The Chase Begins Again

Henry’s hands trembled as he fumbled to close the manuscript and shove it back into the satchel. Mara kept her gaze locked on the men, her movements subtle but deliberate. She slid one of the maps into her pocket, then leaned closer to Henry, her voice a low whisper.

“When I move, you follow. Don’t stop. Don’t look back,” she said.

Henry nodded stiffly, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain the men could hear it. The café seemed unbearably quiet now, every scrape of a chair or clink of a cup amplified in his ears.

The taller of the two men gestured to his partner, who began moving toward their table. Mara didn’t wait. She grabbed Henry’s arm and yanked him to his feet, shoving the chair aside.

“Go,” she hissed.

They darted toward the back of the café, weaving between tables as startled patrons turned to watch. The barista shouted something, but Henry didn’t catch it. His focus was on keeping up with Mara as she pushed through a narrow door marked “Employees Only.”

Behind them, the men shouted, their heavy footsteps closing in fast.

Mara led them into a cramped hallway lined with shelves of coffee supplies and cleaning equipment. At the end of the hall was another door, this one leading to a rear alley. She slammed it open, and they burst into the cold morning air.

“This way,” she said, pulling him to the left.

The alley was a labyrinth of dumpsters, crates, and fire escapes. Mara navigated it with practiced ease, her boots splashing through puddles as she moved. Henry struggled to keep up, the satchel bouncing against his side with every step.

“They’re too close!” he panted.

Mara didn’t respond. She led him to a metal staircase bolted to the side of a building and began to climb. Henry hesitated for a fraction of a second before following, his hands slipping on the wet rails.

They reached the rooftop just as the sound of pursuit echoed below. Mara crouched low, pulling Henry down beside her. She peered over the edge, her breath steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them.

The men appeared in the alley below, their sharp eyes scanning the area. One of them pulled out a phone, barking orders into it.

“They’re calling for reinforcements,” Mara muttered.

Henry’s chest tightened. “What do we do?”

Mara pulled a small device from her jacket—a compact drone. She powered it on, and it buzzed to life, its tiny rotors whirring.

“This’ll buy us time,” she said, sending the drone over the edge of the roof.

The device zipped through the air, darting between buildings. The men below spotted it and took off in pursuit, their attention diverted.

“Move,” Mara said, rising to her feet.

They crossed the rooftop, jumping to an adjacent building. Henry’s legs screamed in protest, but he forced himself to keep going. Every second counted.

Mara led him down another fire escape, dropping into a quieter street. She pulled him into a shadowed alcove, finally allowing them a moment to breathe.

“They won’t stop,” Henry said, his voice trembling.

“I know,” Mara replied, her expression hard. “That’s why we have to stay ahead of them.”

Henry clutched the satchel tighter, the weight of the manuscript pressing on him like a curse. “Where to now?”

Mara pulled out her map again, her finger tracing a line eastward. “Romania,” she said. “We have to reach the first gateway before they do.”

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