Whistleblower

Quietly she set the kazoo down on the table.

Outside, a delivery truck roared past. It was 5:00 a.m.; the city was stirring.

'Well, folks,' said Polowski, slapping down a dollar tip.

'We got a hotshot reporter to roust outta bed. And then you and I—' he looked at Victor '—have a few deliveries to make. When's United leave for New Haven?'

'At ten-fifteen,' said Victor.

'Okay. I'll buy you the plane tickets. In the meantime, you see if you can't grow yourself a new mustache or something.' Polowski glanced at Cathy. 'You're going with him, right?'

'No,' she said, looking at Victor.

She was hoping for a reaction, any reaction. What she saw was a look of relief. And, strangely, resignation.

He didn't try to change her mind. He simply asked, 'Where will you be going?'

She shrugged. 'Maybe I should stick to our original plan. You know, head south. Hang out with Jack for a while. What do you think?'

It was his chance to stop her. His chance to say, No, I want you around. I won't let you leave, not now, not ever. If he really loved her, that's exactly what he would say.

Her heart sank when he simply nodded and said, 'I think it's a good idea.'

She blinked back the tears before anyone could see them. With an indifferent smile she looked at Ollie. 'So I guess I'll need a ride. When are you and Milo heading home?'

'Right now, I guess,' said Ollie, looking bewildered. 'Seeing as our job's pretty much done.'

'Can I hitch along? I'll catch the bus at Palo Alto.'

'No problem. In fact, you can sit in the honored front seat.'

'Long as you don't let her behind the wheel,' grumbled Milo. 'I want a nice, quiet drive home if you don't mind.'

Polowski rose to his feet. 'Then we're all set. Everyone's got a place to go. Let's do it.'

Outside, on a street rumbling with early-morning traffic, with their friends standing only a few yards away, Cathy and Victor said their goodbyes. It wasn't the place for sentimental farewells. Perhaps that was all for the best. At least she could leave with some trace of dignity. At least she could avoid hearing, from his lips, the brutal truth. She would simply walk away and hold on to the fantasy that he loved her. That in their brief time together she'd managed to work her way, just a little, into his heart.

'You'll be all right?' he asked.

'I'll be fine. And you?'

'I'll manage.' He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked off at a bus idling near the corner. 'I'll miss you,' he said. 'But I know it doesn't make sense for us to be together. Not under the circumstances.'

I would stay with you, she thought. Under any circumstances. If I only knew you wanted me.

'Anyway,' he said with a sigh, 'I'll let you know when things are safe again. When you can come home.'

'And then?'

'And then we'll take it from there,' he said softly.

They kissed, a clumsy, polite kiss, all the more hurried because they knew their friends were watching. There was no passion here, only the cool, dry lips of a man saying goodbye. As they pulled apart, she saw his face blur away through the tears.

'Take care of yourself, Victor,' she said. Then, shoulders squared, she turned and walked toward Ollie and Milo.

'Is that it?' asked Ollie.

'That's it.' Brusquely she rubbed her hand across her eyes. 'I'm ready to go.'

'Tell me about Lily,' she said.

The first light of dawn was already streaking the sky as they drove past the boxy row homes of Pacifica, past the cliffs where sea waves crashed and gulls swooped and dove.

Ollie, his gaze on the road, asked: 'What do you want to know?'

'What kind of woman was she?'

'She was a nice person,' said Ollie. 'And brainy. Though she never went out of her way to impress people, she was probably the smartest one of all of us. Definitely brighter than Milo.'

'And a lot better-looking than Ollie,' piped a voice from the backseat.

'A real kind, real decent woman. When she and Gersh got married, I remember thinking, 'he's got himself a saint.'' He glanced at Cathy, suddenly noticing her silence. 'Of course,' he added quickly, 'not every man wants a saint. I know I'd be happier with a lady who can be a little goofy.' He flashed Cathy a grin. 'Someone who might, say, crash a van through an electrified fence, just for kicks.'

It was a sweet thing to say, a comment designed to lift her spirits. It couldn't take the edge off her pain.

She settled back and watched dawn lighten the sky. How she needed to get away! She thought about Mexico, about warm water and hot sand and the tang of fresh fish and lime. She would throw herself into working on that new film. Of course, Jack would be on the set, Jack with his latest sweetie pie in tow, but she could handle that now. Jack would never be able to hurt her again. She was beyond that now, beyond being hurt by any man.

The drive to Milo's house seemed endless.

When at last they pulled up in the driveway, the dawn had already blossomed into a bright, cold morning. Milo climbed out and stood blinking in the sunshine.

'So, guys,' he said through the car window. 'Guess here's where we go our separate ways.' He looked at Cathy. 'Mexico, right?' She nodded. 'Puerto Vallarta. What about you?'

'I'm gonna catch up with Ma in Florida. Maybe get a load of Disney World. Wanna come, Ollie?'

'Some other time. I'm going to go get some sleep.'

'Don't know what you're missing. Well, it's been some adventure. I'm almost sorry it's over.' Milo turned and headed up the walk to his house. On the front porch he waved and yelled, 'See you around!' Then he vanished through the front door.

Ollie laughed. 'Milo and his ma, together? Disney World'll never be the same.' He reached for the ignition. 'Next stop, the bus station. I've got just enough gas to get us there and—'

He didn't get a chance to turn the key.

A gun barrel was thrust in the open car window. It came to rest squarely against Ollie's temple.

'Get out, Dr. Wozniak,' said a voice.

Ollie's reply came out in a bare croak. 'What—what do you want?'

'Do it now.' The click of the hammer being cocked was all the coaxing Ollie needed.

'Okay, okay! I'm getting out!' Ollie scrambled out and backed away, his hands raised in surrender.

Cathy, too, started to climb out, but the gunman snapped, 'Not you! You stay inside.'

'Look,' said Ollie, 'You can have the damn car! You don't need her—'

'But I do. Tell Mr. Holland I'll be in contact. Regarding Ms. Weaver's future.' He went around and opened the passenger door. 'You, into the driver's seat!' he commanded her.

'No. Please—'

The gun barrel dug into her neck. 'Need I ask again?'

Trembling, she moved behind the wheel. Her knee brushed the car keys, still dangling from the ignition. The man slid in beside her. Though the gun barrel was still thrust against her neck, it was the man's eyes she focused on. They were black, fathomless. If any spark of humanity lurked in those depths, she couldn't see it.

'Start the engine,' he said.

'Where—where are we going?'

'For a drive. Somewhere scenic.'

Her thoughts were racing, seeking some means of escape, but she came up with nothing. That gun was