The Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

pavement again. Another oncoming car veered away and smashed into a truck to avoid hitting him. He struggled to his knees, dazed, and looked back across the intersection. The blond man had vanished.
    Cole shook off the effects of the impact and headed down Fifth Avenue once more. As people scattered from his path, he searched frantically for policemen, but there were none. Though he hadnt seen the blond man across the intersection, he still sensed the pursuers presence. Cole glanced left, rightand suddenly had a plan.
    He swerved sharp right and sprinted up the steps of the main branch of the New York Public Library. It was an impressive structure, two blocks long and several stories high, its wide front steps flanked by a pair of imposing stone lions. He bolted between them and past several people lugging bags of books, then slowed as he moved through the revolving door. The guard to the left of the door eyed him suspiciously, but Cole didnt hesitate. He swerved right again and climbed the steps to the second floor two at a time. At the spot where the wide stairway turned ninety degrees left, he glanced back down at the door, but there was still no sign of the blond man.
    Cole trotted across the second-floor hallway to the stairs leading to the third story and began to climb again. At the top of the steps he walked quickly ahead, turned right into the Bill Blass Public Catalogue Room, then proceeded directly through it and into the librarys main reading room. It was the size of a basketball court, filled with hundreds of people seated at long wooden tables and immersed in resource material.
    A musty smell from thousands of ancient volumes crowding the walls reached Coles nostrils. He hesitated for a second to scan the mammoth space, but didnt linger long in the entrance. He moved quickly to the west wall, knelt down, pulled several atlases from the bottom shelf, placed the cassette case against the back of the bookcase, replaced the atlases and walked calmly away. He found an open seat near the middle of the room and sat down in the spindly wooden chair. He hadnt taken his eyes from the entrance for more than a few seconds since entering the large room, not even as he had hidden the tape behind the atlases, and the blond man hadnt appeared.
    A young woman studying a faded New York Times glanced up, went back to her paper, and then looked up again. Cole was acutely aware of the perspiration pouring down his face and the thin streak of blood staining one arm of his white shirt.
    Are you okay? she asked.
    Im fine, he said without taking his eyes from the door. I recently graduated from law school, and the bar exam is coming up. Im just a little tense.
    The young woman smiled nervously, as if unsure what to make of the out-of-breath young man with the sweat-streaked face and the bloodstained shirt. Finally she picked up the archive copy of the Times as well as her book bag and walked away. She was new to the city and had been warned that it was full of lunatics.
    Cole gazed at the door. There was still no sign of the blond man. His eyes flashed to the spot in the stacks where he had hidden the tape, then back to the door. Still no blond man.
    Cole leaned over, hiding his arm beneath the table, removed the onyx cuff link, pulled the torn shirt sleeve up above the gash and inspected the wound quickly. It was nothing serious. He rolled the shirt sleeve back down and, wrapping his fingers firmly around the shredded material, applied direct pressure. Two to three minutes of this and the blood should coagulate.
    Cole allowed his head to fall back against the chair but still didnt remove his gaze from the entrance. Maybe his imagination was indeed playing games with him. A cleaning woman with a gun. A blond man chasing him down Fifth Avenue. The notion that they were after him seemed almost silly, now that he thought about it. He laughed and shook his head, then groaned as he felt a sudden stiffness in his neck. Hed suffered a good deal