Fire from Ash

[Kreska]

"We're headed to the fourth floor," Ivak said as Estelle found him fumbling with a small portrait that was on his desk. The panel that had held another picture of Mira in the frame came off, and behind it was what appeared to be a few train tickets and some paper money. Ivak stuffed the picture, tickets, and money in a pocket before throwing the picture frame in one of the desk's drawers. "There's a bridge that connects this office building to a hospital. It has more avenues of escape than this place."

"National Investigation Unit," an armored (and armed) police officer introduced himself to the secretary who had just crossed the bridge on floor 4, putting away his badge. "Where's Dr. Erol." It was a demand, not a question.
"I— He went that way," she quickly replied, pointing in the direction that the officer had come from. "I think he was headed upstairs; I— I need to go make sure the patients are safe." The officer nodded and ran to the nearest stairwell.
Ivak and Estelle would find her still at the bridge, but pushing a medical trolley she had found somewhere with Ivak's red box (which was more like a glorified lunchbox) looped around her arm.
"Why the trolley?" Ivak asked her.
"To knock out a window," she answered nonchalantly, backing it up to the other side of the bridge, a hallway with windows on either side. "There's an NIU team in the hospital and those other guys are in the offices, so— Watch out!" She pointed behind Ivak as a baton struck the back of his neck, knocking him down. The suits had stepped up their game— the one behind Ivak advanced wearing a helmet and body armor as another down the hallway drew a pistol and shot, seemingly for the purpose of intimidation as there hadn't been enough time to aim. The intern threw a needle-disposal box that had been resting on the trolley at the gun-toting suit, the needles clattering out onto the floor as the distance was covered and she hid behind the trolley as best as she could.

 

[lostfaith]

Estelle would have sighed, but she didn't really have the time. Instead, she lashed out with her foot against the armored suit, kicking him in the shin. He stumbled but didn't fall. Kevlar was tough, but it wasn't designed to protect against a knife. But she didn't go for his torso, instead, she jammed her blade into his throat, violently pulling it out and spraying blood everywhere. Then she dropped the hook for the moment, holding up the gurgling suit in front of her with one hand as she wiped and stowed her knife, drawing instead a pistol. Dead bodies with body armor were surprisingly good cover, so long as they could still stand up. Checking the weapon, she then leaned slightly out and took aim before the suit could, double tapping her weapon. The crack of gunshots was loud, but he'd already given away their presence regardless. The bullets buried themselves in his unarmored chest, the force cleanly knocking him over. He didn't get up. Dropping the body, Estelle warily moved toward it, training her gun on the entrance in case there was more of them while she reached for the suit's weapon.

 

[Kreska]

"Haaa..." Ivak grunted slowly as he got up, clutching his neck. The tingling pain of the baton's strike would linger for some time— as would be expected of a weapon designed to maximise pain. He could already feel himself getting a splitting headache, but now wasn't the time to obey his body's urges to waste several minutes reeling. "Give me that," he muttered to the intern, grabbing his red box by its strap and taking the medical trolley from her as well. Running to the other windowed side of the hallway with it, he let go of it at the last moment so it would ram through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The panel of the window, its glass tougher than whatever mechanism held it on, popped out of its socket to smack onto the ground comically intact.
"Time to put those climbing hooks to the test," Ivak said, peering out of the gap. Underneath the bridge was a four-lane road, the civilians on the sidewalks on either side scattering at the sound of gunfire but the commuters in their cars simply changing lanes to make their way around the panel that fell. Some drove right over it anyway. They would have to time their climb down so as not to run into one before making for the nearest alley.

 

[lostfaith]

Estelle withdrew one of the hooks and rope from the bag after pocketing the suit's pistol. She latched the instrument onto the edge of the window frame, tugging on it a few times to make sure it was secure. Then she tossed the end of the rope down, slipping out the window behind it. At first she carefully descended, one arm after the other, but quickly realized a problem.
She was in no shape to climb.
She had always been fit enough to manage this before, but now with the terialis sapping her strength, she found it difficult to even manage the simple task of climbing down a rope. She found herself out of breath already, between the brief spurts of combat and the exertion of her descent. Gritting her teeth, she looked below her, waiting for a break in traffic. As soon as the last car in a line sped by, she loosened her grip and let herself slide straight down the rope, touching down a few seconds later and quickly moving into the alley. She ignored the stinging pain in her rope-burnt hands as she looked up, waiting for Ivak to follow her.

 

[Kreska]

"Come," Ivak commanded the intern, wasting no time in slinging himself over the window's ledge. As soon as they had both climbed the rope down, seemingly painstakingly slowly (no matter their actual pace), he pointed her in the direction of the entrance of the office space in the distance, still locked with Stefan nonchalantly standing in front. "Tell Stefan to help you get out of here. If he doesn't, I will ensure that he will never be able to return to his home— tell him that if he refuses." He was actually talking rather than muttering, thanks to the cars in front of them screeching to a halt and honking their horns and the fact that he was winding up the rope after getting it down with a furious shake. "And if it's real experience in the medical field that you want, give me a call tomorrow and we will discuss—"
"You need to run," the intern flatly replied now that yelling was coming from the bridge above. "I'll call you," she said as she ran back to the office building, transitioning into an urgent walk as she approached Stefan. After nodding, Ivak bolted as well, making a furious sprint for the alley where Estelle had run off to. Or at least he imagined it to be a furious sprint: most of the frustrated drivers narrowly missing him only saw yet another older man jogging through traffic, seemingly having decided that the opportunity for an extra hour of pay at work was worth risking his life for.

"Suits and police," Ivak feigned a chuckle as he stumbled alongside Estelle. "But that means..." He began muttering, his chuckling becoming slightly more real. "... Yes, that's it, isn't it..." He nodded to himself. "Estelle, this was a trap laid for me by our enemy. But in getting both hitmen and law enforcement involved, they've dealt us two technicalities that will only end up working against each other. We can seize upon this blunder, and then..." He growled frustratedly after hearing a police siren beginning to sound in the distance. "Right now it would be safest to return to the apartment. I don't think we'll be found as long as we stick to the alleys on our way." National Investigation Unit or not, the Provoskian police would not have the motivation nor the manpower to search all of the alleys and side-roads... unless the suspicion prodding at Ivak's consciousness was correct. Then it might take a little less than a freak coïncidence for them to end up facing the police in the alleyways.

However, Ivak assumed a different situation for now, given how unlikely it was that two teams of people would be sent after him at the same time and place. He knew he did tend to overestimate his importance in a scenario where the real thing of importance was terialis, a thing that he just happened to have had access to.
"I sent that secretary away to escape with the guard," he said to Estelle in case she wanted to know as they continued moving at a brisk pace, taking a turn here and there. The Estelle from a few months back wouldn't have cared about anything that wasn't important to her mission, but perhaps this Estelle is slightly different, Ivak pondered. It all depends on what was there in her mind that remains innate, unshaken by the sickness... "How are you feeling now, Estelle? Anything different now that your blood's been pumping a little faster?" Out of context, Ivak's question would sound like something coming from a concerned parent, but he intended on constantly monitoring the status of the mythical strain-W patient, now that he had one to study. "Do you want to rest a moment?"
Study always, a proverb echoed in his mind.

 

[lostfaith]

Estelle was breathing heavily. "No." She said in response to his last question. "Let's just go. I'll make it." It was quite obvious that she might not, but she'd push herself to the edge before admitting she was tired. She leaned over as they passed a dumpster and wiped her bleeding hands on a ragged blanket hanging out of it. It stung, but there wasn't blood all over her hands anymore. Estelle didn't care for the alleyways. Even operating from Poll's shadows, she'd preferred high class hotels as meeting places rather than the backwater bars the low life used. Alleys stank, especially when they were near bars. The spy was a very tidy person, everything was always in its proper place, and the messiness of the back streets offended this side of her. But there was little for it. She would deal.
"I don't have anything to say that isn't obvious." She finally said to Ivak.

 

[Kreska]

"Konstantin!" A painfully generic-looking man suddenly leaned off of a fire escape in the alley. "Konstantin Erol? In here!" He dropped the ladder.
Ivak beckoned for Estelle to follow: although he did not know this man, they were in no position to reject shelter and he was curious what the man had to say. "Who are you?"
"You know an Ivak, right?" the man asked. "I'm a friend of his, and—"
"No you aren't," Ivak cut in, brandishing his kukri after he had climbed up to the same level as the man. "I'll ask again: who are you?" He stepped close, close enough that the man had to back up across the threshold of the door, which Ivak now held open with a foot.
"Anton Emerik is my name," the man answered quickly. He was very Ustav in appearance: black hair, brown eyes, a yellow shirt. The kind of person a crowd in this city was made of thousands of. "But that doesn't matter. Those cops are after you, right?" The sirens were plain to hear in the morning air, still brisk and cool despite the season. "Come inside. I have something for your eyes only." Not waiting, Anton went back into the apartment, slightly larger than the one that Ivak stayed in, as Ivak put the kukri away. He returned from a room after a moment holding a piece of paper. "I took time off of work to deliver this to you, but..." He didn't need to finish the sentence as he gave Ivak the paper, which was a facsimile. A silent curse escaped Ivak's lips as he read it:

- Heart of Choroba Hospital -
- 12 Revelry Ave · Grann district, Poll · 2795 -
- "Healing for each Heart" -

>>Dear Recipient:
>I do not have much time. Sent letter here because you have international cables. Give this to only Konstantin Erol who works in Trust Hospital, Pravosk office. We were raided. E.E. set us up. Ivak shot dead. Hospital is really fucked someone sold us out. Unknown party stole from basement probably merc; all else seized by Poll govt. Tell Konstantin the project is screwed. Documentation may still be in warehou

E.E.: Estelle Eisen? The initials were the most curious part of the unfinished warning to Ivak. He had no clue what else they could have stood for, trying to think of any candidates but failing. Although he knew that his home base in Poll would be non-permanent as soon as he left it, he was annoyed that it had apparently been infiltrated barely a week after he had left... and then there was the news that he was now supposedly dead. And here I was expecting Dr. Erol to die first... "Ellen, you should see this," he said, handing the paper to Estelle.
"I work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I received that fax yesterday," Anton explained as Ivak passed the paper down. "I had half a mind to dismiss it as spam, and then I thought to report it, but..." He shrugged. "I don't know. It seemed like grim stuff, and I always try to do the right thing before referring to protocol, so I figured I would try finding you first." He raised an eyebrow upon seeing Estelle's bloody hands. "You want a rag for that, miss?"

 

[lostfaith]

"No." Estelle said firmly in response to the man's offer. She scanned the paper Ivak handed her, raising an eyebrow at the initials. Couldn't be me. She thought. My real name is never connected to my business dealings. They wouldn't know. She knew Ivak was the first person she had told her real name in a while, although she couldn't remember the circumstances. But it was a well kept secret. Then who else was Ivak connected to with those initials? Was it a codename? She'd have to ask him, but obviously she couldn't now. She made a show of a troubled expression to impress Emerik. It wasn't difficult; Estelle was used to being in disguise and fake expressions came more naturally to her than genuine ones.

 

[Kreska]

"This is all very interesting, Anton," Ivak said, nodding. "But I've entertained you enough." While the letter seemed to scream "fake" what with its declaration of Ivak's death, a vague implication that everything was "fucked", its disregard for the fact that the government of Poll was so laissez-faire that it rarely seized anything, and the enigmatic E.E., the Heart of Choroba watermark was spot-on, with the logo, tagline, and address all checking out.
And there was little reason for a random Pravoskian worker to know how to duplicate that, Ministry of Foreign Affairs or no.
"How did you know I was coming this way?" he asked Emerik, shifting his demeanor to a serious one as he stepped forward.
"I heard the commotion," Emerik stammered. "People come through this alley often. It wasn't hard to guess."
"Did Andrei Fact set this up?"
Emerik took a few seconds to think after that question. "I have nothing to do with the Ministry of Health." A mechanical response.
Ivak took a moment himself to think: Emerik obviously wasn't interested in giving straight answers, so there was no reason for him to waste any more time here, especially given that Estelle seemed to have recently found a new physical limit imposed upon her by terialis. "Horseshit," he muttered before giving Emerik a strong push backward and dodging out the door again. "Follow us and you're a dead man," he said commandingly before slamming the door and jostling Estelle along.

Against all odds, the two made it back to the safe-house without incident. A few gunshots did echo through the streets on the way back, but none of them coïncided with where Ivak and Estelle were headed. Ivak hoped that it was the police clashing with whatever remained of the suits rather than with Stefan and the young intern, but he knew that all he could do was hope... and hope meant little in the face of technicalities.

"The time draws near," Ivak explained as he woke Estelle a short while after all of his clocks read midnight. He himself was tired, but it was the nagging tiredness that always accompanied men of his age during this time of day, not even bearing a fleeting resemblance to the debilitating dearth of energy that came in the package with terialis. Here's hoping her brain will make up for it. He mulled over what was known of the "terial factors", as he and his Pollic cohorts (whose safety was now doubtful) had called them. For now, they were divided into two blurry categories: perceiving and altering, or input and output. Could they even be categorised? Would Estelle develop an ability that would fit squarely into one of them or would it shatter the conception? Would she even live long enough to discover it? Ivak had removed the IV of nutrient fluid before waking her this time— thanks to the red lunchbox full of vials of it, he would be able to keep her running at an artificial efficiency for at least several more days. He only hoped that that would be long enough.

"Get into the List Corporation offices and scour Marovik's office for anything related to the stolen terialis strains," Ivak repeated Estelle's mission. "And if you can help it, try not to kill anyone. If you begin feeling weak, hide." They both knew that it would be no good if Estelle somehow fainted from the toll of terialis in the middle of the offices. "If you don't return by sunrise— that's in seven hours— then I'll head to the offices myself, although I know I won't be needing to. Still, tomorrow is Patrons' Day, so some of the workers there have probably already given themselves a day off." Now the real trial was to begin: Ivak guessed that this was to be the first phase of either one of the easiest or the hardest jobs that Estelle had ever taken. It all depended on how right he was about everything else. "Any last-minute questions, Ghost?" He spoke the codename with a smile: it was how Estelle had first introduced herself to him on the train bound to Niama several months ago. Having told him her real name lest terialis make her forget it, Ivak wondered if "Ghost" sounded just as familiar to Estelle. From what he understood, the victims of terialis who had lost their former identities were loath to recognise anything that suggested their past, hungering to destroy all evidence of the person that had previously inhabited the body. To a lost person, the past was downright poisonous. But those who got just a taste of their old self after awakening from the seizures were often possessed by the opposite hunger: to find everything that they had lost.
That hunger would make Ivak's Ghost a very powerful agent.

 

[lostfaith]

Estelle nodded, smiling at Ivak's use of her old alias. That was a word that held meaning to her. Ghost. Perhaps a little ridiculous, but she knew that it represented something. In her clients' minds, it reinforced her reputation as the best. Some of the memories of her profession trickled back with the name, and she was glad to welcome them. She could get in and out of anywhere without being caught. But how fitting it was now--in a way, Estelle was dead, and now she was Ghost. A terialic spectre clinging to life; not desperately, but firmly and with resolve, with the knowledge that she could beat back final death. Whatever happened, Ghost always won. And that wouldn't change now.

She gathered her climbing equipment (including putting on a harness under her coat), stowed her stilletos and silenced pistol on her person, put on her mask, and took one extra clip of ammo. It wouldn't be needed if things went well at all, but it couldn't hurt. Then she left the safehouse and covertly yet casually slipped across town to the office building. Finding her way to the side that faced the alley, she drew the hook and rope from the duffel bag she'd brought it in. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the flash of doubt that entered her mind as she recalled her weakness earlier, she swung it over her head and deftly tossed it over the roof, catching it on a sturdy ventilation unit. Tugging a few times to make sure it was safe, Estelle attached the end of the rope to her harness, insuring that if she fell, from a slip up or surge of weakness, she would be safe. Then she grabbed the rope and hopped up to stand horizontally against the wall. One foot after the other, Ghost scaled the side of the building at a steady pace until she slipped over the ridge at the top, landing softly on her feet. Detaching the rope, she pulled it up and coiled it next to the hook, which was still caught on the unit. Then she took a moment to catch her breath, feeling exerted even after such a simple activity. Resolving to keep moving after a moment, she padded to the door.

It was a simple lock, and it was open in no time. Estelle was a master lockpick, and it would take a lot more than that to keep her out. There was no one near the door, so she kept going, treading down the hallways without a hint of a noise to give herself away. The place was deathly silent--There were only a few people here this late, and the lights were off. Estelle took a moment to listen--footsteps. One of the few guards. She followed the sound, peeking around a corner. The man was patrolling a hallway with offices on either side--a fairly stereotypical room. A quick survey in the half-light of a window determined that none of them bore the name she was looking for, so she slipped away and moved on. It took several more minutes of scanning the floors to find the inner hallway that Marovik's office was in, but it was also guarded. Taking a deep breath, Ghost followed him softly as he walked the other way, drawing the heavy industrial hook she'd gotten for just such a purpose. Coming up behind him, she reached up and bashed it against his skull, and he dropped like a hewn tree. Quick and easy. Stowing the hook, Estelle turned to the office. Because it was around the center of the building, there would be no windows to it. But there was still the tiny round window in the door, so she put her eye to that before opening it.

 

[Kreska]

The inside of Marovik's office betrayed few irregularities in the darkness, the only light being that of a green LED and the only sound being the whirr of the mini-freezer that bore it. A conspicuous padlock around the freezer's handle was illuminated in the light. The lock of the office's door, however, offered no more resistance than the one before it that had protected the building.

The office would be illuminated only slightly more by the light filtering through the door being opened, but it was just enough to see. The freezer was plugged into a regular outlet in the wall, with nothing stopping anyone from tearing the plug out. Aside from the obvious freezer, other notable things inside were an air vent in the side of the wall with its cover missing, a spartan-seeming desk in the center of the room which was home to a personal computer on standby, as well as a stack of papers in a filing bin, with some sort of dark lump on top of the pile.
The lump stood, opened its eyes, and meowed at Estelle expectantly.

 

[lostfaith]

Estelle quickly scanned the room, noticing the cat immediately. Confirming her initial assessment that there was no danger, she softly closed the door behind her and slunk across the room to the desk. She slid open the drawers first, carefully picking through their contents with gloved hands. It was nothing that interested her; largely pens, blank paper, and other standard office supplies. Closing the drawers, she turned to the filing bin. The cat meowed at her again, rubbing its cheek against the edge of the bin and purring. Estelle calmly picked it up and set it down on the floor, turning her attention to the documents and picking up the one on top, reading it even in the dim light. It was a letter. The sender was marked as a man named August, whom Estelle remembered Ivak mentioning. It detailed plans to move a "parcel" to a secure location in a timely manner; there were no leads apparent to her, but perhaps something would stand out to her partner. She slipped the sheet into her coat and glanced over the rest of the rest of the pile. They were all similar, the primary variants being different instructions. She took those too, and then turned her attention to the freezer. The cat followed on her heels, rubbing against her.

The padlock keeping it closed was laughably basic. It only took a couple minutes for Estelle to get it open. She gently sat it down on the floor behind her, careful to make no noise. Then she gingerly opened the freezer, shivering slightly in the wave of cold that radiated out from the container. She squinted against the electric lights, her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. The only object in the freezer was a single small vial, filled with liquid, that was marked only as "B". She quickly pocketed it, aware of the fact that it was a terialis sample. It was cold to the touch and comfortable against her skin, even through her shirt. Then, Estelle closed the freezer, relocked the padlock, and went back to the drawers. She drew a sheaf of blank paper out and set it in the filing bin. Then she selected a mundane document that actually had text and placed it carefully on top, giving the illusion (at first glance) that nothing had been disturbed. It wasn't necessary, since the disruption would be noticed as soon as the freezer or papers were investigated, but it was the mark of a professional job. Then she went back to the door, hook once again in hand, and peered out the window before opening it.

 

[Kreska]

The building's air conditioning systems switched on, the white noise and cool breeze provided by the open vent in the room serving as a reässuring nudge.
The sight through the door of one of the few guards stumbling to his feet and hyperventilating served as the opposite.

The cat meowed, crouching in front of the door with its nose sticking toward the crack, poised to dart out at top speed as soon as Estelle opened it. A man's scream sounded in the main area down the hallway followed by footsteps; something had roused the other remaining guard. The air in the hallway was thick and hazy, confirming the suggestion raised by the uncanny smell that was slowly beginning to emanate from the open vent.
Estelle hadn't been the only one with plans to break into this building tonight.

 

[lostfaith]

Realizing quickly, Estelle held her scarf up over the lower half of her face. Her mask wasn't thick enough to block the gas. Cursing the room for lacking a window, she switched her hook for her silenced pistol, desiring a faster way to end a fight if it came to that. The spy tossed the door open, stepping quickly into the hallway. She looked both ways and began to fast-walk down the way she came, her intended target a window she had passed on the way in. A guard stumbled into the hallway ahead of her, coughing. He looked up at her in surprise as his legs gave way. Estelle stepped over him and kept walking. Around the corner, a second guard stood, his hand over his mouth. He was slightly steadier than the last. He brandished his baton toward her, but the spy simply raised her pistol and double-tapped. The muffled shots rang out through the hall, and the man crumpled, clutching his chest where two wells of blood were beginning to soak through his shirt. Three more turns later, she reached the side of the building and a large window. Stowing her pistol, she drew the hook and smashed it into the glass, shattering the flimsy surface and raining shards down onto the alley. With her booted foot she cleared away the up-pointed shards on the bottom of the frame and put away her hook. She heard footsteps behind her right when she was about to jump. Estelle whirled around in time to see a standing guard, holding his shirt to his face, swing a baton toward her head. She didn't have time to brace herself or dodge out of the way.

And then time slowed down. Estelle watched the baton descend extremely slowly through the air, its deadly arc falling toward her head. It slowed even more, then stopped. She herself was unable to move. The world was like a fly trapped in amber, unable to continue. She looked around, taking stock of every minute detail in the room, calm despite the fact that time had just stopped functioning. She examined the path of the baton, saw the angry expresson in the guard's eyes. His hair was short and unkempt, chestnut brown. His eyes were green--a startling bright emerald green. Estelle looked back at the baton. For what seemed like several minutes she examined its momentum, noting every detail of the man's wrist, every trace of movement in his arm. Then she realized. If she wanted time to go, she would just make it go.

The world sped into real-time again, the baton descending through the air, its deadly arc falling toward her head. Estelle barely stepped to the side, causing the attack to sail past her. The man's eyes went wide, astonished at her incredibly quick movement. She punched him twice in the gut, then grabbed his neck and pulled his head down as she brought her knee up as hard as she could. She heard the crack as his nose broke and tossed him backward, kicking him in the stomach. He sprawled, groaning, his shirt fallen from his face. Estelle took his baton and slammed it into his head. He went still.

Now time to leave.

Dropping the baton, the spy went back to the window. She drew her hook again. Then she slipped out the hole, twisting and catching the ledge with one hand. Before she could lose her grip, she used the hook to smash the window below her, using her momentum to continue down just behind the falling glass shards. Then from this safer point, she simply jumped out the window, rolling as she hit the ground and diverting the impact. Standing, she pulled her scarf down, returning the hook to its place in her jacket. It was time to go back to Ivak.

 

[Kreska]

Estelle's return to Ivak's tiny apartment was without trouble— aside from what seemed like her mind constantly nagging her. The world slowing down every several moments and returning to its original speed when she willed it to, her vision darkening and then going back to as light as it could be in the darkness of the wee hours... but above all, a profound, foreboding feeling that Estelle had crossed a point of no return. It was a nadir and a crux, impossible to say whether it was horrifying or euphoric.

"Ellen!"
The apartment door opened in front of Estelle to reveal a tawny-haired woman in a grey jacket. She wasn't immediately recognisable with her hair down and no longer being clad in formal attire, but her eyes, dissimilar to one another in the light from inside the apartment illuminating her, gave her away as being the intern from the altercation at the hospital offices earlier. "Dr. Erol's— he's gone," she stammered. "I called him this evening and couldn't reach him, then he called me back later and told me I could come over to talk with him, but when I got here..." She shook her head and shrugged, seemingly in exasperation at herself. "Some men came and took him away— and they weren't the suits from earlier today. They got in a van and—"

The woman cut herself short when a beep sounded on the table in the room behind her. Dashing over to the walkie-talkie placed on top, she frantically thumbed the button and murmured "I'm here".
"We're out of time, Vera," a brusque, staticky voice sounded back. "I'm looking at the building right now and there's movement in the windows. I think that Konstantin— shit."
Gunshots echoed across the night sky.
"Stefan, wait," the woman, apparently named Vera, said into the device, not seeming very familiar with its use as she held it very close and held down the button to talk. "Ellen just got back. Does she—"
"I can't wait any longer, Vera. If something happens to Konstantin, I'll be in deep shit," Stefan's voice sounded. "12 East Bridge Street. Long building. Don't try the back door— they've got it covered."

Vera turned to Estelle, who had obviously been there to hear the conversation. She took the walkie-talkie and made to start descending the fire-exit to the street below.
"Ellen, what's going on?" she asked fearfully.