“Good to see you again,moydroog. One day let’s meet somewhere that doesn’t have urinals.”
As Randolph turned back the way they’d come, Carter and Alice hurried down the corridor.
“What else did Randolph say?” Alice said as they stepped into a loading bay, where a catering supply truck was backing up.
“You only missed the pleasantries. He drew a blank on Tatiana and Yakov.”
“Do you get the impression there’s something he’s not telling you?”
“Always. Shit, get down.” Carter grabbed Alice’s hand and pulled her behind a stack of blue plastic crates. His hand still holding hers, he peered around the side and then quickly pulled back. “The woman you saw earlier—what does she look like?”
“Dark hair, tied back but kinda messy. Hooked nose. Aviators. Around five-eight, in her forties. Wearing dark pants and a dark shirt.”
Carter waited for the occupants of the truck to clear the loading dock, their voices moving into the kitchens. He motioned for Alice to stay put and crept out. There was a scuffle, a whole lot of grunting, a crash.
“Alice!” Carter called. She darted out to see him standing over a slim blond guy who was lying on the concrete behind the truck, aiming a handgun at the guy’s chest. “I take it this is not the person.”
“No.”
Carter tossed her something. A wallet. “Check for ID.”
Alice drew out a driver’s license. “His name is Leonard Poole.’”
“So, Leonard Poole, wanna tell me why you’re coming after me with a gun?”
“Nope. And you’re not gonna pull that trigger, since I know for a fact there’s FBI agents gonna be here any second.”
“Well then, you might wanna hang tight. Lucky for you, I’m on my way out.”
Carter backed out of the loading bay into the lane behind the hotel, jerking his head to indicate that Alice should go ahead of him. A scrambling noise indicated the guy had gotten up.Seconds later, his footfalls sounded in the corridor, as he yelled out to someone called Wade.
Alice and Carter emerged into sunshine, which reflected off concrete on all sides. He emptied the gun, tossing the weapon into a dumpster and the ammunition into another. About thirty yards along the lane, he pulled her into an alcove—an emergency exit door inset into a neighboring building. He took off her cap, punched it to turn it inside out, and put it back on her head, transforming it from black to mustard. He did the same with his jacket, reversing the color to the original black, and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a black beanie from his pocket and put them on.
“Who do you think that guy was?” Alice said. “Some kind of hitman?”
Carter laughed. “Hitman?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I? It’s not my kind of thing.”
“No chance. He folded as soon as I looked at him. If he was a professional we’d be dead. Which eliminates Russian illegals. And they’re obviously not FBI. Who else is after us, again?”
“There’s the window washers?”
“They were well-organized. That guy was random.” Carter checked the alley and took her hand. “Nice and easy now. We’re going to stroll down that alleyway to your right. Once we’re behind the fence, run.”
By the time they reached the bike, the blue sedan was no longer there.
“Damn,” Carter said. “I wanted to get the plate.”
“I got it,” Alice said, changing back into her jeans. “I scratched it into the concrete with a stick before I came to warn you. Down there in the corner.”
“Legend,” he said, typing it into his phone. “I’ll get Mom onto it.”
“Isn’t that weird, though? If this guy Leonard came here with the woman in the car, why would she leave without him? He couldn’t have beaten us here.”
“They could be unrelated.”
“You think two different sets of people are chasing us with guns?”
