door, she asked, “Is Emily all right?”
He turned to look at her while they pressed, shock joining the anguish that ruled his face. “I don’t know. The last time I saw the screen, a man was trying to save her.”
The doorjamb stuttered and then gave all at once. After bursting through, Jo snatched up the black rubber wedge. She bolted down the stairs right after Kian, and much faster than the encumbered cameraman or Sandra on her high heels. Kian crashed through the door at the stairwell’s bottom. Jo joined in a split second later and recycled the wedge. Aspinwall was having a tough enough time without having it caught on film.
They were on the dock, which was filling up fast with people evacuating the building. Had Michael gone left, or right? Jo couldn’t see him, but she knew. When the cameraman began banging on the door behind them, Jo pointed off to her left, shouting, “There he is!”
As Aspinwall ran in the wrong direction, Jo turned right. She felt bad, deceiving a man in his darkest hour of need, but the SOG’s first rule was not to be seen. Jo began to run like she’d never run before. Michael had a ten-second head start and a longer stride. She pumped her arms and pummeled her bare feet as she flew past empty exhibition tents and crowded yachts, her head down and her purse trailing. She garnered a few curses and bumped a few elbows but was making good time — until a little girl dropped her doll.
Jo was midway up the winding concrete stairs to the VIP parking lot when it happened. The girl moved into Jo’s path to retrieve her Barbie. Jo leapt up and over with momentum at her back, clearing the child but landing badly. Jamming her big toe hard enough to break it, she crashed onto the stairs before the surprised girl and her startled mother.
Chapter 24
I FELT TERRIBLE leaving Emily in her traumatized condition, but knew she’d be fine. She was a twenty-second walk from two dozen spoiled mothers. She’d be on her way to the ER in under a minute. A minute on the other hand, was plenty of time for Ivan to disappear.
I hadn’t seen where Ivan had landed, but I had seen exactly where he’d jumped, and I had seen precisely how. Mimicking his move from the same position, I vaulted after him.
Going over the front rail of a yacht, one would normally expect to land in the water, but I had no such expectation. When Ivan had jumped, I hadn’t heard a splash. Doing exactly as he had done, I let my vaulting arm trace the rail-post as I dropped until I caught the rim of the deck, momentarily arresting my fall. I was well-practiced in this type of move from climbing rocks, but the fact that Ivan shared this skill was a clue I tucked away for future use. Normally, arresting a vertical drop with a clamping move would have sent my legs crashing into the climbing surface, like the free end of a pendulum. But my legs met only air and kept on swinging. Expecting this after the lack of auditory feedback, I released the moment that momentum sent my center of gravity past the vertical plane. A split second later, I was standing on the next deck down.
While I was far from a superyacht aficionado, earlier in the evening I had done my share of gawking. One of the most striking features of these enormous yachts was the fact that they hold luxury speedboats in tender garages. These boats, or tenders, as they’re known, are hoisted in and out of the water on cranes, which operate through large garage doors in the hull. It was through one of these doors that I’d just swooped in pursuit of Ivan.
“We lost you,” Director Rider said. “Agent Achilles, report.”
“In pursuit. Let me focus.”
I had expected to find Ivan launching a tender, but neither of the Anzhelika’s two fine crafts were in motion. With the corkscrew readied as my weapon, I ran up the mobile staircase used for boarding and scanned the interior of both boats. Empty! I had lost Ivan.
I looked around and saw three
He turned to look at her while they pressed, shock joining the anguish that ruled his face. “I don’t know. The last time I saw the screen, a man was trying to save her.”
The doorjamb stuttered and then gave all at once. After bursting through, Jo snatched up the black rubber wedge. She bolted down the stairs right after Kian, and much faster than the encumbered cameraman or Sandra on her high heels. Kian crashed through the door at the stairwell’s bottom. Jo joined in a split second later and recycled the wedge. Aspinwall was having a tough enough time without having it caught on film.
They were on the dock, which was filling up fast with people evacuating the building. Had Michael gone left, or right? Jo couldn’t see him, but she knew. When the cameraman began banging on the door behind them, Jo pointed off to her left, shouting, “There he is!”
As Aspinwall ran in the wrong direction, Jo turned right. She felt bad, deceiving a man in his darkest hour of need, but the SOG’s first rule was not to be seen. Jo began to run like she’d never run before. Michael had a ten-second head start and a longer stride. She pumped her arms and pummeled her bare feet as she flew past empty exhibition tents and crowded yachts, her head down and her purse trailing. She garnered a few curses and bumped a few elbows but was making good time — until a little girl dropped her doll.
Jo was midway up the winding concrete stairs to the VIP parking lot when it happened. The girl moved into Jo’s path to retrieve her Barbie. Jo leapt up and over with momentum at her back, clearing the child but landing badly. Jamming her big toe hard enough to break it, she crashed onto the stairs before the surprised girl and her startled mother.
Chapter 24
I FELT TERRIBLE leaving Emily in her traumatized condition, but knew she’d be fine. She was a twenty-second walk from two dozen spoiled mothers. She’d be on her way to the ER in under a minute. A minute on the other hand, was plenty of time for Ivan to disappear.
I hadn’t seen where Ivan had landed, but I had seen exactly where he’d jumped, and I had seen precisely how. Mimicking his move from the same position, I vaulted after him.
Going over the front rail of a yacht, one would normally expect to land in the water, but I had no such expectation. When Ivan had jumped, I hadn’t heard a splash. Doing exactly as he had done, I let my vaulting arm trace the rail-post as I dropped until I caught the rim of the deck, momentarily arresting my fall. I was well-practiced in this type of move from climbing rocks, but the fact that Ivan shared this skill was a clue I tucked away for future use. Normally, arresting a vertical drop with a clamping move would have sent my legs crashing into the climbing surface, like the free end of a pendulum. But my legs met only air and kept on swinging. Expecting this after the lack of auditory feedback, I released the moment that momentum sent my center of gravity past the vertical plane. A split second later, I was standing on the next deck down.
While I was far from a superyacht aficionado, earlier in the evening I had done my share of gawking. One of the most striking features of these enormous yachts was the fact that they hold luxury speedboats in tender garages. These boats, or tenders, as they’re known, are hoisted in and out of the water on cranes, which operate through large garage doors in the hull. It was through one of these doors that I’d just swooped in pursuit of Ivan.
“We lost you,” Director Rider said. “Agent Achilles, report.”
“In pursuit. Let me focus.”
I had expected to find Ivan launching a tender, but neither of the Anzhelika’s two fine crafts were in motion. With the corkscrew readied as my weapon, I ran up the mobile staircase used for boarding and scanned the interior of both boats. Empty! I had lost Ivan.
I looked around and saw three
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