Zero Game (14 page)

27

T
HE DOOR’S BARELY
open an inch, but Janos already has his hand inside. Viv’s still screaming, and I’m still moving. Lucky for me, momentum’s on my side.

My full weight collides with the door, pinching Janos’s fingers in the doorjamb. I expect him to yell as he yanks his hand free. He barely grunts. Viv also goes dead silent, and I look over to make sure she’s okay. She’s standing there, eyes closed and hands clasped around her ID. Praying.

As the door slams shut, I dive for the lock and click it into place. The door thunders as Janos rams himself against it. The hinges shudder. We’re not gonna last long.

“Window!” I say, turning back toward Viv, who finally looks up. She’s frozen in shock. Her eyes look like they’re about to explode. I grab her hand and twirl her toward the small window that’s high up on the wall. It’s got two panes that swing outward like shutters.

There’s another thunderclap against the door.

Viv turns and panics. “He’s—”

“Just go!”
I shout, pulling one of the spare chairs toward the windowsill.

Hopping up on the chair, Viv can’t stop her hands from shaking as she tries to unhook the window latch.

“Hurry!” I beg as the door once again rumbles.

She pounds the windows, but they don’t move.

“Harder!”
I tell her.

She hits them again. She’s not a small girl—the impact’s tremendous.

“I think they’re painted shut!”

“Here, let me—”

With the base of her palm, Viv gives it one final shove, and the left window pops open, swinging out toward the rooftop. Her hands lock on the windowsill, and I give her a boost up. There’s a loud bang against the front door. The lock buckles. Two screws look like they’re about to come loose.

Viv turns toward the sound.

“Don’t look!” I tell her.

She’s already halfway out the window. I grab her ankles and give her one final push.

Another screw flies from the lock and clinks against the floor. We’re out of time. I hop on the chair just as Viv crashes against the balcony outside. Behind me, I spot Matthew’s notebooks sitting on the nearby table. Janos is one good kick away. I’ll never make it . . .

I don’t care. I need that info. Leaping off the chair, I scramble back toward the desk, grab the Grayson section, and tear the pages from the three-ring binder.

The door flies open and crashes to the ground. I don’t even bother to look back. In one mad dash, I leap on the chair and dive toward the open window. My pelvis crashes against the windowsill, but it’s enough to get me through. Teetering forward, I tumble outside, blinded by the sun as I hit the floor of the balcony.

“Which way?” Viv asks, slamming the window shut as I climb to my feet.

Rolling up the stack of papers and shoving them in my front pocket, I grab Viv’s wrist and tug her to the left, along the three-foot-wide pathway just outside the window.

Overlooking the Washington Monument, we’re on the long balcony outside the Senate wing. Unlike the enormous Capitol dome, which rises up in front of us, the path on this side of the building is flat.

I glance over my shoulder just as the window bursts open behind us. The glass shatters as it swings into the white wall of the building. As Janos sticks his head out, it only makes us run harder. We’re moving so fast, the intricate marble railing on my right starts to blur. To my surprise, Viv’s already a few steps ahead of me.

The sun beats down, reflecting off the white railing so brightly, I have to squint to see. Good thing I know where I’m going. Up ahead, the pathway forks as we approach the base of the Capitol dome. We can go straight and follow the pathway, or make a sharp left into a nook around the corner. Last time we did this, Janos caught me off guard. This time, we’re on my turf.

“Left,” I say, yanking the shoulder of Viv’s suit. As I tug her around the corner, there’s a rusted metal staircase dead ahead. It leads up to a catwalk that’ll take us up to the roof, directly on top of the room we were just in. “Keep going,” I say, pointing her toward the stairs.

Viv keeps running. I stay where I am. By my feet, a trio of thin steel wires runs along the floor of the balcony, just outside the windows. During the winter, the maintenance division sends a small electric current through the wiring to melt the snow and prevent the ice from piling up. During the rest of the year, the wires just sit there, useless. Until now. Squatting down, I press my knuckles against the floor and grab the wires. As Janos runs, I hear his shoes pounding against the roof.

“He’s right around the corner!” Viv yells from her perch on the catwalk.

That’s what I’m counting on. Tugging up like I’m curling a barbell, I pull the wires as hard as I can. The staples that hold them in place pop through the air. The metal wiring goes taut, rising a few inches from the ground. Perfect ankle height.

Just as Janos turns the corner, his legs slam into the wiring. At his speed, the thin metal slices into his shins. For the first time, he yells out in pain. It’s not much more than a muted roar, but I’ll take it. Tumbling forward, he skids face first against the ground. The sound alone is worth it.

Before he can get up, I leap toward him, gripping him by the back of his head and pressing his face against the burning-hot green copper floor. As his cheek hits, he finally screams—a guttural rumble that vibrates against my chest. It’s like trying to pin a bull. Even as I grab the back of his neck, he’s already on his knees, climbing to his feet. Like a trapped panther, he lashes out, swiping a meaty paw at my face. I duck back, and his knuckles barely connect with a spot below my shoulder, just under my armpit. It doesn’t hurt—but as my entire right arm tingles and goes numb, I realize that’s where he was aiming all along.

“Harris, run!”
Viv shouts from the catwalk.

She’s right about that. I can’t beat him one-on-one. I spin back toward Viv and sprint as fast as I can. My arm’s dead, flapping lifelessly at my side. Behind me, Janos is still on the ground, clawing at the wires. As I race toward the metal staircase that leads up to the roof, a half-dozen more staples pop through the air. He’ll be loose in seconds.

“C’mon!”
Viv yells, standing on the edge of the top step and waving me up.

Using my good arm to hold the railing, I scutter up the stairs to the catwalk that zigzags across the roof. From here, with the dome at my back, the flat roof of the Senate wing is spread out in front of me. Most of it’s covered with air ducts, vents, a web of electrical wiring, and a handful of scattered rounded domes that rise like waist-high bubbles from the rooftop. Weaving through all of it, I follow the catwalk as it curves around the edge of the small dome that’s right in front of us.

“You sure you know where you’re—?”

“Here,”
I say, cutting to the left, down an offshoot of metal stairs that takes us off the catwalk and back down to a different section of the balcony. Thank God neoclassical architecture is symmetrical. Along the wall on my left, there’s a corresponding window that’ll take us back into the building.

I kick the window frame as hard as I can. The glass shatters, but the frame holds. Pulling some glass out to get a good handhold, I yank as hard as I can. I can hear the pounding of Janos’s feet up on the catwalk.

“Pull harder!” Viv yells.

The wood splinters in my hands, and the window flies open, swinging toward me. The pounding’s getting closer.

“Go . . .” I say, helping Viv slide inside. I’m right behind her, landing hard as I hit the gray-carpeted floor. I’m in someone’s office.

A stocky coworker comes rushing to the door. “You can’t be in here—”

Viv shoves him aside, and I fall in right behind her. As a page, Viv knows the inside of this place as well as anyone. And the way she’s running—sharp turns without a pause—she’s not trailing anymore. She’s leading.

We cut through the main welcoming area of the Senate curator’s office and fly down a curving narrow staircase that echoes as we run. Trying to stay out of sight, we jump down the last three steps and duck out on the third floor of the Capitol. The closed door in front of us is marked
Senate Chaplain.
Not a bad place to hide. Viv tries the doorknob.

“It’s locked,” she says.

“So much for your prayers.”

“Don’t say that,” she scolds.

There’s a loud thud from above. We both look up just in time to see Janos at the top of the staircase. The left side of his face is bright red, but he never says a word.

Viv jackrabbits to her left, up the hallway and toward another flight of stairs. I head for the elevator, which is a bit further, just around the corner.

“Elevator’s faster . . .” I tell her.

“Only if it’s—”

I hit the call button and hear a high-pitched ping. Viv quickly catches up. As the doors slide open, we hear Janos lumbering down the stairs. Shoving Viv in the elevator, I follow her inside, frantically trying to pull the door shut.

Viv jabs wildly at the
Door Close
button. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon . . .”

I wedge my fingers in the door’s metal molding and pull as hard as I can, trying to tug the door shut. Viv ducks under me and does the same. Janos is a few feet away. I see the tips of his outstretched fingers.

“Get ready to pull the alarm!” I shout at Viv.

Janos lunges forward, and our eyes lock. He jabs his hand toward us just as the door clicks, thunks, and slides shut.

The elevator rumbles downward, and I can barely catch my breath.

“My . . . my hand . . .” Viv whispers, picking something from her palm, which is bright red with blood. She pulls out a piece of glass from one of the broken windows.

“You okay?” I ask, reaching out.

Focused on her palm, she doesn’t answer. I’m not even sure she hears the question. Her hand shakes uncontrollably as she stares down at the blood. She’s in shock. But she’s still sharp enough to know she’s got far more important things to worry about. She grips her wrist to stop the shaking. “Why’s the FBI chasing you?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“He’s not FBI.”

“Then who the hell is he?”

This isn’t the time for an answer. “Just get ready to run,” I tell her.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You think he’s not sprinting down the stairs right now?”

She shakes her head, trying to look confident, but I can hear the panic in her voice. “It’s not a continuous staircase—he’ll have to stop and cross the hallway at two of the landings.”

“Only at one,” I correct her.

“Yeah, but . . . he still has to stop at each floor to make sure we didn’t get out.” She’s trying hard to convince herself, but even she’s not buying it. “There’s no way he’ll beat us down . . . right?”

The elevator bobs to a stop in the basement, and the door slowly slides open. Sprinting out, I barely get two steps before I hear a loud click-clack on the metal treads of the staircase that rises directly in front of us. I crane my neck up just in time to see Janos whipping around the corner of the top step. He’s still silent, but the smallest of grins spreads across his lips.

Son of a bitch.

Viv takes off to the left, and I’m again right behind her. Janos storms down the stairs. We’ve got nothing more than a thirty-step head start. Viv makes a sharp left so we’re not in his direct line of sight, then a quick right. Down here, the basement’s got low ceilings and narrow halls. We’re like rats in a maze, twisting and turning as the cat licks his chops behind us.

Dead ahead, the long hallway widens. At the end, a bright shot of sunlight glows through the glass in the double doors. There’s our way out. The west exit—the door the President uses as he steps out for his inauguration. From here, it’s a straight shot.

Viv looks back for a half second. “You know what’s . . .”

I nod. She understands.

Pouring on the speed, Viv clenches her fists and heads for the light. A few drops of blood drip to the floor.

Behind us, Janos is galloping like a racehorse, slowly closing the gap. I can hear him breathing—the closer he gets, the louder it grows. We all dig in hard, and the pounding of our shoes echoes through the hallway. I’m neck and neck with Viv, who’s slowly losing steam. She’s now a half step behind.
C’mon, Viv . . .
Only a few feet to go. I study her face. Wide eyes. Mouth open. I’ve seen that look on people at mile twenty-five in the marathon. She’s not gonna make it. Sensing her pain, Janos shifts a bit to the left. Right behind Viv. He’s so close, I can almost smell him. “Viv . . . !” I shout.

Janos reaches out, raising his hand for the final grab. He lunges forward. The door’s straight ahead. But just as he swipes down, I grip Viv’s shoulder and make a sharp right, whipping us both around the corner, away from the door.

Janos skids across the polished floor, struggling to follow us through the turn. It’s too late. By the time he’s back in pursuit, Viv and I shove our way through a set of black vinyl double doors that look like they lead to a restaurant kitchen.

But as the doors swing shut, we find fourteen armed policemen milling around the hallway. The office on our right is the internal headquarters of the Capitol Police.

Viv’s already got her mouth open. “There’s a guy back there who’s trying to—”

I shoot her a look, shaking my head. If she blows the whistle on Janos, he’ll blow the whistle on me—and right now, I can’t afford to be taken in. From the confused look on her face, Viv doesn’t understand, but it’s still enough to let me take the lead.

“There’s a guy back there who’s muttering to himself,” I say to the three nearest officers. “He started following us for no reason, saying we were the enemy.”

“I think he snuck off his tour,” Viv adds, knowing just how to rile these guys. Pointing to the ID badge around her neck, she says, “He doesn’t have an ID.”

Janos shoves open the black vinyl doors. Three Capitol policemen move in.

“Can I help you with something?” one of them asks. He’s unimpressed with the FBI windbreaker, which he knows can be bought in the gift shop.

Before Janos can even make up a lame excuse, Viv and I continue further up the hallway that’s spread out in front of us.