Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [96]
When they were halfway across, the hatch popped open behind them and they heard a shout, the voice familiar—
“Sara! Sara!”
Coming to a stop, they turned and saw Alain climbing from the hatch as he called to her.
“I had to wipe all the computers,” he said. “The key—tell me you still have the key!”
She patted her pocket. “Yes, yes. Now hurry!”
Alain started forward as a shot rang out behind him. His spine split in a burst of blood, the impact pitching him onto the slanted rooftop. He threw his hands out, scrambling for purchase—more twitching reflex than anything, Jack knew—but then his face went blank and his body flopped and rolled, tumbling over the side of the building into the darkness below.
Sara screamed, moonlit tears filling her eyes—genuine tears—as one of the commandos hoisted himself through the hatch.
Jack put his hands on her shoulders and gently nudged her forward.
“Go! Go!”
Sara didn’t need further prompting. She turned and continued toward the edge of the rooftop, picking up speed. Jack did his best to keep up with her.
The adjoining building was only four stories high, but Sara didn’t let that slow her down. She leaped onto it without hesitation, grabbing a fat ventilation pipe as she landed. Jack followed, his shoes slipping from under him as he hit the second rooftop. He fell onto his side and nearly went tumbling, but managed to grab Sara’s extended hand, got hold of the pipe, and steadied himself.
Another shot cracked, the bullet ricocheting wildly. Pulling himself upright, Jack got back to his feet and hurried after Sara as she yanked open the roof-access door of the building and disappeared inside. A moment later they were on the stairs, spiraling quickly toward the ground floor. When they reached it, breathing heavily, Sara cautiously opened a squeaking door into a narrow, cobblestone alleyway. She looked, then exited. As Jack followed her outside, she stopped and turned, her eyes still full of tears.
“Give me that bloody watch,” she said, still trying to catch her breath.
“I left it in the bathroom so they couldn’t track us,” he said.
She looked at him suspiciously.
“They were shooting at me, too!” he reminded her.
“Alain was one of my dearest friends,” she said.
“I’m truly sorry,” Jack told her. “But I didn’t set you up, if that’s what you’re thinking. You think I want to see another 9/11? I was had, Sara, just like your agents who died in the bathroom, in the alley. Like you were when they killed Abdal. It happens.”
She looked at him with angry eyes but didn’t seem to have a response. She gestured toward the roof. “They’ll be across soon. There’s a garage around the corner, where Brendan left the van. Let’s hope they haven’t found it.”
She turned and hurried through the alley.
Jack followed her, unable to fathom how any religion, any philosophy, any political goal, was worth what this had already cost.
And it was still just the opening salvo.
* * *
They were blasting through the streets of Paris in the Citroën, Sara behind the wheel. She’d found the key in a small magnetic box under the rear bumper, and so far the journey had been uneventful, no sign of anyone in pursuit.
Sara was angry and heartbroken, but had that slightly shell-shocked look that Jack had gotten so used to seeing during his days in Iraq.
“They’re dead,” she said. “Probably every last one of them. All because of that bloody watch. All because I brought you there.”
“Believe me, Sara, I didn’t know about the tracker. How could I? You think they strapped me in that chair for the fun of it? You must have heard my screams.”
“I was out. I didn’t hear anything.”
“Then you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Why should I?”
“The same reason I trusted you, even when you were lying,” he said.
She suddenly crushed the brake, pulling to the side of the road. “Get out of the car!”
“Sara, you’ve got to look past this.”
“Out!”
It killed him to see her in such pain. He sat there a moment, just staring at her, wanting her to change