Blowback

The worse the storm, the worse her feelings of impending doom, and today was no different. On days like this, her only comfort came from indulging herself. And though it sounded terribly cliché, even to her, the one thing that made her feel better was shopping. And her favorite place to shop was the Harvey Nichols department store in Knightsbridge.

As she exited the Tube station and raced through the rain across Sloane Street, Alcott decided that with nothing but the day’s mail awaiting her at home, she’d make an evening of it at her beloved Harvey Nics. It was either that or the television at home, and as much of a social cripple as she was, Alcott knew it was better for her to be out among the living and breathing.

Alcott decided to head up to the store’s Fifth Floor Café for something to eat before she began her shopping. Finding a small table for two, she placed her belongings on the opposite chair and sat down. The rain pounded against the glass roof and ran down the windows at the front of the café in white foamy sheets that made it appear as if she was sitting behind a waterfall. As a streak of lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a booming peal of thunder, Alcott decided she wanted a glass of wine.

Forty-five minutes later, the storm was still raging as Jillian paid for her meal. Despite the two glasses of Pinot Gris she had consumed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something bad out there with her name on it. Blaming her unease on the storm, she got up from her table and decided that it was time to do a little shopping.

Taking the escalators to the third floor to browse through the lingerie section, she felt a chill along the back of her long, slender neck. She was even more frightened than before and didn’t know why.

As she moved through the lingerie department, her feelings of impending doom came to a crescendo and finally made sense as a powerfully built man grabbed her urgently by the arm and said, ”Come with me if you want to live.”

TWENTY

What are you doing?” demanded Alcott as she was muscled toward the back of the department.

“Saving your life,” replied Scot Harvath as he kept her moving toward one of the green emergency exit signs.

Alcott tried to twist out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me. Let me go.”

“Someone has been following you since you left the Abbey College.”

She had wanted to blame her unease on the storm, but on a more primal level Jillian had sensed all afternoon that something wasn’t right. It was as if she had felt someone’s eyes on her. But the only way this man could have known she was being followed was if he had been following her as well. “Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now,” said Harvath as he increased their pace.

“If you don’t stop this, I’m going to scream. Do you hear me?”

“You scream and we’re both dead.”

Alcott was about to show him she was serious when she felt something hard pressed into her back. Without even seeing it, she instinctively knew what it was-a gun. “Why are you doing this?”

“Over your shoulder, by the elevator.”

Alcott looked. “What about it?”

“The tall man standing next to it. Do you see him? Dark hair. Dark skin.”

“Yes, why?”

“He’s been sent here to kill you,” responded Harvath as he turned Jillian back around and continued to maneuver her toward the door marked Emergency Exit.

Alcott was just about to tell this man one last time that he was insane and to unhand her when she heard gunshots and all of the mannequins around them began exploding. “Get down,” yelled her captor, knocking her to the ground as they were showered with pieces of flesh-colored fiberglass.

As Alcott started to scream, Harvath counted to three and rolled off her, coming up on one knee with the compact eleven-shot,. 40-caliber Beretta Mini Cougar Type D pistol that had been waiting for him when he arrived in London. As good an agent, and a friend, as Nick Kampos was, arranging weapons for Harvath in foreign countries was something even he couldn’t do. For that, Harvath reluctantly had to call on Ozan Kalachka and ask him for a favor. A favor the man was only too happy and able to arrange.

Catching sight of their assailant, Harvath began firing.

The unsilenced weapon bucked in his hand as Harvath let loose with a deafening three-round volley. The store was in complete pandemonium, with shoppers screaming and running for their lives. Keeping low while he expertly weaved his way through the racks of clothing and display stands, the attacker was less than twenty yards away and closing fast. Harvath desperately wanted to get off another round of shots, but there were too many people in his way.

“We’ve got to get out of here now, “He said as he maneuvered back over to Alcott.

Jillian wanted to respond; she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Her heart was thudding against her chest so hard she thought for certain it would burst.

“Do you see that exit sign back there?” asked Harvath as he helped her up into a crouch.