Regina Cash spotted the boy and the girl as soon as she hit the top of the stairs. The kids had a respectable lead—they had just entered the long hallway leading to the conference facilities and ballrooms. Cash sprinted across the landing to the entrance to the corridor. The passageway was well lit—the kids would see her coming from a mile away. Cash quickly located a panel of light switches just inside the hallway. It was time to turn the circumstances to her advantage.
The bright lights in the hallway dimmed suddenly.
“Uh-oh,” said Camille.
Art glanced behind them. The middle of the hallway remained reasonably well lit, but along the walls there were simply dark shapes and shadows.
“Be cool,” Camille said. She tugged on Art’s arm to slow his pace. The hallway had grown increasingly crowded as they made their way. They moved quickly but tried not to run so as to avoid drawing any attention to themselves.
Up ahead, at the end of the corridor, was a large mirror that seemed to take up most of the wall. Art looked in the mirror for any sign of their pursuers coming up from behind. Again, nothing but dark shapes and shadows along the walls. That worried him.
A large arrow on the wall next to the mirror pointed to the left. PARIS BALLROOM, the sign read. More important, a rectangular box near the ceiling pointed in the same direction—bright-red glowing letters spelled out EXIT.
“I guess I know which way we’re heading,” Camille said.
Art nodded and then glanced back over his shoulder. It was still impossible to make out any details in the darkened hallway, but he knew their pursuers were back there somewhere.
“Let’s go,” he said. They turned the corner and headed toward the ballroom and the exit.
They found the corridor outside the ballroom packed with people. White-coated servers with platters of appetizers bobbed and weaved between dark-suited men and women in dresses. Art and Camille immediately spotted another rectangular box on the far side of the crowded hallway. This one had no arrows. It read simply EXIT, indicating a door leading to a stairwell.
Camille didn’t hesitate. “We’re going in,” she said as she grabbed Art by the hand and pulled him into the middle of the crowd.
“Excuse me, coming through,” Camille said over and over again as she squeezed herself and the boy through the crowd.
In less than a minute they had reached the far side of the room and stood beneath the exit sign. The stairway was directly in front of them.
“Down the steps and we’re out of here,” said Camille triumphantly.
Art stepped over to the window next to the door and peered down at the road below. He motioned Camille over and pointed outside. Directly across the street was a large black SUV.
“They’re waiting for us,” he said.
Camille pounded her fist on the wall. “They’re everywhere!” she wailed. “How are we going to get out of here?”
Art looked back at the crowd standing in front of the ballroom for any sign of the pursuers. He found little more than dark silhouettes and indistinct faces. He still had no idea how many people were after them—or why.
It was only a matter of time before the pursuers caught up to them. If the boy and girl were going to get out of the hotel, they would have to do something drastic.
Art turned to Camille. “I changed my mind,” he said. “We’re going down the stairs.”