Reaching the car and grasping the rear door handle, she cast one last look over her shoulder at the Plaza entrance. No one was following her. Her fears about Tad had been unfounded.
She was about to slide inside when she found herself staring into the muzzle of a gun held by a blond man who’d apparently been lying on the backseat. The man started to speak, but Marissa didn’t give him time. She swung herself clear of the cab and slammed the door. The weapon discharged with a hiss. It was some kind of sophisticated air gun. The cab window shattered, but Marissa was no longer looking. She took off, running as she’d never run before. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the cab driver had bolted out of his car and was running diagonally away from her. The next time she looked over her shoulder, she saw the blond man headed in her direction, pushing his way through the crowds.
The sidewalk was an obstacle course of people, luggage, pushcarts, baby carriages and dogs. The blond man had pocketed his weapon, but she no longer was convinced the crowds provided the protection she had hoped for. Who would even notice the air gun’s soft hiss? She’d just fall to the ground, and her attacker would escape before anyone realized she’d been shot.
People shouted as she crashed by them, but she kept going. The confusion she caused hampered the blond man, but not dramatically. He was gaining on her.
Running across the drive east of the Plaza, Marissa dodged taxis and limos, reaching the edge of the small park with its central fountain. She was in a full panic with no destination. But she knew she had to do something. It was at that moment that she saw the mounted policeman’s horse. It was loosely tethered to the link chain fence that bordered the tiny patch of grass in the park. As Marissa ran toward the horse, she searched desperately for the policeman. She knew he had to be near, but there was so little time. She could hear the blond man’s heels strike the sidewalk, then hesitate. He’d arrived at the drive separating the park from the hotel.
Reaching the horse, Marissa grabbed the reins and ducked underneath as the animal nervously tossed its head. Looking back, Marissa saw the man was in the street, rounding a limo.
Frantically, Marissa’s eyes swept the small park. There were plenty of people, many of them looking in her direction, but no policeman. Giving up, she turned and started running across the park. There was no chance to hide. Her pursuer was too close.
A good crowd was seated by the fountain, watching her with studied indifference. New Yorkers, they were accustomed to any form of excess, including panic-filled flight.
As Marissa rounded the side of the fountain, the blond man was so close she could hear him breathe. Turning again, Marissa collided with the people streaming into the park. Pushing and shoving, Marissa forced her way through the pedestrians, hearing people muttering, “Hey, you!” “The nerve,” and worse.
Breaking into a clear space, she thought she was free, until she realized she was in the center of a circle of several hundred people. Three muscular blacks were break dancing to a rap song. Marissa’s desperate eyes met those of the youths. She saw only anger: She’d crashed their act.
Before anyone could move, the blond man stumbled into the circle, corning to an off-balance halt. He started to raise his air gun, but he didn’t get far. With a practiced kick, one of the infuriated dancers sent the weapon on a low arc into the crowd. People began to move away as Marissa’s pursuer countered with a kick of his own. The dancer caught the blow on his forearm and fell to the ground.
Three of his friends who’d been watching from the sidelines leaped to their feet and rushed the blond man from behind.
Marissa didn’t wait. She melted into the crowd that had backed away from the sudden brawl. Most of the people were crossing Fifth Avenue, and she did the same. Once north of Fifty-ninth Street, she hailed another taxi and told the driver she wanted the Rosenberg