“Let’s see if anything works for you,” Emily said, plopping the gym bag down on the table and unzipping the top.
“You and I aren’t exactly the same size,” I said, eyeing her petite figure. She was probably size zero, and her feet looked like she shopped in the kids’ section of the store.
She smiled. “These are Art’s. He’s on the line. He said to take whatever works.”
The other two women set their burdens onto the table.
“I wear size ten shoes,” announced the kitchen worker. “Size ten pants, too.” She eyed my boots. “Those are slamming. I’d totally trade you.”
“You’ve got it,” I said, stripping off my pretty boots and handing them to her.
“Seriously? Those have to cost a couple hundred bucks.” She turned them in her hands like they were made of glass.
“They’ll look better on you,” I said.
Emily pulled a pair of button-up Levi’s out of the bag. I took them and slid them on under my dress. They fit a little loose and were slightly short, but good enough. Next she handed me a blue tee shirt that said, “I put the Pro in Procrastination” on the front.
The waitress—her name tag said Salaleah—held out a thick brown sweater. It had a red-and-white pattern woven around the yoke.
“My grandmother made it,” she said in a quick voice. Her hazel eyes sparkled bright behind her fringe of bangs.
I pushed it back toward her. “I can’t take it.”
She smiled, and the weariness that clung to her lightened. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a drawer full.”
“Still—” I frowned at the garment as she shoved it back into my hands. “It’s handmade.”
“And warm. You might need it.”
I sighed and decided to give in gracefully. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Thanks.”
Emily handed me a clean pair of socks. I slipped them and the shoes on. They fit almost perfectly. After that, I went to the bathroom to take off my dress and exchange it for the tee shirt and sweater. I stuck my thigh pack into my front pocket, where I could get at the knife more easily, then returned to the dining room, where the others stood talking. They all looked at me as I came in.
“We’re trying to figure out how to get you out of here,” Luis said.
I started shaking my head before he finished. “No. It’s too risky for you.”
“What will you do?” Luis asked.
I had no idea. “When do you shut the place down?”
Emily checked her watch. “We should be done cleaning and getting everybody out in about an hour or so.”
So I had an hour to figure out a plan.
“What about the kitchen garden on the roof?” Luis said, clearly not giving up on helping me.
“A garden on the roof?” I repeated.
Emily nodded. “There’s a greenhouse for winter and a patio and beds for summer. The boss sometimes throws cocktail parties up there. There’s a fire escape.”
Hope sparked to life. “That could be my ticket out of here.”
Luis frowned. “Won’t they be watching for you to come off the roof?”
“Yep. And if I can convince them that’s where I am going—”
“You can sneak out the front door,” Luis finished.
I nodded. “Can one of you show me the door up to the roof?”
“I’ll do it,” Emily said. “Check on your tables,” she told Luis.
The entrance to the roof was around the corner from the bathrooms, between the manager’s office and a storeroom at the end of a stubbed hallway. Emily stepped into the manager’s office and returned with a small brass key. A painted Cinco de Mayo skull hung off it. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. On the other side, brightly tiled stairs led up into darkness. I flipped on the light and went up. Brilliant colors swirled beside me and overhead in a mural of some sort. I stopped on a broad landing. On the left wall were a dozen different switches, each carefully labeled, with a breaker box right beside them. The door out onto the roof was steel.
“Will the key open this one, too?”
Emily nodded and turned the lock. I swung the door open, and cold rushed in. I shivered. I hadn’t put my coat on. I looked out. The entry let out onto an oblong patio surrounded by curved stone benches. A long bar area ran along the five foot wall surrounding the roof. On either side of the patio were two greenhouses with frosted glass walls. The snow had been cleared away so the lack of my tracks wouldn’t be a problem. I smiled to myself. I might just get out of this, after all.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “But I’m going to need a little more help to sell it.”
Emily nodded readily. I was so going to owe her and Luis and the rest of the crew.
“What can we do?”
“I want the bad guys to think I’m hiding out in the stairwell. They’ll come looking for me after you leave, and while they are trying to break down the doors, I’ll be making my exit. All you have to do is drop loud hints that I’m still inside and waiting to escape off the roof once things quiet down.”
“Where will you hide until you can escape?”
That I hadn’t figured out yet. “Got any suggestions?”
She rubbed her chin, considering me. “Maybe. Come on.”
I shut the upper door and rattled it to make sure it was closed. “I should brace this.”
Emily frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t want them to break down the door too quickly and find out I’m not hiding in here. They’ll pick the lock pretty quick, I’m sure, so I need another way to keep them out. I just wish I could blockade both doors.”
We went downstairs, and Emily opened the storage room for me. I grabbed a couple of brooms and took them back up and wedged them against the door. It was a heavy fire door, like the one closing off the stairwell below. I was just lucky they couldn’t use magic any more than I could. They’d have to use good old-fashioned muscle to get through the door. I wished them luck.
The downstairs door was another story. Since there was no way to brace it, I just broke the key off in the lock. “I promise I’ll pay to fix it.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Emily said.
I hoped she was right. I hoped nobody would be losing their jobs for helping me.
She led me back through the main dining room to the kitchen. While most of the restaurant was decorated in brilliant colors and rustic tile, the kitchen was monochrome modern. The walls were white, and everything else was stainless steel. Rubber mats covered the floors.
My new friends collected around me again, along with the kitchen staff. I explained my plan.
“I thought we could put her out with the trash,” Emily said.
Her plan was to put me inside a black plastic bag inside a rolling trash can. I eyed the one in question. It would be a squeeze, but I could fit. Getting out might take a minute, though. They’d pile some real garbage on top to deter anybody from looking. Then they’d leave, dropping a couple hints that I was hiding inside. The end result would hopefully be that my pursuers would immediately come inside to search for me, leaving me to escape unnoticed.
I could see only a few problems with the scenario. All my attackers might not come inside. I’d be blind in the trashcan and helpless. I’d also be in a tiny little space without air or light. The idea made my lovely dinner churn up into my throat. It could be said I had a touch of claustrophobia. It could also be said I turned into a basket case in small spaces. I swallowed. I could do this. I managed to ride the subway all the time. I just had to suck it up.
I nodded, already finding it hard to breathe. “Let’s do it.”
I waited until everybody was about ready to go. All that was left to do was take out the trash and the soiled laundry. They’d do t
hat as they were all leaving for the night, as was their habit. They usually walked down to the subway in a group. Safety in numbers and all that.
They put a clean black bag into the plastic rolling trash bin. I climbed in, bracing on Luis’s shoulder for balance. He grinned at me. The boy was going to break a lot of hearts. I’d put on my coat, but it was well below freezing outside. I pulled the little silver packet Touray had given me out of my pocket and shook out the thin blanket. I didn’t know how long I’d be out in the trash, but it could help me from freezing to death. I wrapped it around myself and took a deep breath. It took me a moment to get my knees to unlock so that I could lower myself into the bin.
My helpers pulled the plastic back up over my head. Luis looked down at me.
“You going to be okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Not a fan of tight spaces,” I managed to squeeze out, clamping my lips tight to keep from moaning. Cramps tightened in my calves and thighs from me clenching myself so tight. I couldn’t make myself relax.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re not really claustrophobic, are you?”
“Only when I’m crammed into small spaces where I can’t breathe.” I tried to smile and failed. “Close me up.”
“Wait a minute,” Emily said and vanished.
I tipped my head back. I could do this. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I couldn’t tear through the plastic and escape. They weren’t putting a lid on the can. Just a pile of rotting food.
Emily returned with the bottom of a turkey baster. “Poke it through the plastic so you can suck in air. Might help.”
“It could,” I said. “Thanks.”
“All right then,” Luis said. “Let’s get the show on the road.”
I bent my head forward and shut my eyes. In 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . Out 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . In 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . I focused on my breathing, trying not to hear the plastic rattling around my ears. Someone patted my head, then squishy weight settled onto my hunched back.
“Are you okay?” Luis asked.
“Fine,” I said, wrapping my hands around the basting tube and gripping it with all my strength.
I heard the shuffle of steps, and more things settled on top of me.
“Ew,” Luis said. “That stinks. What is it?”
Somebody said something I couldn’t hear. My heart thudded in my chest like I’d been running miles. Sweat trickled down my forehead and between my breasts. Trembles fluttered through my stomach and down my legs. Gooseflesh pimpled my skin, and I shuddered.
It’s fine, I told myself. You can easily get out of the bag. You aren’t trapped. Just breathe. Breathe. I started counting again.
I wasn’t ready when they started rolling me. I jolted over the threshold and outside. More rumbling bumping, and then I came to a halt. Someone patted the side of the bin twice, and then there was a loud burst of voices and laughing. The voices faded as my new friends retreated. I was alone. But not for long.
Chapter 6
I WAITED, STRAINING to hear above my heart pounding in my ears and the harsh sound of my breathing. If you don’t get a grip, you’re going to get caught, I told myself. If you get caught, no one is going to help Price. Or Touray, I added as an afterthought. But it was the latter that spurred my control. Without Touray, without me, Price was alone. What were they doing to him? Anything they wanted, a nasty little voice whispered. The only limit to the interrogation was no permanent physical damage. That left a lot of open territory.
Price was counting on us to help him. I wasn’t going to let him down.
I forced myself to relax. My breathing slowed and my heartbeat steadied.
I let sounds come to me, identifying the squeal of car tires, the grumble of engines, the distant rushing sound of cars speeding along Valger Boulevard. The accident must have been cleared.
I wasn’t sure how long it was before I heard anything else. At first I thought the rasping scuff was my imagination. I tensed, concentrating. Footsteps followed by a mutter of voices. I couldn’t make any words out.
They grew louder.
“—come in,” a man said, his voice high-pitched and young.
“If she is hiding inside, we’ll let you know. In the meantime, stay put and keep a sharp watch,” another man said. He was older. “The boss won’t like it much if we let her slip through our fingers. And what the boss don’t like, you will hate for the rest of your miserable, short life.”
“You think they were lying? Faking it?” The younger one sounded both defiant and scared at the same time. “They’re stupid food grunts.”
“And you are a stupid muscle grunt,” replied the second man. “It pays to be careful and cover all our bases. Now shut the fuck up so Ally can concentrate. It’s blue-ball cold out here and I want to finish this job so I can get a drink and a hot meal.”
I heard breathing after that and not much else for several minutes.
Finally a woman spoke. “Got it.”
I heard sound of the door opening and the scuffle of feet. I remained still, certain that the younger watcher still remained. The minutes ticked by. I could stay here all night, I told myself. I might freeze to death, but I could stay here.
“She’s playing possum in the stairwell,” the older man said. “Get the others and bring them inside where it’s warm.”
“About fucking time,” the younger man groused. His steps retreated away from the back door. I waited. A few minutes later, he returned with several others.
“Wonder if there’s anything to eat?” a man asked.
“Christ, Jerry. Do you ever stop eating?” a woman asked.
“Gotta maintain my girlish figure,” the first man said.
“Your girlish figure is nine months pregnant.” Several voices laughed at that.
Their banter continued, but I couldn’t make out the words. Abruptly, the sounds of their voices ceased as the door shut. I didn’t wait for another chance. I took my knife and cut around the side of the bag just above my knees. I pressed the point hard enough to dig a groove into the plastic of the can. I traced the slit with my fingers. When I’d managed to cut three-quarters of a circle around myself, I figured it was enough.
I lifted my arms, pushing away the top of the bag and, with it, all the trash that had been piled on top of me. The employees had used another bag to help contain it, so rotten food didn’t slide down over my face and down my back. Thank goodness for small favors. The stuff smelled. Almost enough to make me want to throw up. The stench of fish gone bad combined with who knows what else filled the air. My eyes watered.
I used the edges of the can to hoist myself upright, grimacing as I encountered something sticky. I waited as circulation returned to my legs. My flesh prickled, and then little stabbing aches thrust down through my thighs and calves. With absolutely no grace or coordination, I dragged myself out of the can. Lucky for me, the wall was close by. I grabbed an electrical conduit and used it for balance.
Once I was steady enough, I made a beeline down to the end of the row of buildings. I stuck close to the darker shadows against the back wall and ducked behind every bit of cover that presented itself. The back of my neck prickled. How long before the goon squad broke through into the stairwell and realized I was long gone?
I reached the street and turned toward the subway-station entrance. Even as I did, I changed my mind. At this hour, the trains only ran every twenty-five minutes. If I went down to the platform, I’d be a sitting duck until I could catch a train, and if my pursuers caught the same train, I’d be up a creek with no paddle, no hip waders, and no rubber ducky.
I turned right up a dark street. My coordination had returned, and I broke into a slow jog. I wanted to run faster, but there was a lot of ice and spraining my ass was not goi
ng to help me escape. I thought about breaking the flare I still carried so I’d have more light, but that would be a beacon for anyone looking for me. I was freezing. I’d pulled on the gloves Touray had given me, but I still wasn’t sure I could manage to hold my gun, much less shoot it. Not that it would do me a lot of good against multiple assailants.
I zigzagged through an apartment complex and crossed the next street. I swore as I realized I was at the back side of Livingston Manor. An iron fence fortified with a variety of powerful spells prevented trespassers. I’d left the range of the binder spells behind about a block ago, so the security was in full force. Given time, I could have ripped through those spells, but I didn’t have any. Plus I needed to save my strength. For Price.
With little choice, I ran up the sidewalk. It made a long white streak between the roadway and the fence. I decided to cross back to the other side of the street and look for a place where I could hole up for a while. Maybe an all-night coffee shop. Maybe I’d just break into someone’s car and wait until morning and the streets grew crowded again. I’d get lost in the shuffle.
I’d just turned into the parking lot of an urgent-care center when a car pulled in behind me. I stiffened, but moved to the side, keeping my head down. The car rolled up next to me. The passenger window rolled down.
“Glad to see you didn’t get yourself dead. Get in.”
At the sound of Special Agent Bitch Arnow’s voice, I went from freezing cold to searing hot. I turned to face the car, my fingers wrapping the grip of my gun in my coat pocket.
“How did you know where to find me?”
She flung herself across the seat to thrust open the door. “Just get in the damned car before you get yourself killed.”
“So you can what—kidnap me? Sell me to the highest bidder? I don’t think so.” I started walking.
“They called in backup. You won’t get far if you don’t let me help you.”
I stopped. “How do you know?”
Whisper of Shadows (The Diamond City Magic Novels) Page 8