Unbelievable

Harry felt the engines roar to life, and after a decent amount of time for the sluggish diesel engine to warm itself up, he felt the movement. He expected the truck would be stopped and inspected before it was allowed to leave the lot. However, after a brief checkout at the gate, the truck ambled on to its late afternoon delivery route. Harry resumed breathing. It was half an hour more before Harry felt safe enough to move aside the packages in the plastic bin above his head and climb out of the box.

Harry stood and stretched his muscles, which had cramped during the hour he had spent in the large plastic box, riding overhead conveyer belts in coded bins that were automatically loaded into trucks by laser code readers and smart switching systems at the loading bay. He hoped he had replaced carefully enough the ceiling tile he had lifted above the refrigerator to climb up and out of the lounge. From the top edge of the lounge wall, it was simple for him to reach the overhead conveyers and climb on. He just had to wait for a large enough bin to hold his tall body, and luckily, one had come along almost immediately. He concealed himself inside just as the SWAT and DEA agents were converging outside the door to the lounge, yelling at him through the door. He was grateful for the careful procedural delay they would have before breaking into the lounge. If his luck held true, the camera would not have captured his egress, and he would be able to escape into the city virtually unchallenged.

Harry didn’t believe in that much luck, nor divine intervention for that matter, so, as soon as the truck slowed in traffic, he opened the back door with the internal safety release lever and lowered himself to the ground. He re-latched the door just as the driver began to pull away again. He was still wearing his Citiwide jacket, so passersby didn’t take much notice of the man jumping out of the back of the courier truck and disappearing down into the subway.

“How is she?” Diane asked Mary, who was carefully tending to Claire.

“She’s doing a lot better. The doctor expects she’ll be back on the job in about eight weeks.”

“She’s lucky to have you here taking care of her,” Diane said, and held Mary’s hand. The worry lines in Mary’s young face relaxed, and she looked like she appreciated what Diane had just said.

“She needs to rest now, though,” Mary said, the concern back in her voice.

“No, I need to say something to Diane first,” Claire whispered.

“Do you need privacy?” Mary asked as she started moving toward the door.

“No, you need to hear this, too. It involves you, too, honey.”