Page 121 of King’s Ransom

‘Oh, wait, my clothes . . .’ She reached back into the ambulance and retrieved a plastic bag that contained her clothes, purse and other personal items.

‘Georgy,’ I said. ‘Thanks for all your help today. I’m sorry, but your car might be a target now. You should ditch it here. Its plates will have been photographed on the parkway, so we won’t get a mile in it before we get stopped by the police.’

Georgy nodded quickly, clearly still adrenalised by his first car chase. ‘Okay, Dr Sam.’

‘You might also be a target,’ I added. ‘Take a cab or the subway to a safe place that isn’t your home; pay with cash; do not use your credit card. A hotel might be best and pay cash for that, too. Here.’

I handed him a burner phone from my backpack.

‘If you want to call me, use this to call my burner phone. It’s the only number loaded onto it.’

‘Yes, Dr Sam. I do exactly as you say.’

He hurried off.

As Georgy and I had been speaking, Heidi had been helping Audrey put on some clothes over her hospital gown.

When she was presentable, the three of us walked as inconspicuously as possible—and as quickly as Audrey could—to the nearest main road, hailed a cab and sped away into the night, disappearing into the millions of lights of New York City.

IMPOSTERS

Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome.

– Charlie Munger

Jane Street

West Village, Manhattan

28 December, 1910 hours

About an hour later, the cab dropped Audrey, Heidi and me off at a four-storey brownstone on a cute street in the West Village.

(The brownstone was owned by a friend of Heidi’s named Leaf. I know, weird name. Quite a few of Heidi’s friends have weird names. Leaf was heavily involved in SafeNewHomeUSA, the charity Heidi supported, since she herself had escaped from an abusive relationship years before.

Now, she was doing great. Leaf made millions of dollars as a dominatrix on OnlyFans, which was how she could afford a brownstone in the West Village. If you can find your niche, OnlyFans can be very lucrative. In any case, this was where Heidi had been staying since Christmas Eve and it had been Leaf who had lent her the pistol.)

We hurried inside.

Shortly after, I was sitting in Leaf’s (lovely) living room with Heidi and Audrey. Leaf was out at dinner in the nearby Meatpacking District.

Audrey was freshly showered and wearing some Christmas-themed flannelette pyjamas owned by Leaf. She sipped hot tea from a mug.

She was pale, still recovering from being shot a week ago.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

She grimaced, then showed us the bandage on her stomach. ‘Getting shot sucks, but it coulda been worse.’

‘I’m pretty sure those masked men in the trucks came for you because of the QuantumSpeed-7 chip,’ I said. ‘You took the chip to the covered bridge at the cemetery for the drop. What happened to it?’

‘The cemetery . . .’ Audrey said, remembering. ‘That fucking asshole . . .’

‘Which asshole?’ Heidi asked.

‘That Chinese detective, Xiao,’ Audrey spat.

‘Xiao?’ I said. ‘After the military drone shot you, I found him giving you CPR.’