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An idea hits me.
The roof.
The buildings aren’t too far apart. If I can sneak into one of the neighboring buildings and make my way to the top, I could jump to the roof and head down, beginning my search for Simon on the top floor. It certainly beats trying to force my way through and up. I have to work smarter, not harder. But one question remains…
Once I find Simon, how do we getout?
I’m more than happy to risk jumping across the gap by myself, but with a baby in my arms? No way. Not going to happen. So many things could go wrong.
I rub my temples, anxiety thrumming through my veins. “Come on, Nat.Think.”
I look around helplessly, eyes wandering over to the alleyway dumpster I’m crouched behind. At first, I think nothing of it. Trash isn’t going to help me here.
Or is it?
I spot some rectangular Styrofoam sticking out from beneath the dumpster’s lid. There are some loose wires, some packing tape, and some broken glass. It looks like someone bought themselves a new TV and tossed their old one.
The gears in my brain start turning.
If I can’t fight my way out, maybe I can intimidate my way out. I’ve already tricked one dumb Bratva gangster, what are the chances I can do it again?
* * *
I open the door to the roof cautiously, looking in all directions to make sure I’m alone. As the wind blows across the roof, I realize how hard it’s blowing. Jumping from one building to the other will be impossible. I look in all directions, trying to decide what to do when I see the building on the other side of the one I need to reach.
There’s a skybridge. It’s made of glass, which means I’ll be visible, but it’s now my only option. I race back down the stairs, then creep across the street, only out in the open for a few brief seconds as I run between cars and to the door. It’s not locked, so I walk in and race for the stairs.
Several flights later, and I’m panting but still going strong. I reach the door to the skybridge and open it, peering down in the direction of the guards. Luckily, the front and back doors they’re guarding aren’t facing this direction, but if someone decides on a smoke break, I could be in trouble.
I saunter across as if I’m supposed to be on this bridge, like I’ve lived in this building and visited the others for years. No one glances my way; I’m pretty sure they would have shot at me or at the very least yelled at me to stop.
Once at the door to the building where Simon is being held, I hurry over to the rooftop entrance door and twist the doorknob. It’s unlocked. Levitsky’s men probably didn’t think anyone was crazy enough to try and break in from the top. Their oversight is my advantage.
Creeping into the stairwell, I slowly make my way down to the first available floor and poke my head out into the hall. The coast is clear. Following my gut, I descend the stairs to the next floor and check that one. Nobody is here, either. I assumed there’d be a much heavier guard presence surrounding Simon, so I move on until I find a sign of life.
I work my way down to the thirteenth, the twelfth, and the eleventh floors. Nothing. This building is largely abandoned despite being a massive apartment complex. Maybe Levitsky bought the whole property as his personal stronghold, unwilling to share it with any residents who could pose a security risk.
When I get to the tenth floor, I finally hear some chatter. It’s muffled, the voices distorted by static. Radio communications. I think one or two of Levitsky’s mercenaries is standing just on the other side of the door.
My hands are cold and trembling with fear. My heart keeps pounding. Reaching slowly for my jacket’s zipper, I drag it down and focus on the soft metallic rip of the teeth coming undone. I’ve come this far, I can’t give up now. Not when Simon needs me.
I step out into the hall.
“Hey!” I shout.
There are six of them in total. I’m sure there are way more of them, but at this point, I don’t care. Confronting them is the only way to speed this process up. The guard closest to me raises his rifle, understandably startled by my presence.
“What the fu—”
I whip off my jacket in a hurry to expose the contents I’ve had hidden beneath. Wires stuffed into Styrofoam with tons of packing tape to wrap it around my torso in lieu of a proper vest. All those months preparing Edvard’s car bomb has helped me grow familiar with general shapes and the knickknacks needed to look convincing. It’s obviously not going to blow any of us up…
Buttheydon’t know that.
“What are you doing?” one of the men growls to his colleague. “Just shoot her!”
“Don’t move a muscle!” I yell at them, pulling something from my pocket. A trigger. At least, itlookslike a trigger. That dumpster I found outside was a treasure trove of junk I could use as props. All I have to do is keep my distance and avoid letting any of them close enough to see the fake incendiary.
“E-easy now,” one of them grumbles, lowering his gun. “What do you want?”
