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- Marco and I reached the revolving door while she was still inside it, just exiting. Marco jumped into the next open section. That's when the woman yanked hard back on the door, spun it backward, caught Marco off balance and nailed him in the face with the brass push-bar.
- Marco sat down hard. He grabbed his face. Blood leaked through his interlocked fingers.
- "Hey! You okay?" I yelled to him.
- "After her! Stay on her!" he yelled and scrambled to his feet.
- All right, I told myself. The boy can focus.
- I went through a side door. There were stone steps, about a dozen, two hundred feet wide, heading down to the busy street.
- Business people bustling on the sidewalk below. People coming up and down the steps. Groups. Individuals.
- No blond woman.
- She couldn't have gotten away. No way. Not enough time. She was here, here in view, one of the three or four dozen bodies in motion.
- Wig. It was a wig. The realization came to me in a flash. Marco raced up, stopped, panting beside me.
- "She has dark hair," he gasped.
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