Тесс Герритсен - Whistleblower стр 17.

This is crazy! she cried, clapping her hands over her ears. No ones going to-

They already have! He whipped out a scrap of newspaper from his shirt pocket. On my way over here, I happened to pass a newsstand. This was on the front page. He handed her the piece of paper.

She stared in bewilderment at the photograph of a middle-aged woman, a total stranger. San Francisco woman shot to death on front doorstep, read the ac companying headline.

This has nothing to do with me, she said.

Look at her name.

Cathys gaze slid to the third paragraph, which identified the victim.

Her name was Catherine Weaver.

The scrap of newsprint slipped from her grasp and fluttered to the floor.

There are three Catherine Weavers in the San Francisco phone book, he said. That one was shot to death at nine oclock this morning. I dont know whats happened to the second. She might already be dead. Which makes you next on the list. Theyve had enough time to locate you.

Ive been out of town-I only got back an hour ago-

Which explains why youre still alive. Maybe they came here earlier. Maybe they decided to check out the other two women first.

She shot to her feet, suddenly frantic with the need to flee. I have to pack my things-

No. Lets just get the hell out of here.

Yes, do what he says! an inner voice screamed at her.

She nodded. Turning, she headed blindly for the door. Halfway there, she halted. My purse-

Where is it?

She headed back, past a curtained window. I think I left it by the-

Her next words were cut off by an explosion of shattering glass. Only the closed curtains kept the shards from piercing her flesh. Pure reflex sent Cathy diving to the floor just as the second gun blast went off. An instant later she found Victor Holland sprawled on top of her, covering her body with his as the third bullet slammed into the far wall, splintering wood and plaster.

The curtains shuddered, then hung still.

For a few seconds Cathy was paralyzed by terror, by the weight of Victors body on hers. Then panic took hold. She squirmed free, intent on fleeing the apartment.

Stay down! Victor snapped.

Theyre trying to kill us!

Dont make it easy for them! He dragged her back to the floor. Were getting out. But not through the front door.

How-

Wheres your fire escape?

My bedroom window.

Does it go to the roof?

Im not sure-I think so-

Then lets move it.

On hands and knees they crawled down the hall, into Cathys unlit bedroom. Beneath the window they paused, listening. Outside, in the darkness, there was no sound. Then, from downstairs in the lobby, came the tinkle of breaking glass.

Hes already in the building! hissed Victor. He yanked open the window. Out, out!

Cathy didnt need to be prodded. Hands shaking, she scrambled out and lowered herself onto the fire escape. Victor was right behind her.

Up, he whispered. To the roof.

And then what? she wondered, climbing the ladder to the third floor, past Mrs. Changs flat. Mrs. Chang was out of town this week, visiting her son in New Jersey. The apartment was dark, the windows locked tight. No way in there.

Keep going, said Victor, nudging her forward.

Only a few more rungs to go.

At last, she pulled herself up and over the edge and onto the asphalt roof. A second later, Victor dropped down beside her. Potted plants shuddered in the darkness. It was Mrs. Changs rooftop garden, a fragrant melange of Chinese herbs and vegetables.

Together, Victor and Cathy weaved their way through the plants and crossed to the opposite edge of the roof, where the next building abutted theirs.

All the way? said Cathy.

All the way.

They hopped onto the adjoining roof and ran across to the other side, where three feet of emptiness sepa rated them from the next building. She didnt pause to think of the perils of that leap, she simply flung herself across the gap and kept running, aware that every step took her farther and farther from danger.

On the roof of the fourth building, Cathy finally halted and stared over the edge at the street below. End of the line. It suddenly occurred to her that it was a very long drop to the ground below. The fire escape looked as sturdy as a Tinkertoy.

She swallowed. This probably isnt a good time to tell you this, but-

Tell me what?

Im afraid of heights.

He clambered over the edge. Then dont look down.

Right, she thought, slithering onto the fire escape. Dont look down. Her palms were so slick with sweat she could barely grip the rungs. Suddenly seized by an attack of vertigo, she froze there, clinging desperately to that flimsy steel skeleton.

Dont stop now! Victor whispered up to her. Just keep moving!

Still she didnt move. She pressed her face against the rung, so hard she felt the rough edge bite into her flesh.

Youre okay, Cathy! he said. Come on.

The pain became all-encompassing, blocking out the dizziness, even the fear. When she opened her eyes again, the world had steadied. On rubbery legs, she de scended the ladder, pausing on the third floor landing to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans. She continued downward, to the second-floor landing. It was still a good fifteen-foot drop to the ground. She unlatched the extension ladder and started to slide it down, but it let out such a screech that Victor immediately stopped her.