Total Control by David Baldacci Page A

turned and walked away.
    Sidney stood there a few moments longer, staring after the woman. Then she took a deep breath, looked around and shook her head in dismay. She started to walk toward the exits again and looked across at the driver as if noticing him for the first time.
    "What's your name?"
    "Tom, Tom Richards. People call me Tommy."
    "Tommy, have you been at the airport long this morning?"
    "Oh, 'bout a half hour. Like to get here early. Transportation headaches are not what businessmen--um, people need, y'know."
    They reached the exit doors and the stiff, punishing wind hit Sidney flush in the face. She staggered for a moment and Tommy grabbed one of her arms to steady her.
    "Ma'am, you don't look so good. You want I should drive you to a doctor or something?"
    Sidney regained her balance. "I'm fine. Let's just get to the car."
    He shrugged and she followed him to a gleaming black Lincoln Town Car. He held the door for her.
    She lay back against the seat cushions and took several deep breaths. Tommy climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine.
    He looked in the rearview mirror. "Look, I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but you sure you're okay?"
    She nodded and managed a brief smile. "I'm fine, thank you." She took another deep breath, unbuttoned her coat, smoothed out her dress and crossed her legs. The interior of the car was very warm and after the cold burst she had just encountered she actually wasn't feeling all that well. She looked at the back of the driver's head.
    "Tommy, did you hear anything about an airplane crash today?
    While you were at the airport, or on the news?"
    Tommy's eyebrows went up. "Crash? Not me, I ain't heard nothing like that. And I been listening to the twenty-four-hour news radio all morning. Who says a plane crashed? That's crazy. I got friends at most of the airlines. They would've told me." He looked at her warily, as if he were suddenly unsure of her mental state.
    Sidney didn't answer but lay back against the seat. She took the cellular phone supplied by the car company out of its receptacle and dialed Tyler, Stone's New York office. She silently cursed George Beard. She knew the odds were billions to one that her husband had been in a plane crash, a purported crash that, so far, only an old, terrified man seemed to know about. She shook her head and finally smiled. The whole thing was absurd. Jason was hard at work on his laptop having a snack and a second cup of coffee or, more likely, settling in to watch the in-flight movie. Her husband's pager was probably gathering dust on his. nightstand. She would give him hell about it when he got back. Jason would laugh at her when she told him this story. But that was okay. Right now she very much wanted to hear that laugh.
    She spoke into the phone. "It's Sidney. Tell Paul and Harold that I'm on my way." She looked out the window at the smooth-flowing traffic. "Thirty-five minutes tops."
    She replaced the phone and again stared out the window. The thick clouds were heavy with moisture and even the stout Lincoln was buffeted by powerful winds when they took the bridge over the East River on their way into Manhattan. Tommy again looked at her in the rearview mirror.
    "They're calling for snow today. A lot of it. Me, I say they're blowing smoke. I can't remember the last time the weather guys got anything right. But if they do, you might have a problem getting out, ma'am. They shut La Guardia down at the drop of a hat these days."
    Sidney continued to look out the tinted windows, where the army of familiar skyscrapers making up the world-famous Manhattan skyline filled the horizon. The solid and imposing buildings reaching to the sky seemed to holster her spirit. In the foreground of her mind Sidney could see that white pine Christmas tree holding court in one corner of the living room, the warmth of a cozy fire radiating outward, the touch of her husband's arm around her, his head against her shoulder. And, best of all, the shiny,