Jet by Russell Blake Page B

bicycle when she was out later and swing by his shop. She didn’t mind – she had five hours to fill before Hannah would be back.
    She leaned the mop against the wall and hurried into the kitchen, answering on the fourth ring.
    “Hi.”
    “I’m blown,” Matt said, and then the call died mid-sentence.
    She stared at the phone like it was a live scorpion, processing the two-word warning, and then rushed up the stairs, her conditioning kicking in. She pressed redial, but her phone showed no signal, alerting her to the likelihood that someone was jamming it.
    Jet moved to the bedroom window and stood in the shadows, peeking out at the street. Three sedans she didn’t recognize were parked in front of the house, as were two vans, one of which boasted an array of antennas.
    The source of the jamming.
    She crossed the room with silent steps and made for the hatchway that led up into the attic. She and Matt had agreed on a set of prearranged signals in the event of a problem, one of which was to raise the shade in the circular attic window, which meant danger, it’s not safe . Jet had no idea who was coming for them, but she’d figure that out once she’d escaped from the house.
    The safest way to do that was via the roof, in light of the sudden crowd out on the street.
    She was halfway to the window that faced the rear yard when she heard the front door open, its hinges deliberately unlubricated so they’d squeak if an intruder entered while they were asleep. It would take them mere seconds to confirm that the downstairs was empty, which would lead them to the second story, and then to her. If she had a minute, she’d be lucky.
    Jet slid the wooden window up and winced at the sound. There was no time to retrieve her dash bag hidden in the basement; she’d have to worry about money and documents later. For now, the imperative was to get clear of the threat, whatever it was.
    Her thoughts shifted to Matt. He was a big boy, an experienced field operative with exceptional skills, so if it was possible to evade his pursuers, he would. She needed to focus on her own predicament – which the pounding of footfalls from the stairs beneath her told her was dire.
    She drew a deep breath and pulled herself out the window, and then reached up and gripped the rim of the flat roof. When both hands were locked onto the edge, she swung her legs out, straining for momentum, and hoisted herself upward. Her arm muscles burned from the sudden effort, but she ignored the pain as she rolled onto the roof and forced herself to her feet. She’d evaluated possible escape routes in anticipation of an emergency, and while vaulting from house to house wasn’t ideal, it was the only option given the circumstances.
    Jet dared a glance over the rim and confirmed that the street was now clogged with vehicles, two of them police cruisers with their roof lights flashing. The sight gave her pause – why were the police coming for her? It made no sense. She and Matt weren’t on any lists; they didn’t even have the utilities in their names.
    A shout from below told her that someone had spotted her. She bolted for the far edge of the roof and, without hesitation, threw herself into space, her body leading her legs. She absorbed the momentum of her impact with her shoulder and rolled once, allowing the movement to soften the shock to her spine, and was back on her feet and running as hard as she could by the time her body could protest the rough landing. Her parkour practice was paying off as she sprinted for the next roof and repeated the maneuver, ignoring the danger inherent in spanning the ten-foot gaps between the houses.
    Another hard landing, and then a yell from below confirmed she wasn’t in the clear yet. She continued traversing the rooflines until she’d arrived at the end of the long block and now had nowhere to go but down. The only lucky break was that few would be foolhardy enough to follow her onto the roofs from her window, so they