The man pursuing her was still ten feet away and his body was suddenly silhouetted in the harsh light of the train roaring toward them.

“Run!” Annja screamed, but she couldn’t even hear herself over the roar of the train’s whistle. She had a moment to see his face plainly in the light of the train, could see the terror that distorted his features, could see his outstretched arm as it reached for her…

Annja turned her face away at the last instant, pressing her cheek against the cold concrete behind her and trying to shrink back into the wall itself.

The train flashed by just inches from her face. She could feel the hot breath of its passage like the exhalations of a wild beast come to devour those that didn’t belong, as it had devoured her pursuer only seconds before. Her nerves were screaming and all she wanted to do was run away, but she knew if she left the niche she would be splattered from here to Pennsylvania Station. It took all of her willpower to stand still and not move. Her ears were filled with the howl of the train’s brakes as the conductor realized that there had been something more than just the usual rats in the tunnel and he tried to bring the train to a stop, but he was far too late.

It swept past her and Annja sucked a great gasp of air into her lungs, not even aware until that moment that she had been holding her breath.

That was too close.

AS ANNJA WAS RUNNING FROM her pursuers in the tunnels beneath Midtown Manhattan, a Gulfstream aircraft under private ownership arrived at Kennedy International Airport. Aboard were Henshaw, Roux and a half dozen of Henshaw’s operatives he’d decided to bring over to help supplement the team that was already in place.

They passed through customs without difficulty and then split into two groups. Henshaw accompanied Roux to the car he had waiting outside, while his men headed for the safe house in Brooklyn overlooking Annja’s loft apartment. Henshaw would meet up with them later, once he was satisfied that Roux had been safely ensconced in his usual hotel.

For a man like Roux, nothing but the Waldorf-Astoria would do. He’d been staying there under a variety of names for more than one hundred years and saw no reason to change now. Exquisite accommodations, superb service and a devotion to the privacy of their guests were the attributes Roux looked for in a hotel and the Waldorf did not disappoint.

Reaching the car, Henshaw dismissed the driver and took over that chore himself, not trusting anyone else to do it when he was personally available. He waited until Roux was buckled in and then eased out into traffic, ready for the hour-long drive through the Queens–Midtown Tunnel and across Manhattan to where the hotel stood on Park Avenue and Fiftieth.

Along the way, Roux asked for an update on the intelligence that Henshaw had been gathering on the Dragon.

“What little information we’ve been able to obtain seems to indicate that the Dragon became operational again about three years ago. He has done odd jobs here and there during that time—nothing too flashy and certainly nothing along the lines of his previous activity. It is almost as if he was injured for a long while and is now testing his skills, learning again just what he is capable of.”

“But it is him for certain?” Roux asked.

Henshaw nodded. “I believe so, sir. The hallmarks are there. The risky, maybe even reckless, nature of the contracts he takes on. The precision in which they are carried out. The telltale symbol—the paper dragon—left behind at each scene.”

“Damn!” Roux said, and Henshaw mentally agreed. If the Dragon was after Annja, and it was looking more and more as if that were the case, then they were going to have to step up their security in order to keep her safe.

Annja was a fiercely independent person; he didn’t want to think about how angry she’d be when she found out that she was being followed, even if it was in her best interest.

Henshaw had spoken to his people on the ground right after deplaning and now he shared what he had learned with Roux.

“She went where?” the older man exclaimed, after hearing what Henshaw had to say.

“To see a hypnotherapist,” his butler repeated.

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. Shall I have one of the men break into the therapist’s office to obtain the records of her visit?”

Roux shook his head. “No, that’s not necessary. At least, not yet. Annja will probably tell us herself.”

“Very good,” Henshaw said, and put down the cell phone he’d just picked up. He wasn’t sure Roux was correct, but he’d learned a long time ago that it wasn’t his place to argue with his employer.

Just as he disconnnected, though, it rang. He answered it, listened for several minutes, thanked the caller and then hung up again.

“There’s been a new development,” he said grimly. “A team was waiting outside the television studios where Ms. Creed is employed. She was chased into the underground and there was apparently a bit of a scuffle.”

“Was she injured?” Roux asked. Henshaw was the master of the understatement. A “scuffle” in his view was other people’s idea of a major combat engagement.

Henshaw shook his head. “No, sir. Our people involved themselves in the confrontation as soon as they were able to and in the resulting confusion, she slipped away from both groups.”

“So she still doesn’t know that we are watching her?”

Henshaw shrugged. “She clearly knows someone is watching, sir, but whether or not she has figured out that it is us is another question entirely. If I had to guess, I’d say no, though it won’t take her long to figure it out if we have to interfere again.”

He waited a moment while Roux digested the new information and then asked, “Shall I call off the surveillance?”

“Heavens, no! Clearly she needs it. Tell your people to stay close.”

“Very good, sir.”

They passed the rest of the ride in silence. Arriving at the Waldorf, Roux stepped out of the car and walked into the hotel, heading directly for the main dining room, intent on a late supper. He knew Henshaw would deal with the various details while he ate—take care of checking him into the usual suite he reserved each time he stayed there, seeing that his bags were brought up and unpacked properly, even arranging for breakfast at the proper time in the morning. After all, it was what he paid Henshaw for and Roux was not stingy with his personal comfort.

Later, Roux was relaxing with an after-dinner brandy when he heard the door to the suite open. A moment later Henshaw entered the room.

His majordomo had changed out of his usual perfectly pressed suit into casual slacks and a windbreaker, both of which, as well as his athletic shoes, were a very deep blue in color. Roux nodded appreciatively. The color wouldn’t look entirely out of place in a crowd and the deep shade would actually help him to better blend in with the shadows than a pure black outfit.

“Are you all set, sir?” Henshaw asked.

Roux nodded. “I take it you are off to see our girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We need to find this Dragon character before he finds Annja, Henshaw. Her life may depend on it.”

Henshaw nodded. “We’re working on it.”

Roux waved a hand in dismissal. “All right, I won’t keep you.”

“Good night, sir.”

THERE WAS LITTLE TRAFFIC AT this time of night and Henshaw made good time crossing from Manhattan over to Brooklyn. He located the correct street, then parked in the garage below the apartment building where his team had set up shop two days earlier.

He rode the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked on the entrance to apartment nine. After a moment the door opened slightly and Henshaw found himself looking down the barrel of a 9 mm handgun. Its owner recognized him and let him through the door.

The surveillance team of eight individuals allowed them to box the target and handle the job properly. If one of them was in danger of being seen, then another member of the team could either step up or fall back, preventing them from blowing their cover because Annja had made some sudden move or change of direction.