Double-Crossed: A Spies and Thieves Story

Chapter Four

AN HOUR AND A HALF AFTER THE GUNMEN BROKE INTO THE PARTY

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AS WORD SPREAD—AND WORD ALWAYS DID—the streets outside the hotel eventually became clogged with police cars and fire trucks. News vans lined the barricades while uniformed men tried to keep the curious at bay. But try was all they could manage.

It was New York City, after all, and word that the mayor, a senator, a district court judge, and the most popular players in the Manhattan social scene were currently being held at gunpoint at the charity event of the season was sweeping through the city like a fire.

'Ihe SWAT teams shouted at the NYPD; the NYPD ar­gued with the FBI; and the FBI demanded in the loudest voices possible, "Who let this happen?"

Only a smaller-than-average teenage girl stayed quiet in the dark, right on the edge of the barricade. Occasionally, a man in a gray suit would appear, place a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, a heavier coat around her shoulders, but it was as if the girl herself didn't realize she was freezing. She just stood looking up at the high-rise as if wondering whether or not she should try scaling the walls herself, stealing her way inside.

"Are you Katarina Bishop?" Kat jerked her head away from the Athenia in time to see a woman walking toward her. She was tall and thin, with shiny black hair that blew behind her in the wind. And even in that crowd of chaos, there was something about the woman that demanded attention.

"You're Kat Bishop?" the woman asked again, studying Kat, who wasn't sure whether or not she should say yes. But an­swering, it turned out, was optional, because the woman raised the yellow tape and said, "Come with me."

On the other side of the barrier, Kat struggled to keep up with the woman's long legs and quick stride. And when a man with a walkie-talkie stepped in front of Kat, blocking her way, the woman flashed a badge Kat couldn't read and ordered, "She's with me." No one asked the question again. The two of them walked undisturbed all the way to the opposite side of the street.

"So...I got your message," the woman said once they were alone in that crowd of people. "Now I need you to tell me every­thing you know about Macey McHenry."

It was then that Kat realized two things. First, this was the woman whom Macey had needed Kat to call. The second was that even though Kat hadn't left her name or given her number, this woman had picked Kat out of the crowd as easily as if they'd met a dozen times before. Kat didn't know whether to be scared or impressed, so she just focused on the only thing that mattered in that moment.

All up and down the sidewalks, uniformed ofTicials shouted and spat and spewed. But this woman just kept her eyes glued to the Athenia's balcony high overhead as if she, like Kat, were tempted to scale the walls and burst inside.

And that was why Kat said, "You know her." It was more realization than whisper. She watched the way the woman stared up at the towering hotel. "You know Macey McHenry. And you love her—there's someone you love in there. Well"—Kat drew a breath—"you're not the only one."

Before the woman could say a word, Kat pulled an extra earbud out of her pocket and held it out.

"Here you go," Kat said. "You can talk to my friend on the inside. Well, technically, he's more than a friend, but..." Kat re­membered almost too late that she was talking to a woman with a badge. "Anyhow, you can talk to him. He's with Macey."

When the woman took the earbud, she didn't ask another question. She was a woman on a mission as she placed the tiny de­vice in her ear and said, "This is Special Agent Abby Cameron. Let me talk to Macey McHenry."