The Khoi Leopard

Michael identified himself to the cops and confirmed who the barely conscious Hilary was. He told the officers what had happened and where they were staying should they need to be contacted. He was mightily impressed with the professional manner in which the ambulance crew managed Hilary’s condition. He asked where they were taking her and promised to call on the local precinct to give the cops a full statement. Michael knew that the three Chinese hoodlums might be brazen enough to dump their vehicle and double back to finish what they had started. The frightened doctor also knew that he was probably fairly close to the B&K building and, with all the slow moving traffic, he might be able to get there faster on foot. The title deed had been given to Hilary for safekeeping and he was damned if he was going to let those swine get away with what they had done. And with hurting his woman. These powerful criminals had to be stopped and the only way to do this would be to deploy the power of Daniel Krawczyk’s powerful friends at the United Nations. He had to get the document to them at the B&K Building; or die trying. He made sure that the leather quiver was still in his coat pocket and orientated himself in the busy city before heading in the direction of Daniel’s offices. The slight breeze was bone-chilling enough for the two men following Dr Michael Cross to button up their black leather jackets fully. They had already turned up their collars to try to protect themselves from the icy wind. Hurrying down 52nd Street in downtown Manhattan as fast as his injured left knee would allow, Michael knew he was only six blocks from his destination. Sanctuary for him was the forty-fifth floor of the B&K Building where Bartholomew, Krawczyk & Associates had their offices. The Chinese assassins, sent to stop Michael, were gaining on him steadily. He wondered whether they knew where he was heading, but quickly dismissed the thought. He had come to learn just how dangerous and well informed these killers were. As he rushed along the sidewalk, he saw a pedestrian approaching. The New York businessman was deeply engrossed in a mobile phone conversation. Just as Michael reached the man, he heard a dull meaty thud and the man’s white shirt smeared red as he dropped his briefcase and crumbled to the ground. ‘Oh my God,’ thought Michael, ‘there are more than two people trying to kill me. Someone with a high-powered rifle had gotten to higher ground for a better shot.’ Clutching the small leather quiver with its valuable contents firmly in his right hand, he stuck it deeper into the pocket of his long green trench coat. When he turned the corner at the end of the block, Michael saw his opportunity to evade his pursuers. The Grand NY Express tourist bus was about to pull out of its assigned stop at the Fresenius Centre and the last few customers were in the process of boarding. He reached for his wallet and pulled out one of the three-day tourist passes that enabled him, together with the hundreds of tourists who flood the fabulous city, to get around New York. The driver noted the valid pass, and pulled his bus into the gap left by a slow vehicle in the very busy, but fast moving, traffic. As the bus rounded the next corner about thirty paces up the road, Michael noticed the frantic body language of his hunters searching for him. He lost sight of them when the bus took another corner. His nerves were jangling as he remembered the faces of the people who had been killed by these Hong Kong-based thugs. His damaged left knee was slowing him down, and he wondered what to do to survive their next murderous attack. His bus turned into another intersection and Michael spotted the route map posted on the bus window. He was horrified when he realised that it would not pass the front of the B&K Building, but calmed down when he realised the bus would be stopping in an adjacent street on the same block as his destination. The bus neared the regular tourist stop and he confirmed that the small leather quiver was still safely lodged in his deep coat pocket as he shuffled towards the nearest exit. There he joined four other passengers who appeared to be disembarking as well. He allowed two people to get off ahead of him and then stepped down so that he was sandwiched in the middle of the little group of tourists. He stayed with the group until they passed the David Crocker department store, and then slipped into it to join the hundreds of shoppers already bustling through the aisles. Apparently, everyone was enjoying the at least twenty-five per cent discount on everything and everything reduced to clear sale. ‘Yeah, right’, muttered Michael, ‘You probably quadrupled the prices so you can afford to be magnanimous and give a twenty-five per cent discount.’ Michael walked purposefully towards the elevator to go up to the third floor. On one of his previous visits to the store, he had discovered a fairly large and well-frequented smokers’ balcony for the convenience of their clients. As Michael exited the elevator, it was immediately apparent that this was, indeed, a smoker’s paradise. The gondola and special offers were all targeting the smoker, and the so-called executive toys and gadgets were clearly aimed at the male gender. Although, when he entered the open-air smoking section on the balcony, he observed that most of the smokers were female. Somewhat amused at the irony, Michael maneuvered his way to his target area, the far corner of the balcony. He eagerly took up the space vacated by a well-groomed woman smoker and her male companion who had just finished their cigarettes. Michael looked down at the street, scanning the area that held his particular interest.