by Kim Baldwin
“Bail?” he asked.
“Probably not until we get everything resolved,” Florio replied. “But we’re ready to proceed as soon as the timing is right.”
As a sick smile spread across Cinzano’s face, Michael felt his cell phone vibrate and glanced at the number displayed. Cautiously, he said, “I need to take this call outside.” He knew his boss would understand. Some things could not be discussed inside prison walls.
Cinzano gave a dismissive wave. Excitement gleamed in his dark eyes. Michael hoped to Christ he’d be returning with good news.
As he exited the visiting room he picked up the call and instructed, “Hold on a minute,” waiting until he was in the parking lot before he said, “Okay. Go.”
“There’s been a serious complication,” the voice on the other end relayed. “The airplane has landed. We’re going to Colorado.”
“Colorado?”
“Colorado Springs.”
Michael glanced at his watch. “Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know.” The phone went dead.
Florio phoned his secretary. “Cancel my appointments. I’ll be out the rest of the day.”
Chapter Eight
“You’ve got quite a bruise here,” the doctor said as he gently palpated where the water bottle had slammed into Alexi’s back. “I’ll have the nurse get a cold pack for that, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Anything else hurt?”
Alexi had pulled a couple of muscles in her back and shoulders trying to hang on to Blayne, but she wanted to minimize her time in the Emergency Room so she didn’t want to dwell on her condition. She had protested being separated from Blayne once they got to Memorial Hospital, but without revealing that she was a U.S. Marshal she couldn’t force the issue. Blayne was in Radiology having a series of head X-rays, and the admitting staff had said Alexi would be allowed to join her ‘sister’ once she was checked out herself.
“I am fine,” she told the doctor. “Any word on what is happening with my sister? Amanda Jones?”
“I’ll ask. You can put your shirt back on.” The doctor paused halfway out the door. “Oh, the police want to talk to everyone. They’ve got a couple of cubicles to go before they get here. Should be just a few minutes.”
He had barely gone before the nurse appeared with a cold pack and a thick roll of bandage. “I’m going to wrap this to keep it in place. You should leave it on at least twenty minutes. Lift your hands please.” She positioned the ice pack and asked as she started wrapping, “Were you on that plane? That plane on the news?”
Alexi was instantly alert. Of course it was on the news. Everyone had a cell phone and camera these days. “What are they saying?”
“CNN has been on it for the last half-hour. I can’t believe the hole in the plane. Wow. Just amazing. They’re looking at whether it was a terrorist attack, because they think it may have been a bomb.” The nurse was excited. Obviously it was the biggest news in Colorado Springs in years. “The waiting area is full of T.V. and newspaper reporters trying to interview passengers, but no one out there was near where it happened. Were you?”
“No,” Alexi lied. Admitting the truth would make her a priority with the local cops. She couldn’t have that. Now that the story was on the news it was more important than ever that she get Blayne the hell away from there as soon as possible.
“I’m going to find my sister,” she told the nurse as soon as the bandage was secured. “Then we will talk to the police. Can you tell me how to get to Radiology?”
*
Blayne waited for the Radiology technician to leave with the X-ray films, then she snatched her ugly-as-hell jacket off the chair and headed for the door. She patted her pants pocket, feeling for the envelope containing her Fiji fund to reassure herself it was still there. There would never be a better time to slip out. The area around the Emergency Room had been swarming with police and reporters when she’d been wheeled off to Radiology, but now she was in a quiet wing a floor away, and she hadn’t seen that woman for a good half hour.
She felt extremely conflicted about Alexi Nikolos. There was something… reassuring about her, she had to admit. She seemed trustworthy, and the flight attendant had made it sound as though Alexi had taken good care of her. Knowing who she was made Blayne reinterpret that first look between them. She’d been so certain it was a look of attraction, of interest, but she was woefully mistaken. Alexi was just doing her job, that’s all.
The thought was strangely depressing, on top of everything else. Blayne wondered if Alexi was even her real name. There were way too many unknowns about the woman for her liking and even if Alexi was only trying to keep her safe, she was employed by the same people who couldn’t seem to keep her whereabouts a secret. Alexi would be reporting in, notifying them that she was alive and had Blayne with her. The information would soon be out there and yet again whoever was leaking it would tell Blayne’s enemies.
Yup, I’m definitely better off on my own.
She cracked open the door, peeked out, and spotted a nurse heading away from her, to her left. The other way was clear, and at the end of the hall was a sign that said “Stairway”. Perfect.
Blayne made it downstairs and exited through a side entrance, successfully avoiding both the press and the police. Now she had to find some transport. There was a bus stand near her, but no one waiting there, and no bus in sight. So she walked the perimeter of the hospital, and was relieved to see a taxi pulling up in front of the visitor’s entrance to drop off a fare. She hurried over with a wave and a shout, and managed to get the driver’s attention before he pulled away.
“Hi. Where to?” He was a beefy Scandinavian type in his forties. His radio was tuned to a classical station, and that was a pleasant surprise.
Where, indeed? Somewhere far away the hell from here. “Got a state map?” Blayne asked.
*
Cursing, Alexi continued around the perimeter of the hospital, vigilant to each person, car, every hint of movement within sight. No one and nothing escaped her careful and quick scrutiny. As she rounded a corner her eyes were drawn to a glint in the distance—a flash—sunlight hitting metal. The studs on the back of Blayne’s jacket as she got into a taxi.
“Stop!” she yelled, sprinting across the lawn. The cab was the only vehicle currently in the U-shaped drop-off zone in front of the visitor entrance, but before she got within a hundred feet it pulled away. The driver hadn’t heard her.
Breathing heavily, she glanced around, desperate for a way to follow the car before it got out of sight. She couldn’t believe she had allowed this amateur to give her the slip. She had been out of the game too long, apparently. In a parking lot to her left, a thirty-something man with a dark beard and shoulder-length hair stood beside a dark green Ford Navigator, fishing through the pockets of his white lab coat for his keys.
She came up behind him just as he found them, and snatched them out of his hand. “I am a U.S. Marshal in hot pursuit, and I am commandeering your vehicle.” She hit the unlock button on the key chain control and slid onto the front seat of the SUV almost before the man could register what was happening. “I’ll leave word where to pick it up at the hospital.”
“Wait!” He thrust out his arm and held the door open. “I want to see some I.D.”
“Take your hand off the door, now!” She fired up the engine and shifted into reverse.
The tone of her voice was enough. He stepped back and watched his Navigator speed away.
*
Blayne studied the map the taxi driver had handed over. The main highway through Colorado Springs, I-25, ran north into Denver, the plane’s original destination—that way’s definitely out—or south to Pueblo, and on into New Mexico. It was a start. A first decision. It felt good to make one on her own.
As the taxi headed west toward the interstate, she watched the meter tick away her precious funds. She hated the cost per mile, but speed was of the essence.
Let’s see. About 45
miles, it looks like, to Pueblo. Then what? Stay on the highway or get off? Stick with the cab or switch to something else? Buses were too slow. Planes were fastest, but she couldn’t think about getting on one of those again anytime soon. And that would require she show identification, anyway. A train, maybe.
“Is there an Amtrak line around here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” the driver said. “There are two. If you want to head south, you hit the Southwest Chief. It goes through La Junta, that’s about a hundred miles southeast. Or it stops down in Trinidad, that’s about a two hour drive.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror at Blayne. “The California Zephyr is closer, but that’s north, out of Denver.”
“No,” Blayne said. “Head south.”
The cabbie seemed not too concerned that she had no definite destination in mind. “You got it.”
The more she thought about the Amtrak alternative, the less she liked the idea. The mob might be watching the stations, or have somebody on each train. That would be easy enough to do, and then she’d be trapped on a moving vehicle with someone who wanted to put a bullet in her head.
“Do you have a range, or something? A limit on how far you’ll go?”
“I’m willing to negotiate something.”
Blayne pulled out her new wallet and the Fiji fund, and out of view of the driver counted her money. Four thousand, one hundred and twenty-nine dollars, when she added her holiday stash to the money the feds had given her. It sounded like a lot, but not if she had to disappear and start over somewhere. And certainly not if she was going to spend hundreds on a taxi ride.
Can’t get a rental car without a credit card. I wonder how much I can get a beat up junker of a car for? Fifteen hundred, maybe. That’s not bad. Keep to the back roads. It sounded like a pretty good plan. The snag was, it was almost dark, and the used car places in Pueblo would already be closed.
It was the best she could think of at the moment. The taxi meter ticked away, audible only during pauses in the classical music. She could swear the thing was speeding up in its mission to devour her dollars.
“How much to Pueblo?” she asked.
*
Alexi caught up to the taxi as it was getting on the expressway, and followed at a distance while she explored the interior of the SUV. She was irritated as hell that Blayne’s conduct had forced her into taking the car. Only a quarter of a tank of gas. Not great, but could be worse. There was a map of Colorado above one of the visors. But no cash, credit cards, or cell phones in the pockets or storage compartments. She hoped the driver of the vehicle wasn’t at that moment contacting the police. If she got pulled over, she might lose Blayne while trying to verify who she was.
Where is she going, and what do I do when I catch up to her? She was impatient to gain’s Blayne cooperation so she could start figuring out how she was going to keep them safe. She had a lot to work out. Like how she was going to get some funds and where she was going to take Blayne. The usual safe houses were no good. Who can I trust? Do I dare even tell Theo where we are?
She rubbed her eyes and tried to ignore the fatigue that was starting to assert itself. She felt overwhelmed and even disoriented, like her internal compass didn’t work any more.
It was a feeling that took her back to her childhood. To all the years she’d spent in boarding schools, isolated from her family. Initially, the disorientation and rejection she’d felt at being sent away had sent her into a spiral of depression. But her father insisted the experience would make her independent and resourceful. And it certainly had done that.
She had learned to put her emotions aside, and to view every situation and challenge head-on. Logically. Fearlessly. Just assess the risks, and take appropriate action. It was why she became a standout at WITSEC.
But her long-held confidence in her abilities had taken a big hit when Sofia was killed, and she was only now realizing to what extent. She found herself battling uncertainties she thought she had long ago dispensed with, and she knew how dangerous it was to indulge those doubts. The mob was determined to take out her witness, and Blayne was determined to run. She had to be at the top of her game.
It was well past dusk when the taxi reached the outskirts of Pueblo, slowing down as it passed a bright string of restaurant and hotel signs at one of the exits. Alexi understood exactly what was going on. The passenger was trying to make a decision about where to spend the night. She would choose something off the main road because her instincts would drive her toward seclusion and privacy.
Predictably the taxi took an exit to an area less well lit and proceeded past a few fast food and chain restaurants scattered amidst various budget hotels and motels. It slowed yet again at a used car lot with padlocked chains across the entrance and exit. The prices were scrawled across the windshields in huge white and yellow numbers.
$800. $1,500. Blayne probably had access to that kind of money, Alexi thought, so she would hole up nearby and plan to return first thing the next morning for whatever Nissan or Ford looked like a good buy. It wasn’t that late, not even quite eight o’clock yet, but the day must have taken everything out of her. She would want to make a plan. Study a map. Consider her options. There was a Motel 6 a bit farther down the road. If Alexi were a gambler, she’d have put her life savings on this one.
She watched the taxi continue on to the three-story motel. Blayne would not be pleased to see her and she would likely not be shy about saying so. A confrontation was probably inevitable but Alexi had to avoid a scene that would draw attention to them, so she hung back, content to wait for an opportunity.
The cab let Blayne off right in front of the office and she went directly in to register. A few minutes later she came back out, walked to a nearby room on the first floor, and let herself in. At all times, there were too many people about, in the parking lot, on the stairwells, near the soda machine, by the office. Alexi couldn’t risk it, so she waited until things quieted down, using the time to study the map.
When there was no one in sight, she got out of the SUV, walked to Blayne’s door and knocked. She hoped Blayne would open up without looking, but she wasn’t optimistic that would happen. The curtain at the window beside the door was pulled back, and she saw Blayne’s eyes widen in disbelief. But the shock was quickly replaced by a flash of temper.
“God damn it! Leave me alone!” Her voice was muffled through the thick glass between them, but since she was shouting every word was clear.
Alexi glanced around. No one in sight. “Please let me in, Miss Weaver.” She said it louder than she wanted to. A necessary risk.
“No!”
“I am not going away.”
Blayne appraised her for a long moment. “Suit yourself.”
“I will not keep shouting at you like this,” Alexi said. “I am going to get an audience out here, and we do not want that, believe me.”
“There is no we,” Blayne retorted. “I told you, leave me alone! I’m not going with you!”
Alexi tried to keep her irritation in check, but it was getting tougher by the moment. She was tired, and hungry, and she knew they were in far too much danger to be wasting time like this. “If you do not open this door in two minutes, I am going to kick it in.”
Blayne’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll call the front desk and tell them you’re bothering me.”
“No, you will not. They’ll ask too many questions.”
The two women stared at each other. Blayne’s jaw was set, her face tight with anger, as though it was all she could do not to reach through the glass and throttle Alexi.
Alexi remained outwardly impassive, but she was fighting mightily the urge to shake some sense into Blayne. “At least open the door with the chain on so that I can talk to you without drawing attention to us.”
The curtain closed. It took another minute for the door to open, and it was with the chain on. But Alexi knew then she’d won. She stuck her right boot into the opening.
“I don’t need your protection.” Blayne had
taken a couple of steps away from the door, to be out of Alexi’s reach. But she stood where they could see each other. “I can get away from them by myself and I’ll be safer.”
“Really?” Alexi responded pleasantly. “Let’s just reality check, shall we? So far, nearly every decision you have made has been a bad one, one that will ensure you get caught. Those bad decisions, by the way, are the reason I am standing here. It is mere good luck that I arrived first, and not a hit man.”
This seemed to register and Blayne took a step closer to the door. “What do you mean?”
“You take a cab, use the only smart way out of town, and stop at the first motel you come to? You think the men hunting you don’t have connections in cab companies? The driver will tell someone where you are, and you will be dead long before that used car lot opens down the street.”
Blayne’s eyes widened in alarm and shock. “How did you know what I…”
“As I said, you are predictable.” Alexi heard voices approaching. People on the levels above, heading down the outdoor stairwells toward them. She had to get in the room, and fast. “Miss Weaver, I mean you no harm. If I wanted you dead, you would have been dead already and I would not be standing here like an idiot trying to negotiate my way through a chain. You are wasting precious time. Open the door.” The last three words were unmistakably a command, not a request.
The blunt words seemed to reassure Blayne and she finally unhooked the chain just as the upper level guests emerged from the nearest stairwell. Alexi stepped inside the room and quickly closed and locked the door behind her. When she turned to face Blayne, she found that the witness had retreated to a chair, one of two flanking a small circular table by the front window. She took the other.