Runner

bodyguards living with him who were even scarier than the customers. One of them killed him.'

'That's awful.'

'I can't say I was surprised. If you pay people to be willing to kill, then you're surrounded by people who are willing to kill for money. You have money. It's a built-in problem. But don't worry. He and his bodyguards have been gone for years.'

'Are there a lot of people like that here?'

'There aren't a lot like that anywhere. One reason he set up his business here was that there wasn't a lot of crime. It kept him safe, it made his customers—some of whom were carrying a lot of cash—safe, and drew very little attention. And, as I said, they're all long gone.'

'Is this where you would stay if it were you?'

'The right place for you depends on lots of things. Settling in an apartment in a quiet neighborhood anywhere is better than being on the run. Minneapolis is a place you've never been to before, right?'

'Yes.'

'And it's not the sort of place a San Diego girl usually would pick, because it sounds alien to people from Southern California.'

'But is it the place you'd pick for yourself?'

'Probably not. I've been here too often. And it's not as much of a stretch of the imagination to see me living happily in a cold place. I've lived in this latitude, and I've seen winters. I can't say what city is the best for you, but I know this won't be the first place they'd look.'

'I'll stay here.'

Jane found them a hotel in Minneapolis. It wasn't as luxurious as the one in Madison, but it was a big hotel that was part of a chain, and it was comfortable. When the desk clerk asked how long they'd be staying, Jane said, 'Five days.' He said, 'Tonight through...' and Jane answered, 'Monday the first. We'll check out on the second.' She bought a newspaper on the way to their hotel room.

When they were in the new room, Jane took out the classified section and began circling the ads for apartments. Christine stood behind her for a few seconds, looking over her shoulder.

'Uh ... Jane?'

'Hmmm?'

'Those are all expensive. I never had very much money, and I spent a lot of what I had just finding my way to you in Buffalo. I have to get a cheap one I can pay for when I find a job.'

Jane didn't look up. 'Don't think about that.'

'But I have to.'

'Surely you must realize that when people come to me, most of them haven't had time to plan ahead and save up for the trip. Some don't have time to pack, and some don't even have time to dress.'

'Like me.'

'Like you. I'll get you what you need.'

'How do I pay you back? And what about your fee?'

Jane closed the section of newspaper and looked into Christine's eyes. 'I don't charge a fee for helping someone who's in mortal danger, or for anything else. I'm doing this for the reasons I've always done it—because it's what you need, and because I can. When I think you're safe, I'll go home. I won't communicate with you again, and you should forget about me unless you think you've been found.'

'Can't I send you something later? I want to.'

'No. Sending me anything would only give your enemies one extra chance to trace you, and endanger me, too. When I started doing this, sometimes people I had helped sent me presents—birth certificates, guns, money —mostly money. In a few cases it was a lot of money. I never used much of it, so it grew. So now the fund I've always kept for travel has grown big enough to make me uncomfortable. You're my last runner. I won't be needing it for somebody who shows up at my door next week.'

'Then what can I do for you?'

Jane shrugged. 'You've come along too late for that. There's not much that you can do that will help me. I would like you to concentrate for the moment on being safe and having a nice life. That would mean my effort didn't go to waste. Then someday, do something for somebody else.'

'You mean some innocent victim. That's who you've helped, right?'

'Not everyone who wants to disappear is a victim, and very few are innocent. All I can say is none of them deserved to die.' She opened the classified ads again to signify that the topic was closed.

She didn't have enough patience to try to explain to Christine the proper way to think about money. Among the old people, a person's status had never been determined by how much wealth he could accumulate, but how much he brought back to give away. The way that the first white visitors learned to identify the most powerful Seneca leaders was to look for the men who seemed to be poorest.

Christine whispered, 'Damn.' She got up and began to walk toward the bathroom.

'What's wrong?'

Before she closed the door she said, 'Morning sickness. And this time it's not even morning.'

9

Linda Welles moved into one of the two front apartments on the second floor of a nearly new building that had eight units. Christine was now getting used to calling herself Linda Welles, because she'd had to use the name so many times. Jane had needed to take her to a bank to open an account before she could write a check for the security deposit and two months' rent. Jane presented herself as Linda's sister, who was helping her get settled. The bank gave Linda a debit card and a pile of brochures about mortgages, car loans, and other services.

They bought a few pieces of furniture and a television set and arranged to have them delivered on the first of the month. Jane was very patient as Linda chose pictures, rugs, sheets and blankets, and other furnishings because she knew that those things would help make the apartment feel good to her. Jane had done all of this many times before, and she allocated days for each of the tasks they had to complete.

There was one day to find a car for Linda. Jane picked out a four-year-old Volkswagen Passat station wagon. 'This is just about right. You don't want a new car. The people who are looking for you will expect a rental, and they're all new. This has the look of something you've been driving a while, which is good. We'll take it to a glass shop and have the side windows tinted a bit so you're hard to see from outside.'

There was another day to shop at the Mall of America for clothes and incidentals for Linda and the baby. That was harder for Jane, but she was careful to keep it from Linda. Jane made sure that the pregnancy clothes would be big enough for the final months. She also made sure that Linda picked out fashionable clothes that would fit after the baby was born. If Linda could keep herself optimistic and cheerful, she would have a better chance.

They spent another morning finding baby furniture and accessories, and an afternoon assembling the crib and the changing table in the spare bedroom of the new apartment. In the evening Jane came out of the spare room with a bag.

'What's in the bag?'

'Women's magazines.'

'That's nice.'

'It's another chore. I want you to look at the pictures of models in these. You want a hairstyle that's different from the one you have now. Pick one out. When you've found one, we're going to take the magazines with us to a good stylist, and get your hair done.'

'Do you really think that's necessary?'

'Any change is helpful. I know they got photographs of you from Richard Beale. We don't want them to be able to show the pictures to people, say, 'Have you seen this girl?' and find you. Anything you can do that will make you different from the girl you were could save you. Normally, I would want you to dye your hair, too, but I'm not sure the chemicals are a good idea for a pregnant woman. Pick a style you like, or you won't be able to stand it for long.'

'Okay.' Linda took the magazines and began to look through them. After a few minutes of browsing, she said, 'This is actually sort of fun. What will Linda Welles look like? A hippo, of course, but maybe a stunning hippo.'