Free After the Execution by James Raven Page B

away.
    I had no idea where I was or how many people were looking for me. But I did know that if I didn’t make myself invisible soon I’d be snared like a wounded animal.
    I crossed the road and ducked into a doorway to catch my breath. I was completely winded and gasping for air. I ran the splayed fingers of both hands through my hair. I kept a sharp eye out for the Dodge and the Taurus. Where was Vance? Where were the other agents? Were the cops also looking for me?
    I was certain of only one thing. Aaron Vance had set me up. He and Daniels had sped away from the restaurant because they had known what was going to happen. I’d been taken there not to have dinner with a mystery man but to be murdered in cold blood by a guy in a hood who was supposedly working for the FBI. I’d been an easy target. But the would-be assassin had messed up. He’d either been over confident or inexperienced.
    None of it made any sense. Why go to extraordinary lengths to keepme alive only to have me gunned down just over twenty four hours later? And why do it outside a busy restaurant in the centre of town? And what did the guy I was supposed to meet have to do with it? Mr Martinez was the name I was given. Was he the guy who had waved at me through the window?
    It meant I was on my own now. I couldn’t expect help from anyone – not even the cops. I was supposed to be dead. My body cremated. And those who knew I was still alive – including the FBI – were going to be desperate to ensure the truth did not get out.
    Their diabolical plan had backfired. I’d got away, and they now faced the threat of exposure. For them the consequences could be catastrophic . Faking an execution was not an acceptable practice – even for the FBI.
    But what about me? I was a man who no longer officially existed. What was I going to do? I had no name, no money, no friends, no home, no prospects. I couldn’t approach anyone I knew. The Feds would put everyone from my past under surveillance. They’d know everything about me – right down to my old haunts and the names of people who might be willing to help me. So how would I survive? Where would I go? What did the future hold for me, assuming I was still alive by this time tomorrow?
    I stood there, feeling dread pour through me. A drum was beating in my head and my scalp felt tight. I could taste the fear in my mouth. I could feel the excess adrenaline burning me up. I had no plan of action other than to stay one step ahead of Vance and his crew.
    Stay calm,
I told myself.
Think. Think fast
. But my head began to ache as my brain grappled with what was a hopeless predicament. And suddenly I was struck by a strange truth – that there had actually been an upside to life on death row.
    At least there I had never had to think for myself.

15
    I CHOSE THE wrong moment to step out of the doorway. As I started walking along the pavement a grey Dodge with tinted windows came crawling out of a side street up ahead.
    I breathed a sigh of relief when it turned left and started moving away from me. But then the brake lights suddenly came on and the vehicle did a frenetic U-turn in the road. I took to my toes again and ran at full pelt in the opposite direction. My heart surged into fifth gear.
    A part of me wanted to stop and confront Aaron Vance. Find out why he now wanted me dead. But the other part of me, the rational part, told me it would be suicide.
    So I took a determined breath to stiffen my resolve and picked up speed. But I couldn’t outrun the Dodge. Its engine was soon roaring in my ears as it closed in.
    As luck would have it I came to a low wall just in the nick of time. I scrambled over it, dashed across the forecourt of a clothes store, then charged head first into a narrow alley alongside it. The Dodge couldn’t follow, but I didn’t pause to find out if it had stopped. I tore through the alley, which was unlit and smelled of something rotten.
    My chest heaved, thirsty for oxygen, and my legs