Sarah turned her attention to a rack of hats on the wall near the window, and selected a black one with the blue and white Scottish flag printed on the front. Maybe the brim would shield her face even more. She checked her watch again. Nine minutes. She took the hat to the counter and paid for it. The young man tending the shop was far more interested in the magazine he was reading than he was in the people in his shop. He barely looked at her as she paid for her hat with some of the cash that Dermot had given her. They had been afraid to touch her bank accounts, so were relying on the money that he had squirreled away for a rainy day.

She was putting her change back in her wallet when a hand slid around her waist and Dermot’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Miss me?”

His face showed a hint of a smile quieting her nerves a fraction. “Every minute.”

“Let’s go.” His hand on her back steered her toward the door. “Ye’d best wait to change yer hat.”

“Did you get what you needed?” She asked when they reached the street.

“Aye, I did.” He leaned down to her ear as they walked keeping his voice low. “I also got a warning. There are a lot of people of Des’s ilk looking to collect James’s reward.”

“Great. That’s going to make getting out of Dodge a lot harder.” By ‘Des’s ilk’ Dermot meant business people operating in the wrong side of the law. Dermot’s army buddy seemed to do a good business forging documents among other things. They walked up Cockburn to the Royal Mile. “Wouldn’t it be faster if we cut through Fleshmarket Close?”

“I think we’re safer on the busy street. More people to blend in with.”

“Okay, but can we slow down a little.” Sarah was struggling to keep up with him. “My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

He slowed the pace and they walked along the High Street trying to look like a couple enjoying the day. They had just crossed North Bridge in front of the old British Linen Bank building when Dermot leaned down again to say, “I think we’re being followed.”

Sarah’s pulse leapt. Dermot took her hand and picked up the pace. They walked briskly down North Bridge before veering off the street into a hotel.

“Look like we belong.” He whispered. She wasn’t sure how they would manage that. The hotel was a posh one and they were dressed for utility in their jeans and jumpers. But as Duff always told her, confidence can be very convincing. So, she pulled her shoulders back and tipped her chin up striding through the lobby as if they knew exactly where they were going.

Without slowing his pace, Dermot pulled her down a hall that led to a lounge and restaurant. They ducked into an alcove that held a chair and a house phone on a small shelf. Dermot whispered in to her. “Pretend to make a call. Donna turn around whatever ye hear.”

Sarah picked up the phone and pretended to be talking to someone about something completely inane. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder, she saw Dermot press himself to the wall near the opening of the alcove so that he couldn’t be seen from the hallway behind her. She forced herself to say something like, ‘You don’t say,’ or ‘That’s what I thought.’ To make her pretend phone call sound convincing.

She didn’t hear footsteps behind her as the man approached, and resisted turning around when a voice with a vague Mediterranean accent say, “There you are.”

In the next second, Sarah heard a sharp crunch followed quicky by a pained grunt. Before she had a chance to turn around, Dermot pulled her back into the hallway and deeper into the building.

Sarah glanced back to see a swarthy man on his knees in the alcove. He had one hand cupping his nose while the other was braced against the wall. The man’s eyes locked with hers as Dermot pulled her around the corner. The pure malice in that look gave her chills.

Another turn and they were in the hotel’s kitchen. That early in the day, the staff was sparse, but the few there were startled by their sudden entrance. With complete confidence, Dermot asked. “Where is the back door?”

A dumbstruck woman at a cutting board lifted a hand and pointed past an enormous walk-in refrigerator.

“Cheers.” Dermot asked as if it was perfectly normal for strange people to go streaking through their kitchen.

They hustled around the refrigerator, out a metal door, and into the close that ran behind the hotel. Closes were a network of narrow alleyways that ran off of the main streets of Edinburgh’s old town. They were usually too narrow or steep for cars, but some were wide enough that they supported businesses and residences. This one appeared to be mostly walls and stairs. Dermot stopped short and looked both ways before turning downhill. After a short span of stairs, they came to a door with a pointed arch. He muttered, “Please be open.”

His shoulders sank with relief when the ancient iron latch gave way. He yanked Sarah into the dark room beyond and closed the door behind them.

They stood by the door for a moment listening for activity inside. A light came from down the hall and Sarah thought she caught a glimpse of stained glass. “Is this a church?”

“Aye, Old Sait Paul’s.” Dermot kept his voice low. “We’d best keep moving. I think I bought us a few minutes, but not much more.”

“What did you do to that man?” She had known that he had killed one man who had been sent to kill her, but she hadn’t been there for the actual deed. It was one thing to know that he was capable of that sort of violence, but another entirely to have it happen right behind her. She knew about his time in the army and his security work, but she had mostly seen him in an academic setting. This Dermot, coiled and ready to strike was new to her.

“Elbow to the nose, and a punch to the kidney.” He said over his shoulder as he led her down the hall. He was matter-of-fact about it as if he’d told her it would rain that afternoon. He stopped in the doorway to the sanctuary and looked back at her. Something of her alarm must have shown on her face, because he stopped and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I had to slow him down. I’ve done far worse to keep ye safe, and I’d do it again.”

Not for the first time, Sarah wondered how this had become her life. “I know, you’re right.”

“The main door of the churhc is on Jeffrey Street. We should be able to get a taxi there.” He took her hand again, his grip was gentler than it had been on their mad dash from the hotel.

They made their way quietly through the sanctuary. Sarah wished she’d visited the church before when she’d bad time to admire it. As it was she got the vague impression of polished wood, stained glass, and gothic arches. They came out onto Jeffrey Street, and tried in vain to hail a taxi. Every car that passed them seemed to have a passenger already.

“Damn!” Dermot swore after yet another car drove past.

“We’re too close to the train station.” Sarah observed. “They’re all picking up fares there. They don’t need to stop on the street.”

“Ye’re probably right. Train station it is. We can blend in with the travelers.”

They crossed the street, Sarah looked back at the church in time to see the man from the hotel coming out of the close beside the church. His face was bloody, but he seemed to be moving well enough. “Dermot.”

He whipped his head around and caught sight of the man, who was already making his way across the street. His hand was in his pocket and there seemed to be something poling out of the corner. “Bollocks! I think he’s got a gun.”

Dermot broke into a run. If he hadn’t kept a good grip on her hand, Sarah would never have kept up with him. “He wouldn’t shoot us on the street. Would he?”

“I dinna mean to find out.” They went through the gate leading to the station and hurtled down the stairs dodging around other passengers. Sarah’s foot slipped on the bottom step nearly sending her tumbling across the floor. Dermot was there to catch her by the elbow and pull her back up. He took the opportunity to look behind them. “He’s still with us, but not moving fast. That kidney shot must have been harder than I thought. We can lose him in the platforms.”

Sarah found her feet, and soon they were making their way among the platforms. Dermot always kept a wary eye on the direction where he thought their would-be attacker was.

“Maybe we should get on a train.” They stopped to catch their breath after a few minutes of weaving their way through the train platforms and travelers. They had lost sight of the man who was chasing them, but now he could be anywhere just waiting for a train to move out or his way or for them to come out into the open. “We need to get out of the city, and this would be a way to do it.”

“It would.” Dermot craned his neck trying to look through the windows of the train in front of them. “The alternative is up the steps to Princes Street, but we’d be in the open up there. We just have to find the right train.”

“Or would any southbound train do?” They needed to get out of the U. K. But getting out of Edinburgh would be a step in the right direction.

Dermot grunted thoughtfully, and turned to look at the large display of departing trains. He seemed to be warming to the idea. “I had hoped to leave by ship. They’ll be watching the airports and possibly here. But they can’t watch every dock in Scotland. We can get a train to Berwick upon Tweed and catch a freighter from there.”

“A freighter?”

“Aye, some will take a few passengers, or let us work our way across.” He took her hand again and pulled her further down the platform still scanning for their pursuer.

“Across to where?”

“Anywhere that Alba Petroleum doesna have an office.” He shot back, “But we can start with Calais.”

“Okay, so when is the train to Berwick upon Tweed?”