I can’t catch a break, thought Russell. On an assignment like this, he never carried ID, not even counterfeit ID, and the gate agent who had passed him through the metal detectors was nowhere in sight. His designation was secret and if taken into custody he was expected to remain silent and use his one telephone call to summon help from a properly equipped Naval Security officer. At this badly fucked point in time he couldn’t afford to be detained. “I’m meeting someone,” he said, and moved away from the shop’s entrance. “I would like to see some kind of ID,” the security guard insisted, coming closer, his hand closing around the butt of his 9mm. Russell smiled broadly as though he were about to comply, but then casually stepped through a door into the men’s room. One of the stalls was occupied, but otherwise the place was deserted. As the angered security guard bolted in after him Russell wheeled and struck out with the heel of his hand, driving it upward into the man’s chin, dislocating his jaw and knocking him unconscious. For an instant Russell contemplated killing him, but he decided that the uproar following the discovery of the body would sooner or later come back and bite him on the ass. And so he merely dragged the guard into a stall and slung him upright onto a toilet. He locked the stall from the inside, and then launched himself off the toilet tissue dispenser and vaulted the door, landing an instant before a man in a business suit entered, dragging his wheeled carry-on. Russell walked past him and reentered the concourse. He now had a good idea where the girl had disappeared. The ladies’ room was thirty feet down the corridor. A cleaning lady and her partner were just coming out, pushing their trash cart and a mop bucket on casters. Russell stepped in front of them. “Miami Health Department. Anybody in there?” “It’s clean,” said the lady. “We just clean.” Dumb Guatemalan, she was petrified. “Cotta check it, though. City Code. Anybody in there?” “One lady.”
“She doing important business or just hanging out?” “Looking in the mirror, washing her hands, looking around. She looked scared.” Good, thought Russell. He liked fear in the eyes of his quarry just before he put them down, and this cunt was owed. His only regret was that he had orders not to kill her. His mandate was to simply keep her from getting on the plane until Wolfe and Henderson arrived. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hit her. He would just say she put up a fight. He found a crumpled five in his pocket.
“You keep any ladies from coming in for a few minutes, okay? Just till I do my look-see for the City of Miami. The cleaning women exchanged glances as the older one took the money. Russell went inside.
It was larger than the men’s room, divided into two sub-areas, one containing stalls, the other sinks, a bench and a baby-changing table. As he entered, he heard one of the stall doors clank shut. He had a clear image of the girl crouched inside, pissing her pants. If she were clever, and he knew she thought she was, she was probably standing on top of the toilet lid, holding her breath, praying he wouldn’t do more than look under the stalls from the outside. She was in for a big surprise.
Slipping his knife from its shoulder sheath, he laid it along his pants leg and eased around the corner into the area where the toilets were. She wasn’t in a stall, though. She was standing before a mirror straightening her skirt. There was something wrong here. As the woman turned around, Russell saw what it was. “Well” said Beatrice. “Did von take courses in stupidity or were you dumb enough when you enlisted?” “Ma’am, I’m sorry-”
“Put that knife away before you hurt somebody. Do you understand your assignment or don’t you?” “Yes, ma’am, of course I do.”
“She is not to be physically harmed. In any way. “Yes, well, I’ve just found the knife to be a good persuader.” But he put it away anyway. “And what if she started screaming?”
“I know how to deal with that, ma’am. We’re trained in abduction; otherwise I wouldn’t have been assigned to find her. The fact is, ma’am, I made her five minutes ago, and I thought she came in here.” “Hardly. I just saw her walk right down the jetway at Gate 15.” “Beg pardon, ma’am, but why didn’t you tell somebody?” Beatrice’s withering look was all the answer Russell needed as he raced out of the ladies’ room in a blind fury. Even the cleaning ladies were gone, not watching his back as he had fucking paid them to do. He pulled out his radio and called for backup. Okay, so forget about getting the collar himself; he just wanted to see the bitch in cuffs now. He careened down the jetway to Gate 15 as more men appeared. running toward the gate. Within sixty seconds, the plane was under siege, with a half-dozen Seals searching it from nose to tail. If necessary, their orders were to go into the baggage and wheel wells.
Meanwhile, Maria Morales and Elena Contrares-close friends since they had shared a van with fifteen other weeping and terrified illegal immigrants from El Salvador eight years before-stopped at the first level service bay, just as they had been instructed. During twenty years of having lived in a war zone, they had seen their share of strangeness. They had seen even more the next year while they worked their way north through Guatemala and the mountains of Mexico. But never had they been asked to do anything so crazy for money, and certainly not by a lady so elegant. A hundred dollars! In America, madness seemed to trickle down from the top. The classy lady was right behind them, having hitched a ride on one of the electric carts reserved for the aged and the handicapped. “Hay otras aqui, amigas?” she asked, as she stepped off the cart, patting a strand of gray hair into place. “No,” they said.
“Bueno,” said Beatrice, giving the trash barrel a whack. “All right, end of the line, it’s safe.” The paper towels stirred as Elizabeth emerged from the barrel, stunned and grateful, but certainly on guard. “Thank you,” she said to Beatrice as Maria and Elena helped her out. “Don’t mention it,” Beatrice replied. “Haven’t had so much fun since menopause. “Who are you?”
“I’m the lady who just saved your life,” said Beatrice, regretting the resentment and suspicion in her own voice. Was this kid going to recognize herself or not? She’s had her new face for seven years, thought Beatrice. Is it possible she’s forgotten the old one or is it so bad she can’t recognize herself in such an older version? Maybe she was just plain thick. “Come on, we’ll talk in the cab,” she said. When Elizabeth hesitated, Beatrice gave her a maternal glare. “Or should we wait until they seal off the airport again?” Beatrice paid Elena and Maria another fifty dollars, then made for the taxi stand with Elizabeth following at a wary distance. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I want you to live,” said Beatrice. “Is that a good enough reason? You do have friends in the world.” “Annie? Did she send you?”
“No. Not Annie, whoever that is.” Good Lord, she thought, is she faking it or has some of Peter’s obtuseness rubbed off on her? She was starting to picture Peter and Elizabeth together and was having trouble not hating her, despite the sympathy she felt for the girl’s plight. And the guilt, of course. Would she ever be free of that? The door to the cab was open, but Elizabeth was still balking. “I think I need to know who you are.” “You’ll figure it out. Now get in,” said Beatrice sharply, grabbing Elizabeth and shoving her inside. “And if I were you, I’d duck down.” This time Elizabeth did as she was told, slumping below window level as the cabby gunned the car out of the airport. Once they were on the expressway Elizabeth sat back up and stared at Beatrice. Beatrice did her best not to stare back. I certainly would have known myself; Beatrice thought. In a heartbeat. “Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked.
“I was thinking of Disney World,” Beatrice said. “Last time I checked,” said Elizabeth, “they didn’t give discounts anymore for fugitives.” Confident, sardonic-you might even end up liking this woman, Beatrice thought. And wouldn’t Narcissus be green with envy? “Yes, well that’s true, I suppose. Driver, take the next turnout.” The cabby swung into an emergency pull-off and sounded the horn. “It’s all right,” Beatrice said as she saw Elizabeth tighten. “We’re just picking up another passenger. The driver peered into the shrubbery ringing the turnout. “Senora, are you sure this is where we left him?” “I’m sure,” Elizabeth looked ready to bolt, Beatrice put a steadying hand on her wrist while the cabby got out and stepped over the guardrail. “Senor?” he called.