She stood up and felt faint. She instantly felt the absence of the steam. She was shivering so badly she had to hold on to the wall to steady herself. She looked down at her clothing. They were black, which would conceal some of the dirt. Her feet were completely bare. There was a bullet hole in the Chanel dress. That hurt almost as much as the wound.

There was a ladder leading to a manhole above her and she could tell from the ring of light around it that it led to the surface.

She climbed the ladder. The cover at the top was locked but there was a safety mechanism that allowed it to be opened from the inside. She turned it and pushed. The door was heavy, it took all her strength to move it, but it opened. She climbed through and found herself in a small maintenance shed. She sat on the ground for a few seconds catching her breath, then tried the door. It opened, and outside she saw the banks of the Hudson river. Across the water she recognized the Hoboken and Jersey City skylines.

The shed was in a small, waterfront park and she had to cross West Street to get back to the city. Walking barefoot in the snow hurt. When she reached the street, the morning traffic sped by. She waited for a break in the traffic and managed to get herself across.

Then, she stood as straight as she could, pulled her coat around her, and tried to flag down a cab. It took a few minutes for one to stop and every second she had to wait was a frigid torture. Her entire body was shaking by the time she got into the cab.

The driver noticed her distress. She was blue with cold. She was barefoot. There was blood and dirt on her hands and face.

It took all her strength to get any words out.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said.

“Lady,” the driver said in a thick New York accent, “whatever you been through, it’s over now.”

“Turn up the heat,” she said.

He had a coat on the seat next to him and he threw it back to her.

“You report everything to the police,” the driver said. “Don’t let them get away with anything.”

“All right,” she said.

The driver nodded. “Where to then?”

“Penn Station.”

He brought her to the train station and when they arrived she told him she had no money.

“Fair enough,” was the extent of his protest.

She got out and ran up the steps of the station and through the main hall. There was a storage locker there she’d set up in advance for situations like this. She had a number of them around the city and no one, including Igor, knew about them.