Black Rose

CHAPTER 44

Valentina was getting ready to leave her apartment to meet Gutenberg at the restaurant when her phone buzzed. She looked at the display. It was a text from Lucien, her handler.

She felt a wave of adrenaline ripple through her body. It was a prearranged emergency abort code. She was compromised, in immediate danger. It meant she had to run.

Now.

She'd dressed in high heels and a designer evening outfit from Dior for the evening. It wasn't the best outfit for going to ground. She swore under her breath, kicked off the shoes and dropped the clothes to the floor. She ran to the closet and pulled on black jeans, a shirt and a pair of boots. On the shelf was a leather belt pack with money, passports and a Glock G27. She clipped the pack onto her belt.

Valentina checked the Glock to make sure there was a round in the chamber. The pistol had the advantage of being small and light, with nothing projecting to snag the weapon in a pocket or a purse at an inconvenient time. Nine rounds of .40 caliber hollow points were more than enough. If she needed more, she'd be in trouble.

She pulled on a warm jacket and cracked open the door, the Glock in her right hand. It had been less than five minutes since Lucien had called. The hallway was clear. Valentina let her training take over.

You can't go out the front of the building. They'll have that covered. Same for the back.

She headed for the roof. One of the reasons she'd picked this building was for easy access to the roof. A door at the end of the hall led to a stairwell. She opened it and stepped through. She held the heavy door so it wouldn't slam and shut it behind her.

The building was nine stories tall and her apartment was on the fifth floor. The stairs were brightly lit. She climbed with the easy movements of a predator, her footsteps barely sounding in the hollow space. A door slammed somewhere below. The echo vibrated up through the stairwell. Rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs, coming toward her. It sounded like two men.

Valentina reached the door leading onto the flat roof and went through. Gravel crunched under her feet. Overhead, the Paris sky was without stars. The brilliant glow from the city's millions of lights reflected from a canopy of low hanging clouds. There was a smell of April rain in the air.

The next building over was eight stories high, separated from hers by a narrow alley. It was an easy leap across the gap to the roof on the other side. From there she'd make her escape.

The footsteps coming up the stairs were close. They'll be here before I can make the jump, she thought. If I make it before they get here, I'll be a target. Even if I get away, they'll know where I've gone.

She pocketed the Glock. Shots would only bring the police.

Valentina's voluptuous looks were deceiving. Her curves hid layers of powerful muscles. She stood to the side of the shed and waited. The footsteps paused, then gravel crunched as someone stepped onto the roof. She slammed the open door into the unseen figure with all her strength. The man cried out in pain.

Valentina came around the door like one of hell's dark angels. She let go with a vicious kick of her steel-toed boot into the fallen man's head. She felt the bones of his face shatter. He screamed. His partner raised a pistol and fired. The shot burned across her upper arm as she drove her stiffened fingers into his throat. He fell backward and rolled down the steps. The body came to rest on the next landing.

Blood ran warm down her arm but there was no time to treat the wound. Valentina turned and ran across the roof and leapt for the top of the building next door. She rolled as she hit, her jaw clamped tight against the pain of her injured arm. She came up moving and ran to the door leading into the building.

The distinctive two-tone wail of a French police car sounded in the distance, coming her way. A second siren joined the first.

Someone heard the shot, she thought.

Valentina had the door open in seconds. She went down the stairs two steps at a time. She reached the ground floor, followed the hall to the back service entrance and disappeared into the Parisian night.