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< Part 28
Charlotte
hadn’t realized that she’d fallen asleep until she was awoken by a loud
knocking on the door. After getting her bearings, she jumped out of her chair
and rushed to the door. She peered through the hole to see who was there. She
wasn’t expecting any visitors, and wasn’t sure that she wanted any. She saw a
man in a dark coat and black hat standing in the hall. He pounded on the door
again.
The man in
the hallway spoke through the closed door, “Charlotte Avalon. I need to speak
with you.”
She didn’t
like the way he said her name. She didn’t like that he knew her name. She had
used a false name when checking into the hotel. She reasoned that the only
reason he could have found her is if he was looking for her. The only reason he
could be looking for her is in connection with the robbery. She decided that
the last thing she wanted to do was to talk with him. She needed to get out of
town, and she needed to do it fast.
“One
moment, I’m not decent.” She said, trying not to sound guilty.
She looked
around the room. She couldn’t stall forever, so she needed to figure something
out. Pulling the dress off as quickly as possible, she donned her new riding
suit. It was fairly comfortable and gave her freedom to move. She wasn’t sure
why it cost so much more than her racing suit, but it served the same purpose. She
scribbled a note on a piece of paper and threw it on the bed.
***
Outside
the locked door, Jason Hawke continued knocking. “Charlotte, open the door. I
just want to talk with you, nothing more.” He waited another minute, and
decided it was time to bust in. Drawing his revolver, he stood back and kicked
hard at the door. The frame splintered and the door slammed open.
Hawke
carefully entered the room, gun at the ready. He checked every corner, every
closet. There was no sign of Charlotte. The window was open, and the curtains
danced on the light breeze. He’d missed her. He ran to the window and looked
outside, but saw no sign of his target. He would have to catch up with her
later. He’d studied her background and was fairly certain she wasn’t the
ringleader. In fact, until she escaped out the window, he wasn’t even sure she
had anything to do with the crime. He was going off a vague tip from a
backwater farmer and a cocky cab driver. Not great evidence. But the innocent
never climb out the window.
He saw a
heap on the bed and examined it. Some kind of suit. He looked closer, but
wasn’t familiar with the material. Whatever it was, it seemed to be a bit
advanced for the current state of technology. He picked it up and saw a scrap
of paper fall to the ground. Written on the paper was a single word:
“Montebanque.”
That was
something. He didn’t know what it meant, but it gave him something to
investigate. The suit was stiff, so he wouldn’t be able to stash it in his bag.
He’d have to carry it out as it was. With any luck, he could avoid notice. He
wasn’t sure how much the bribe to the bellhop would buy him, but he didn’t
expect his expense account to cover too many more bribes.
***
Charlotte
managed to scurry along a ledge of her 8th story window. She was
near a corner of the building, so she went immediately to the corner and around
the side of the structure. The exterior was mainly stone blocks and bricks,
which gave her plenty of finger and toe holds. Her heavy boots were not ideal
for this kind of climbing, and her injured wrist was not cooperating. Safely
around the corner, she rested on a ledge for a moment to formulate a plan.
“This is
some predicament you got yourself in, Charlie Avalon,” she muttered to herself.
Why hadn’t she put on the wingsuit? She could have jumped from the building and
soared to freedom. Sure, it had failed her the last time she used it, but it
was better than climbing out on the exterior of a building. She looked up to
the roof, 6 stories above. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to climb that far up
with her hurt arm and inappropriate footwear.
She looked
across the alley at the building opposite her. The alley was at least ten feet
across. She could jump that distance, but probably not without falling three or
four stories in the process. Even still, what would she aim for? Where would
she land?
With any
luck, the guy at the door would see her note and follow that clue. She wouldn’t
normally have thrown a friend under the train, but it was all she could think
of at short notice. He wasn’t really a friend anyway. It was his suit that
caused such issues. If she hadn’t been so clever lighting that rocket, she
never would have caught the train. She might well be dead. He was just a very
clever guy who made a very clever device.
She
decided she was best to find her way down to the ground level. She returned to
the corner of the building, where the stones were more jagged and provided
better holds. She slowly inched her way down, foot by foot. Her injured wrist
was useless, but she was able to wedge her arm against the side of the stones
and shimmy her way down the corner. She was at the fifth story when she heard
the first voice from below.
“What is
she doing?”
“Who is
that?”
So much
for being inconspicuous. Well, at this point, she might as well make a show of
it. She waved her injured arm at the crowd and they erupted in cheers. She
continued her way down. She made a couple of fake moves at pretending to fall,
and delighted at the gasps and screams from below. When she finally made it to
the ground, the crowd all cheered. She heard a few people call out her name.
There were disadvantages of being a semi-celebrity.
She waved
to the crowd, who were starting to close in on her. “The lock was jammed.” She
smiled and shrugged comically. She made her way through the crowd toward the
street. It was time to make her getaway.
She had
just stepped off the curb to cross the street when she heard another shout.
“Hey, it’s you!”
She looked
and saw the cab driver from earlier. She turned and ran. Her body was in no
condition to run. She was aching from her injuries and tired from her climb.
She was two blocks away in a hurry, but wasn’t sure how far she could keep it
up. She turned to look over her shoulder to see if anybody was in pursuit. The cabby
was heading her direction, but she was faster than he was.
She turned
her head back in front of her just in time to see the steamer delivery truck
slam into her. She could feel her femur snap in the impact. She rolled up onto
the hood of the vehicle, and could feel the heat of the steam boiler below the
thin layer of sheet metal. The rubber tires squealed to a halt and she rolled
off the hood onto the street.
So much for the chase. She lay in the street and moaned from exhaustion and pain. She felt a drip of blood run down her cheek and stared up at the dark and stormy sky. A face filled her field of vision. It was a man in a black coat and hat. So that was it. She closed her eyes and let herself pass out from the agony.
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