He left the suite and went outside to a pay phone. There he dialed a Washington, D.C., number. He wasnt fond of asking the Cowboy for help, but now he had no choice. Victor Holland had his hands on the evidence, and the stakes had shot sky-high.
It was time to step up the pursuit.
The clerk yelled, Next window, please! and closed the grate.
Wait! cried Cathy, tapping at the pane. My bus is leaving right now!
Which one?
Number 23 to Palo Alto-
Theres another at seven oclock.
But-
Im on my dinner break.
Cathy stared helplessly as the clerk walked away. Over the PA system came the last call for the Palo Alto express. Cathy glanced around just in time to see the Number 23 roar away from the curb.
Service just aint what it used to be, an old man muttered behind her. Get there faster usin yer damn thumb.
Sighing, Cathy shifted to the next line, which was eight-deep and slow as molasses. The woman at the front was trying to convince the clerk that her social security card was an acceptable ID for a check.
Okay, Cathy thought. So we leave at seven oclock. That puts us in Palo Alto at eight. Then what? Camp in a park? Beg a few scraps from a restaurant? What does Victor have in mind?
She glanced around and spotted his broad back hunched inside one of the phone booths. Whom could he possibly be calling? She saw him hang up and run his hand wearily through his hair. Then he picked up the receiver and dialed another number.
Next! Someone tapped Cathy on the shoulder. Go ahead, Miss.
Cathy turned and saw that the ticket clerk was waiting. She stepped to the window.
Where to? asked the clerk.
I need two tickets to Cathys voice suddenly faded.
Where?
Cathy didnt speak. Her gaze had frozen on a poster tacked right beside the ticket window. The words Have You seen This Man? appeared above an unsmiling photo of Victor Holland. And at the bottom were listed the charges: Industrial espionage and murder. If you have any information about this man, please contact
your local police or the FBI.
Lady, you wanna go somewhere or not?
What? Cathys gaze jerked back to the clerk, who was watching her with obvious annoyance. Oh. Yes, Im-Id like two tickets. To Palo Alto. Numbly she handed over a fistful of cash. One way.
Two to Palo Alto. That bus will depart at 7:00, Gate 11.
Yes. Thank you Cathy took the tickets and turned to leave the line. Thats when she spotted the two policemen, standing just inside the front entrance. They seemed to be scanning the terminal, searching-for what?
In a panic, her gaze shot to the phone booth. It was empty. She stared at it with a sense of abandonment. You left me! You left me with two tickets to Palo Alto and five bucks in my pocket!
Where are you, Victor?
She couldnt stand here like an idiot. She had to do something, had to move. She pulled the raincoat tightly around her shoulders and forced herself to stroll across the terminal. Dont let them notice me, she prayed. Please. Im nobody. Nothing. She paused at a chair and picked up a discarded San Francisco Chronicle. Then, thumbing through the Want Ads, she sauntered right past the two policemen. They didnt even glance at her as she went out the front entrance.
Now what? she wondered, pausing amidst the confusion of a busy sidewalk. Automatically she started to walk and had taken only half a dozen steps down the street when she was wrenched sideways, into an alley.
She reeled back against the trash cans and almost sobbed with relief. Victor!
Did they see you?
No. I mean, yes, but they didnt seem to care-
Are you sure? She nodded. He turned and slapped the wall in frustration. What the hell do we do now?
I have the tickets.
We cant use them.
How are we going to get out of town? Hitchhike? Victor, were down to our last five dollars!
Theyll be watching every bus that leaves. And theyve got my face plastered all over the damn terminal! He slumped back against the wall and groaned. Have you seen this man? God, I looked like some two-bit gangster.
It wasnt the most flattering photo.
He managed to laugh. Have you ever seen a flattering wanted poster?
She leaned back beside him, against the wall. Weve got to get out of this city, Victor.
Amend that. Youve got to get out.
Whats that supposed to mean?
The police arent looking for you. So you take that bus to Palo Alto. Ill put you in touch with some old friends. Theyll see you make it somewhere safe.
No.
Cathy, theyve probably got my mug posted in every airport and car rental agency in town! Weve spent almost all our money for those bus tickets. I say you use them!
Im not leaving you.
You dont have a choice.
Yes I do. I choose to stick to you like glue. Because youre the only one I feel safe with. The only one I can count on!
I can move faster on my own. Without you slowing me down. He looked off, toward the street. Hell, I dont even want you around.
I dont believe that.
Why should I care what you believe?
Look at me! Look at me and say that! She grabbed his arm, willing him to face her. Say you dont want me around!
He started to speak, to repeat the lie. She knew then that it was a lie; she could see it in his eyes. And she saw something else in that gaze, something that took her breath away.
He said, I dont-I wont have you-
She just stood there, looking up at him, waiting for the truth to come.
What she didnt expect was the kiss. She never remembered how it happened. She only knew that all at once his arms were around her and she was being swept up into some warm and safe and wonderful place. It started as an embrace more of desperation than passion, a coming together of two terrified people. But the instant their lips met, it became something much more. This went beyond fear, beyond need. This was a souls joining, one that wouldnt be broken, even after this embrace was over, even if they never touched again.
When at last they drew apart and stared at each other, the taste of him was still fresh on her lips.
You see? she whispered. I was right. You do want me around. You do.
He smiled and touched her cheek. Im not a very good liar.
And Im not leaving you. You need me. You cant show your face, but I can! I can buy bus tickets, run errands-
What I really need, he sighed, is a new face. He glanced out at the street. Since theres no plastic surgeon handy, I suggest we hoof it over to the BART station. Itll be crowded at this hour. We might make it to the East Bay-
God, Im such an idiot! she groaned. A new face is exactly what you need! She turned toward the street. Come on. There isnt much time
Cathy? He followed her up the alley. They both paused, scanning the street for policemen. There were none in sight. Where are we going? he whispered.
To find a phone booth.
Oh. And who are we calling?
She turned and the look she gave him was distinctly pained. Someone we both know and love.
Jack was packing his suitcase when the phone rang. He considered not answering it, but something about the sound, an urgency that could only have been imagined, made him pick up the receiver. He was instantly sorry he had.
Jack?
He sighed. Tell me Im hearing things.
Jack, Im going to talk fast because your phone might be tapped-
You dont say.
I need my kit. The whole shebang. And some cash. I swear Ill pay it all back. Get it for me right now. Then drop it off where we shot the last scene of Cretinoid. You know the spot.
Cathy, you wait a minute! Im in trouble enough as it is!
One hour. Thats all I can wait.
Its rush hour! I cant-
Its the last favor Ill ask of you. There was a pause. Then, softly, she added, Please.
He let out a breath. This is the absolute last time, right?
One hour, Jack. Ill be waiting.
Jack hung up and stared at his suitcase. It was only half packed, but it would have to do. He sure as hell wasnt coming back here tonight.
He closed the suitcase and carried it out to the Jaguar. As he drove away it suddenly occurred to him that hed forgotten to cancel his date with Lulu tonight.
No time now, he thought. Ive got more important things on my mind-like getting out of town.
Lulu would be mad as a hornet, but hed make it up to her. Maybe a pair of diamond ear studs. Yeah, that would do the trick.
Good old Lulu, so easy to please. Now there was a woman he could understand.
The corner of Fifth and Mission was a hunker-down, chew-the-fat sort of gathering place for the street folk. At five forty-five it was even busier than usual. Rumor had it the soup kitchen down the block was fixing to serve beef Bourguignonne, which, as those who remembered better days and better meals could tell you, was made with red wine. No one passed up the chance for a taste of the grape, even if every drop of alcohol was simmered clean out of it. And so they stood around on the corner, talking of other meals theyd had, of the weather, of the long lines at the unemployment office.
No one noticed the two wretched souls huddled in the doorway of the pawnshop.
Lucky for us, thought Cathy, burying herself in the folds of the raincoat. The sad truth was, they were both beginning to fit right into this crowd. Just a moment earlier shed caught sight of her own reflection in the pawnshop window and had almost failed to recognize the disheveled image staring back. Has it been that long since Ive combed my hair? That long since Ive had a meal or a decent nights sleep?
Victor looked no better. A torn shirt and two days worth of stubble on his jaw only emphasized that unmistakable look of exhaustion. He could walk into that soup kitchen down the block and no one would look twice.
Hes going to look a hell of a lot worse when I get through with him, she thought with a grim sense of humor.
If Jack ever showed up with the kit.
Its 6:05, Victor muttered. Hes had an hour.
Give him time.
Were running out of time.
We can still make the bus. She peered up the street, as though by force of will she could conjure up her ex-husband. But only a city bus barreled into view. Come on, Jack, come on! Dont let me down this time
Will ya lookit that! came a low growl, followed by general murmurs of admiration from the crowd.
Hey, pretty boy! someone called as the group gathered on the corner to stare. Whatd you have to push to get yerself wheels like that?
Through the gathering of men, Cathy spied the bright gleam of chrome and burgundy. Get away from my car! demanded a querulous voice. I just had her waxed!