LITMIR.BIZ

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guard who had led her from the conference room grabbed her elbow and jerked her toward the exit. Emily was in just as much of a hurry to get out of the embassy as the guard was to get her out. She no longer felt safe.

      As she worked her way to the door, a sense of urgency filled her. She had to get out of the building as quickly as possible. At the exit, she was stopped by another guard. The two burly men spoke in Russian, their speech so quick she only caught half of it. It appeared the guard at the door was reluctant to let her leave, whereas the other guard wanted her out as soon as possible. Finally her guard escort got her through the door and gave her a little push toward the gate leading off the embassy compound.

      Hugging her purse against her body, and pulling her jacket tightly around her, Emily hurried for the gate. Again, she was stopped and questioned as to why she was at the embassy. She told them she had been there to translate. The guard at the gate waved her through and she was free.

      Emily didn’t look back. Instead she kept going, walking faster and faster until she was almost running down the street. She didn’t stop running until she was several blocks from the embassy. Her heart beating fast, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, she finally stopped long enough to remember where she had parked her car. She had to backtrack to the lot where she had paid to park earlier that day.

      As she crossed the street, a vehicle raced toward her without slowing. She quickened her pace but realized she wasn’t going to make it across in time. The vehicle barreled forward, increasing speed rather than slowing, as if the driver didn’t see her or had made her his target.

      Emily dove for the sidewalk and rolled to the side. The vehicle rushing at her bumped up on the curb and nearly ran over her. If she hadn’t rolled once more, it would have crushed her. The driver didn’t stop to check that she was all right, but sped on, leaving her to pick herself up and dust the dirt off of her clothes.

      A man reached down and gripped her elbow. “Are you all right?”

      Emily nodded, her heart still pounding so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest. “I’m okay.” She tried to get a look at the license plate to report the reckless driver, but the car didn’t have a plate on the rear bumper.

      Turning to the stranger, she said, “Thank you,” and gave him a weak smile. Moving past him, Emily glanced down at the damage done to her trouser leg, which now sported a dirt stain and a tear, wondering what her knee looked like beneath it. It stung and hurt when she flexed it. She couldn’t take care of it until she got home. After another glance around, she continued toward the car park. With nothing but a description of a dark sedan having nearly run her over, she gave up hope of turning in the man behind the wheel for reckless driving. Instead she slipped into her car, paid the parking lot attendant and drove out of downtown DC, putting distance between her and the Russian embassy.

      Out of the downtown traffic, Emily drove onto a six-lane highway, crowded with people hurrying to get somewhere. A white van behind her sped up, swerved around her to the left and slammed into the side of her vehicle.

      Emily held on to the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip, struggling to keep from hitting the vehicle on her right. The driver on the other side of her honked as she crossed into his lane. Ahead of her, the van dodged in and out of traffic, leaving Emily behind before she could get a look at his license plate.

      She slowed, unable to pull to the side of the road. The car behind her honked, the vehicles on either side boxing her in, keeping her moving steadily forward. She had no choice but to continue toward home. Shaken and paranoid, Emily held on tightly to the steering wheel, bracing for the next potential hit-and-run driver. What was wrong with people? Why were the drivers all bent on trying to run her over? After her encounter at the Russian embassy, she could swear they were deliberately attacking her. Or was she imagining it? Traffic was scary enough without aggressive people expressing their road rage with a three-thousand-pound deadly weapon.

      By the time she drove into her neighborhood, Emily was tired, stressed and ready to kick her feet up and drink a glass of wine to calm her nerves.

      The traffic light ahead turned green as she approached. She pressed the accelerator and entered the intersection.

      A dark blue sedan shot out of the side road, completely ignoring the red light.

      If Emily hadn’t been ultra-aware of her environment, she wouldn’t have reacted as quickly as she did. She slammed her foot on the gas pedal, pulling ahead just enough to avoid being T-boned by the other car. It missed hitting her rear bumper by a hair.

      “What the heck?” Emily cried. She didn’t slow, pushing past the speed limit to the next street. A glance in her rearview mirror showed the vehicle that had almost plowed into her was turning in the middle of the intersection, aiming toward her.

      After this third vehicular incident, Emily got a clue. Instead of driving straight to her apartment she drove past her complex, watching closely in her rearview mirror as the dark sedan followed.

      She turned at the next corner and the trailing car continued on straight. She breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward her apartment, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. From all she could tell, no one was following her. She made a circuitous trip around the block before she pulled into the parking lot of her building.

      Her heart still pounding, Emily slowed her vehicle and started to turn into her usual parking space.

      Although it was still a part of a normal workday, there were several cars in the lot, most of which were empty. When she spotted the dark blue sedan, Emily’s heart did a flip-flop.

      The windows were too darkly tinted to see inside.

      A tightening in the pit of Emily’s stomach made her pause before parking. Her heart sped up as she lifted her foot off of the brake and applied it to the accelerator. Instead of turning into her parking space, she whipped through the lot and out the other end of the apartment complex.

      As she turned back out onto the road, she glanced into her rearview mirror and saw again the dark sedan pulling out of the parking lot, following her. She raced to the next street and turned.

      The blue sedan stayed right on her tail.

      Not knowing what to do, she chose a busy thoroughfare and rushed out into the open, hoping and praying the traffic would help put some distance between her and the sedan. Whipping in and out of traffic and dodging vehicles, Emily did manage to put distance between her and her tail. When she thought she’d lost him, she called her friend Grace, using her car’s Bluetooth setup.

      Grace answered on the first ring. “Hi, Emily, how’s it going?”

      “I think I’m in trouble,” she said, her voice wobbling.

      “What kind of trouble?” Grace’s voice was sharp, filled with concern.

      “I’m not sure,” Emily said. “I think I’m being followed, and drivers have tried to run me off the road a couple of times in the past hour. I—I can’t go home.”

      “Try to stay calm. You know you called the right person,” Grace said. “Charlie’s guys will help. Where are you now?”

      Emily glanced around, for the first time aware that she hadn’t headed anywhere in particular, just away from trouble. “I’m on 395. I don’t know where,” she said. “Wait, there’s an exit sign.” She gave Grace her location and then glanced in her mirror once more. “Crap! There he is again,” she said.

      “I’m going to text you a map coordinate,” Grace said. “It’s the address of my new employer. Go straight there, I’ll have somebody meet you at the gate.”

      A beep sounded on her cell phone. Emily took her eyes off the road long enough to select the coordinates for her map on her phone to follow. She’d slowed just enough that the dark sedan behind her was quickly catching up. While her map application calculated the directions, she again weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose her tail.

      “Stay on the phone with me, Emily,” Grace said. “I have a team

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