Page 72 of The Secret of Secrets

Once you start, it’s hard to stop.

And until you stop, it’s hard to run.

Faukman made up his mind in an instant, grateful for the countless hours he’d spent running in Central Park. If they try to shoot…I’ll be a moving target. He quickly wriggled his hands out of the tie and double-checked that the man was not watching.

Here we go…

He grabbed the handle to the van’s rear door, depressed it, and quietly swung the door open. Then he crouched down and leaped out. The instant his feet touched down on solid earth, he exploded into a full sprint down the access road, forcing past the pain in his cramped legs. He was an experienced runner, and his legs responded effortlessly to the sudden exertion. His wool coat billowed behind him as he picked up speed and set his sights on the idling SUV in the distance.

Faukman glanced over his shoulder and saw his abductor awkwardly zipping up and trying to give chase. No chance, he thought, feeling the wind in his face.

The man in pursuit was yelling as Faukman approached the SUV. A gunshot rang out, and a bullet whizzed over Faukman’s head.

Holy shit!

Faukman reached the idling SUV, hurled himself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and muscled the vehicle into gear. He crushed the accelerator to the floor and the SUV peeled out, tires screeching as it bounced up and over the median, fishtailing out of the parking lot onto Industrial Avenue.

As Faukman sped off, leaving Signature Aviation and his captors behind, he grabbed his phone from his coat pocket, held it up to his face, and shouted, “Hey, Siri! Call Robert Langdon!”

A hundred yards away, the operative named Chinburg stopped running, finished zipping up his fly, and calmly watched the SUV disappear into the night. Once the vehicle was out of sight, he walked back to the van.

“All clear,” he announced.

His partner with the buzz cut, Auger, stepped out of hiding. “Phone?”

“All good. He took it.”

“Nice job.”

Despite their captive’s extensive experience editing suspense novels, the man had just fallen for the most basic interrogation ploy of all—the Fugitive.

Threaten someone’s life and he’ll always do the inevitable if you give him the chance—run.

There was no plane waiting, no flight to Prague. They had simply parked their van on an access road adjacent to Teterboro’s Signature Aviation services, called in a third operative to pose as a chauffeur, and then created the illusion of a perfect escape moment.

Faukman took the bait…and his escape car has a tracking device.

Sometimes, before letting a fugitive escape, they would plant a surveillance bug on the quarry, but in Faukman’s case, there was no need; he was already carrying a powerful two-way transceiver with GPS—his own smartphone.

While Faukman had been blindfolded, the operatives had quietly removed his phone from his coat, plugged it into the laptop, bypassed his passcode, and uploaded a variety of proprietary software before replacing the phone in his pocket.

“We’ve got activity,” Chinburg announced, his face illuminated by his iPad’s screen, which displayed a full surveillance interface with Faukman’s phone—location, text, voice and data received and sent.

The iPad speaker crackled with Faukman’s voice, who seemed to be leaving a voicemail.

“Robert, it’s Jonas…call me immediately! You’re in danger—Katherine is too. This is going to sound crazy, but someone hacked into our server and deleted her manuscript…I don’t know why yet. I was literally abducted off the street near my office. I’m calling Katherine now, but you need to stay wherever you are. Don’t talk to anyone!”

The call was severed, and another was immediately initiated.

The second call also went to voicemail, this time Katherine’s. Faukman left another breathless message, similar to his first, except for one addition.

“Katherine,” Faukman said, “these guys said you printed the manuscript this morning? If that’s true, then lock it up somewhere safe—it’s our only remaining copy! All the others are gone…literally every last one. Call me when you get this.”

The call ended.

“A bit of bonus intel,” Auger said, sounding smug. “Confirmation that the manuscript in Prague is the only one left.”

“Finch will be pleased,” Chinburg said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll let him know.”