Flight Risk

by Kim Baldwin

  “Get in.” Unmistakably, a command.

  Blayne complied and Alexi hurried around to the driver’s seat. She threw her coat and boots into the back and shoved the key into the ignition. They shot out of the parking lot just as the desk clerk stepped outside of the office to investigate the noise.

  In two minutes, they were on I-70 headed east. The first sign they came to said Kansas City – 165 miles.

  Blayne felt it wise not to say anything. Though she could tell Alexi was trying to appear her usual controlled self, her clipped tone of voice was only one of many signs that she was mightily pissed. She stared straight ahead, taking deep breaths. Blayne could detect small twitches in the muscles in her jaw.

  She had to admit that seeing Alexi in action was pretty impressive. Whatever the challenge, she meets it head-on and knows just how to deal with it. Is she ever unprepared for anything? It was hard not to trust her. Not to feel safe with her. She was certainly a formidable woman.

  Even as angry as she was now, Alexi was clearly focused, thinking ahead, and in control. But strong emotions were there, simmering just beneath the surface, and Blayne found the glimpses of them unexpectedly appealing. The longer they were together, the more Alexi intrigued her. Maybe I need to keep an open mind about this protection thing, as long as it’s her. It seemed a timely moment to remind herself once more that Alexi had saved her life, and if she wanted her dead that just didn’t make any sense. Alexi was also armed. She could have put a single shot in Blayne’s head any time she wanted.

  Perhaps she should stick with Alexi awhile. Just never let her guard completely down. It’s obviously going to be difficult getting away from her. I just piss her off more each time I try. And perhaps she is better equipped to deal with all of this than I am. Wouldn’t hurt, I guess, to see how Milwaukee goes. It would also give her a chance to get some of her money back and some new ID.

  And it will give me some time to get to know her. She studied Alexi surreptitiously for at least a half-hour as they drove in silence, and when she detected the beginnings of relaxation, she dug into the pocket of her oversized jeans for the keys to the handcuffs.

  “If you put your hand over here, I’ll get that off of you.”

  Alexi glanced over without a change of expression.

  “Sorry,” Blayne said.

  Alexi nodded once, and offered her left wrist. Blayne removed the metal bracelet and tossed it onto the rear seat.

  The silence between them grew. It was another half-hour before Alexi spoke again. “This distracting cat and mouse game between us has to stop. It takes up far too much energy, and exposes us to too much risk. I need to focus on keeping you safe, not on how to keep you from getting away from me.”

  “What makes you think you can keep me safe?”

  “I have faith in my abilities. I am good at what I do.” Alexi reached over into the sack at Blayne’s feet and pulled out the two pairs of sunglasses. “Take your pick.”

  Blayne chose a wrap-around set, leaving a pair of rectangular wire frames that seemed perfectly suited for Alexi’s face.

  “Blayne, there are no guarantees here. I cannot promise you that no harm will come to you. But I am much better equipped than you to deal with the people who are after you. Especially if you decide you do not want to go into a protective facility or safe house.”

  “I guess I’m finding it hard to disagree with that.”

  “You do not have to accept the program or relocation. For now, I would be happy if you just agree to let me make the decisions for you, and stop trying to get away.”

  They were approaching an exit ramp populated with numerous restaurants and gas stations, and Alexi took it. “We need gas and food. Will you be putting us at risk again, or not?”

  “Not,” Blayne said. “At least until we hit Milwaukee. I’ll give you that. My word on it.”

  *

  Despite her promise to stick with Alexi at least until Milwaukee, Blayne found herself on a very tight leash when they stopped in Des Moines. She had begged to shop for clothes; she couldn’t stand to wear her goth disguise for another minute. Alexi said she needed a change, too, but insisted they stick to small strip mall places, so that she could keep Blayne in sight at all times.

  Blayne went in and out of the dressing rooms, choosing jeans, sweaters, and shirts. Alexi had asked that she get only a few clothes, and quickly, as they had a long way to travel that day. As far as she could tell, Alexi never tried on anything for herself but when Blayne placed her selections on the counter Alexi set a small pile down next to them. The contrast in their choices could not have been more obvious. Where Blayne had chosen a lot of bright colors and patterns, all of Alexi’s clothes were in conservative dark tones. “I guess there’s not much of my money left now,” she remarked as Alexi paid for their purchases. This earned a somewhat irritated look.

  “As I have said. You will be reimbursed.”

  Blayne felt some sense of confidence that all the money would be paid back, providing she kept in touch with authorities so they would know where to send it. She was still debating with herself whether she was going to testify. Probably yes; her conscience would nag at her if she didn’t. But she still abhorred the idea of having to move and live in fear, always looking over her shoulder. Using a name not her own, and having to sever all ties with her friends. Which really meant, with Claudia. She was really the only friend who mattered. If something has happened to Claud and Philippe, is it really such a big deal whether I stay in Chicago?

  “Can we stop at the Walgreens next door?” Blayne ran a hand through her hair as they left the store, still not quite accustomed to its short length. “I’d like to get some hair coloring, maybe something remotely resembling my real color.”

  “Which is?”

  “They always called it strawberry blond when I was growing up. Kind of a light reddish blond.”

  They deposited their clothes in the trunk of the car before venturing into the drugstore. “I would like to suggest you consider a darker red, at least.” Alexi said. “So you are not quite so instantly recognizable.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Blayne settled on a L’Oréal offering called Light Golden Copper Brown, a 2-tone color that was darker and richer than her own. Her complexion would blend well with it, she thought, and yet it was also quite different from any photographs they might have of her. She had begun to accept that perhaps Alexi did have her best interests at heart and was providing her with good advice. On hair color, she could compromise.

  Blayne wandered the aisles of the Walgreens, Alexi close behind, and selected a few other items before they departed. Cosmetics, perfume, her favorite skin care products, more snacks, bottled water, and a couple of paperbacks. They filled up the gas tank again, Alexi took another look at the map, and they were back on the road in less than an hour, all told.

  “Next stop?” Blayne dug through the drugstore bag and pulled out a bag of Corn Nuts. Soon she was crunching noisily away.

  “We will stop as we need to for gas and food, but otherwise go straight on through to Milwaukee. Looks like it is another six hours or so, so as it is it will be ten or eleven p.m. at least before we get in there.”

  “Then what?” Blayne offered Alexi one of the bottled waters, and it was accepted with a slight nod of thanks.

  “We will stop at a motel near where my friend lives. Get a good night’s sleep, and you can color your hair and change your appearance. First thing tomorrow, he will take our pictures, and in a few hours, we will have new passports and can head up into Canada.”

  “Canada?”

  “Yes. Some cabins or something. I will know a good place when we find it.”

  Blayne had to admit Alexi’s plan didn’t sound half bad. “Does WITSEC have some arrangement with Canada?”

  “No. You told me you wanted no involvement with the program, so I am avoiding our normal places.” Alexi kept their speed just over the limit. “For the time being, Blayne, I a
m not telling my superiors where we are. I want you to be able to trust me.”

  Blayne was surprised by the admission, and felt intuitively that Alexi was being straight with her. Sure to hell hope I’m right. “Thank you for that.”

  They got into Milwaukee a few minutes after eleven and checked into an Econo Lodge near the airport. It took a good half hour of repeated shampooing for Blayne to get out most of the temporary black hair dye. Several more minutes to scrub off the raccoon makeup and the tattoos. Then another three-quarters of an hour to color her hair, but she was happy with the result. She could recognize herself again and felt decidedly less freakish, though she still bemoaned the loss of her shoulder-length hair.

  And she was ecstatic to be rid of those god-awful baggy clothes that made her feel huge and ungainly. Normally she slept in the nude, but she had picked up a baby blue tank top and matching shorty briefs at the strip mall to wear to bed. Blayne put the sleepwear on and ventured out to join Alexi.

  Alexi had caught the end of one of the local newscasts and was switching repeatedly between channels, finding nothing to hold her interest, when she heard a sound behind her. She had seen a few transformations in her years with the Witness Protection Program. But nothing like this. Her breath caught in her throat.

  at the sight of Blayne towel-drying her hair in the bathroom doorway.

  A twentyish, feisty punk had gone into the bathroom. Where did the kid go? Blayne was certainly all woman now. All soft curves, in just the right proportions, and the minimal clothing she had on showed off her amazing assets from every angle. The baby blue briefs draped a firm, round ass and shapely hips, and the tank top hugged her breasts, the bump of nipples faintly visible beneath the thin fabric.

  She draped the towel over her shoulders and glanced over at the television to see what Alexi was watching, which gave Alexi the opportunity to stare unabashedly at her a few seconds longer. She took in the damp and tousled hair, the coppery brown color perfectly suited to Blayne’s fair and lightly freckled complexion and the shadowed green of her eyes. Without the tattoos, fake piercings, and absurd goth makeup, she was adorable. No, more than that. She’s sexy as hell.

  Blayne smiled, and it lit up her face, imbuing it with such sweetness Alexi wondered how she could have missed the attractive woman hiding beneath the clothes and makeup.

  “What the hell are you watching?” Blayne asked, finally resting her gaze on Alexi.

  It was only then that Alexi realized she had paused on a late-night infomercial, this one trying to sell a collection of rather demonic-looking international dolls of the world. Flustered, but careful not to show it, she clicked off the set.

  “Nothing on at this hour, I am afraid. We should get some sleep anyway.”

  “Yeah, I’m ready to crash. That’s for sure.” Blayne stretched her arms above her head, exposing the pale, smooth skin of her stomach, and Alexi decided it was a damn good thing they had been able to get a room with two beds.

  True to her word, Blayne was sound asleep soon after her head hit the pillow, but

  Alexi found it harder to drift off. She found the new Blayne disconcerting and she knew she needed to get a handle on her attraction at once. Her weakness for a shapely feminine figure had already cost her much. She would not allow history to repeat itself.

  At first light, she awakened and had her own shower, and by the time she was dressed she found Blayne ready and waiting for her, in jeans and a green turtleneck sweater that matched her eyes and was altogether way too form-fitting. Giati Thee mou? Give me strength.

  *

  Theo Lang was accustomed to late night phone calls, so he answered on the second ring, fully awake. It was Paul Fletcher with an update.

  “Skip Topping is dead and Keller is alive. We’re not certain of her whereabouts, but it looks like she’s with a U.S. Marshal.” Fletcher paused.

  Theo knew he was waiting for the reaction, trying to gauge how much his superior knew.

  “Topping was sitting right where the bomb went off,” he said when Theo was silent. “And it was a bomb, they’re pretty certain. Keller was supposed to be there, too. But we know now that she was up and walking and was taken to the hospital after the landing. She skipped out before police could talk to her.

  “That’s all we have?” Theo probed, sensing Fletcher was holding something back, no doubt saving the best till last.

  “The U.S. Marshal on the plane was Alexi Nikolos.” Fletcher announced then paused again, as though expecting his boss to either express surprise, or offer verification.

  Theo did neither. “Anything else?”

  “She commandeered a vehicle at the hospital. We got a tip and found the car southwest of where the plane landed. If they keep in that direction, they might be headed to Utah, or Vegas. Maybe even Mexico.”

  “Are we sure she’s with Keller?”

  “When she took the car, she told the driver she was in hot pursuit. So we’re operating under the assumption she is either already with Keller, or is following her.”

  “All right. Keep me informed.” It was Theo’s dismissal, but Fletcher was obviously determined to find out who had brought Alexi in on the case.

  “Should I make some phone calls to try to verify that Nikolos has been reinstated? And, if not, why she’s involved in this?”

  “No,” Theo said. “I will see to that aspect of the case.”

  “All right. Whatever you say.”

  Theo could sense Fletcher’s disappointment. He and Alexi had not gotten along when he had been her superior, but her personnel files contained few details about her departure from WITSEC, just as Fletcher’s file contained few details about why he’d been demoted from the top spot in Chicago a few months later.

  Everyone in the Chicago WITSEC office had been shocked by both events. Alexi Nikolos had been a highly regarded Inspector, held in esteem by her peers. And Paul Fletcher had been viewed as a more than capable division chief, organized and even-handed, approachable, and quick to offer praise and encouragement.

  Fletcher had seemed to take his demotion in stride, and had voiced no complaints about his reassignment to the Joint Task Force on Organized Crime. Alexi hadn’t complained either, at least not to Theo, or confided in him about the reasons she’d left.

  But then again, he reasoned, both of them had been very well trained never to show their emotions, never to reveal too much about what they were feeling and thinking and planning. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what had happened, and whether the abrupt changes in the two officers’ fates was related somehow.

  *

  A short while later, another call was made from a public phone near the WITSEC offices to a cell phone. The men speaking were familiar with each other’s voices. They had spoken many times, but only one had any idea who the other was.

  “Blayne Keller is alive, but we don’t know where she is,” the caller reported. “She may have a U.S. Marshal with her, but it’s on the hush-hush. Something’s not right with this. It’s become too risky for me to call you.”

  “Perhaps you don’t understand what risky is,” Cinzano’s man responded casually, but with deadly implication. “Now tell me everything you know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The two women got to Ray Hill’s place shortly after eight.

  “Hey! There she is! How ya doin’, Lex?” Hill was a short and stocky man, with tattoos all over his arms and neck. He greeted Alexi with a kiss on the cheek, and a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.

  “As good as can be expected when I have to come see you,” she responded warmly. “But any excuse to see you will do. You look great.”

  Blayne was startled by the contrast between the two, and their obvious connection despite it. The biker tough guy and the charming WITSEC Inspector. Alexi was dressed down, in blue jeans and a cream-colored shirt beneath her leather coat, but whatever she wore, there was an element of classic elegance to her appearance. The jeans fit her perfectly, hugging her slim
hips and flaring just enough to accommodate her boots, and the shirt was nicer than the usual off-the-rack selection. The fabric was cut well, and it was finely detailed with wide cuffs and mother-of-pearl buttons.

  Hill had a two-bedroom condo over a car repair joint. It didn’t look like much from the outside, which was typical of Ray and one reason Alexi liked dealing with him—he never drew attention to himself. Once inside, however, it was evident the forger made a comfortable living. There was an impressive high definition television along one wall, and the living room was crowded with the various tools of his trade—photography equipment, two copy machines, a laminator and credit card embosser. His desk overflowed with blank birth certificates, passports and other documents.

  “Come on in. Have a seat.” He snatched up some of the dirty clothes and empty takeout cartons that were scattered about, and Blayne and Alexi sat in comfortable leather easy chairs the color of mud. “Oh! I ran that errand for you, Lex.” He reached under his desk for a paper grocery bag, half-filled and folded closed, and handed it to Alexi. “No problems, just like you said. Now, you wanted the full works, right?”

  “Yes. Passports, driver’s licenses, birth certificates, credit cards. My friend here will need documents under the name Fiona Murphy, and I would like you to do my set under Jacquelyn Andrews.”

  “I’ll get those photos done, and I’ll have everything for you by ten-thirty, eleven tops.”

  “Excellent. So how have you been, Ray? Staying out of trouble?”

  “Flying under the radar, so far.” Ray retrieved two cameras from the clutter on his desk, one digital and the other an instant-photo type. “What’s up with you? Sure been a long time.”

  “I have been out of the country.”