Chapter 4 - THE FIRE ESCAPE
"Marcus, change of plans," I shouted, my voice cracking with panic. I shoved the surveillance photo into my coat pocket. "We need to get to Queens. Now. The address Noah gave you."
Marcus glanced at the shattered rear window in the rearview mirror. "Sir, the car is compromised. If the police see a shot-up Bentley, they'll pull us over. We won't make it two blocks."
"Then we leave the car!" I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Find a parking garage. We'll take a cab."
Marcus nodded, immediately turning into a dim, underground parking structure beneath a closed shopping center. He parked the battered Bentley in the darkest corner of the lowest level.
I grabbed Noah's small hand. "Come on, sweetheart. We have to go get your mommy."
Noah didn't hesitate. Despite the gunfire, despite the shattered glass, he trusted me completely. We hurried out of the garage and flagged down a passing yellow taxi.
"Queens," I told the driver, handing him a fifty-dollar bill. "And step on it."
The ride felt like an eternity. Every shadow looked like a mercenary's SUV. Every red light felt like a death sentence. I held Noah tightly, my mind racing. Edward had orchestrated this perfectly. He used Vance to delay me, to force me into a panic, while he sent a second team to secure the one person who could expose him completely: Sarah.
If they killed Sarah, James would have nothing left to fight for. And Noah would be an orphan.
"Grandpa," Noah whispered, leaning his head against my arm. "Are the bad men going to hurt Mommy?"
"No," I lied, my throat tight. "I won't let them."
The taxi pulled up to a decaying brick tenement building in a forgotten neighborhood of Queens. The streetlights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows across the cracked pavement.
"Wait here," I told Marcus. "Keep the cab running."
"Sir, I'm coming with you," Marcus insisted, reaching under his coat.
"No. If we have to run, I need you ready to drive. I'll get her."
I grabbed Noah's hand and we hurried into the dim, foul-smelling lobby. The elevator was broken, a rusted Out of Order sign hanging on the doors.
"We live on the fourth floor," Noah whispered, pointing to the dark stairwell.
We climbed the stairs as quietly as possible. My sixty-eight-year-old knees ached, my lungs burned, but the adrenaline masked the pain.
When we reached the fourth-floor landing, my heart dropped.
The door to apartment 4B was wide open. The cheap wooden frame had been splintered near the deadbolt.
"Mommy!" Noah cried, breaking away from my grip and running into the apartment.
"Noah, wait!" I hissed, lunging after him.
The apartment was tiny and freezing cold. The radiator was broken. A single mattress lay on the floor, covered in thin blankets. A small, folding table was covered in unpaid bills and a single, half-eaten box of crackers.
The place had been completely ransacked. Drawers were pulled out, clothes were thrown across the floor.
But Sarah was gone.
"Mommy!" Noah sobbed, dropping to his knees beside the mattress. He grabbed a small, worn pillow and hugged it to his chest.
I stood in the center of the ruined apartment, absolute despair washing over me. We were too late. Edward’s men had taken her.
"I promised him," I whispered to myself, tears filling my eyes. "I promised my son I'd protect his family, and I failed again."
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the fire escape outside the single window.
I spun around.
A figure in a heavy winter coat tumbled through the open window, landing hard on the cheap linoleum floor.
It was a woman. Her brown hair was wild and tangled, her face bruised. She scrambled backward against the wall, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker in front of her like a sword.
"Stay back!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with terror.
"Mommy!" Noah shrieked, dropping the pillow and running toward her.
The woman’s eyes widened in absolute shock. She dropped the iron poker and caught Noah in her arms, crushing him against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Noah! Oh my god, my baby, you're safe," Sarah wept, kissing his face a hundred times. "I told you to run. I told you not to come back."
"I brought Grandpa, Mommy," Noah cried, pointing at me. "He's safe. He didn't burn the first pancake."
Sarah froze. She slowly looked up at me from the floor. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, widened in disbelief.
"Charles?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Sarah," I said, stepping forward. "Are you hurt? Where are the men who did this?"
"They’re out there," Sarah gasped, pointing a shaking finger toward the window. "Three of them. They broke in. They wanted the ledger. I climbed out onto the fire escape, but they’re searching the alleyway. They’ll be coming back up."
"Then we have to leave now," I said, reaching down to help her up.
But as Sarah stood, she stumbled, clutching her ribs in pain. As she moved, something fell from her heavy winter coat onto the floor.
It was a thick, leather-bound notebook. The pages were yellowed and worn.
I looked at the notebook, then at Sarah. "Is that it? Is that the ledger James hid?"
Sarah nodded, tears streaming down her face. "James spent two years tracking Edward’s offshore shell companies. He proved Edward didn't just steal from the family trust. Edward was laundering money for a cartel in Miami. If this ledger goes to the FBI, Edward goes to federal prison for the rest of his life."
"And that's why he wanted James dead," I realized, the sheer scale of my brother's corruption finally hitting me.
"We have to go," Sarah pleaded, grabbing the ledger. "They're going to come back."
I turned toward the hallway door, but before I could take a step, a massive, towering figure stepped into the doorway, blocking our only exit.
It was one of the mercenaries from the street. He was holding a suppressed handgun, aiming it directly at my chest.
"Hand over the ledger, old man," the mercenary said coldly. "And nobody else has to die tonight."
But before I could react, Sarah reached into her pocket. She didn't pull out a weapon. She pulled out a small, heavy silver object.
It was a Zippo lighter.
She sparked it, the bright yellow flame illuminating the dark apartment.
"Let us walk out of here," Sarah said, holding the flame inches from the pages of the ledger. "Or I burn the only copy of the offshore account numbers. Without this, Edward can't access his stolen millions. He’ll kill you for losing it."
May you like
The mercenary hesitated, his eyes locked on the flame.
And in that split second of hesitation, a deafening gunshot rang out from the hallway behind him.
