Doesn't that strike you as curious?'
'Suspicious as hell,' he allowed.
'Does it trigger anything in your memory? Anything at all that you haven't told me yet?'
He searched his brain, desperately trying to think of one time, however many years ago, when his father might have mentioned De Septio. But no, there hadn't been a time. Not once. He shook his head no. She seemed disappointed.
She glanced to her left. Then quickly to her right.
'Did you come alone?' she asked, looking back to him.
'Of course.'
'We're not alone now.'
And they weren't. Naturally it was Leslie who'd been the one to notice.
'Walk with me,' she said.
'How did you get here?'
'By car.'
'I'll get us out of here' she said.
'Then you lead us to your car.'
There were two men again, but different men this time. Different from at the Anspacher Gallery, one in each direction. One seemed like an older man; he walked as a man in his seventies might. Lean, intent, shadowed by the overhead lights. The other was thick, wrapped in a bulky parka and hood, but wore a beard which for a fleeting second Thomas thought he'd recognized.
But no, it would be impossible.
She pulled at his arm and steered the two of them toward the lean older man. The wind was whipping into their faces, lessening Thomas's chances of seeing either man clearly. He only knew he wanted to be out of there. Whom had they followed, he wondered, him or her?
Nearing the lean man, Thomas kept his head down. The man's hat remained a cover for his face. Then, as Thomas was about to look up at the man, she yanked his arm and pulled him.
'Come on! Run!' she yelled.
She sprinted ahead of him and he followed. He was aware only of the fact that the tall man didn't run and the shorter, thicker one with the beard did.
Thomas could hear the footsteps becoming more distant. She led them up an exit from the Promenade and onto Columbia Heights.
There he yanked her hand and pulled her to the left toward his car two blocks away.
They sprinted the two blocks, turning down the block at Pineapple. They heard the running footsteps behind them. The windy street was otherwise quiet. As they ran and as they panted from the sprint, the cold air seared their lungs. – 'Hurry, hurry,' she said quietly. He motioned toward his car.
He fumbled a key with his hands. He pulled his glove off to get a better grip. But his fingers were so cold that they were almost numb.
The metal key didn't wish to obey any more than the fingers did.
He tried to force it into the lock on the door.
At first it wouldn't turn. The lock was frozen.
Hurry!' she said again, an excited, shrill whisper.
The door opened. She climbed in quickly, turned, and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from going to the driver's side.
– No time!' she snapped.
'Get in! Get down!'
Again, she knew the tricks as well as, if not better than, her pursuer.
She pulled him onto the front seat and continued to instruct him.
'Down,' she said excitedly.
'Stay down!'
She slid her own body down beneath the steering wheel. He held himself in the leg room on the passenger side of the front seat. The street was dim, shadowy.
'It's too late to try to drive' she explained.
'He'll have to be tricked into thinking he's lost us.'
'Who is he?' he asked.
She put a finger upraised to her lips to silence him. He stayed perfectly still, listening, wondering, feeling his heart pounding and thinking that there was no way he'd ever catch his breath. The car was worse than freezing. It was an icebox. He fought back the urge to cough as he panted for the frozen air.
The bearded man stood on the corner, confused and baffled. He knew the direction the man and woman had gone. He also knew they were out of sight.
Turned another corner? he wondered. Escaped into a hou@.
There were low fences on the block. The man started walking down Pineapple Street toward Thomas's car, holding something ominous in a hand beneath his coat.
He approached the car, close enough so that the shadow from his head and hat fell across the interior of the car. No more than three or four yards away; the light came from a street-level apartment window.
He stopped.
Thomas thought his heart would stop, too. He saw the shadow moving. He glanced at Leslie, almost afraid that the movement of his eyes would be too loud. Her face was intense, studying the situation and deciding what their next move would be.
Their move, Thomas thought. Did they have one? Did she have one?
Thomas knew he didn't.
The gunman turned toward the car, his hand beneath his overcoat.
All he had to do was look down.
The shadow approached. We're screwed, Thomas thought.
Within his gloves, his hands were soaking wet.
The gunman turned completely, examining windows and fences and gates.
Not a movement on the street. Nothing. Then two teenagers appeared at the end of the block on the other side of Pineapple Street.
The gunman began to move. He walked back toward the Promenade, slowly examining the situation.
Leslie allowed a minute to pass. Then slowly she raised her head, looking in each direction. Thomas watched her, marveling at her composure. She held a hand to him to indicate not to move.
'Not yet, not yet;' she said.
More seconds passed. She was convinced the man had drifted a safe distance from the block. 'We can't make a mistake' she said.
'If he sees you pulling out he'll shoot your tires out.'
'Terrific'' mumbled Thomas.
'All right,' she said.
'Quickly.'
They switched positions in the car, Thomas climbing into the driver's seat and pushing the key at the ignition slot until it slipped in.
Then he turned the key, waiting several long, painful seconds until the engine laboriously turned over. He stared in the rearview mirror the entire time, waiting for the bulky man in the overcoat to reappear.
He gunned the engine.
'Where to?' he asked.
He backed the car jerkily until it touched the car behind him.
Then nervously he allowed the front fender to scrape the car parked ahead of him. He pulled out.
She seemed to consider the question.
'My place;' she said.
'Yours?' He had never seen it, nor ever had any indication where it was.
We'll have to' she said.
