Read Inadvertent Disclosure for Free Online Page A

of the park.
    She didn’t turn toward the
voice; she kept her eyes on the two men who were closer.
    The taller one stood and yanked
his friend to his feet. The shorter guy folded his blade and slipped it into
his pocket.
    The group was breaking up. The
women and two of the men were drifting off to the right, headed into the park.
Apparently, they weren’t interested in joining their friends.
    Two was better than six.
    Krav Maga taught the best
response to a threatened attack was prevention or avoidance. Too late for that.
The next best response was escape or evasion. Only if that failed would she
stay and fight. And if she fought, she’d fight to win—not something she
relished. Especially not in fitted dress and heels, in a strange small town,
against six people. Two guys were more manageable.
    But the better course would be
to get in her car and drive the hell out of town.
    She aimed her remote key at the
door and jabbed the button. The car beeped. And then she froze.
    Flapping rubber by her left
front wheel caught her eye.
    She hurried to the front of the
car and stooped beside the door to inspect her tire. Slashed. She turned and
looked over her shoulder. The rear tire was in the same condition.
    “Now what, bitch?” The taller
guy laughed and wailed a handful of gravel at her as she stood. It hit the hood
of the car and fell to the ground in a shower. His friend stood, frozen, arms
at his side.
    Sasha waited until the tall guy
bent down for another fistful of rocks and made her move. She pulled the
driver’s door open, threw herself into the seat, slammed the door shut, and hit
the lock.
    She had no idea if Springport
had a 9-1-1 dispatch but she took out her cell phone and keyed in the numbers
anyway, tilting her rearview mirror so she could keep her eyes on the
protesters or whatever they were.
    “Nine-one-one. What’s your
emergency?”  A male voice, crisp and alert filled her ear.
    “I’m in Springport. At the
municipal parking lot. A group of—uh, I don’t know—activists is here. They
slashed my tires. Most of them have run off, but there are two men. One is
throwing rocks.”
    “Ma’am, Springport Township
does not have a local police department. That area is served by the State
Police out of Dogwood. I need to contact their dispatch. Please hold.” The
phone clicked in her ear as he placed her on hold.
    Sasha gritted her teeth. The
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s patchwork of home-rule counties, townships, and
municipalities was many things. Efficient was not one of them.
    Hurry, she thought, as the
phone rang. Once. Twice.
    The hippies had come around to
the front of her car and were staring at her through the windshield.
    She stared back.
    Two white males, early
twenties, maybe mid-twenties at the oldest. The tall one was on the left. He
was well over six feet but rail thin. Light brown hair, long, pulled back in a
low ponytail. Those giant earrings that looked like black plugs in both ears.
His feet were planted in a wide stance, and he’d acquired a thick tree branch
from the park.
    His friend was shorter,
stockier, and antsier. His dark hair frizzed out around his head in a cloud and
his brown eyes darted from the branch in his companion’s hand to Sasha and
back. He jittered from side to side in a little hop step.
    Three rings. Four.
    The tall guy smacked the branch
against his hand.
    “Come on,” Sasha said aloud.
“Answer the phone.”
    Five.
    “Dogwood Station.” A woman’s
voice this time, overworked, not interested.
    “Yes. I’m being attacked in the
municipal parking lot in Springport. Please send someone. I’m in the dark gray
Passat in the far corner of the lot. My tires are slashed. Two men are—”
    “Ma’am. Ma’am,” the woman
interrupted her, no longer bored, her voice full of concern. Sasha heard the
clatter of keys. “The nearest unit is currently outside Firetown, approximately
25 minutes from your location. I need to put you on hold now and radio the