"Send him a message he needs to come to the front desk," Martinez yelled.
"Give me a pass-card for the door," Taft said. Grabbing the card from the clerks hand, he raced away. "Larry, watch the elevator, I'm taking the stairs," Taft shouted over his shoulder.
As soon as the message to come to the front desk popped up on the television screen, Tsing felt uneasy. Paranoia was common to the Asian and giving in to it had so far kept him alive. Sliding open the glass door leading to the balcony, he climbed over the railing, then hanging from the lower rung, dropped to the pool deck. Three minutes later, when Taft burst into the room, the drapes bordering the sliding glass door were blowing in a slight breeze.
Tsing made his way through the service kitchen and out through a side door leading to the front of the hotel just as Taft came out of the stairway.
"You see anything, Larry?" he asked Martinez, who stood at the bank of elevators.
"Nothing, man," said Martinez. Taft's eyes swept through the lobby and beyond. Just outside the lobby, a man came around the building unwrapping a pack of Camel cigarettes. Taft watched as he quickly walked to the lead cab. Black hair, around six feet tall, he paused at the door of the cab and lit a cigarette, pinching the filter between his fingers. He was scowling and seemed to bark his instructions to the cabbie. And he was obviously Asian.
Taft walked through the lobby toward the front doors, still scanning the crowd. He moved slowly at first, then gained speed until he was trotting. He burst through the front doors just as the cab carrying Tsing was pulling away. Martinez stayed at the bank of elevators and lost sight of Taft in the mass of people.
Taft turned to the doorman. "Quick, I need a cab," he shouted. The doorman signaled one from the line farther down the asphalt drive.
"Tell the Hispanic man at the elevators that I'm following the target. He'll know what you mean," Taft shouted as he opened the door of the cab.
"Sir, I can't leave my station," the doorman said. Taft jumped into the cab and yelled back, "Well, find someone else to do it, then. Just get it done." Inside the cab the turban-clad cab driver swiveled in his seat and looked back.
"Hello, sir, where can I take you today?" he asked. "You're not going to believe this, but — follow that cab," Taft said.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear those words," the cabbie shouted as he slid the car swiftly into gear and sped out of the hotel s driveway. Taft's cab followed several blocks behind the cab containing Tsing. They raced through traffic around the side of the harbor. The cab in the lead stayed ahead, but still in sight. As Taft's cab closed to within a block they were caught behind a stopped school bus. For the first time he lost sight of the other cab. Taft sat fuming in the back. "We're going to lose them," he said angrily. "Sorry, sir," the Indian said worriedly. But after a second's pause he shouted, "Wait, I have idea," and, grabbing the radio microphone, he said, "All cabs of Patek Cab Company, please follow the Diamond Cab going south on Hancock Road."
The radio erupted with cab drivers' voices.
"Okay, I'll follow," said a voice on the radio.
"Yeah, okay," a second voice shouted.
"I see him, he turned on the road to the train station. I'll follow him," said a third voice.
"Yep, I see him," said a fourth voice.
Nearly half a dozen cabs began trailing the Diamond Cab — so much for the idea of any secrecy. The subject of the chase sat in his cab smoking and looking out the window at the scenery, oblivious to the commotion. Arriving at the station just in time for his departure, he checked his bags with the porter at the rail siding and immediately boarded the waiting train.
The first cab driver arrived at the station and spotted the man leaving the Diamond Cab and getting on the train. He parked his cab and waited on the siding as the train conductor gave the boarding call.
Taft sat in the back of his cab, waiting behind the school bus. "Now," he said to his driver as the school bus retracted its stop sign.
Over the radio in Taft's cab one of the other drivers said, "He is at train station." The Indian driver grinned at Taft. "Wait until I tell my friends about this. This is like out of a movie." He laughed as he steered the Chevrolet toward the train station. The Chinese agent, Chou Tsing, was oblivious he was being followed. He settled himself comfortably in his seat on the train and began reading the magazine he had brought with him.
Taft's cab pulled into a parking spot in front of the station, and he jumped from the cab to see the train receding down the tracks. Racing back to his cab, Taft passed out money to the group of cabbies who had trailed the Diamond Cab.
"Do you know where the train tracks lead?" Taft shouted to his driver as the last cabbie was paid.
"Yes," the man said excitedly.
"Then follow the train," Taft said, climbing back into the cab.
"Sounds good," the Indian cab driver said as he roared away from the station. They were cruising down the road at a high rate of speed when Taft said, "Pull up to a pay phone — I have to make a call."
"Okay," the cabbie said as he slammed on the brakes and pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store.
Taft dialed Martinez's portable phone. "Larry, it's me. I'm calling from a pay phone. My cell phone is in your car," Taft said. "Did you get my message?"
"I did," Martinez said, still in the lobby of the hotel.
"I think the guy we're looking for is on an Amtrak train heading south."
"I'll try to intercept you with the rental car," Martinez said.
"I'm staying on this guy, no matter what," Taft said quickly.
"Go for it," Martinez agreed. "Listen, I'll try to reach Amtrak and have the train stopped. Be extremely cautious how you approach the suspect — if it's him we want those papers intact if at all possible. What's your plan?"
"I'm not quite sure yet. Find an atlas that lists the train route as well as roads or highways," Taft said.
"Hold on," Martinez said as he spoke to the clerk. "Here we go, the front desk has an atlas. What do you need?" Martinez asked.
"Where does the train go under Highway 3?" Taft asked.
"You planning on jumping, John?" Martinez said, his voice sounding surprised.
"That'll be twice in one week."
"Just like 'Perils of Pauline,'" Taft noted.
"There's a spot just outside Milton where the train has to slow for some curves — at least according to this map."
Taft wrote down the directions, reached through the open window of the cab, and marked them on the cabbie's map. "Take me here."
"You got it," the cabbie shouted.
"I'll call you when I can," Taft said to Martinez as he hung up the pay phone.
"I'm headed toward you," Martinez said into a now-dead phone line. As the cab carrying Taft raced toward Milton, they caught sight of the train. Little by little, the cab began to pull ahead. Racing down Highway 3, the driver began to panic.
"It's going to be close," he worried aloud.
Just outside Milton, Taft looked again at the cab driver's map, then gave him the final directions to the bridge. In the distance, the train was fast approaching. From his wallet Taft removed a hundred-dollar bill and handed it across the seat to the cabbie. "Good job."
"Thank you, sir," the cabbie said.
The train was starting under the bridge.
Taft leapt from the cab as it slid to a stop. He was standing next to the open side window of the cab, staring at the approaching train. He estimated the train was going no more than twenty-five miles an hour as it came around the curve. Carefully Taft began timing his jump.
"Wait," the cabbie said, "I have a receipt for you."
"That's okay," Taft said, rocking back and forth as he prepared for his jump.
"Okay, but sir, if I may ask — who are you?" the cab driver asked politely.