen. Seeing nothing he could use, he gave up and snapped the string again, plunging the room into darkness.
He stepped over to the crack and peered out. The front door smashed open, and black-clad men spilled inside like spiders moving across a web. Beams of light bounced around as they moved from room to room.
“Clear,” one of them said.
“Clear,” said another.
“All clear.”
A short man stopped in the central hallway, a hand to one ear. After listening for a moment, he turned to the leader. “Sir, the second team has arrived with the tracking device. They’re crossing the street now.”
Tracking device? What were they talking about? Patrick’s brow furrowed as he considered their words. If they were somehow able to track Danielle, that meant…
He called her over. “Do you have anything on?”
“What do you mean?”
“A necklace, wristband, anything.”
“No. What are you—”
“They’ve put some sort of tracking device on you. Is there anything on your body? Anything.”
“Not that I…”
“Think.”
There was a long pause. “Wait a minute. I do remember something, but—”
“What is it? Anything might be important.”
“I’ve had a small cut on my arm for several days. It’s been sore, and when I touched it last night, I thought I felt something underneath.”
“Where is it? Put my hand on it.”
She took his index finger and placed it on the inner side of her right forearm. Patrick felt a thin straight scab and a hard lump below it. A microchip. Of course, an insurance policy in case she ever escaped.
Noise carried in from outside. Patrick peered through the crack. The other team had arrived. One of the men held a metallic device with a small triangular antenna.
“Have you picked up the signal?” the leader asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, where is she?” the leader asked.
The man holding the device gestured down the hall. “The signal seems to be stronger toward the back.”
As the lights turned in his direction, Patrick pulled back out of sight. There were probably a dozen men in the house now. Even if he could kill one or two with the knife, he’d be quickly mowed down by a barrage of bullets.
What should they do? Give themselves up and live to fight another day? No, there wouldn’t be another day. At least not for him. If they were recaptured, they would be placed under twenty-four-hour watch from that point forward. He might even be killed on sight.
His thoughts returned to the microchip. If the men were tracking it, how could he render it useless? An image flashed in his mind, something he’d seen before cutting off the light. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but at this point, it was their only chance. He felt along the shelf until his hand closed around a long, rectangular box.
The thump of boots was louder now.
“Give me your arm,” Patrick whispered.
Danielle held it up. Patrick reached into the box and pulled out a thin sheet of aluminum foil. His hands fumbling in the dark, Patrick finally tore off the sheet. At most, he had only a few seconds.
“What’s that?” Danielle asked.
Patrick ignored her question and wrapped the foil around her arm several times, as tightly as he could.
“Well, where are they?” the leader growled from outside.
A few cabinets banged open and closed in the kitchen. Patrick gripped the knife tightly, expecting the pantry door to be flung open at any moment.
Finally, the man wielding the tracking device responded. “I… I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“The signal. It’s gone.”
“They must have been hiding behind the house then took off once we were all inside.”
“What about the badge?” someone asked.
“They probably dropped it there to throw us off.” After a brief pause, the leader yelled, “Everybody outside! We’ll use the tracking device to pick up their trail.”
Patrick sucked in air. He’d been holding his breath for almost a full minute. Thankfully, they had just completed the clandestine equivalent of a Hail Mary pass. Had it taken him a few seconds longer to block the signal, they would’ve been found.
“Do you hear that?” Danielle asked out of the silence.
“Do I hear what?” Are the men coming back in?
“Sirens.”
He listened intently, but the only thing he heard was the sound of the guards leaving through the front door.
“It’s the police,” she whispered.
A few seconds later, Patrick finally heard the distant wail. As best he could tell, they were at least a couple of miles out. Something bothered him, though. How had Danielle been able to hear it so long before him? Whatever the reason, the arrival of the police was good news, because it would undoubtedly force the guards to retreat to the river.
For now, they were safe.
But where would they go next?
Chapter Five
The train doors hissed apart. Patrick and Danielle kept their heads down as they stepped on board. Per Patrick’s instructions, Danielle refrained from making eye contact with anyone. Try to look bored. Try to make it look like you do this every day, he had said just minutes before.