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“Thanks for nothing.”
With a low, desperate moan, she turned to run.
“See the alley at two o’clock?” he called after her.
“What?” She barely heard him over the thundering in her head. The police vehicles, having spotted her, jumped the curb on the far side of the park. Instead of taking the approach road, they chose the direct route—straight across the grass.
She stared in dismay as stall owners scrambled for cover as their goods went flying. She had seconds to react.
“Look, do you want my help or not?” His voice was sharp now, urgent.
She forced herself to focus on him.
He pointed. “Go down the alley. It’s too narrow for a car, so they’ll have to follow on foot. That’ll buy you some time.”
She glanced to her right. The alley was half-hidden behind a thick hibiscus bush, but she spotted it.
He continued, “At the end, turn left. Keep going until the road forks. Take the left fork. At the end is a metal gate. Wait there.”
Without checking to see if she’d understood, he stepped back into the shadows of the date palms beside the guard hut.
Wait there?
Was he insane? With those guys after her?
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, casting one last glance at the oncoming disco of police vehicles before sprinting for the alley.
The unhelpful,nothot guard was right about one thing, though, it was her best shot. The narrow path wouldn’t fit a vehicle or even two men running side by side. As she charged down it, instinct took over. With her pursuers forced to follow on foot, she might just have a chance. All she needed now was a place to hide.
A shout made her glance back. Two burly policemen had entered the alley behind her. She caught only a glimpse before she whipped around the next corner, but it was enough to fill her with dread.
As she’d suspected, these weren’t regular Symanian police or palace security. They were the high-level, scarier version: State Security operatives. These guys were elite soldiers, trained in close combat. She’d heard stories about their brutality, and she knew they were loyal to the prince without question. If they caught her, she wouldn’t get a second chance.
Perspiration dripped into her eyes, but she blinked and kept going. Thenothot soldier’s directions echoing in her mind.
Turn left. Follow the road until it forks. Take the left fork.
Why would he tell her to wait by an exposed gate? Was he going to send someone to meet her? There was no time to question it.
It was a hard truth. She was on her own. Not even her embassy had let her in.
She ran harder, scanning ahead for the fork.
There it was!
The men hadn’t rounded the turn yet, but she felt them behind her like heat at her back. Every second mattered.
The road to the left curved sharply, a narrow stretch winding like a river through the old quarter. As she rounded the bend and nearly collided with a man on an ancient Vespa. He swerved and narrowly missed, swearing at her in Arabic.
“Sorry!” she yelled, her legs pumping, her chest burning.
Did they see which way she went?
She hoped not. She needed more time.
On the right side of the road, a line of squat concrete houses loomed, jammed together like Lego. Their windows were shuttered, their balconies strung with laundry. There were no yards, which meant no trees, and no cover.
To the left, a high hedge ran alongside the path, woven with bougainvillea and topped with curling strands of razor wire. No way she was getting over that.