looked behind her several times, but the train now held no obvious
pursuers.
Sawyer pulled to a halt in front of the main terminal at National
Airport, flashed his credentials to a surprised parking lot attendant
and raced into the building. A few seconds later he stopped dead and
his shoulders sagged in frustration as he scanned the wall-to-wall
people. “Shit!” The next second he flattened himself against the wall
as Sidney Archer passed barely ten feet in front of him.
As soon as Sidney was safely ahead of him, Sawyer started tracking her.
The short journey ended in the line at the United Airlines ticket desk,
which stood twenty deep.
Out of sight of both Sawyer and Sidney, Paul Brophy rolled his luggage
carrier toward an American Airlines departure gate. Inside Brophy’s
inner suit pocket was Sidney’s entire travel itinerary gleaned from her
conversation with Jason Archer. He continued on unhurriedly. He could
afford that luxury as chaos swirled around him. He would even have time
to check in with Goldman.
After forty-five minutes Sidney finally received her ticket and boarding
pass. Sawyer watched from a distance and noted the large wad of bills
she used for the purchase. As soon as she had disappeared around the
corner, Sawyer swiftly sliced through the line, his FBI badge
prominently held in his hand as the first wave of angry travelers
quickly parted for him.
The ticket person stared at the badge and then Sawyer.
“The woman you just sold a ticket to, Sidney Archer. Tall, good-looking
blond, dressed in blue with a white coat over her arm,”
Sawyer added just in case his prey had used an alias. “What flight is
she on? Quick.”
The woman froze for an instant and then started punching keys.
“Flight 715 to New Orleans. It leaves in twenty minutes.”
“New Orleans?” said Sawyer, more to himself than to the woman.
Now he momentarily regretted having personally interviewed Sidney
Archer. She would recognize him instantly. But there was no time to
call in another agent. “What gate?”
“Eleven.”
Sawyer leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “Okay, what’s her seat?”
The woman glanced at the screen. “Twenty-seven C.”
“Is there a problem here?” The woman’s supervisor had drifted over.
Sawyer showed her his FBI credentials and quickly explained his
situation. The supervisor picked up a phone and alerted both the
boarding gate and security, who would, in turn, inform the flight crew.
The last thing Sawyer needed was a flight attendant spotting his gun
during the trip with the result that the New Orleans police would be
waiting for him at the door when the plane landed.
A few minutes later Sawyer, wearing a beat-up hat hastily borrowed from
security personnel, his coat collar turned up, strode down the
terminal’s broad aisle, an airline security officer in tow.
Sawyer was escorted around the metal detectors while he scanned the
crowds for Sidney Archer. He spotted her at the departure gate already
in line to board. He immediately turned around and sat facing away from
the gate. Several minutes after the last group of people moved onto the
plane, Sawyer walked down the jetwalk. He settled down into first
class, in one of the few available seats on the crowded jet, and allowed
himself a brief smile. It was the first time he had ever flown in such
luxury. He fumbled through his wallet for his phone card. His finger
closed around Sidney Archer’s business card. There were phone numbers
for Sidney’s direct office line, pager, fax, and mobile phone. Sawyer
shook his head. That was the private sector, for you. Need to know
where you are every minute.
He pulled out the plane phone and slid his card through it.
The flight to New Orleans was nonstop and two and a half hours later the
jet was descending into New Orleans International Airport.
Sidney Archer had not budged from her seat the entire flight, for which
Lee Sawyer was immensely grateful. Sawyer had made a number of phone
calls from the plane and his team was in place at the airport. When the
door to the jet opened, Sawyer was the first one off.
When Sidney exited the airport into the mugginess of the New Orleans