Diamond was speechless. Speechless, then breathless, as Wharton led him at a jog along a moving walkway and down two sets of stairs. Through a door and they emerged into the main concourse of the air terminal, opposite the arrivals gate. It was busy with friends and relatives crowding the barrier for«a first glimpse as the passengers wheeled their carts through.
They were in time to see Mrs. Tanaka emerge, pushing one large blue suitcase on a cart. At her side-and there could be no doubt anymore-was Naomi.
The little girl appeared uninterested in the new scene unfolding in front of her, the mass of faces turned their way. She walked mechanically at Mrs. Tanaka's side. They passed the point where the drivers stood with notices displaying people's names.
"You gonna stop them?" asked Wharton, giving him a shove. "You'd better go now, man."
Diamond started forward, and it was brought home to him forcibly-for the second time-that he wasn't in shape for dodging and weaving. A man in a wheelchair skidded to a stop and yelled at him to watch where he was going. He didn't have time to point out that he was doing exactly mat-it was the stretch between that he'd ignored.
Just as he found a clear way through, he hesitated.
Someone had moved in to speak to Mrs. Tanaka, a white man, tall, with cropped, dark hair and a distinctive nose that made Diamond think of Charlton Heston, though the resemblance ended there. He was in a black leather jacket and white jeans. He spoke to Mrs. Tanaka and she nodded and frowned, apparently startled by the approach.
Naomi was looking past the man, straight at Diamond. But it was the stone-faced autistic stare that he knew so well. Nothing to suggest she recognized him, no reaction of surprise, or pleasure, or dislike, come to that. She simply let her eyes focus on him for a moment and then she was distracted by the electronic chime that signaled an announcement on the public address. She turned her face upwards towards the source of die sound.
A decision born of professional experience trailing suspects had made Diamond stop that split second before going up to them. The man might be some predator muscling in to "help" with the luggage for an exorbitant fee-easy bucks when the victims were women with children in tow. Yet his presence could be more significant So the right move was to go straight past them, veering off to the left, and stand close to the queue at an information desk and keep tabs on what happened next.
Mrs. Tanaka's body language suggested she was agreeing to whatever the man was proposing, yet not without some reluctance. After some head-shaking and spreading of the arms, she twice took a step away from him. Finally she allowed him to take over the cart and wheel it towards the nearest exit, so quickly that Naomi had to trot to keep up.
Diamond followed closely, secure in the knowledge that neither of the adults knew him and Naomi was unlikely to react. Allowing them to get this far without being challenged was something of a risk, yet he reckoned their movements were going to be limited by the cart, whatever they did next.
They were heading towards the taxi area. If necessary, Diamond decided, he would let them get into a cab and drive off, and he'd follow in the next vehicle. If the man in the leather jacket traveled with Mrs. Tanaka, one question would be answered: he'd be involved in this business.
Outside was the line of yellow cabs, superintended by a man with a whistle in his mouth. But Leather-jacket wheeled the cart straight past and across the road. The air-shuttle buses, then? Apparently not. They were going into the short-stay parking lot, which was a possibility Diamond hadn't considered, and he clapped his hand to his face in self-rebuke. He wasn't thinking sharply at all since arriving here; he put it down to the flying.
He had to cross the road quickly, zigzagging through traffic, following them into the ground floor of the parking lot, where his problems increased. Leather-jacket and Mrs. Tanaka weren't more than twenty-five yards ahead with Naomi when they turned right and entered the elevator. The doors had closed before he got to them.
What now?
There were stairs close by. He had no idea whether to go down to the basement or up to the decks above. There was no indicator to tell him which floor the elevator had reached.
He'd have to plump for one and hope they were still in sight when he got there. One direction was as likely as any other, so he went down, taking die stairs two at a time and bursting through the swinging doors at the bottom.
No one was in sight among the ranks of cars.
Behind him, the elevator doors opened. Nobody was inside. He was certain now that he should have tried one of the upper levels. He got in and pressed the second-floor button, cursing the delay before the doors slid across.
He'd be fortunate if he hadn't lost them completely. The cage moved upwards, the doors opened and he stepped out and started running. No point in stalking the quarry now. If they stepped into a car and drove away, he hadn't the slightest chance of pursuing them. There were no taxis up here. But he had spotted them. They were three or four aisles to his right, about eighty yards ahead. So he ran, shouting to them.
"I say! Mrs. Tanaka!"
She turned to look.
Leather-jacket also turned. He was in the act of unlocking a car door.
Diamond was still thirty yards from them.
Mrs. Tanaka said something Diamond couldn't pick up and opened a door herself and bundled Naomi into the car.
"I'd like a word," called Diamond.
But he didn't get a word. Instead, he got the cart slammed into him as he advanced. Leather-jacket used it like a battering ram, driving it at him viciously. It had the weight of the suitcase behind it, and the full force of a large, young man.
Diamond's ankles could have suffered ugly damage if he hadn't reacted a split second before the impact and jumped six inches off the ground-about as high as a man of his size could hope to achieve. He pitched forward, making the suitcase take the main impact. His head crunched against the metal basket mounted at the top of the cart. But for the cushioning caused by the suitcase, he might have ended with his head in the basket like a victim of the guillotine.
As it was, he rolled aside, tipping the cart over and denting the wing of a car with his left shoulder. He was in no condition to spring up and fight
Leather-jacket wasn't staying. He grabbed the suitcase (now split across the center) from under the cart, swung it into the back of the car, slammed the door, and got into the front with Mrs. Tanaka.
A faceful of exhaust fumes didn't help Diamond's condition one bit. The car-a large, white Buick with red strips along the side-roared. The tires shrieked and it powered away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Extensive bruising, definitely. Some torn skin on the shoulder and left arm, which was smarting. A rapidly developing headache. Really, though, there was no serious injury, except to his confidence. He'd blundered. Blown it Gone down the tubes, as they would say in this city of fertile phrases. After flying thousands of bloody miles and actually catching up with Naomi, he'd allowed her to be snatched away again. She was being driven God knew where.
Hopeless
He hauled himself painfully upright, more stricken with self-reproach than pain. Damn it, he'd ignored even the most basic procedures. Hadn't even got the car's number.
He could imagine the reception he'd get from the New York cops if he asked mem to trace a white Buick with red trimmings and no number.
What now, then?
Was this really the end of the chase?
He glanced around, at the cart, still lying on its side in the space the car had occupied. He supposed he ought to look over the side of the car lot in the hope of seeing the Buick making its getaway, but he was damned sure his eyesight wasn't good enough to read a license plate from up here-even if he had the good fortune to spot the car.