split up into two teams of two. Annja knew then that they were going to try to take the package inside the store.
She was curious and they were impatient. She knew it could prove to be a recipe for disaster.
2
“You’ve reached the desk of Detective Bart McGilley. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you. If you need immediate attention, please call Detective Manuel Delgado.” The recording gave Delgado’s number.
Standing at the counter in Mailboxes & Stuff while Nikolai went into the back to “check” for her mail, Annja dialed Delgado’s number.
Two of the men trailing Annja, one of them Agent Smith, entered the store and started looking through racks of mailing supplies. Nikolai kept an assortment of boxes, envelopes and mailing labels. Annja wondered what they would have used for cover if the accessories hadn’t been there.
Both men were intense looking. Their winter clothing could have concealed an arsenal. They never appeared to look at her.
“Detective Delgado.” The voice was smooth and Hispanic.
Annja switched to Spanish to make it harder for the men to listen to the conversation. “Hi. This is Annja Creed. I’m a friend of Detective McGilley’s.”
“I know who you are,” Delgado said. “Didn’t know you were a friend of McGilley’s, though. I catch the show every week.”
Terrific, Annja thought, a fan. She figured that could cost her a big chunk of believability.
“Seems like McGilley would have mentioned he knew you,” Delgado continued.
Maybe he’s not exactly proud of it, she thought. That gave her pause for just an instant. She couldn’t imagine Bart being embarrassed about knowing her. Then again, she couldn’t blame him, either. If Chasing History’s Monsters hadn’t opened so many doors for archaeological exploration for her, she would never have done the show.
Annja chose to ignore Delgado’s statement. “Do you know where I can find Detective McGilley? I called his cell phone number but got his answering service by mistake.”
“That wasn’t a mistake,” Delgado said. “Detective McGilley is in court today. He always switches his cell phone to his answering service when he’s on the stand.”
“Is he in trouble?” Annja thought back to the last conversation she’d had with Bart. They’d caught lunch at Tito’s and chatted briefly. Bart’s fiancée was pressing him to set a date for the wedding.
“No,” Delgado answered. “He’s testifying in a murder case. Should be a slam dunk, but the assistant district attorney wanted McGilley there. The ADA is one of the new batch of wonder kids the law school keeps churning out. She just needed a little hand-holding.”
“Do you know when you expect him back?”
“Soon. More than that, I can’t tell you.”
“All right. Can you give him a message?”
“I can.”
“Ask him to call me as soon as he has a chance.”
Delgado said he would.
Annja pocketed the cell phone. She’d exhausted the number of people she could call for help. In a way, that was sad. But then again, she didn’t usually ask for help.
A moment later, Nikolai came back with a package. It was about the size of a hardbound book. The address on the front was written in Nikolai’s hand, but Annja doubted the two men inside the store would know that.
“Thank you,” Annja said.
“Of course.” Nikolai gave her one of his patented friendly smiles. “Be careful out there.”
“I will.”
“The potato soup at Cheever’s Diner is good today,” Nikolai added as she walked toward the door.
Looking back at Nikolai, Annja couldn’t help thinking that the announcement sounded like some kind of spy code. She couldn’t believe Nikolai had just blurted that out. All that was missing was a big conspiratorial wink.
At the counter, Nikolai shrugged and looked embarrassed. “It’s warm, you know. It’ll take some of the winter chill off. That’s all I mean.”
Annja shoved the package under one arm, then walked toward the door. That was when Agent Smith made his move.
T HE MAN WAS SMOOTH —Annja gave him that. But he was working on the presumption that he was dealing with someone unused to violence. Most people would have frozen when a strange man grabbed them by the arm. An uninvited touch in polite society usually elicited a blistering look of disdain, followed by a command to release the arm or a demand to know what was going on.
By the time all that happened, it was usually too late for the person who was accosted.
Annja had expected the touch, had desired it, in fact, because it made everything easier. The move put the man in reach.
Gripping her backpack straps with her left hand, Annja turned inside the man’s grip. He stood flat-footed, never expecting her to turn like that. Or, at least, not expecting what followed.
Agent Smith opened his mouth to speak. Annja didn’t know what he was going to say. Maybe he was going to say her name, or maybe he was going to give her his fake name.
Before he could utter a word, Annja jerked a knee up into his crotch as hard as she could. He wasn’t totally unprepared, though. She felt the hard surface of a protective cup jar her knee with bruising force. Despite the presence of the cup, there was a certain amount of force that still communicated through the protective gear.
The man froze, not certain how badly he was hurt. Annja knotted her right hand in his coat and pulled him close. She head-butted him in the nose and heard it break with a loud pop. As he stumbled back, his coat fell open and revealed the pistol holstered on his hip.
Okay, Annja thought, that’s good to know. It was better to have the bad news up front. She stuck her foot between Agent Smith’s legs to hook a foot behind his, then put her shoulder in the middle of his chest. Agent Smith smashed backward into his partner.
“Help!” Nikolai shouted, going to cover behind the counter. “Help! Police!”
“Try using the phone,” Annja urged as she turned back to the door.
Nikolai’s hand came up and began feeling around for the phone handset while she bolted through the door. Agent Smith and his partner were already getting to their feet and grabbing for their weapons.
Outside, Annja turned right and ran. She knew the area well. Not only did she frequently walk to Mailboxes & Stuff, but she also jogged in the neighborhood and did most of her shopping there.
She took a firmer hold on the ersatz package as she lengthened her stride. “Excuse me. Out of the way. Coming through.” She pushed herself down the crowded sidewalk, jostling the pedestrians.
