PART ONE: The Shadow Before
Chapter Five: A Banshee Scream
I stepped through the French windows, out on to the small balcony. The thick evening air was as cloying as that inside the apartment, but anything was better than the stench in there – even the smoky, fume-choked air of the city. Anything at all. Below me the cracked asphalt span out to the lights across the street. It seemed a hundred miles away.
Behind me the door came down. I flinched and grabbed the bar.
Come on. It's not that far. If I was lucky I'd make the jump and get by with a sprained ankle. If I was unlucky I'd break a leg and be left a sitting duck. I hadn't been lucky for a long time.
I leapt over the bar. My stomach lurched up into my mouth and all the weight in my legs seemed to swing up to replace it as I tumbled.
Then I slammed hard on the asphalt, crouching to absorb the blow, still feeling two bolts of pain flash up through my worn-out ankle muscles. I ignored it. Your legs are still working. Lock the pain away.
I pushed up and broke into a run. The car park was just a few precious yards away. I had them on my blindside. I could only hope that Mona was there waiting for me. The sooner we could get out of here the better. They wouldn't be distracted forever.
As I reached the small concrete entrance to the shadowy car park, a crumbling three-storey for residents, my heart was pounding hard, fire flaring up in my aching chest, my breath laced with ash. My ankles throbbed. I choked back a handful of painkillers, steadied myself against the concrete barrier, and made my way into the shadowy car park.
The first level was as quiet as a tomb, dimly light by bright orange fluorescents. Beneath the low roof the car park seemed to stretch on forever, fading into darkness. Ancient cars, rusty metal hulks from a bygone age, sat gathering dust in puddles of oil. Every car lay bathed in its own pool of shadow. Too many hiding places. Too many secrets. I reached for my Beretta.
Finally, I found my car – an old but reliable Toyota. Japanese cars – they looked like electric bricks, but they were damn faithful. The old girl had yet to pack in on me, and I'd taken her round the whole city, and beyond. All I could hope was that this wouldn't be the first.
I reached for my keys, and jumped so hard they fell out of my hands and clattered away on the concrete floor. There was a face looking back at me in the mirror. From behind. As my heart rate slowed I realised that it was Mona. She was giggling.
"Come on, pussy-cat," she smirked. "Let's get going."
I frowned and reached for my keys. Opening the door, the relief set in hard. The vanilla air freshener scent filled my head as I entered the car and sat down. The air inside was thick and hot. Seemed like even the shade wasn't safe from the sun. As I slammed the door behind me it felt like I was settling down in an oven. Mona sat down next to me.
"Little hot in here, huh?" she said, fastening her seatbelt.
"That's the way I like it," I replied, winding down a window. I turned the keys in the ignition, listened for the faithful first roars of the engine, looked up… and felt my heart sink.
Three men, police uniforms. Holding Kalashnikovs. Sealing off the exit.
"More of them," Mona said.
"I noticed," I grunted. The engine was stalling. I sighed. Come on, don't do this to me. I'm not going to die because of a damn stalled engine.
"Take it easy," Mona replied. She was reaching for her Desert Eagle.
The engine burst into life, a rebel yell that seemed to reverberate in the solemn thick air of the car park. The goons were cocking their rifles. Mona was winding down her window. The CD player buzzed into life and the throbbing beats of Sisters of Mercy filled the car.
"Focus on the driving," Mona said, releasing the safety. "I'll take care of our new friends."
I swallowed my fear and swung out of the parking space, turning sharply to face the attackers. They weren't going to waste any time.
Bullets rained down on the car. I ducked and gritted my teeth, slamming my foot down on the pedal. Next to me Mona was hanging out the window. There was a loud gunshot and the banshee squeal of tires. The wheel jilted violently beneath my hands.
"Max, look where you're going!" Mona screamed. Above me bullets tore through the windscreen, spraying me with shards of glass like diamonds. I leapt up, just in time to see the barrier.
A goon to the side attempted to reload. Mona terminated him with a single bullet shot to the head and he span to the floor. The car hit the barrier hard as a goon rolled out of the way, a heavy thud reverberating through the car as parts of the barrier flew past as and we screeched out on to the empty streets.
Behind us the remaining goons continued their barrage, bullets whistling past the car and scraping off the paintwork. The car made a hundred and eighty degree turn, letting off a banshee scream, and I jammed down the pedal, aiming for the end of the street and freedom. As we hit the road I caught a last glimpse of the goons behind us, attempting vainly to run after us.
But they were far too slow. We were on the road now, and we were leaving New York.
To be continued…