The Sanctuary

Chapter 20

Mia watched the killers cross the street, and with a reeling horror she realized they were coming to Evelyn’s building. Her whole body seized up as she watched them disappear from view, hidden by the projecting balcony. She wasn’t about to step outside to monitor their progress. She turned to Corben.

“How did they know we were here?” she asked.

“I don’t think they’re here for you. It’s too soon for that. They’re here to search this apartment.” He pulled the phone back to his ear. “You need to get someone here quick. We’re in the apartment building right across the street from the hotel. Third floor. It’s Evelyn Bishop’s place. Hurry up, they’re just coming into it now,” he barked into it, before clicking it shut. He tucked Evelyn’s file firmly under his jacket and belt, in the small of his back, and grabbed Mia by the arm. “Come on,” he urged as he led her to the front door.

They hurried out onto the landing, only to come face-to-face with a woman who was stepping out from the neighboring apartment. The woman froze at the sight of two strangers rushing out of Evelyn’s apartment. She hesitated, then started to say something in Arabic, but Corben snapped at her abruptly, cutting her off. “Get back inside, lock the door, and stay clear from it. Do you understand?”

The woman’s eyes darted from him to Mia and back in alarmed confusion. “Do it now,” Corben ordered again, stepping forward and herding her back into her apartment. The woman nodded furtively and disappeared behind her front door, snapping its dead bolt into place as directed.

The elevator’s “in use” light went amber, followed by a loud click and the hum of the motor cranking up. The cabin was making its way down from the top floor to the lobby. The killers would soon be here.

Corben moved to the edge of the staircase, which was adjacent to the lift shaft, and listened for a quick beat. He stepped back, looked up the stairs, and grimaced. He didn’t like that option. Access to the roof could be locked. Neighbors could come into play. Too many unknowns.

“What?” Mia asked. “What do we do?”

“Inside.” He hurried her back into Evelyn’s flat.

Corben carefully closed the door and spun its dead bolt shut. He saw that Evelyn also had a chain lock and raised his hand to pop it in place, then thought better of it and left it alone. He knew it would give away that someone was in the apartment, which was the last thing he wanted.

He also knew he only had seconds to come up with a plan.

He shot a focused glance at the big sliding glass doors opening onto the balcony, and at the window, made his decision, and turned to Mia. “Shut those curtains. As tight as you can. I don’t want any light coming in. And shut the bedroom doors too.”

She did as ordered, plunging the living room into a suffocating darkness. As she did this, Corben had grabbed an armrest cover off the sofa and was going around the lamps and the chandelier in the living room, crushing the bulbs in his fingers with cold efficiency. He did the same to the lamp in the entrance hall.

Mia shut the bedroom doors and hurried back out to find Corben in the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. He pulled out a couple of kitchen knives and checked their blades. He chose the one that seemed most solid among the lot and stowed it under his belt, to one side.

Mia watched him, stunned. “Please tell me you have a gun tucked away in an ankle holster or something,” she half-joked.

“They’re in the car,” he replied grimly. Being an American was viewed with a sharply increased degree of suspicion in the tense city, and “economic counselor” was getting to be right up there with “cultural attaché” as shorthand for CIA. A telltale bulge from a handgun — which people in this town were more likely to spot than the citizens of, say, Corleone — was definitely taunting fate. Which is why the Glock and the Ruger stayed in a locked compartment in the Jeep unless it looked as if the situation really called for one, or both. This hadn’t looked like that kind of situation.

Notch up another one for hindsight.

Corben scanned the kitchen. It was tucked off to one side, away from the living room, and had a glass door that led out to a small balcony. A tall, freestanding fridge, an older, heavier model, was next to the door, with Formica counters and cabinets along one wall. He crossed over to the edge of the room and looked out. He noted that the kitchen’s balcony door had no curtains or blinds. Which didn’t really matter. He’d already decided it would be their fallback position. He pulled out Evelyn’s file and handed it to Mia. She glanced at it curiously and looked him a question.

“Stay here and hang on to this for me,” he told her. “Close the door behind me and keep it shut until I get back.” He headed out, stabbing a finger at the balcony door. “And keep that door open.”

Mia tried to object, but the words dried up in her mouth.

Corben saw how shaken she was and paused. “We’ll get through this,” he added firmly, his eyes hard with conviction. She managed a reluctant, scarcely perceptible nod before he rushed out of the room.

Mia closed the door, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. She turned and looked down the kitchen, at the balcony beyond, then her eyes dropped to the file in her hands.

She stared at it for a moment with nervous curiosity, then opened it.

Outside, Corben moved fleetly through the darkness and reached the front door. He looked through the peephole just as the elevator outside gave off a barely audible snap as its door-locking mechanism released. He knew there wasn’t any risk of them spotting any movement behind the lens or coming from under the door, as the room behind him wasn’t lit.

He heard the metal grille inside the elevator creak open, and two of the men he’d watched in the street stepped out. He realized the third man was still downstairs, keeping watch. These men were pros. They knew what they were doing. He tensed up even more with the thought.

He observed them as the pockmarked man Mia had described from the bar hit the light switch and glanced around the landing.

Satisfied that they weren’t about to be interrupted, they turned to face the door to Evelyn’s apartment. Corben flexed his fingers and felt his muscles tighten as each killer pulled out a 9mm automatic, rolled a silencer into place, and chambered a round. The pockmarked man nodded to his underling to go ahead.

Corben breathed in deeply and slid back to one side of the door. He’d be hidden behind it as it opened. He leaned right back, pressed against the wall. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, getting them more accustomed to the darkness around him.

The door squealed lightly with an exploratory tug. There was no sound of keys slipping into the lock. The killers evidently didn’t have them. Corben gritted his teeth and waited for it. A second later, a half dozen successive coughs from one of the silenced automatics were echoed by the loud bursts of bullets chewing through the wood of the door and obliterating the door lock. Corben raised a hand to shield his face as splinters and shards of steel ricocheted around the small hallway. A faint smell of charred wood and gunpowder drifted up to his nose.

He stiffened as the door creaked open and swung slowly towards him, and watched with rapt attention as a silencer appeared, hovering in midair. It glided deeper into the entrance hall, followed by the rest of the gun and the jacketed arm of the first of the killers.

Corben went for it, and everything suddenly raced into fast-forward.