In any case, she couldn’t think of a less risky option.
Today her name was Jesse. She went with a professional look – her black suit with the V-neck black tee underneath and of course the leather belt. She had another, more realistic wig; this one chin-length and lighter, a mousy blond-brown color. She held this back with a simple black headband and added glasses with thin metal rims that didn’t make it look like she was hiding but still subtly disguised the shape of her cheekbones and forehead. Her face was symmetrical with small features; nothing stood out. She knew that as a general rule, people overlooked her. But she also knew she wasn’t so generic-looking that someone specifically searching would fail to recognize her. She would keep her head down whenever she could.
She brought a briefcase rather than her tote; the wooden details from her shoulder strap snapped into place on the handle of the briefcase. It was lined with metal, heavy even when empty, and could easily be used as a bludgeon if necessary. The locket, the rings, but not the earrings. She would have to do a bit of manhandling, and the earrings wouldn’t be safe. The shoe knives, the scalpel blades, the ChapStick, the various sprays… almost full armor. Today it didn’t make her feel more confident. This part of the plan was far outside her comfort zone. Kidnapping wasn’t something she’d ever imagined needing to do. In the past three years, she hadn’t thought of a scenario that didn’t boil down to either kill or escape.
Jesse yawned as she drove through the dark streets. She’d not been getting enough sleep, nor was sleep going to figure largely in the next few days. She had a few substances that would keep her awake, but the crash could be delayed for only seventy-two hours at most. She would need to be hidden very well when that crash came. She hoped it wouldn’t be necessary to use them.
There were plenty of spaces available in the economy parking lot at Ronald Reagan. She pulled into one near the shuttle bus stop, where most people would want to park, and waited for the bus to arrive. She knew this airport better than any other. She felt a long-missing sense of comfort kick in – the comfort of familiar surroundings. Two other passengers showed up before the shuttle, both of them with luggage and tired faces. They ignored her. She rode the bus to terminal three, then doubled back on the pedestrian bridge to the Metro stop. This route took her about fifteen minutes at a brisk walk. Nice thing about airports – everyone walked fast.
She’d debated wearing boots with wedge heels, going for a different height, but then decided she would be walking – and possibly running, if things went badly – too much today. She wore the dark flats that were half sneaker.
As she joined the crowd heading down to the Metro platform, she tried to keep her face hidden as much as possible from the ceiling cameras. Using her peripheral vision, she searched for a likely group to join. Jesse was sure that the watchers would be looking for a lone woman. A larger group – any group – was a better disguise than makeup or a wig.
There were several clusters of people heading to the tracks with her as the first wave of rush hour began to crowd the escalators. She chose a trio, two men and one woman, all in dark business suits and carrying briefcases. The woman had shiny blond hair and was a good nine inches taller than Jesse in her high-heeled, pointy-toed pumps. Jesse edged her way around a few other parties until she was somewhat hidden between the woman and the wall behind them. Any eyes examining the new quartet would naturally be drawn to the tall blonde. Unless those eyes were specifically looking for Juliana Fortis.
Jesse’s quartet moved purposefully through the crowd, claiming a spot near the edge of the platform to wait. None of the others in the group seemed aware of the small woman moving in tandem with them. There were too many close-packed bodies for her proximity to be noticeable.
The train raced into view, whipping past and then jerking to an abrupt stop. Jesse’s group hesitated, looking for a less crowded car. She contemplated abandoning them, but the blonde was impatient, too, and she forced her way into the negative space of the third car they considered. Jesse pushed in close behind the woman she’d been following, her body pressed against both the blonde and another, larger woman behind her. She would be all but invisible between them, uncomfortable as the position might be.
They rode the Yellow Line up to the Chinatown station. There she left the trio and joined a new couple, two women who could have been secretaries or librarians in their buttoned-up blouses and cat-framed eyeglasses. They rode the Green Line together up to the Shaw-Howard station, Jesse’s head cocked in the direction of the shorter brunette, pretending to be absorbed in a story about last weekend’s wedding reception that hadn’t included an open bar, of all the nerve. Mid-story, she left the secretaries on the train and melted into the crowd exiting the Metro. She did a quick U-turn through the densely packed ladies’ room and then joined the crowd heading down to the tracks for the next train. Timing would be everything now. She wouldn’t be able to hide inside the herd.
The shrill wail of the approaching train had Jesse’s heart bouncing up into her throat. She braced herself; it felt like she was a sprinter crouched at the blocks, waiting for the gun to fire. Then she shuddered at the metaphor in her head – it was only too possible that a gun was actually about to fire, but this one would have real bullets and wouldn’t be aimed at the sky.
The train shrieked to a stop, and she was on the move.
Jesse power-walked down the line of cars, elbowing through the flow of passengers as the doors whooshed open. Scanning as fast as she could, she searched for the tall frame with the floppy hair. There were so many bodies ducking past her, blocking her view. She tried to put a mental X through every head that didn’t match. Was she moving too quickly? Not quickly enough? The train was leaving by the time she got to the last car, and she couldn’t be positive he wasn’t on it, but she didn’t think he was. By her calculations of his last two arrivals, he was most likely on the next train. She bit her lip as the doors closed. If she’d blown this one, she’d have to try again on his next trip. She didn’t want to have to do that. The closer the time got to Carston’s plan being put into action, the more dangerous this would be.
Rather than linger in plain sight, she continued briskly toward the exit.
She did another circuit through the restroom, wasting a little time pretending to check the makeup she wasn’t wearing. After counting to ninety in her head, she rejoined the stream of commuters on their way to the tracks.
It was even more crowded now. Jesse chose a spot close to a group of suited men at the far end of the platform and tried to blend in with the black fabric of their jackets. The men were talking about stocks and trades, things that seemed so far from Jesse’s life that they might as well have been science fiction. The next train was announced and she got ready to walk and scan again. She stepped around the traders and examined the first car as it came to a stop.
Moving fast, Jesse’s eyes ran through the next car. Woman, woman, old man, too short, too fat, too dark, no hair, woman, woman, kid, blond… The next car -
It was like he was helping her, like he was on her side. He was right beside the window, looking out, standing tall, with the wavy hair very much in evidence.
Jesse gave the rest of the occupants a quick once-over as she walked toward the open doors. Many business types – any one of them could have been hired by the department. But there were no obvious tells, no extra-wide shoulders that didn’t quite fit into normal-size suit coats, no earpieces, no bulges under the jackets, no eye contact between riders. No one wore sunglasses.