Page 2 of Wraith
Liam swung around and sent a kick to the man’s head as two hands grabbed one of his. He spun behind the second man and slammed his free fist into the man’s elbow. The sharp sound of bone snapping filled the air, and Liam shoved the man away from him.
Pushing backward, he took off running, ignoring the pain pulsing through him and taking the stairs two at a time. The corridors and stairwells were crowded for some strange reason. There always seemed to be a crowd during a chase.
He crashed into a man but gripped the rail to keep from faceplanting on the concrete. The man wasn’t so lucky. He tumbled down the stairs in front of Liam. Though he felt bad about it, Liam quickly jumped over him and continued shoving by people. They screamed at him and a baby started crying.
They yelled Russian profanities and if he wasn’t running for his life he would have laughed.
You have never heard the F word until it was said in Russian!
A bullet whizzed off a rusted rail close to where his hand had just been, and he ducked before moving faster. Jumping down the last set of steps, he shoved out into the wet air of Omsk with no idea where he was going and he couldn’t say he cared much. All he knew was, he had to get out and hide before he was caught and terminated.
A bullet zinged by his head and he dodged through a bunch of cars and down a laneway he hoped wasn’t one way. Dropping out at the other end, it was in time to see a car speed toward him. He hopped over the front slid off the hood and landed on the other side. The car screeched to a halt, but he was already on his feet and tearing down the street in the wrong direction
It began raining then and Liam swore every profanity he could think of, both in English and Russian. He wondered why he had chosen this time of year to go to Omsk when he knew it would be bad. He was asked by friends for help and he hadn’t thought twice. The answer was easy. At least he was prepared and the bag he carried was like a giant raincoat for his things.
“I hate the rain.” He muttered under his breath.
Even though he looked back and didn’t see them, Liam didn’t stop running. He had a lot of things on his mind. He had to get to Moscow which was twenty seven hundred miles east which meant he was going the wrong way. Depending on his mode of transportation, it could take up to a day and a half to make his journey. Since he couldn’t fly—which would have been faster and more convenient. Liam needed a car, but he knew he couldn’t merely walk into a dealership and rent one. A million red flags would go flying and he didn’t feel like getting shot at again.
Liam slipped through a group of homes and jogged along until he arrived at a small motel. He walked in and pulled out one of his many fake credit cards and handed it over. “I’d like a room for the night.”
“Da?” the woman asked.
This is bullshit!
He repeated his request in Russian and was promptly given a room in the far corner of the broken-down place. It smelled filthy, but it was the best he could do on such short notice and under the circumstances.
Making his way to the room, he looked out the back window and tested it for strength. He then made sure it was locked and pulled the curtains in place. He moved into the bathroom. It didn’t have a window. It didn’t even have a bathtub.
There was roughing it and then there was whatever the hell this bathroom was.
A hole in the ground must be where the water from the rusted shower head would go. He chuckled and frowned before walking over to the cabinet. Sliding the glasses from the frame, he walked back to the front door with the glass in hand. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he lifted the carpet two doors from his and placed one of the glass beneath it. He then moved to the one in front of his door and added the other piece of glass. He then tested the door’s strength like the last time.
Locking it, he checked under the bed and in the old drawers. He then sat down on the side of the bed and yanked his laptop from his bag.
He set to work sending an encrypted email to Tex. It took a little longer than normal because, Liam hadn’t used that particular set of skills in a while. Tex taught him a few things many years prior and those had come in handy. It took a couple of tries but Liam still focused and got it done. It was better to be safe than have the wrong type of people find him. Liam double checked everything before hitting send.
When there was nothing else, he could do, Liam hunkered down for a long day to wait for night.
Chapter 1
Amelia Hemmingway’s designer stilettos clicked against the hardwood floor of her office. She paced back and forth, engulfed in the latest banking report to cross her desk. The outlook was grim to say the least. The Canadian dollar was nowhere near being on par with the American, interest rates weren’t where they should be, and people were starting to draw their purse strings a little tighter than usual. Add the current state of the real estate market, the unemployment rates and being a banker was downright suicidal. She removed her glasses and stopped by the window to stare out at the cityscape around her.
The view always soothed her—from the peak of the CN Tower, to white smoke billowing from the top of the buildings. In the summer time, if she looked really hard, she could make out the shimmering gray of Lake Ontario on the far side of the city.
It wasn’t summer, and she definitely couldn’t see the lake. Winter had taken Toronto in her grips and didn’t seem to want to let go. Every time she thought they would get a little break from the snow storms, Mother Nature proved her wrong by bombarding the city with either freezing rain or blowing Snow.
Amelia always joked about running away to Fiji or Bora Bora during the winter. But no one took her seriously—hell, she didn’t take herself seriously.
With a frustrated sound in her throat, Amelia sighed and looked downward. White snow had been turned to brown sludge on the streets. The sidewalks were no better as she watched people dodge around each other hurrying to their destinations.
Amelia never liked the snow. There was just something unnatural about a Jamaican, living through the freezing temperatures of a Canadian winter which made her frown. During those months, she refused to drive downtown. She’d park at Kennedy Station then jumped on the train. That posed its own hardship. The ride to Yonge Station was comfortable enough. Afterward, she’d have to fit herself like a human jigsaw piece amongst the other bodies in the overly crowded train to Queen Station.
Every morning, she’d think the same thing—there has to be a better way. But just the thought of being stuck in traffic on the highway, made her think twice. Inhaling deeply, she stuck her earbuds in then endured people invading her personal space with coffee breath.
When she’d survived the ordeal, Amelia exited the train at Queen Station. She hurried up the escalator ahead of everyone else. The last thing she needed was to be stuck behind the crowd. She walked through the underground PATH to her office building. Every morning she would be barely in the door before the fires began. Usually, she thrived on the challenges. Lately, she’d become weary of them.
A soft knock sounded at her door, and she pressed her eyes closed. “Come in,” she called, while wondering what fresh hell was about to land on her desk.
