He chose the double seat two rows behind Angela. She’d pressed herself up against the window and was busy looking out at the tops of the buildings speeding by.
The track made a sharp turn. The train jolted violently. Jack almost fell again.
He sat down. The blue striped fabric of the seat was stained in places, and worn to beads in others. It sagged in the middle, as if someone had removed a central support. The entire cushion was loosened from its moorings, too.
Philadelphia. Fucking shit town.
The train pulled into the next station. Girard. Several people were waiting on the opposite platform, headed back downtown. Nobody stepped into their car.
Here’s the thing, Angela. I’ve got an experimental tracking device in my blood, and …
Look, Angela, I know we got off to a bad start, but I have this weird mental condition where …
Yeah. Mention a mental condition. See where that gets you.
Jack looked at his watch. It was …
5:08 a.m.
Under the El
Kowalski thought it would be a simple matter of following the tracks, but that wasn’t easy at first. They popped out of a tunnel from beneath the city and led into a station that was tucked between eight lanes of an interstate. Then they dipped down again, and it was tough separating the columns of the El from the support columns of 1-95. Then he saw the church, and the tracks, and it all made sense. Kowalski turned off the engine of the chopper for a moment. Below the din of the early-morning highway traffic, he thought he could hear the rumble of the train.
First train of the morning, according to his new cop buddy. Gary? Gerry?
And a fat chopper between his legs, courtesy of his other cop buddy.
Philadelphia. Such a friendly town.
If this indeed were the first train of the morning, and his quarry were indeed on it, then all he had to do was overtake it, hop on board, then do a car-by-car search. Convince Jack to go along with him to Pennsylvania Hospital. He didn’t think he’d have to resort to his break-your-finger routine. Telling Jack Eisley that his life could be spared would be enticement enough.
Jack didn’t want to end up like Ed Hunter, after all.
No offense, Ed.
The bag was hooked to the side of the chopper, bouncing a bit with the bumps in the asphalt.
Hang in there, my friend. Soon we’ll have some answers.
5:15 a.m.
Pennsylvania Hospital, Room 803
Ican understand why you’d do something like that, Vanessa— you being on a mission of vengeance and all that. But I miss your red hair. So beautiful, especially after sex. It always had this airy, wild look to it.”
Silence.
“Oh look. You did your eyebrows, too. Though they’re not perfect. Still, I’m impressed. You must have convinced someone to go shopping in a drugstore with you. Where on earth did you find a man to do that with you? Oh, I tease you.”
Silence.
“Did you dye everything? Let’s see.”
Silence.
“Interesting. See, I thought that kind of thing would give you away. Maybe you haven’t been quite the slut as I’d imagined. Did you talk them into staying with you? I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that one. You never were much of a talker.”
Silence.
“Thing is, I don’t know if you can even hear me. You could be a piece of broccoli lying here in this bed. Broccoli with red pubic hair. Ah, that would be a shame.”
Silence.
“We’ll find out soon enough, though. See, Vanessa, they’re bringing up a machine that will let me check out your brain waves. If they’re stable enough, I’ll bring you out. I’m not going to lie to you. It’ll probably hurt. Might even make things worse. But we’ll be able to talk for a little while at least.”
Silence.
“If you can hear me, let me ask a favor in advance. Spare me the cursing and the threats. You and I already know that you’d like to see me die screaming and all that. I get it. I’d want me to die screaming, too, if I were you. But we can save ourselves a lot of useless drama if you tell me a few simple things. Like who, exactly, you told about our work.”
Silence.
“So yeah, give that a little thought. Not like you have much else to do.”
Silence.
“Ah, here comes the machine I was waiting for.”
Silence.
Whispering now: “Brace yourself. This is going to be more painful than you can possibly imagine.”
5:16 a.m.
The couldn’t move a muscle, but she heard every word. This son of a bitch wasn’t going to die screaming. He would be too busy choking on his own blood.
5:16 a.m.
Frankford El, Approaching Allegheny Station
The El train bucked again, then slowed down. Fucking train. Jack was amazed that more people didn’t puke during their morning commutes in Philadelphia.
Jack was running out of stations.
Only a few left after this one. Tioga. Erie-Torresdale. Church. Margaret-Orthodox. Bridge-Pratt. That was it. And his car was still relatively empty. An old guy a few rows back. A young girl with a schoolbag behind him.
He’d wasted the last few minutes staring out the windows, his mind tumbling around like a dryer sheet. He was tired. So tired. The contact lenses in his eyes felt like they were dried and permanently affixed to his eyeballs. Yesterday, he’d gotten up early to pack and make last-minute arrangements: phone calls, E-mails. So that meant he’d been up how long now, with the hour time difference? Twenty-four hours straight?
Decision time. Soon, it was going to be too late for anything. Had to focus. Either approach Angela and beg … plead … beseech, whatever … her for a place to talk, maybe even a place to stay until he had a chance to call some government agency and tell them what had happened. Then have them call Donovan Piatt. Explain why he’d be “a little late.”
Otherwise, it was a matter of finding someone else on this speeding train, someone he could convince—of what?
Like that would work.
Jack moved up another row. He was sitting close enough behind Angela to smell the smoke in her hair. There was a thin sheen of sweat on the back of her neck.
She must have been able to feel him staring, because she turned around, her eyes sharpened.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Jack leaned back in his seat. “I need your help.”
She sighed, turned back around. “What happens at the club stays at the club, buddy. Or Jack. Or whatever your real name is.”
“Look, this isn’t easy to explain, and I swear, if I weren’t in desperate need of help, I wouldn’t be bothering you.” He looked at the back of her head. She didn’t move. Maybe she was listening. “Can I just explain it to you? I know it’s probably not going to make much sense. Doesn’t make sense to me. But if you’ll give me the tiniest sliver of trust, you’d be saving my life. Literally.” Her shoulder moved, and she shifted in her seat. But she didn’t get up and leave. That was the important part. For the moment, she was listening. “Last night, I met this woman in a bar at the airport, and she infected me with a tracking device. …”