all of a sudden
they were letting you go under another name. How you managed that I
don’t want to know.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I want you to do it
for me.”
“Why?”
“When I got arrested there
were some men following me. That was thirty days ago. I just saw two
of them here.”
“Why do they want you?”
The woman gave her a look that
was at once pleading and frustrated. “Please, I don’t
have time to tell you my life story and you don’t have time to
listen to it right now. I have to get out of Los Angeles now –
today – only they’re already here, and it can’t be
a coincidence. They’re looking for me.”
“But who are you?”
“The short answer is that
I’m a woman who needs to disappear and has the money to pay
whatever it is you usually get for your services.”
Jane felt exhausted and
defeated. Her head, face, hands, and wrists were throbbing and weak.
She looked at the woman who called herself Mary Perkins, and the
sight of her face made Jane tired. She had said almost nothing, but
Jane was already picking up signs in her eyes and mouth that she had
lied about something. She was genuinely afraid, so she probably
wasn’t just some sort of bait placed in the airport by the
people Jane had fought outside the courtroom. But if men were
following her at all, they were undoubtedly policemen. Jane thought,
No. Not now. I’m not up to this. Aloud, she said, “Sorry.”
“Please,” said the
woman. “How much do you want?”
“Nothing. You have the
wrong person. Mistaken identity.”
Mary Perkins looked into Jane’s
eyes, and Jane could see that she was remembering that Jane was
injured. “Oh,” the woman said softly. “I
understand.” She turned and walked toward the door.
As she opened the door, Jane
said, “Good luck.” Mary Perkins didn’t seem to hear
her.
Jane looked at her face in the
mirror. The bruises were covered, but the thick makeup felt like a
mask. When she put the glasses on, they reminded her that the side of
her nose had been scraped by the buttons on the big guy’s
sleeve when he missed with the first swing.
She walked out to the concourse
and strolled along it with the crowds until she was near Gate 72. She
saw the woman sitting there pretending to read a magazine. If she was
being hunted, it was a stupid thing to do. Jane walked closer to the
television set where they posted flight information. Mary Perkins’s
eyes focused on Jane, and then flicked to her left. Jane appreciated
not being stared at, but then the eyes came back to her, widened
emphatically, and flicked again to the left. Jane stopped for a
moment, opened her purse, turned her head a little as though she were
looking for something and studied the two men to Mary Perkins’s
left. If they were hunters they were doing a fairly good job of
keeping Mary Perkins penned in and panicky. The short one was sitting
quietly reading a newspaper about fifty feet from Mary Perkins, and
the big one was pretending to look out the big window at the activity
on the dark runway. She could see he was watching the reflection
instead, but that wasn’t unusual. Her eyes moved down to the
briefcase at his feet. It was familiar, the kind they sold in the
gift shop where she had bought the makeup.
The smaller man had no carry-on
luggage. He sat quietly with his newspaper, not looking directly at
Mary Perkins. He had to be the cut-off man, the one she wasn’t
supposed to notice at all until the other man came for her and she
bolted. They couldn’t be cops, or they would already have her.
She had already bought her ticket, and a plane ticket was proof of
intent to flee.
Jane felt spent and hopeless.
She admitted to herself that if she got home safely she would find
herself tomorrow going to a newsstand and picking up a Los Angeles
Times and the New York papers to look for a story about a woman’s
body being found in a field. These two were going to follow Mary
Perkins until, inevitably, she found herself
they were letting you go under another name. How you managed that I
don’t want to know.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I want you to do it
for me.”
“Why?”
“When I got arrested there
were some men following me. That was thirty days ago. I just saw two
of them here.”
“Why do they want you?”
The woman gave her a look that
was at once pleading and frustrated. “Please, I don’t
have time to tell you my life story and you don’t have time to
listen to it right now. I have to get out of Los Angeles now –
today – only they’re already here, and it can’t be
a coincidence. They’re looking for me.”
“But who are you?”
“The short answer is that
I’m a woman who needs to disappear and has the money to pay
whatever it is you usually get for your services.”
Jane felt exhausted and
defeated. Her head, face, hands, and wrists were throbbing and weak.
She looked at the woman who called herself Mary Perkins, and the
sight of her face made Jane tired. She had said almost nothing, but
Jane was already picking up signs in her eyes and mouth that she had
lied about something. She was genuinely afraid, so she probably
wasn’t just some sort of bait placed in the airport by the
people Jane had fought outside the courtroom. But if men were
following her at all, they were undoubtedly policemen. Jane thought,
No. Not now. I’m not up to this. Aloud, she said, “Sorry.”
“Please,” said the
woman. “How much do you want?”
“Nothing. You have the
wrong person. Mistaken identity.”
Mary Perkins looked into Jane’s
eyes, and Jane could see that she was remembering that Jane was
injured. “Oh,” the woman said softly. “I
understand.” She turned and walked toward the door.
As she opened the door, Jane
said, “Good luck.” Mary Perkins didn’t seem to hear
her.
Jane looked at her face in the
mirror. The bruises were covered, but the thick makeup felt like a
mask. When she put the glasses on, they reminded her that the side of
her nose had been scraped by the buttons on the big guy’s
sleeve when he missed with the first swing.
She walked out to the concourse
and strolled along it with the crowds until she was near Gate 72. She
saw the woman sitting there pretending to read a magazine. If she was
being hunted, it was a stupid thing to do. Jane walked closer to the
television set where they posted flight information. Mary Perkins’s
eyes focused on Jane, and then flicked to her left. Jane appreciated
not being stared at, but then the eyes came back to her, widened
emphatically, and flicked again to the left. Jane stopped for a
moment, opened her purse, turned her head a little as though she were
looking for something and studied the two men to Mary Perkins’s
left. If they were hunters they were doing a fairly good job of
keeping Mary Perkins penned in and panicky. The short one was sitting
quietly reading a newspaper about fifty feet from Mary Perkins, and
the big one was pretending to look out the big window at the activity
on the dark runway. She could see he was watching the reflection
instead, but that wasn’t unusual. Her eyes moved down to the
briefcase at his feet. It was familiar, the kind they sold in the
gift shop where she had bought the makeup.
The smaller man had no carry-on
luggage. He sat quietly with his newspaper, not looking directly at
Mary Perkins. He had to be the cut-off man, the one she wasn’t
supposed to notice at all until the other man came for her and she
bolted. They couldn’t be cops, or they would already have her.
She had already bought her ticket, and a plane ticket was proof of
intent to flee.
Jane felt spent and hopeless.
She admitted to herself that if she got home safely she would find
herself tomorrow going to a newsstand and picking up a Los Angeles
Times and the New York papers to look for a story about a woman’s
body being found in a field. These two were going to follow Mary
Perkins until, inevitably, she found herself
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