From Manhattan with Revenge (The Fourth Book in the Fifth Avenue Series) Read Online Free PDF

She knew that somewhere during her time here, she’d been captured by
them.
    She reached out and caught him as he fell.
She hit him just hard enough to knock him unconscious. She leaned him against
the corner of the elevator.
    “You’ll be all right,” she said. “Take a
Tylenol when you wake up. Maybe three. And thanks for not making a scene. Most
would have.”
    She turned to the panel behind her and
pressed the button that would take him to the forty-seventh floor. She stepped
out as the doors slid shut, she heard the elevator lift, and then she turned
her attention to the kitchen.

 
 
    * * *

 
 
    There was only one way out and it was
through the service entrance. Would they be waiting for her there? Absolutely.
But they didn’t know when she’d come through the door, which gave her the edge.
    So did the bloody chef’s jacket and hat
she was wearing. They wouldn’t be expecting her in either of them. The disguise
might buy her time, but it wouldn’t buy her much. It would take a moment for it
to register, but soon enough, they’d recognize her face. And when they did,
they’d act. She didn’t know what their orders were. Shoot her right there?
Bring her in? She had a feeling it was the latter. Katzev would want his say
for her part in killing Laurent—if that even was what this was about.
    She needed something more. Something that
would shake them and distract them.
    What she considered was risky, but it
might work. She pulled out her cell, which was no ordinary cell. It was a
satellite phone, which looked like a cell, only with a thick antenna on top of
it. With it, nobody could trace her. She dialed 911 knowing that.
    The line rang once. When the dispatcher
came on the line, Carmen saw another opportunity. She entered the kitchen with
the phone concealing the left side of her face and walked straight across to
the double set of doors that led to the stairwell and ultimately to the service
entrance. People along the periphery. Her step was relaxed, not rushed. Nobody
stopped her. Nobody said anything.
    But the dispatcher was talking.
    “What’s your emergency?” the woman
repeated.
    Carmen waited for the doors to swing shut
behind her before she descended the stairs and told her about the tragedy she’d
just come upon.

 
 
    * * *

 
 
    At the base of the stairs was the door Jon
told her about earlier. It was bolted shut, but she had his keys. After several
tries, she found the right one and then waited for the sound of sirens to
arrive outside.
    It took five minutes and when they came, they
arrived in force, as she knew they would. She did, after all, call in a triple
homicide.
    She told the dispatcher that there were
multiple stabbings on the sidewalk between St. Bartholomew’s Church on Park and
Fiftieth Street. “You’ll find them on Fiftieth,” she said breathlessly to the
dispatcher. “Right across the street from the Waldorf. Three people on the
sidewalk. I think they were robbed. One might still be alive. Please, hurry!”
    She waited until she was sure the police
were there and then she unlocked the door and stepped out.
    It was still raining.
    The night sky was alive with the sound of
sirens and the rapid movement of flashing lights. People were gathering.
Some—the cops—were shouting.
    Ahead of her, on the sidewalk, were two
hulking men. Both in black. She looked left and right. Saw cops checking the
street. Saw bellhops and valet drivers watching the action. Saw one of the two
brutes turn to look at her. Dismiss her. Then turn to look at her again. She
saw him nudge his partner’s arm as she walked to the street, which now was
clogged with traffic. A cop was preventing any movement from going forward.
This was a potential crime scene. Another cop was on Park, where the traffic
was moving.
    She started to walk toward him.
    The two men watched her. Her hand was on
her Glock. Her heart hammered in her chest, not so much out of fear but because
of the thrill of knowing