Chapter 4 - Shadows Over Syracuse
"Pack everything. Now!" Rebecca hissed, slamming the laptop shut and ripping the power cord from the wall. She shoved the computer and both USB drives into her backpack, her movements frantic but precise.
Hannah grabbed Owen by the hand, pulling him toward the rear bedroom. "Mom, get your coat. We have to use the back fire escape."
Diane was trembling so hard she could barely stand, but the primal instinct to protect her grandson lent strength to her limbs. She grabbed her purse and followed Hannah into the narrow hallway.
Outside, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs of the apartment building. The front door of Rebecca’s apartment was old, made of thin oak that wouldn't hold for more than a few seconds against a shoulder charge.
"Rebecca!" Hannah called out as they reached the bedroom window. The window opened onto a rusted iron fire escape that dropped into a dark, trash-strewn alleyway behind the Syracuse blocks.
"Go, go! I'm right behind you!" Rebecca shouted, grabbing a heavy canister of bear spray from her kitchen counter and throwing a heavy wooden bookshelf across the entryway door just as the first massive blow struck the wood from the outside.
The wood splintered with a terrifying crack.
Hannah pushed the window pane up, the old frame groaning against the cold rain. "Owen, climb out first. Hold onto the railing. Do not look down, do not let go. Do you understand me?"
Owen nodded, his face white, but his jaw set with that same stubborn determination his father had possessed. He scrambled through the window, his sneakers slipping slightly on the wet iron slats of the fire escape. Hannah followed immediately after, helping Diane through the narrow opening.
The rain was coming down harder now, a freezing downpour that blurred their vision and turned the iron stairs into a treacherous sheet of ice.
From inside the apartment, they heard the front door finally give way with a violent crash of wood and metal. A man’s voice, harsh and authoritative, barked orders. "Check the rooms! They're on the move!"
"Down! Down!" Hannah whispered, guiding Owen ahead of her. They descended the narrow stairs as quickly as they dared, the metal creaking beneath their weight. They were two flights down when a figure appeared at the bedroom window above them.
"Stop!" a man shouted, pointing a heavy flashlight down into the alley. The beam caught Hannah directly in the eyes, blinding her.
"Keep moving!" Rebecca yelled from behind them. She stood on the second-floor landing, raised the canister of bear spray, and unleashed a massive, orange cloud of chemical irritant up toward the window. The wind caught the spray, driving it directly into the face of the operative above.
The man screamed, dropping his flashlight, which shattered on the iron stairs with a spray of sparks. He fell back into the room, coughing and cursing violently.
They reached the alley floor. The ground was mud and broken asphalt, illuminated only by the distant amber glow of the city streetlamps.
"Where’s the car?" Hannah panted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she held Owen close to her side.
"Two blocks away," Rebecca said, her eyes scanning the dark alleyway. "I didn't park in front of the building tonight. Thank God I didn't. Follow me!"
They ran through the maze of back alleys, their feet splashing through deep puddles of dirty water. Owen kept pace, his small hand locked in Hannah’s with an iron grip. He didn't cry. He didn't complain. He just ran.
As they reached the edge of the alley that opened onto a major thoroughfare, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the curb, its tires mounting the sidewalk, cutting off their exit.
"Back! Back!" Rebecca shouted, but before they could turn, two men burst from the shadows of an adjacent brick building.
They were trapped.
"Hannah Keller?" one of the men asked. He was shorter than the operatives from the warehouse, wearing a plain leather jacket and a baseball cap pulled low. He didn't have a weapon drawn, but his hand was tucked into his pocket. "Your father sent us."
Hannah didn't believe him for a second. She stepped in front of Owen, her arm out. "Get away from us."
"Frank Keller," the man repeated, holding up a small object so the streetlamp could catch it. It was a silver, grease-stained Zippo lighter with an emblem of the Albany warehouse workers' union engraved on the side. Hannah recognized it instantly. It was her father’s lighter—the one he had carried every day of his working life.
"Where is he?" Diane cried out, pushing forward. "Where is my husband?"
"He’s safe for now, but he won't be for long if you stay in Syracuse," the man said quickly, his eyes darting to the top of the alley where the sounds of Hayes's men could be heard recovering from the bear spray. "Frank contacted the old union network. There are still a few of us who remember what Hayes did to the boys in the plant. Get into the van. We have a safe house in the southern ridge, near the old coordinates."
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Hannah looked at Rebecca. Rebecca nodded once, her hand still tight on the backpack containing the files. "It’s either them or Hayes's people, Hannah. We don't have a third choice."
They scrambled into the back of the black SUV just as the doors slammed shut. The driver hit the gas, the vehicle spinning its tires against the wet asphalt before rocketing away into the Syracuse night, leaving Victor Hayes's mercenaries behind in the dark.
