The source of the jamming.
She crossed the room with silent steps and made for the hatchway that led up into the attic. She and Matt had agreed on a set of prearranged signals in the event of a problem, one of which was to raise the shade in the circular attic window, which meant danger, it’s not safe. Jet had no idea who was coming for them, but she’d figure that out once she’d escaped from the house.
The safest way to do that was via the roof, in light of the sudden crowd out on the street.
She was halfway to the window that faced the rear yard when she heard the front door open, its hinges deliberately unlubricated so they’d squeak if an intruder entered while they were asleep. It would take them mere seconds to confirm that the downstairs was empty, which would lead them to the second story, and then to her. If she had a minute, she’d be lucky.
Jet slid the wooden window up and winced at the sound. There was no time to retrieve her dash bag hidden in the basement; she’d have to worry about money and documents later. For now, the imperative was to get clear of the threat, whatever it was.
Her thoughts shifted to Matt. He was a big boy, an experienced field operative with exceptional skills, so if it was possible to evade his pursuers, he would. She needed to focus on her own predicament – which the pounding of footfalls from the stairs beneath her told her was dire.
She drew a deep breath and pulled herself out the window, and then reached up and gripped the rim of the flat roof. When both hands were locked onto the edge, she swung her legs out, straining for momentum, and hoisted herself upward. Her arm muscles burned from the sudden effort, but she ignored the pain as she rolled onto the roof and forced herself to her feet. She’d evaluated possible escape routes in anticipation of an emergency, and while vaulting from house to house wasn’t ideal, it was the only option given the circumstances.
Jet dared a glance over the rim and confirmed that the street was now clogged with vehicles, two of them police cruisers with their roof lights flashing. The sight gave her pause – why were the police coming for her? It made no sense. She and Matt weren’t on any lists; they didn’t even have the utilities in their names.
A shout from below told her that someone had spotted her. She bolted for the far edge of the roof and, without hesitation, threw herself into space, her body leading her legs. She absorbed the momentum of her impact with her shoulder and rolled once, allowing the movement to soften the shock to her spine, and was back on her feet and running as hard as she could by the time her body could protest the rough landing. Her parkour practice was paying off as she sprinted for the next roof and repeated the maneuver, ignoring the danger inherent in spanning the ten-foot gaps between the houses.
Another hard landing, and then a yell from below confirmed she wasn’t in the clear yet. She continued traversing the rooflines until she’d arrived at the end of the long block and now had nowhere to go but down. The only lucky break was that few would be foolhardy enough to follow her onto the roofs from her window, so they couldn’t know which home she’d disappeared into. But that advantage would only last so long, and she’d have to move fast or she’d be dead in the water.
She swung over the edge, and her feet felt the sill of the attic window – the houses had all been built at the same time using the same design, so this one would be identical to the one she and Matt rented. Jet kicked hard and was rewarded by the sound of breaking glass as the pane fell inward. She waited a split second and then levered her legs into the attic and released her grip.
Jet landed on the dark wooden floor in a scattering of glass shards. She paused as she got her bearings and then moved to the hatchway leading to the second-floor hall. The collapsible stairs lowered easily, and she descended into a carpeted hallway lined with photographs of stern gray-haired people in formal poses. She cocked her head and listened for any signs of life, but as far as she could tell, the house was empty, which made sense – most would be at work, the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom not a common one in Kosovo.