Free Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson by J.A. Konrath Page B

bistro, the Iranians would be
back on the street and in pursuit. I had to take advantage of the
short delay.
    We reached Lincoln Center, rushing by the
famous fountain in front of the Metropolitan Opera House without a
sideways glance, then plunged down into the oppressive heat of the
subway.
    I bought three fare cards, and we pushed
through the turnstiles. The Iranians had been delayed, but they had
to guess we’d make for the train. They would catch up within
minutes, maybe seconds. I had to make sure we were not where they
expected by the time they came calling.
    The Lincoln Center station was accessible to
those with disabilities, and while Kirk was still mobile, handrails
and ramps made navigating much faster than it would be in some of
the less accessible stations. But though we reached the platform in
record time, no train was waiting, and I couldn’t detect any rumble
to suggest one would be approaching in the next few seconds.
    The blood on his leg was obvious, but those
who noticed purposely turned their backs to it. I kept a watchful
eye out for Good Samaritans. None attempted to get involved.
    I needed to find a place to hide. A place the
Iranians would be unlikely to expect me to go. A place I could
extract some answers.
    I steered Kirk and Julie into a men’s
restroom.
    The place smelled like piss, mildew and those
sweet pink deodorizing cakes that never really seemed to work. The
bank of urinals and sinks weren’t being used. Dipping low, I
noticed one pair of feet under a door. I directed Julie into the
large stall on the end and pushed Kirk in after her. After
depositing Kirk on the toilet, I flattened him to the tile wall
behind him, my forearm snug up under his chin, and waited for the
lone man to finish up and leave.
    Kirk wisely stayed silent, watching me.
Although his skin was pale and sweat beaded on his brow, he was
still giving off that calm, deadly vibe.
    Too bad for him I was now immune to his
charm. Trying to kill me tended to dampen my ardor.
    I held the gun against his forehead. When I
actually decided to end him, I would opt for the garrote in my
purse strap, but there was nothing quite like the barrel of a gun
to convey you mean business.
    “You killed Morrissey.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Then who did?”
    “My employers. I was brought in to take his
place, rendezvous with you and get the girl. I’m just the hired
help.”
    “Who are you working for?”
    “An interested party from Moscow.”
    I narrowed my eyes on his. “Try Iran.”
    “The Iranians? I wondered how long it would
take them to catch up. Have the Venezuelans rejoined the party
yet?”
    I hadn’t seen Hawk Nose and his boys since
the tunnel incident, but I felt no need to answer. Knowledge was
power, as they say, and right now Kirk had all the answers. I
wasn’t about to let him start asking the questions.
    “You expect me to believe you don’t work for
them?”
    “I work for whoever pays. Sometimes it’s even
Uncle Sam. Today it happens to be the Russians.”
    “Then how did they find us? Manhattan is a
big place.”
    “Who? The Iranians or the Venezuelans?”
    I gave him a cold stare.
    “You want me to guess?” he asked.
    “Give it your best shot.”
    “The Venezuelans have a passion for police
scanners.”
    I thought of the scanner I’d heard at the
house on Long Island. Great. If they were using the police scanner
to find us, after our street shooting, they might just be on their
way, too.
    “And the Iranians?”
    He gave a shrug. “If they found me, my best
guess is they had the same intel that you do. Eyes on the street.
Or maybe in the sky.”
    Satellites. I liked that answer a little
better. If it was true, we could lose them in the maze that was the
New York subway system.
    “How about the Russians?”
    “They don’t have anyone else in the game. I’m
it. That’s part of my deal.”
    I considered this for a moment. I didn’t want
to trust Kirk, and yet every sign he was giving suggested he