Chapter 3 - The Broken Door
"Emily, what was that noise?" Eleanor screamed into the phone.
Emily dropped her cell phone and scrambled backward as three large men rushed into her tiny living room.
They were dressed entirely in black, wearing heavy tactical masks over their faces.
"Grab the girl," the lead man ordered in a rough, muffled voice.
Emily did not wait to find out what they wanted.
She grabbed a heavy ceramic lamp from her nightstand and hurled it directly at the first man's head.
The lamp shattered against his shoulder, giving her a vital split second to react.
She dove out of her bedroom window, landing hard on the rusted metal of the fire escape.
The freezing night air whipped against her face as she scrambled up the iron stairs toward the roof.
Back in the penthouse, Eleanor grabbed her coat and sprinted toward her private elevator.
She dialed her most loyal driver, Thomas, ordering him to meet her in the garage immediately.
"Drive to Queens, and do not stop for any red lights," Eleanor commanded as she jumped into the backseat.
The Bentley tore through the city streets at highly illegal speeds.
On the roof of her apartment building, Emily hid behind a large ventilation shaft, trying to quiet her heavy breathing.
The heavy metal door to the roof burst open, and the three men fanned out to search the darkness.
Emily realized she was completely trapped.
Just as one of the men raised his flashlight toward her hiding spot, the screeching tires of a silver Bentley echoed from the alleyway below.
Thomas slammed the car into park and laid on the heavy horn, creating a deafening distraction.
The men on the roof turned toward the noise, allowing Emily to sprint for the adjacent building's fire escape.
She scrambled down the rusty ladders, dropping the final ten feet directly onto the roof of the Bentley.
Thomas threw the rear door open, and Emily tumbled into the luxurious leather backseat beside Eleanor.
"Drive, Thomas, drive!" Eleanor screamed.
The Bentley sped away into the night, leaving the masked men cursing in the alleyway.
Emily was bruised and out of breath, but she was finally safe in her mother's arms.
Eleanor pulled a small object out of the pocket of her cashmere coat.
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"Thomas found this on the street where the men parked their van," Eleanor said, her voice shaking with pure rage.
She opened her palm to reveal a solid gold lighter bearing the custom engraved crest of Richard Whitmore.
