"Is there a back way?"
"Vogel," Alaric says. He turns around. Vogel is standing by the reception desk, watching us. He is on the phone. He sees us stop. He looks nervous. He betrayed us.
Alaric walks back to him. Vogel drops the phone. "Doctor? Is there a problem?"
Alaric smiles. It is the wolf smile, terrifying in its politeness. "Yes, Herr Vogel. I seem to have forgotten a withdrawal."
"A withdrawal?"
Alaric grabs Vogel by the tie. He yanks him over the desk. He presses the SIG Sauer—concealed under his coat—into Vogel’s ribs. "We are withdrawingyou."
"Please!" Vogel squeaks. "There are cameras!"
"I know," Alaric says. "That’s why you’re going to walk us out the employee exit. Now."
He pulls Vogel up. He links arms with him, the gun hidden between their bodies. "Smile, Vogel. You are escorting an old friend."
We walk to the side door. Vogel swipes his badge. We enter a corridor. "Where does this lead?" I ask.
"The alley," Vogel stammers. "Behind the bank."
"Perfect." We reach the exit. Alaric opens it. Cold air rushes in. He shoves Vogel back inside. "Thank you for your service."
He slams the door. He shoots the electronic lock.Sparks.It won't open from the inside.
We are in the alley. "Run," Alaric says.
We run. We sprint down the narrow cobbled street, away from the bank, away from the police out front. We turn a corner. A siren wails. Then another. The city is waking up. The net is closing.
"The train station," I pant. "It’s too far."
"We can't take the train," Alaric says. "They’ll lock it down." He looks around. We are near the lake. Lake Zurich. "The ferry," he says. "If we can cross the lake, we can get a car on the other side. Head for the German border."
We run toward the water. My lungs burn. The backpack with the money weighs a ton. Alaric is lagging. He is stumbling. Theadrenaline from the bank is fading, leaving the fever to rampage unchecked. "I can't..." he gasps, leaning against a wall. "Elodie... take the bag... go..."
"We are not doing this again!" I shout, grabbing his arm. "We leave together!"
"I'm slowing you down! They are minutes behind us!"
I look at him. He is right. He can't run. I look at the street. A sleek silver sports car—an Aston Martin—is idling at the curb. The driver, a young man in a suit, is stepping out to use an ATM. The engine is running.
I don't think. I drop the bag. I run to the driver. "Hey!" I yell.
He turns. "Excuse me?" I pistol-whip him. Right across the jaw. He drops like a sack of potatoes.
I jump into the driver's seat. "Get in!" I scream at Alaric.
Alaric stares at me, then at the unconscious banker on the sidewalk. He grabs the bag. He throws himself into the passenger seat. I slam the gearshift into drive. I floor it.
The Aston Martin roars. 500 horsepower catapults us down the street. I drift around the corner, narrowly missing a tram. Blue lights flash in the rearview mirror. A police car.
"We have company!" I yell.
Alaric leans back, closing his eyes. A small, pained smile plays on his lips. "Go fast,petite," he whispers. "Make them chase the ghost."
I grip the leather steering wheel. The city blurs. The chase is on.
[LATER - ON THE AUTOBAHN]
