Before heading to the taxi rank outside the airport, Sam stopped at the chemist, purchasing the necessary toiletries to see him through the next few days. With his rucksack over his shoulder, Sam took the final sip of his coffee and stepped outside the airport. The warm July afternoon greeted him with a cool breeze, and he held up his hand to block the sun from his eyes. Beyond the airport, Sam could see the East River, the sun shimmering off the water that separated the airport from Manhattan. The airport itself ran along the edge of Queens, with the busy streets already alive with activity. New York was the city that never slept, and Sam already felt the similarities to London. The roads were packed with slow-moving traffic, and the sidewalks were littered with civilians, scurrying among each other in their own internal rush.

Sam patiently waited in the queue at the taxi rank and eventually, he opened the back door of the vehicle and dropped into the seat.

‘Where to my friend?’ the driver asked enthusiastically, a thick Indian accent laced to his words. Sam peered through the screen and beyond the man’s smile. Affixed to the dashboard was his identification, which Sam memorised instantly.

‘Hello, Vikram.’ Sam smiled politely. ‘I need to go to Holland Avenue…’

‘Ah, the Bronx.’ Vikram cut in joyfully. ‘We will get there in a jiffy.’

Sam sat back in the seat and chuckled. The driver’s positivity was a welcome surprise, especially as the New York traffic was infamous. Sam fastened his seat belt and gazed out of the window, as Vikram pulled out of LaGuardia Airport and onto Grand Central Parkway, passing through Astoria Heights and onto the I-278 W. The drive was surprisingly pleasant, as the route took them through Astoria Park and across the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. As they passed over the East River, Sam glanced across to Rikers Island, the floating prison in the middle of the river. It reminded him of his experiences earlier that year, locked underground in the secret Ashcroft Maximum Security Prison.

Sam had incited a riot, killing a number of dangerous criminals, as well as exposing the staff who were on the take. He’d been saved by the warden, a good man fighting the system with the best intentions.

Ashcroft was no more.

And Sam, to the dismay of the British authorities, was a free man.

Cutting through Randalls Island, Vikram soon brought them off the freeway and onto Sheridan’s Boulevard. As they travelled towards the Bronx, Sam watched the locals going about their lives, wondering how Alex Stone had been since he’d said his tearful goodbye to her.

It had been on a cold night in Naples, not too long after she’d saved his life. Having been lured into a trap as bait, Alex had been captured by her former Blackridge comrades in a desperate plot to pull Sam into the open.