The force of his kick propelled Robert backward against the car, but he lunged forward instantly, diving to catch his computer case as it fell from the gunman’s hand. Robert grabbed the computer in midair and fell to the pavement, rolling once before leaping up and regaining his feet. He ran for his life, literally, past the hotel entrance and across the crowded street beyond, ignoring the commotion in his wake. The screech of brakes and honk of horns accompanied his frantic, broken field run as he darted left and then right. He spotted what looked like an alley a hundred feet away, dodged between and behind everyone he passed, and skidded around the corner through a loose stack of cardboard boxes into the middle of a bazaar full of startled people.
He could hear running footsteps and shouts behind him, but he had the advantage of surprise, if only for a few seconds — along with the horrid certainty that his paranoia had been justified. Someone really was out to kill him for what they thought he knew.
A jungle of handcarts and tables full of wares were spread like an obstacle course in front of each of the tiny shops that opened into the street. A cacophony of music from Asian rap to the Beatles filled the street as he wove back and forth, his computer case flapping alongside. He darted beneath colorful awnings and through myriad aromas of food and smoke as he eyed first one entryway, then another, trying to decide which might have a rear exit.
Toward the end of the second block he shoved too hard past an angered merchant, and the man caught him by the sleeve to yell at him in Mandarin. Robert twisted away, apologizing in English. He looked back at the crowd and tried to spot his pursuers. He knew they would be following him, or even waiting for him on the other end.
He had to disappear, and quickly.
A small shop full of exotic fabrics appeared on his right and he hunched down behind a row of wares to dash through the entrance. He ran straight for the back, bursting through beaded curtains into the presence of a surprised man and woman hunched over their evening meal.
The man came to his feet, his eyes wide, his chopsticks held out like a weapon.
“Quick!” Robert said, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need a back way out of here.”
“What?”
“A back door. Do you have a back door?”
“Why?” the old man asked with suspicion, chopsticks at the ready.
“Because I’m being chased. Not by the police or the army. But by someone who’s trying to kill me, okay?”
“She come now?”
“What?”
“Chase you?”
“Yes!” Robert said, confused.
The old man brightened and nodded. “I understand. Come this way!”
He pushed through another beaded curtain to a small door, which he opened, stood aside to let Robert pass, then caught his arm, speaking urgently in his ear, his breath reeking with garlic. “Two blocks that way, go into shopping mall, down one level. Buy ticket for movie, go inside, then slip out back exit near screen. You come up on street two blocks away. Big secret. Never fails.”
Robert paused and looked at the man quizzically. “This… happens a lot?”
The man shook his head. “No, no, no. But when my wife chase me, that how I get away!” He grinned, showing a mouth of imperfect teeth. “She like to chase me down the street, yelling and carrying on. Family tradition. All our friends laugh.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, no, no. Just a game, but when that woman get angry, she scary.”
“Women,” Robert said with a smile.
The old man nodded with the same wide, toothy grin. “Women.”
The movie theater was fairly new, and Robert tried to blend into the crowd as he pushed through the turnstiles, then moved quickly through the exit the old man had described. There was a long underground hallway leading to steps and, as promised, an exit to the street above.
Robert opened the door to find a taxi sitting at the curb in front of him. He yanked open the taxi’s rear door and dove in, giving the address of Katherine Bronsky’s hotel as he hunched down out of sight.
“Only the hotel?” the driver asked, calculating whether this strange intruder was worth the small fare.
“No. Then to dinner, then to the airport. Big fare, big tip, no more questions.”
The driver nodded and gunned the car down the street.
CHAPTER 4
Kat Bronsky stood under the covered drive of the hotel, breathing exhaust fumes, and looked at her watch in disgust. It was time to give up.
That’s it. I’ve been stood up.
Until MacCabe had appeared in the equation, she hadn’t planned to wear the same clothes back to L.A., nor to check out early. But now she was without a room, her luggage sitting on the drive beside her. She could carry her bags back in and go eat at one of the hotel’s restaurants, or she could take a cab by herself to the new airport, which sounded like the better idea.
When MacCabe shows up on that flight, he’s going to get an earful.
Kat caught the eye of the gaudily uniformed doorman and indicated the need for a taxi. He whistled one into the breezeway with practiced flair and opened the door, motioning the bellman to load her two bags. She had one leg in the backseat when another taxi squealed to a halt behind them. The rear door flew open to disgorge the prodigal journalist, his eyes wild as he rushed up to her.
“I… ah, I’m sorry… I’m late. Something happened.”
“Apparently,” she said, getting out of the cab and approaching him with her hands on her hips. He was out of breath, which seemed strange for a man riding in a cab. “Forty-five minutes, you said,” Kat reminded him.
“I can explain, but not here.” He was looking behind him as he turned back to her. “We really need to get the hell out of here.”
They transferred her bags to his taxi and she joined him in the backseat, barely getting the door closed before the driver shot off into traffic again.
“So, where are we going for dinner?”
“Ah… first, we’re going to an overlook of the harbor that I know,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t go to overlooks with strange journalists on the first date. Not even on a beautiful evening like this do I watch submarine races.”
He twisted completely around in the seat to search the traffic behind them, oblivious to her attempt at humor. “I think we’re okay,” he said quietly. “I don’t see anyone back there.”
She reached out and grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Earth to Robert MacCabe! What’s going on here? Why are you so spooked?”
He licked his lips and looked around again before sitting back in the seat and relating the events of the previous hour, finishing as they pulled into the overlook.
“Good Lord!” she managed. “What, exactly, did they want?”
“They didn’t say, but there’s nothing else I’ve been exposed to but the… information I was mentioning.”
Kat nodded. “Okay. We’re here. Now tell me the whole story.”
Robert leaned forward and winced. “Oh, jeez! They got my suitcase.”
“Anything important in it?”
He shook his head. “The computer’s all I care about.” Robert slapped several bills in the driver’s hand and asked him to turn his engine off and wait. “If someone comes up to you, you’re just enjoying the night. No passengers, okay?”
“Okay.”
Kat followed Robert MacCabe off the pathway to a grove of trees. The twinkling lights of the city formed a glowing carpet beyond, set off by a freshening breeze that carried the unmistakable aromas of a busy harbor metropolis.