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The Analyst (Emily Lee Series Book 1)

Page 9

by K. A. Bragonje


  Andrew yelled out. Emily couldn’t understand the language he was speaking; it was neither English nor Mandarin, her second language.

  The video showed a man running around the corner of the house and Andrew pointing his head towards Harry. The masked man ran to Harry as he was about to hit dial on his phone. Taking Harry by surprise, the man grabbed him by his arms and pinned them to his back.

  Harry wiggled. The masked man who’d led Andrew and the cameraman around the back grabbed onto one of his pinned arms.

  Andrew waved them off.

  The men dragged the family away. Frantic screams and struggles fell on deaf ears.

  “This is downright illegal,” Harry yelled over his shoulder. “You’ve messed with the wrong family this time.”

  Emily couldn’t believe what she was watching.

  One of the men holding Harry struck him on the rear of his head. His head bowed down, his body going limp. He was finally quiet. A bloodcurdling scream erupted from his wife.

  The camera focused on Andrew, who was brushing his suit down and swiping flies away.

  “That was easier than I thought.” A deep belly laugh burst from Andrew. “Now for you. Your job here is done. Forward the edited video footage to my office first thing in the morning.”

  The cameraman didn’t reply. Instead, he quietly walked off, video still recording. He turned to catch Andrew making a phone call.

  “It is in our possession,” he was saying. “We’ll start the process of having the property signed over to you.”

  The video stopped and Emily closed the app.

  “Shit. What on earth is going on?” Emily asked herself. “None of this makes sense.”

  She opened her messaging app and located Harry’s last message. She hesitated. Her fingers hovered above the call button.

  I can’t help everyone, Emily thought.

  She was usually the one to say yes to everyone and everything. But not today. She couldn’t. There was no way she’d have time to help Harry and keep herself alive.

  She loaded the video again, this time paying careful attention to Andrew. She fast forwarded through the bits where he wasn’t in the footage, then paused the video and re-wound it a little bit. Played it at half speed.

  Emily paused the footage. The moment after the wife pulled the man’s balaclava off. She’d frozen the footage shortly after the unmasked man had walked past the camera.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  She looked up and recalled the incidences from earlier that day, the ones where he’d featured, focusing on his facial features.

  “It can’t be.” Emily returned to the frozen image on her phone. From the corner of the screen, his icy eyes were piercing her, right over the burn scar that ran down the side of his face.

  She dialed Harry.

  It rang twice. She was about to hang it up at the third ring when the line connected. Emily heard heavy breathing on the other side.

  “I don’t know what on earth is going on here,” she said, “but I’m in. We need to take a stand. Together.”

  She was already regretting her acceptance. Schultz’s response was already running through her mind, advising her to leave it to the police. But she’d seen enough. The banks taking advantage of the smaller guys. Goons chasing her half way across Melbourne, shooting to kill.

  “I thought you would be. What made you change your mind?”

  “I believe the same people who are after you are also after me. What exactly do you need me to do?”

  “I... er... I have a lot of information here. Can you get here?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so. The police have the surrounding blocks barricaded. By now, there’ll probably be snipers focused on all areas of your building.”

  “Damn. Okay.” Harry paused.

  Emily heard Sharon in the background.

  “We can upload the information to a cloud. But we need to act fast. It’ll only be a matter of time before the servers are blocked.”

  “Good thinking, Sharon,” Emily called out.

  “Hang tight. Keep alive. I’ll have Sharon send something through as soon as we get it up. And if you can, I need you to get this information to your contacts. Expose what’s going on here.”

  “Very well,” Emily replied.

  The call disconnected.

  “Hope they know whom they’re up against,” Emily said as she tucked her phone away.

  The wind had picked up. Unusual, as there hadn’t been much wind all day. But this was Melbourne — four seasons in one day was the usual order of the day.

  Coming from the side of the cathedral, she could hear a motor running. A chopper?

  From where she was sitting, Emily couldn’t see anything. Whatever it was sounded like it was hovering. Low. It couldn’t be the police — Schultz would’ve made contact with her first.

  She heard something land on the ground. A second later she heard someone zipping down a line.

  Emily looked to her side. A small hedge stood in front of a wrought-iron fence. It’d been a while since she’d jumped fences. She shuddered at the thought of getting caught on the metal points.

  In front of her, the gates she’d entered through. It was exposed. Open ground. Too risky.

  She shook her head, not believing what she was thinking. Running around the side of the cathedral, she headed towards the wrought-iron fence. Half way along the fence she noticed a red metal box, about half her height.

  She ran towards it.

  Digging deep and in one swift movement, she launched herself onto the box then propelled herself over the fence, grabbing the spokes and pushing herself over.

  Emily landed in a crouched position facing the street. Looking up, she noticed blades from a helicopter hovering on the other side of the cathedral.

  To her left a tram bell dinged. She looked around. The tram stop wasn’t too far away, about half a block. She sprinted towards it, dodging traffic and being careful to not scare any of the drivers and set off another chain of unfortunate events.

  For once, luck was on her side. She got to the tram stop as the tram arrived.

  Stepping onto the tram, she swiped her watch on the ticketing system screen. Everyone either had their headphones stuck in their ears or their eyes were glued to their cell phones.

  The tram was about three small carriages long and half full. It began moving as she took an aisle seat about half way down the middle carriage. Looking back at the cathedral, she saw fully black-clothed armed men mill around it. A few remained at the front of the cathedral, their guns pointed into the building and at the main entrance. The remaining men moved around to the side of the building, their guns sweeping around, surveying the area.

  Emily was left with a niggling thought as the tram rattled along the tramline. How did they know I was here?

  Chapter 25

  Back in the comfort of the concrete jungle, her tram slowed as it arrived at the next stop. Standing at the door, Emily noticed a dirty work van pull into a car park opposite the tram stop. The driver of the van caught her eye but quickly glanced down at something in his van.

  Emily shrugged it off. The van was parked at the front of a bank. He was probably there for business.

  The tram doors opened and Emily was the only one to step off. She felt vulnerable standing in the middle of the road. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the road and made her way back up the street, towards a building where she hoped the contents inside her deposit box would make her day a lot easier and give her some much-needed backup.

  Approaching the building located at number one hundred, she glanced over her shoulder. The van was gone.

  Get a grip. Not everyone in the city is after you today, Emily thought.

  She stepped through the reinforced glass door, which closed as soon as she was inside.

  “Welcome, ma’am,” a very well-dressed gentleman greeted her and bowed slightly. “How can we be of service today?”

  Emily nodded her approval; no name
tag. Tidy, and going by the sharp edges of his suit, it was probably freshly steam-cleaned. Clean-shaven, face and head. No noticeable tattoos.

  Emily held back a chuckle as she felt around in her bag, imagining him hiding a sinister tattoo somewhere on him.

  Focused, she finally fumbled across its smooth surface. With it between her two fingers, she pulled it out and presented it to the man.

  “Very well.”

  He inspected the token.

  On one side, the token had a border around its circumference. It looked like an ancient alphabet but Emily wasn’t too sure; maybe it was just a jumble of shapes. Inside the decorative border, an image took up most of the negative space. A triquetra, or as Emily loved to call it, a Celtic knot. She found it much easier to say and remember.

  No one had really explained it to her, nor had she sought out answers. The token simply lived in a dark corner, in the bottom of her bag. All she knew was that the establishments displaying the same symbol as her token were able to help her.

  The gentleman pulled out a pocket magnifying glass and placed it right up against the token. He studied the image.

  “Happy with what you see?” Emily asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

  He put the magnifying piece back in his pocket and handed the token back to Emily.

  “This way, ma’am.”

  Emily followed the man to a glass sliding door. He paused.

  “What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

  The man pointed to a device.

  “Your personal identification code and your hand, ma’am.”

  Emily’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t remember seeing this biometric hand reader when she’d last visited, here or in any of the other establishments.

  She punched in the only code she’d used before then lifted her hand up to the device, hovering.

  “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

  “No. Not at all. These things, technology, it kind of freaks me out.”

  “It won’t take long. Your hand needs to be there just long enough for the scanner register to check that you are who you say you are.”

  Holding her breath, Emily placed her hand down on the reader. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, expecting alarms to be set off at any second.

  There was nothing. She pried one eye open.

  A door unlocked with a dull click.

  “Very well, Destiny Phillips. This way, ma’am.” The man walked through the partially opened door.

  Emily couldn’t believe it. She stared between the device and her hand. Illuminated on the screen was an alias name. One she was advised would be used for these situations.

  “We don’t have much time to reach the next security point,” the man said with some urgency in his tone. He was now half way down a long corridor and his pace was quickening.

  Emily pulled herself together and quickly caught up with him, her steps thundering down the corridor.

  By the time she reached him, he had his face near a wall, and a blue light was scanning his eyes. A moment later a second door, a heavy metal one, opened by hydraulics.

  “Down the stairs, ma’am. We’re almost there.”

  Emily felt a little stuffy. She waved her hand in front of her face but it didn’t help.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, she descended the stairs. One step at time. But as she neared the half way point, she was taking them two or three at a time.

  She pulled at her shirt’s neckline. It felt as though it was closing in on her throat. Her fingers felt warm and clammy. Fumbling on the last couple of steps, she almost misplaced her footing as she placed her foot on the floor.

  “You all right, ma’am?” The man stepped in, supporting her arm as she regained her balance.

  “Yeah.” Emily straightened herself and smiled at him. “I’ll be all right, just need to watch my footing next time.”

  “This way.”

  He directed Emily to the middle of three vaults. Each one was about twice her height.

  Another man, no name tag or any form of identification on him either but dressed in a similar suit, nodded at the man who had accompanied her down here.

  He twisted and turned a few handles and the vault opened. Slowly, he pushed the vault door wide open.

  “After you, ma’am.” He directed Emily inside.

  Stepping in, Emily couldn’t believe her eyes. This room was big enough to fit her whole apartment inside it, at least three, maybe even four times.

  Columns of silver-edged cabinets lined the interior space, floor to ceiling. The man walked past her and proceeded up the far-left corridor. He stopped about half way down.

  “Your key, ma’am?”

  He held a key in his hand, which was attached to a steel line pulley coming from under his suit jacket.

  Emily pulled her purse out of her bag and rummaged through it. Receipts fell into her bag. She found the key tucked away in a zipped pocket, almost making its way through a small tear in the stitching.

  She pulled it out and presented it.

  He looked down at her key, then to Emily, before glancing back to the key.

  “Very well.” He directed her into the second to last station.

  Emily turned the token over. The inscription on the reverse side read 253.

  She read the numbers on the sea of deposit boxes. Her eyes skimmed over the upper small ones. They didn’t interest her. She was after the bigger ones down the bottom.

  “256, 255,” Emily read each one.

  She paused in front of box 253. She checked the inscription on her token against the deposit box. It was a match.

  “This one.” Emily turned to face the man and pointed at box 253.

  The man placed his key in and turned the lock. He stepped aside and indicated for Emily to do the same. She carefully placed the key in the lock and turned the key. The locking mechanism clicked and the door opened.

  Emily pulled out the inner container and closed the door. It was a little heavier than she remembered.

  The man first removed his key and then Emily removed hers.

  “This way, ma’am. With your box.”

  He directed her away from the lockers and towards a corner near the front of the vault. She held the box against her stomach, leaning back a little and allowing her body to take most of the weight off her arms.

  He pulled a curtain aside and directed her in. The small cubicle she was in had an appearance more sterile than hospital walls. White-washed walls, black tiles and a single fluorescent light humming above. It even had the pungent hospital smell.

  They appeared to have cut costs in this room. Nothing screamed richness in here, she thought as she continued to look around.

  In the center of the room, a plain white wooden table sat with a simple green velvet mat in its center. Beneath the table, about half way down, a tray was secured to the table legs. On it was a wad of red velvet bags with the company’s logo embroidered on its front.

  I won’t be needing those hideous bags, Emily thought. They scream ‘mug me!’

  “I’ll be just outside if you need anything, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” Emily nodded. The curtain closed.

  When the curtain stopped moving, Emily placed her hands on the corners of the table and stared down at the box that now lay on top of the green velvet mat.

  Chapter 26

  Unlocking the safety deposit box, Emily carefully pulled the lid back. A smile appeared on her face at the sight of the contents.

  She pulled out first a variety of passports, flicking through them, all under different aliases and nationalities.

  “Impressive,” she whispered and placed them to the side.

  Next, she pulled out wads of cash. She estimated about ten thousand dollars in each bundle, denominations from across the globe. Enough to get her out of trouble.

  The box now appeared empty. She fumbled with its base until it gave way. Pulling back the light piece of wood that camouflaged the bottom half, she smi
led. Inside was a red shaggy bag. She pulled it out and placed it on the table alongside the deposit box.

  Carefully, she placed the fake bottom back in and pushed the deposit box to the side. The noise made by the metal base scraping along the wooden table pierced her ears.

  She shuddered.

  “All good, ma’am?” a male voice on the other side of the curtain asked. The curtains moved near the edge of the curtain rail.

  “Yeah, all good. Sorry about that.”

  There was silence. The curtain stopped moving.

  Opening the red velvet bag, she pulled out each piece until they were all roughly laid out in their correct position on the velvet mat.

  Emily inspected each of them individually and then proceeded to count the contents of a small box.

  Happy with their condition, she placed everything inside the red bag.

  She sifted through the passports. One for England, United States, Romania, Canada, Morocco, Brazil, Russia and New Zealand.

  When she saw the New Zealand one, she put it straight back in the compartment box; too close to home.

  Beneath the New Zealand passport, there was one Emily didn’t recognize.

  “Kingdom of Saudi Arabia,” Emily whispered, opening the passport.

  A photo of her was on the inside, her head covered in a black headscarf.

  Emily tried to recall if she’d ever worn one. She couldn’t think of it. She studied the photo. Whoever has put this together has done a wonderful job photo-shopping it on.

  “Nadia Bunting,” she read the name that appeared alongside her photo. “Seriously?”

  She flicked through the pages; none of them was stamped. A piece of paper landed on the table.

  Unfolding it, Emily read the contents.

  “Exit papers from Saudi Arabia.” She checked the date on her watch. “Two weeks ago. Interesting. Might need this if things go south quickly.”

  Folding the piece of paper up, she placed it back inside the passport and put it aside with the Russian passport.

  The remaining passports she carefully placed back in her safety deposit box.

  Grabbing a couple of wads of Saudi Riyal dollars, she counted out approximately 30,000 Riyals and approximately 225,000 Russian Rubles. The remaining wads went back in the box.

 

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