Panting, he pushed to his feet and traversed the long, narrow surface until he was standing next to the school, staring down at it ten feet below. He considered trying one of Jet’s rolling tumble maneuvers but opted for a slower descent using a drainpipe. There was no point in showing up for Hannah looking like he’d lost a fight with a bear, and he was already scraped up enough from his climb. Once on the school roof, he took cautious steps toward the rooftop door, swatting away the grime that had rubbed onto his jeans and jacket.
When he was satisfied that he was as clean as he could get absent hours in a laundromat, he tugged at the knob until it eased open with a protesting screech, and found himself staring down into a storeroom filled with dusty children’s classroom desks. Matt crept down the stairs and to the door at the far end of the room and then stopped, listening through the wood. Hearing nothing, he eased it open and moved into the hall, the classroom doors lining it all closed.
The receptionist looked up, startled, when he appeared in the foyer opposite her desk.
“I’m here to pick up Hannah,” he said. “I called this morning.”
“Oh, yes, of course. But I’m a little tied up right now,” she said, indicating the blinking switchboard.
“Which room is she in? I don’t have a lot of time. No offense.”
“Ground floor, classroom three. The numbers are painted over the doorways.”
“I can find it. You told her teacher?”
“Yes.” The woman looked at the blinking lights.
“Go ahead with your calls. I’ll be in and out in a snap.”
Without waiting for a response, Matt strode down the corridor to where toddlers’ voices were vying with each other for attention. He knocked on the door and waited, and then a woman he recognized from the orientation meeting he and Jet had attended only a few months earlier opened it, an expression of resigned patience in place.
“Mrs. Krauss, nice to see you again. I’m here for Hannah. I’m her father, Adrian.”
“Oh, right.” She turned to the children and waved Hannah over. “Hannah, honey. Papa’s here.”
Hannah came running over, dragging her backpack behind her, and Matt picked her up and smiled at the teacher. “Thanks so much. I’ll let you get back to class. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
Matt moved down the hall toward the reception area, sensing Mrs. Krauss’s disapproving stare burning into his back. When he heard the door close, he stopped and then retraced his steps to the stairs, and took them two at a time while whispering to Hannah. “Don’t make a sound. We need to sneak out of here, okay? Like the old days.”
Hannah nodded and pursed her little lips. Matt telling her to stay quiet was nothing new – when they’d been on the run it had been a constant imperative.
“Mama?” she whispered.
“We can’t talk right now. Shhh.”
“Okay.”
He carried Hannah through the storage room and up the rickety stairs to the roof, and then to the drainage pipe, where he had her wrap her arms around his neck for a piggyback ride as he clambered up the drainage duct. Once on the roof of the adjacent building, he resumed carrying her, pausing only to peer over the rim at the street below for any signs of pursuit.
His blood froze when he spotted a dark SUV parked across the street and three men getting out of it. He watched as one pointed at the school and the other two made their way toward the front entrance as the third followed their progress from near the rear bumper.
He’d seen enough. They needed to get out of there. His assistant, Eric, had probably shown up for work and been interrogated. He didn’t know where Matt lived, but Matt had mentioned the school to Eric, and Eric had met Hannah.
Which in the hands of a motivated interrogator would be enough.
The return to the alley couldn’t happen fast enough for Matt, and he had to shush Hannah again twice as they made their way down the fire escape. Once in the alley, he put her down and she faced him, tiny hands on her hips in a way that reminded him of her mother. Her eyes flashed as she asked her question.
“Where’s Mama?”
“We’re supposed to meet later,” Matt said, which was technically not a lie. In the event that Kosovo was compromised, they’d agreed on two possible rendezvous points, the first in front of the art museum in town, and if they didn’t make contact either via cell or a message from the café across the street, he’d head to the storage unit they kept as an emergency measure. It was stocked with a vehicle and supplies, and after dark they’d make for the border and wait for each other in Romania, a country with even more primitive infrastructure than Kosovo and consequently less chance of being tracked.
Matt beelined with Hannah to the scooter, and after pulling Hannah’s backpack over her shoulders and fitting the helmet on her too-small head, he started the engine and tore away, the little engine’s whine of complaint at the extra weight following them all the way down the alley and onto the larger boulevard that led to the bank.
Chapter 15