Fog gradually enveloped her. It came in from the seaward side of the peninsula, rolling in, hugging the ground in its embrace until visibility was less than a hundred feet.
Caitlin became aware of the strap on her case digging into her shoulder. She remembered she’d left her notebook computer in it. Its two pounds seemed more like twenty after a long walk. She should have left it in her room.
Caitlin shifted the thick strap to her other shoulder. After dark, parking was banned in the park, and the street was deserted. Caitlin continued to walk and listened for the sound of a car engine. She didn’t have long to wait.
Turning, she saw the lights of a car coming through the opalescent fog. It moved slowly, cautiously. When it neared, she saw it was a yellow cab. Caitlin stepped to the curve and held up her hand. The taxi slowed and pulled toward her. Wipers dragged noisily against the windshield as they removed the thickening mist. Caitlin shivered. It would be good to be in a warm restaurant.
The cab stopped with its rear door even with her. Caitlin gripped the handle and pulled the door open. The interior light was out. She had one foot inside when she realized the back seat was already occupied.
“Oh, excuse me. I thought this cab was free.”
The man’s voice was pleasantly soft. “That’s all right. I told him to stop for you. I don’t mind sharing.”
“That’s very considerate.”
“Where to lady?” the driver asked.
“Alliotto’s, please.”
Another car appeared in the fog. Its headlights lit the interior of the cab for a few seconds before it passed.
Still half in the door, Caitlin froze.
In those brief seconds the headlights played across the stranger’s face, Caitlin recognized him. It was the man from her room. The one with the gun, except that now a thin bandage covered his nose. Caitlin pushed herself back out of the taxi as the man lunged across the seat after her. His fingers brushed the edge of her skirt, closed on it, and pulled.
She stumbled and caught herself against the door and roof. He lunged closer, trying for a better grip. Caitlin pushed away from the taxi and slammed the door hard on his wrist.
“Ow! Damn bitch!”
Her skirt slipped free of his grasp and Caitlin caught the edge of the door with both hands and slammed it again. Too late, the man had pulled his hand safely inside.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the driver yelled.
“Mind your own business.” The glass muffled the passenger’s voice.
Caitlin moved back from the taxi. Her head twisted from side to side looking for an escape route.
“Yeah? Get outta my cab!”
She could see the driver silhouetted against the dashboard lights, a microphone raised to his lips. “Central, I need–”
Over the noise of the taxi’s engine, Caitlin heard a soft spitting sound and the driver’s head snapped forward against the steering wheel.
Fear burned through her veins like acid. She backed away. Away from the taxi’s bright headlights. Away from the man with the gun. Away from certain death.
Her feet reached the edge of the walk. Unprepared for the sharp drop, she stumbled. She flailed wildly as she fell into the thick oleander. The branches clutched at her, keeping her upright, but impeding her retreat. Caitlin turned, lowered her head, raised an arm to protect her face, and pressed into the undergrowth.
Behind her, she heard the taxi’s door open.
Caitlin didn’t look back. Her fate would match the cabby’s if she didn’t get out of sight soon. She pressed deeper into the brush. The undergrowth clung to her as if it were some vassal of the killer.
Hard-soled shoes pounded the pavement behind her.
The spitting sound came again, and the air buzzed near her.
A startled squeal escaped her lips. She forced the branches back and dropped to her knees. For a moment she froze, breathing heavily and listening.
“Come on now, Ms. Maxwell. It doesn’t have to be like this. Just come on out. I don’t have to kill you.”
What was the killer talking about? He’d already tried to kill her twice. Did he really think she’d turn around and walk into his clutches? Either he wasn’t giving her any credit at all or else she was giving him way too much credit. Somehow, Caitlin didn’t expect a killer to be that stupid.
“This can go any way you want it, Ms. Maxwell. You can walk out of here and go with me. I’ll guarantee your safety. On the other hand, you can force me to hunt you down in which case I’ll just have to kill you.”
Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light filtering through the branches. The branches thinned nearer the ground. She’d make better time crawling. She eased forward, still moving directly away from the street and the sound of the killer’s voice. “My patience is wearing thin, Ms. Maxwell. If you want to live, you’re going to have to come out in the next thirty seconds.”
Caitlin’s purse strap caught on a branch and for a moment she considering leaving it, but it held everything, her money, her cellular, her credit cards, her computer ... all the things she’d need if she escaped this maniac. She pulled it free and slipped its strap tighter against her.
“Twenty seconds.” His voice came from slightly to her left now. What was he doing? Looking for a way through the oleander?
Caitlin crawled two, then three more feet, and stopped. Right in front of her, a tiny path, a game trail, cut through the brush. She’d seen enough of them in her childhood to recognize it. What kind of animals did they have in the park? She wasn’t sure, but it may have been a rabbit path. Regardless, it was big enough to follow.
She turned toward the right, away from the killer’s voice. She crawled faster now, but still moved the brush around her as gently as possible.
“Five seconds.”
His voice was farther away, but it didn’t sound as if he was still on the sidewalk. Had he found a path around the undergrowth? Her breathing came faster. Her pulse quickened. Caitlin knew she was in danger of losing it. That might get her killed. She had to remain calm. She must maintain control. Control was crucial. Panic and you die. Panic and you die.
She drummed the phrase repeatedly into her mind until it obscured all else. Her breathing steadied. Her pulse slowed. Although she continued to crawl as fast as she dared, her breathing and pulse now matched her exertion level, rather than her level of fear.
The last five seconds ticked by, but the killer remained quiet. Caitlin wished he’d keep talking. It gave her his position and improved her chances of not coming out from under the oleander right in front of him.
She paused for a second, listening, straining to hear over the sound of her own breathing. Nothing. Either he had moved farther away, or he was standing still waiting for some sound that would reveal her position.
Caitlin moved again. A few feet farther and she pulled free of the brush.
She faced a small walkway. Although it was brighter than the rabbit trail, fog still draped the walk, and the nearest light shone vaguely off to her right. She hesitated, looking for motion and listening for any sound.
Nothing.
Caitlin eased out onto the path and got her feet under her, but she remained crouched. The last time she’d heard from the killer, he’d been moving downhill, away from her. She turned uphill and moved toward the light.
She wanted to run, but her shoes made a slight sound against the pavement no matter how carefully she walked. Running would surely bring the killer.
Her thoughts turned to the future for the first time since she’d seen the killer in the back seat of the cab. The police would listen to her now. Assuming she lived long enough to reach them. That Ferguson woman would believe her this time too. With the cabby murdered, everything changed. None of them could ignore her. She’d have the police back in her room. They’d do a thorough investigation this time. The killer must have left some evidence of his break-in. The police could track him down. They would. They must. Then she would be
on the next plane out of San Francisco, and back to Albuquerque. Home. Where she was safe.
Her thoughts came back to the here and now as she neared the light. Thirty feet from the light she stopped. The curvy rabbit trail had tricked her. She was back on the street near where she had started.
She saw a tiny movement at the point that the path and sidewalk met. She prayed that it was just the wind moving the brush, but the wind, while still moving the treetops, moved nothing beneath the canopy.
Caitlin felt her pulse leap again. She eased carefully to the side of the path and willed herself to vanish into the thick leaves of the oleander, pressing back against them as if they would part to allow her through.
Panic and you die. Panic and you die.
Caitlin watched the spot where the movement had occurred. Was that spot of brush darker than the rest? Maybe it was just a dog. Yeah, it might be just a dog.
She heard the sound of a car engine coming slowly up the hill. Headlights illuminated the fog with a ghostly glow and beams of light danced around the brush until one struck the shadows at the end of the trail.
The killer rose into the light like some creature rising out of the depths. The long barreled handgun was in his right hand.
Caitlin pressed tighter into the brush.
Holstering his gun, the killer stepped to the curb. The car slowed, and then stopped beneath the street light.
The driver’s window rolled down, and a man’s face appeared.
Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat.
It was Mark Romax.
The detective.
The goddamn detective!
CHAPTER 5
Caitlin froze against the protective shroud of the bush while her attacker approached the car.
“Any luck, Holdren?”
Holdren leaned against the driver’s door and shook his head. “No. She disappeared into the damn undergrowth. There’s not much chance of locating her in this fog.”
“That your work down the street?”
“Yeah, get a crew over to clean up the mess.”
“What were you doing in a cab? Didn’t you have a car?”
“Yeah, I had a car, but when I found out she’d left the hotel on foot, I got the idea that she might hail a cab. There wasn’t time to order one up, so I grabbed the first one available.”
“Jeez, did you have to pop him?”
“He was a witness.”
“That’s not much of a reason. We could have leaned on him, and he wouldn’t have talked.”
“I know, but he got smart, tried to stop me with some pissant little gun. I didn’t have time to reason with him.”
“Well, it’s your butt if Cronski doesn’t like the excuse. We’re not supposed to be doing wet work here. This was supposed to be a quick snatch.”
Holdren’s voice tightened, and his posture stiffened. “Yeah? Why don’t you tell me about it, Romax? I was cleaning up messes for assholes like Cronski when you were still in diapers. Nobody ever complains about the body count if the mission is successful.”
“Look, Holdren, I don’t care what things were like in the good old days of the cold war. Times have changed; you can’t leave bodies lying about, especially in domestic operations. If you can’t adapt, then maybe it’s time for you to retire.”
Holdren leaned down placing his nose nearly in contact with Romax’s. His voice came out slow and so low that Caitlin could barely make out his words. “Anytime one of you young punks think you can retire me, you’re welcome to try.”
Romax paled, and his head moved back, away from the confrontation. He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Jesus Christ, Holdren, we don’t retire people that way.”
“Yeah, maybe not now, but don’t you ever forget that I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I’ve done things that would make you piss your pants. Anytime you want I’ll be happy to enlighten you.”
Romax shook his head again. “Ah, no, thanks anyway. Look, I’m sorry. I was just trying to follow Cronski’s orders.”
Holdren grinned and straightened, obviously enjoying playing with his partner. “I’ll handle Cronski. You just get a cleanup crew in here. Then get some patrol cars around the park’s perimeter. She’ll try to contact the police again, and we might get lucky if she sees a patrol car.”
“Yeah, I can see that happening. What are you going to do?”
“Take me back to my room. I have night goggles there. I think I’ll do a little hunting,” Holdren said.
“Jeez. You know, I think you enjoy this too much,” Romax said.
“Hey, the job has to have some perks. You can ask for a reassignment to a desk job any time you want.”
Holdren walked around to the passenger side of Romax’s car and got in.
Caitlin watched the killer get into the passenger side of the car. It pulled away from the curb and headed back up the hill toward the Pacific Rim.
She waited until the sound of the engine had vanished into the fog, then stepped out from the bush and hesitated, torn between the trail and the street. She had to get out of the park before Holdren came back. In a few minutes, there could be patrol cars wandering the park looking for her. She had to move fast.
Caitlin turned toward the street, her soles made slapping sounds as she ran. She reached the sidewalk and looked downhill. Nothing, just a glow in the fog from the nearest street light.
Fearful that their conversation may have been a ruse for her benefit, Caitlin listened for an approaching engine as she ran.
She almost ran into the taxi’s bumper. Its lights were off, and the doors were shut.
Caitlin stepped off the curb and went to the driver’s door. She opened it. The body lay slumped down on the front seat.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed the body over enough to allow her to slide behind the wheel. The keys were in the ignition. She cranked the engine and turned on the lights.
Bitter bile rose in her throat as her stomach convulsed. The windshield and steering wheel were splattered with blood, pieces of skin and hair, and little bits of gray matter.
She forced down the bile and took a small box of tissues from her purse. There wasn’t enough tissue in the box to clean everything. Caitlin swabbed the steering wheel and then carefully cleaned enough of the windshield to see through.
She tossed the tissue aside, put the transmission in gear, and accelerated down the hill.
A few minutes later, she reached the park gate and stopped at the intersection with highway 101. Somewhere to her left, invisible in the fog, rose the massive bridge, to her right lay San Francisco. Which way? Away from town and the police she no longer trusted or into the city where she could lose herself among the masses. Neither way offered much.
Still, there was someone, someone she thought she could trust. If she could find him. She turned right.
CHAPTER 6
Romax drove the heavy Buick carefully through the fog. Neither of the men spoke until they were nearly back to the Pacific Rim.
Holdren said, “While I’m retrieving the receiver, I want you to call in additional help in case she gets by our people in the park.”
“The FBI?”
“Oh hell no. Their bureau chief has been looking for ways to get involved in our operations. Call the local NCIX, tell them it’s an information espionage case and they’ll fall all over themselves to help. Ask them to check out Alliotto’s. She asked the cabby to take her there. Dumb bitch will probably show up there and order dinner.”
“This the same dumb bitch that’s gotten away from you twice tonight?”
“Didn’t I ask you to put a transmitter in her purse?”
Romax nodded. “Yeah, you asked.”
“And?”
“So I did. It’s a short range unit, not good for more than a mile or so, less if she gets downtown among the high-rise buildings.”
Holdren didn’t say anything else until the car stopped. The doorman came toward them. “You want to tell me why you used that un
it instead of one of the satellite trackers?”
“There wasn’t time to get a bigger transmitter in her purse. I thought it’d be better to have one she wasn’t likely to find than to just drop a satellite transmitter into her purse and hope she didn’t come across it. After all, you were supposed to keep her under surveillance until we could make the snatch.”
Holdren shrugged. “Everyone has to go to the can eventually. It’s my bad luck she chose that moment to walk out of the hotel.”
Holdren’s door opened.
“You have the receiver?” Holdren asked and slid from the car.
“In my room.”
Holdren held out his hand. Romax took an electronic key from his pocket and placed it in his partner’s palm.
Holdren stepped away from the car, ignored the doorman, and went to the revolving door. He crossed the thinly populated lobby to the elevator bank and took a waiting car to the thirty-third floor.
Romax’s room lay across the hall from his. He unlocked the door and went in. A single suitcase sat on the dresser, next to a photo of Romax and his wife, June. Holdren stopped for a moment and stared at the photo. It was an old photo, taken before they had learned that June couldn’t have children. He could tell; their marriage hadn’t been happy after that. Within six months, June had become first an addict and then deceased. Holdren shrugged mentally. Some people just couldn’t handle what life gave them.
He flipped the case open. It appeared empty. Romax always unpacked as soon as they reached a hotel. Sliding back the concealed catches opened the storage compartment. Inside were a couple of spare magazines for Romax’s Sig P229, two thousand dollars in cash, a passport and credit card in one of Romax’s aliases, a directional receiver, and the satellite locator.
The Phoenix Egg Page 4
