I’d only ever been ushered in through the rear entrance of the building the couple times that I’d been there, bypassing many of the security protocols they had in place for visitors. Milling around in a corner of the lobby, I was faced with the challenge of exiting the building under the watchful eye of two uniformed security guards.
Looking out the glass doors to the sky beyond, I saw the sun gilding the edges of the dark clouds gathering over the mountains, and figured another storm was preparing to bombard the city. By the looks of the inky clouds, it was going to be a nasty one. If I didn’t find a way out fast, the impending storm was going to be the least of my worries—someone was sure to find Tillman soon, and I was going to wind up locked in a broom closet somewhere. I couldn’t stomach the thought of Samson running lose for another day. I could feel his hunger and violence as if his thoughts were overlaid with mine. He was as eager for this to be over as I was, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking out anyone who got in the way.
The minutes ticked by without end, each one like grains of sand slipping through my fingers as I racked my brain to figure out how I was going to get out of here.
Oh, for the love of Christ. Can’t I catch a break?
A moment later, in what was surely my first stroke of luck since the beginning of the week, my prayers were answered. Behind me the elevator chimed as the doors opened to reveal a gaggle of suited men and women sporting visitor badges, deep in conversation. Hanging back I let them pass me and then ducked in behind them, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. I stuck close to the group, my heart pounding and my palms sweating, and made my way to the security checkpoint.
Set-up just like the airport, metal detectors were positioned for entry, though only one of them seemed to be operational, while a small gate with a single guard was labeled as the exit. I stayed at the back of the group while I surveyed the setup. The metal detectors stood in the middle of the space, flanked on either side by a wide desk. The one exit that they were filing us through was off to the right, out of the way of the entry.
In another blessing from above, a woman coming in through the metal detector set off the alarms, her gaudy jewelry no doubt the culprit. Taking advantage of the brief moment of distraction, I crept to the front of my group and watched for several heartbeats to make sure that the guards were occupied figuring out why the metal detector was going haywire, and then made my move.
Walking swiftly through the exit I headed straight to the main doors, and darted out onto the street. Cutting a zigzagging path through alleys and parking lots, I didn’t let myself slow to a walk until I’d gotten a few blocks away.
***
Once I’d put some distance between me and the FBI building, I hailed the first cab I saw. Alyssa’s clinic wasn’t that far away, but it wouldn’t be long before someone figured out I’d left. I could’ve made it to the clinic in half the time if I’d shifted and made the run on four feet, but a giant wolf running through Denver wasn’t exactly what I’d call flying under the radar. Besides, I wasn’t keen on the idea of showing up at Alyssa’s naked. The succubus was hard enough to be around without throwing nudity into the mix.
***
“Could you maybe go a bit faster?” I asked, leaning forward in the backseat of the cab to peer through the grime covered divider.
I wasn’t sure if the cab driver heard me over the sound of a thumping bass and squealing guitar strings until he shook his head and replied, “Posted speed limit’s forty, and I ain’t in the mood to get a ticket.”
Figures that I would find the one traffic-conscious cab driver in the whole damn city, I thought, slumping back in the seat with a growling sigh.
In the end it took twenty minutes for my cabbie to wind his way through the streets, fighting against the beginnings of the lunch rush. When he pulled up outside the Chinese restaurant, I dug a handful of crumpled bills out of my pocket and tossed them through the small opening in the divider.
“Keep the change,” I said as I leapt out of the car, not sure if I’d tipped him two bucks, or twenty.
I recognized the owner behind the counter when I entered the restaurant, and if his scowl was anything to go by, he recognized me, too. Making a beeline for the back stairs, I took the steps two at a time, drawn forward by the sugary scent of Alyssa as if on a string.