Whistleblower

'Did they see you?'

'No. I mean, yes, but they didn't seem to care—'

'Are you sure?' She nodded. He turned and slapped the wall in frustration. 'What the hell do we do now?'

'I have the tickets.'

'We can't use them.'

'How are we going to get out of town? Hitchhike? Victor, we're down to our last five dollars!'

'They'll be watching every bus that leaves. And they've got my face plastered all over the damn terminal!' He slumped back against the wall and groaned. 'Have you seen this man? God, I looked like some two-bit gangster.'

'It wasn't the most flattering photo.'

He managed to laugh. ' 'Have you ever seen a flattering wanted poster?'

She leaned back beside him, against the wall. 'We've got to get out of this city, Victor.'

'Amend that. You've got to get out.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'The police aren't looking for you. So you take that bus to Palo Alto. I'll put you in touch with some old friends. They'll see you make it somewhere safe.'

'No.'

'Cathy, they've probably got my mug posted in every airport and car rental agency in town! We've spent almost all our money for those bus tickets. I say you use them!'

'I'm not leaving you.'

'You don't have a choice.'

'Yes I do. I choose to stick to you like glue. Because you're the only one I feel safe with. The only one I can count on!'

'I can move faster on my own. Without you slowing me down.' He looked off, toward the street. 'Hell, I don't even want you around.'

'I don't believe that.'

'Why should I care what you believe?'

'Look at me! Look at me and say that!' She grabbed his arm, willing him to face her. 'Say you don't want me around!'

He started to speak, to repeat the lie. She knew then that it was a lie; she could see it in his eyes. And she saw something else in that gaze, something that took her breath away.

He said, 'I don't—I won't have you—'

She just stood there, looking up at him, waiting for the truth to come.

What she didn't expect was the kiss. She never remembered how it happened. She only knew that all at once his arms were around her and she was being swept up into some warm and safe and wonderful place. It started as an embrace more of desperation than passion, a coming together of two terrified people. But the instant their lips met, it became something much more. This went beyond fear, beyond need. This was a souls' joining, one that wouldn't be broken, even after this embrace was over, even if they never touched again.

When at last they drew apart and stared at each other, the taste of him was still fresh on her lips.

'You see?' she whispered. 'I was right. You do want me around. You do.'

He smiled and touched her cheek. 'I'm not a very good liar.'

'And I'm not leaving you. You need me. You can't show your face, but I can! I can buy bus tickets, run errands—'

'What I really need,' he sighed, 'is a new face.' He glanced out at the street. 'Since there's no plastic surgeon handy, I suggest we hoof it over to the BART station. It'll be crowded at this hour. We might make it to the East Bay—'

'God, I'm such an idiot!' she groaned. 'A new face is exactly what you need!' She turned toward the street. 'Come on. There isn't much time....'

'Cathy?' He followed her up the alley. They both paused, scanning the street for policemen. There were none in sight. 'Where are we going?' he whispered.

'To find a phone booth.'

'Oh. And who are we calling?'

She turned and the look she gave him was distinctly pained. 'Someone we both know and love.'

Jack was packing his suitcase when the phone rang. He considered not answering it, but something about the sound, an urgency that could only have been imagined, made him pick up the receiver. He was instantly sorry he had.

'Jack?'

He sighed. 'Tell me I'm hearing things.'

'Jack, I'm going to talk fast because your phone might be tapped—'

'You don't say.'

'I need my kit. The whole shebang. And some cash. I swear I'll pay it all back. Get it for me right now. Then drop it off where we shot the last scene of Cretinoid. You know the spot.'

'Cathy, you wait a minute! I'm in trouble enough as it is!'

'One hour. That's all I can wait.'

'It's rush hour! I can't—'

'It's the last favor I'll ask of you.' There was a pause. Then, softly, she added, 'Please.'

He let out a breath. 'This is the absolute last time, right?'

'One hour, Jack. I'll be waiting.'

Jack hung up and stared at his suitcase. It was only half packed, but it would have to do. He sure as hell wasn't coming back here tonight.

He closed the suitcase and carried it out to the Jaguar. As he drove away it suddenly occurred to him that he'd forgotten to cancel his date with Lulu tonight.

No time now, he thought. I've got more important things on my mind—like getting out of town.

Lulu would be mad as a hornet, but he'd make it up to her. Maybe a pair of diamond ear studs. Yeah, that would do the trick.

Good old Lulu, so easy to please. Now there was a woman he could understand.

The corner of Fifth and Mission was a hunker-down, chew-the-fat sort of gathering place for the street folk. At five forty-five it was even busier than usual. Rumor had it the soup kitchen down the block was fixing to serve beef Bourguignonne, which, as those who remembered better days and better meals could tell you, was made with red wine. No one passed up the chance for a taste of the grape, even if every drop of alcohol was simmered clean out of it. And so they stood around on the corner, talking of other meals they'd had, of the weather, of the long lines at the unemployment office.

No one noticed the two wretched souls huddled in the doorway of the pawnshop.

Lucky for us, thought Cathy, burying herself in the folds of the raincoat. The sad truth was, they were both beginning to fit right into this crowd. Just a moment earlier she'd caught sight of her own reflection in the pawnshop window and had almost failed to recognize the disheveled image staring back. Has it been that long since I've combed my hair? That long since I've had a meal or a decent night's sleep?

Victor looked no better. A torn shirt and two days' worth of stubble on his jaw only emphasized that unmistakable look of exhaustion. He could walk into that soup kitchen down the block and no one would look twice.

He's going to look a hell of a lot worse when I get through with him, she thought