Page 16 of France Face-Off
Hopefully, by the time the attacker made it out of her room, he’d think that she’d taken the elevator down. Years of keeping a low profile told her to go up the stairs instead of down. As she raced past the elevator, she punched the down button. Then she dove for the stairs, pushing through the door, letting it close quietly behind her.
Alex ran up the stairs as noiselessly as she could in her slippers. Fortunately, she traveled with everything she owned in a backpack. Sometimes, she stored important information in lockers at the airports that she traveled to most. Mostly, she lived out of her backpack, purchasing items she needed in the places she visited.
As she climbed the stairs, she wondered where she’d go. Her first thought was of the American on the fifth floor, where she’d been earlier. Below her, the stairwell door on the third floor crashed open. She slowed, only to make her movements quieter and eased up the stairs to the fifth floor. Footsteps sounded on the stairs below. They seemed to be fading, as if whoever was running was heading down to the ground floor instead of up.
Alex waited a few seconds to make certain that was the direction he was headed, and then quietly pushed the stairwell door open onto the fifth floor. Once she’d passed through it, she eased it closed behind her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t control the loud click of the latch engaging. If her pursuer had heard the same click, he’d be headed back up the stairs. She only had moments to hide somewhere. She ran down the hallway to the door she’d entered earlier and knocked three times. With her heart pounding against her ribs, she waited, praying the man had not gone to sleep.
“Daniel,” she called out softly. “Please, open the door.” She positioned her face in front of the peephole, counting the seconds. She’d just raised her hand again to knock when the door swung open.
Daniel stood there with a frown denting his brow. “What the—” he started to say.
She pushed him backward far enough to let the door swing shut behind her, then she leaned against it, breathing hard, her pulse racing.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Daniel demanded.
Alex nodded. “Let me catch my breath first.” She sucked in air until she’d secured enough in her lungs. When she had control of her pulse, she pushed away from the door, turned around and glanced through the peephole.
“Is someone after you?” Daniel asked.
“Shhh,” she said. “Yes. He broke into my room.” She gasped as a man dressed in black ran past the door. She turned to Daniel, pressed a finger to her lips and mouthed the words, He’s out there now.
Daniel leaned in and pressed his eye to the peephole and then jerked back.
“He’s still there, isn’t he?” she asked in a quiet whisper.
Daniel nodded, pulled her away from the door, into the bathroom and spoke in a soft voice, “Stay here.” When he moved to go around her, she grabbed his arm.
“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.
“Look,” he answered.
She didn’t release his arm, her fingers tightening. “What if he has a gun?”
His lips quirked upward. “Then I won’t stay long.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I’ll be back.”
Alex waited in the bathroom as he stepped out and once again pressed his eye to the peephole. He remained there for several very long seconds. Then he shook his head and looked her way.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
He shrugged. He moved to the other end of the room, where he pulled the drapes across the window and turned off the lights. Once again, he returned to the door and looked out the peephole. Again, he shook his head. “He could be gone. The only way to check is to open the door.”
Alex shook her head. “If he’s anywhere on the floor, he’ll follow the sound of the door opening. Just leave it. He’ll go away.” Alex left the bathroom and checked for herself through the peephole. As Daniel had indicated, nobody stood outside the door, but the man could be anywhere on that floor, or he could have moved on to the next floor up. If he’d been going down, he wouldn’t know what floor she’d stopped on. Hopefully, he’d give up and go away. In the meantime, Alex was stuck.
“Might as well have a seat,” Daniel said softly. He waved a hand toward one of the chairs beside the doors to the balcony.
She shook her head and paced, adrenaline still pushing through her veins at an alarming rate.
“Why would somebody want to attack you?” Daniel asked.
Alex shook her head. “Maybe Petrov didn’t like being bested by a female?” she suggested.
“Especially if he thinks you had anything to do with his stabbing.”
She nodded. And if it wasn’t Petrov, then who? Though she looked very much like her mother, her mother had gone prematurely grey. Alex’s hair was still jet black like her father’s. When she’d first come back to Russia, she’d worried that somebody would recognize her. She’d returned as an American interpreter, easily finding work because of her excellent grasp of the English and Russian languages. But it was a possibility that somebody had recognized her as Anya, the daughter of Pavel and Mischa Federov. She’d assumed the name Alexa Sokolov from the US passport she’d found with her picture on it.
“So, what now?” Daniel asked. “Do you want me to contact the front desk and ask them to send a security team to escort you back to your room?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t like to draw attention to myself. This summit is not about me. There’s already been enough drama with Petrov’s stabbing, which you know I did not do.”
