Page 65 of Elusive Promise

"What basis would you have to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know—the fact that you snuck into the consulate party and followed me to an FBI safe house."

"Hardly crimes worthy of the FBI."

"The point is—I didn’t sell you out."

"You did sell me out—on Ben. You don't think I couldn't have had my own conversation in the shelter? But I'd promised you that I would bring him out first. And I kept my promise. You did not."

"I wasn't looking at it that way. Jasmine is in danger. Everything else can wait."

He ran his hand through his hair and gave her a hard look. "Do you work for the FBI, Parisa?"

She stared back at him. "Yes. But I don't work here in New York. My job as a translator in the state department is my cover. I am fluent in many languages. I didn't lie about that."

"Well, that's great. I'm so glad you didn't lie about what languages you speak," he said sarcastically. "You have no idea what letting Ben slip out of our control could mean."

"Then maybe you should tell me. What agency do you work for?"

As he thought about whether or not he wanted to come clean about everything, he saw a white work van driving down the street in their direction. It seemed to be moving too slowly for the flow of traffic, and it would be directly across from them in seconds.

The driver's window came down. Something glinted in the sunshine.

"Gun," Parisa shouted,shoving him toward the door of a nearby boutique as a spray of bullets shattered the glass windows next to them.

Fifteen

As screams followed the gunshots, he and Parisa ran through the shop, asking the startled clerk if there was a back door. She pointed toward the dressing rooms.

"Come with us." Parisa waved her arm frantically at the woman. "You need to get out of here."

The woman ran through the hallway, past the dressing rooms and pushed open the back door. They entered the alley, and the clerk looked around in panic.

"Go to the massage parlor," Jared said, spying a nearby door off the alley. "Tell them to lock the doors and call the police."

Parisa had her gun out, watching the door of the shop they'd just come through as well as the innocent woman running down the alley and into the massage parlor.

Once she was out of sight, they headed in the opposite direction.

They were a hundred yards away when a shot rang out. Parisa dashed behind a dumpster, and he followed. Then she peered around the container and fired off three shots, before ducking back down. He really wished he had his gun now.

A hail of gunfire followed, bouncing off the metal dumpster.

"There's at least two of them," she said, breathlessly.

He picked up a rock and broke the glass on the locked door next to them. Then he reached inside and opened it. "Let's go."

Parisa rose, taking two more shots to keep the gunmen away, and then ducked into the room after him. They appeared to be in a printing facility, which was dark and empty, for which Jared was extremely grateful. They ran past large printing machines, reams of paper, and boxes of supplies, before ending up in the front lobby.

They charged out the front door, setting off an alarm and ran down another crowded New York City sidewalk. They didn't talk, but they were in complete and utter sync, Parisa following his lead as he ducked in and out of stores and around corners. They ran for another fifteen minutes, taking a fire escape to the top of a building, before taking a brief rest on the roof.

He looked over the ledge at the street they'd just run through. From this vantage point, he could see everything, and after five minutes, he started to breathe a little easier. "I think we lost them."

Parisa was also studying the street below, and she slowly nodded. "We're about six blocks away from the garage where we parked the car. Do you think they followed us from there or from the Langdons' apartment?"

He shook his head. "No. I think they followed the feds to the restaurant after you called your pals."

A startled light ran through her eye.

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