Bluebird Down

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth

"Bess, run." Conrad's voice was sharp in Elizabeth's ear. It prickled up her spine, like needles laced with threads of white hot heat. "Head straight for the elevators."

Omar was still guarding her, Matt and Blake where they sat on the couch, his finger poised against the trigger of the gun, whilst behind him, Hamza and Akeem pored over the screen. Documents flitted here and there, snatched up and tossed away, until—

"I have the file," Akeem said. 'QuickStitch'—the name emblazoned the top of the page. He scrolled down, down, down. Elizabeth's heart pounded, buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom, a flat out canter. Oh, God. Please let it be clean.

"What does it say?" Omar said. "What's the agent's name?"

Akeem shook his head. His frown deepened. "I can't see."

Omar turned and barged his cousin aside. "Get out of the way."

Elizabeth nudged off her shoes and pushed them beneath the coffee table. She laid her hands against Matt and Blake's knees, fingers trembling, and she nodded towards the door. They eased up from the couch, as slow as the sun rising above the horizon, and as they crept across the carpet, Elizabeth urged Matt and Blake in front.

"See," Akeem said, "It just says 'Sandpiper'." And the word hit Elizabeth like a punch to the stomach. Breathless, she stopped. She glanced over her shoulder.

The gazes of the three men turned from the screen to the silver sandpiper atop the desk, to the couch, and then to the doorway where Elizabeth had frozen. Omar's nostrils flared. His eyes glinted like sparks struck from flint. He snarled. "It was you."

"Run," Elizabeth said, and she shoved Matt and Blake through the door.

BLARP. BLARP. BLARP. BLARP. The fire alarm blared. It roared through Elizabeth's ears and pounded her eardrums. Matt and Blake darted down the corridor, past the offices with their glass walls, Elizabeth in pursuit. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. Bullets rang out behind them. Elizabeth clutched her ears. PPSHUH. The glass walls exploded. PPSHUH. Matt and Blake both ducked and shielded their faces as splinters of glass whistled through the air. They dived through the doorway and into the main hall, and then careened around the end of the desk.

Elizabeth chased after them. "Get to the elevators," she shouted, her voice hoarse, the words searing through her throat. "Run!"

SPLLSHH. Water gushed down from the sprinklers. A curtain of torrential rain. It soaked through Elizabeth, until her clothes clung to her like a second skin. Her hair whipped across her face. Still she ran. Shards of glass bit into the soles of her feet like grains of scorched sand. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. Bullets sailed past. Elizabeth flinched as one hit the computer screen next to her, shattered the monitor and toppled it to the floor with a crash. Her heart pounded. Each breath burned her lungs, and the metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils and flooded her tongue.

Matt and Blake reached the end of the desks. They skidded round the corner, past the communications room, their arms flailing as they fought to steady themselves. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. They cowered as the bullets ricocheted off the walls.

Elizabeth glanced behind her. Her sodden hair lashed her cheeks. The men were closing in. Omar and Hamza just strides away. She pushed harder still. Acid burned through her limbs. Matt and Blake had gone. She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to—

"Close the doors!" she shouted. "Close the—"

She slipped. She hurtled through the air, her body flung like a rag doll. She smashed into the ground. Every last drop of breath crushed from her lungs. Move, Lizzie, move. She heaved herself up and forced herself to her hands and knees. But the bite of metal found the curve of her neck, and a foot to her spine shoved her back down.