The Witness

businesses, business computer networks. It gave me considerable time for my research. And in researching I found the agent I felt might be the one. I wanted what I wanted at sixteen. Friends, relationships, normal. And I wanted to do the right thing, for Julie, for John and Terry.
    “I was there more than a year, the longest I’d stayed in one place. I thought about buying a home in the country, because I realized, though I enjoyed the convenience of the city, I preferred the quiet. But it felt safe there, in SoHo. All those people, the busy pace. And I’d landed a big account, a law firm. I’d done the personal security for one of the associates, and he’d recommended me. Six more months, I told myself. I’d stay in New York, complete the new contract, continue my research. Then, if I felt absolutely sure of this agent, I’d contact her and begin the process.”
    “What happened?”
    “I was nearly there, nearly ready. I’d completed the contract, and that had netted me another for one of the clients of the firm. My first corporation. It was good work, exhilarating, challenging. I believed, absolutely, my life was about to begin again. And I came out of the client’s building. Houston Street, downtown. I was thinking how I’d go home, change, go to the market and buy myself a good bottle of wine to celebrate. I was thinking the six months I’d set to contact the agent was nearly up. I was thinking of getting a dog, of where I’d want to live when I could really live again. I was thinking of anything but the Volkovs. And he was just there.”
    “Who?”
    “Ilya. Ilya Volkov and another man—his cousin, I found out later. They got out of a car just as I started for the curb to hail a cab. I almost walked into him. All those people, all that city, and I nearly walked into the man I’d run from for nearly eight years. He looked right at me, and I froze just as I had on the terrace that night. He started to smile, as aman does at a woman who’s staring at him, I suppose. And then he knew me, and the smile went away.”
    “He recognized you? Are you sure?”
    “He said my name. ‘Liz. Here you are.’ Just like that. He reached for me, he nearly had my arm. His fingers brushed my sleeve before I jerked away, and I ran. He came after me. I heard him shouting in Russian; I heard the car gun away from the curb. I thought, He’ll shoot me in the back, or catch me and drag me into that car.”
    She pressed a hand to her heart, rubbed it there as the beat began to thud as it had that day in New York.
    “I ran into the street. It was crazy; I was nearly run over. I didn’t care. Anything would be better. I lost my shoes. It was like that night again, running in my bare feet. But I was smarter now. Panicked at first, but more prepared. I knew the streets. I’d studied them, and I’d pulled away when I’d run into traffic, and his driver couldn’t make the turn. I don’t know how far I’d run before I realized I’d gotten away. I got on a crosstown bus, then I got in a cab.”
    Too warm now, she thought, and crossed to a window to open it. “I didn’t have any shoes, but no one seemed to notice or care. It was a benefit of a large city.”
    “I guess I’m a country boy, as that doesn’t strike me as a benefit.”
    “It was that day. When I got home, I got out my go bag. I would have run again with only that, but I calmed down, packed up what I felt I’d need. I wasn’t sure how much time I had. If he’d seen which building I’d come out of, if he’d managed to dig out the name I was using, find my address. I kept a car, in another name, in a garage. It was, I’d thought, worth the expense. And it proved to be true. I called a private car service, had it take me to the garage. They might trace me there, but that would take time. By then I’d be gone, I’d buy a new car, change my ID.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “I stayed mobile for weeks. Motels, paid cash. I watched Ilya’s e-mail.I learned they hadn’t been able to trace me for several days. I didn’t have to leave so quickly after all. And they weren’t able to trace me once I left the brownstone. No one had seen, or paid attention to, me leaving. But I learned a lesson. I’d gotten careless. I’d let myself plan for a normal life, even in some way to live one. They’d never stop coming after me, so I had to accept the way it was. And do what I could to get justice for John and Terry and Julie another way.
    “I’m tied in