Shoshana laughed and said, “We have to go.” She started towards the door and Jennifer grabbed her arm, saying, “Not that way.”
Shoshana looked at the window and said, “No way. I’m not climbing down.”
Jennifer said, “We can’t go down the damn stairs. Youshotthis guy. There are probably police on the way right now, if not that acne-faced thug coming back with reinforcements.”
All Shoshana heard was the criticism. “What did you want me to do? Let him keep the gun?”
Jennifer shook her head and said, “That’s not the point. We can’t go down the stairs.”
Shoshana ran to the window and stuck her head out. She said, “We’re three floors up. I get you can climb down anything, but I can’t. I’m not doing it.”
Aggravated, Jennifer said, “Yes, youare. There’s a drainpipe to the left. Just lean out and slide down it. You only need to go halfway. Even if you fall after that, you’ll be okay.”
Shoshana pursed her lips and shook her head, saying, “I’ll fight my way down.”
Jennifer said, “Get your ass out the window. We’re wasting time.”
She didn’t move. Exasperated, Jennifer said, “Okay, Carrie. You take care of the men coming up the stairs. I’ll meet you at the front.”
Without another word, Jennifer slipped through the window. She leaned out, wrapped her hands around the pipe and swung free, putting her feetagainst the wall. She began shimmying down, got past the second floor and then heard a noise above her.
She glanced up and saw Shoshana gingerly reaching for the pipe. She focused on her own climb, passed the ceiling level of the first floor, went a few feet more, then dropped, landing on her feet.
A group of tourists walking past glanced her way, wondering where she’d come from. She looked up, seeing Shoshana moving as slow as molasses, one foot at a time.
The tourists continued on, leaving them alone. She glanced down the lane and saw another group appear. She hissed, “Faster, Carrie, faster.”
Shoshana made it past the second floor, still moving like a sloth. Jennifer cursed under her breath, thinking,I get she’s no master climber, but come on. It’s a drainpipe.
Jennifer flicked her eyes back down the lane and saw the tourists getting closer. At least she hoped they were tourists.
She focused back on Shoshana and saw she’d made it to the first floor. Shoshana reached a bracket and paused, not able to slide her hands down past it. She released one hand and clamped it lower, then tried to follow with the other. Her foot slipped, leaving her dangling, her shoes slapping the wall for traction.
She lost her grip and came straight down, not a sound escaping her lips, falling like a dead body. She hit feetfirst and slammed onto her ass, grunting.
Jennifer ran to her and hoisted her up, saying, “Are you okay?”
Shoshana grimaced, saying, “I think I cracked my tailbone.”
Jennifer glanced at the group previously coming towards them, seeing they’d stopped, all talking and pointing. Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief.Not the bad guys.
She said, “Come on, Carrie. We need to move.”
They began a running shuffle to their vehicle, Shoshana wincing with each step. She hissed, “I’m never, ever following you out a window again.”
Jennifer said, “Well, that makes two of us. I’m never, ever following you for ice cream again.”
Chapter 45
The Ghost crested a hill and saw the walls of the famous Recoleta Cemetery across an expanse of green and slowed, looking for a building resembling a parking garage. He saw no structure of any sort—parking or otherwise—only open greenspace full of people enjoying the sunshine.
He reached a roundabout, and his phone map told him he was about to drive over the garage entrance. He slowed and studied the digital screen, then glanced to his left and saw a concrete sign proclaiming “Entrada” and “Salida.” Positioned on a hillock with grass and foliage above it and a concrete ramp below it snaking down into the earth, he realized it was the garage.
He’d been expecting a building above the ground, not a parking area constructed beneath it. He drove into the opening, the concrete ramp dropping down until he reached a gate with a mobile kiosk. He picked up his phone, flipped through the screens until he reached a QR code, and held it out for a scanner—something Omar had prepared for him, reserving a spot for him in the garage.
He’d been grateful for the assistance, even though he was sure he would have eventually figured it out, as he was still learning the depth and breadth of how technology had grown while he was incarcerated.
He found a spot on the lower level and stepped out, the coolness of the space giving him comfort that leaving the car wouldn’t be an issue.
