Cronski hadn’t been with Holdren back in the cold war days and had moved into the agency from the CIA only five years ago. Holdren’s sources said Cronski made the lateral transfer to avoid being fired over some screw up in the Balkans.
He shut down the computer without replying to the message and closed his case. Returning the cross to his neck, he went into the bathroom.
The sight of his reflection’s bandaged nose made him frown again. “Keep her alive. Well, he didn’t say in what condition.”
CHAPTER 7
The fog was thicker near the water, and she almost missed the turnoff to Fisherman’s Wharf. She pulled the taxi onto a side street and parked it in front of a closed business near the mariner’s museum.
She killed the engine and sat for a moment watching the street. It wasn’t deserted, but the few people she could see were on the next block and facing away from her. Caitlin opened the door. The interior light stayed out. Seeing the cabby’s body, she felt a wave of pity for him. She accepted her share of the responsibility for his death. Did he have a wife, children? She should see them and explain that he’d been killed trying to help her, but she had to wait, wait until she was safe.
Caitlin swung her legs from the seat and got out. Then she took a penlight from her purse, flicked it on, and played it around the front seat. On the floor, light glistened off metal. Leaning over, she picked up the small handgun that Holdren had mentioned.
Turning to rise, Caitlin found herself looking into the dead man’s open eyes. They were brown, but a third dark eye glistened wetly just above the bridge of his nose. Seconds passed before Caitlin could break away from his sightless stare.
She straightened and put the gun into her purse. His name. She should at least know his name. Her light played across the dash and lit a photo ID of Lucas Griffin.
“Thank you, Lucas.” She reached down and gently pressed his eyelids closed. When she pulled her fingers away, his eyes remained closed.
She’d better get moving. But first, she grabbed a crumpled hamburger wrapper from the floor and used it to wipe down the steering wheel and everything else she could remember touching.
Except for Lucas’ eyes. She stared at the wrapper and at Lucas. Then with her free hand, she softly ran her fingertips across his lids, smearing whatever fingerprints she might have left.
Getting out of the cab, Caitlin pushed the door shut, and then wiped off the handle.
She looked up and down the street. Seeing no one, she turned toward the wharf and started walking. At the corner, she dropped the hamburger wrapper into a trash can before crossing the street.
A few minutes later, she reached the wharf. There was a small crowd, but nothing like what she’d seen on more pleasant nights. She stopped under a street lamp and eyed her reflection in a storefront window. Her blouse and jacket were rumpled, and a twig clung to her hair. Both of her knees looked like she had been crawling through grass. She plucked the twig from her hair, took a brush from her purse, and ran it through her hair a few times. As always, it fell back into place with a minimum of fuss.
Her pantyhose proved more difficult. Caitlin walked back up the street to the next corner and went around it. The side street was deserted, for the moment. After making sure no one could see her, Caitlin pulled up her skirt and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pantyhose. She stripped them down to her ankles in one clean motion, then stepped out of one shoe at a time and pulled the pantyhose off. Wadding them into a small ball, she wiped them across her knees several times, and then stuffed them into her purse before slipping her shoes back on.
She stopped in front of the window again. The marks on her knees were nearly gone. Caitlin brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt with the back of her hand then headed across the street. Her bare feet stuck to the bottom of her shoes then pulled loose with each step. At the entrance to Alliotto’s she hesitated, turned to look around once more. No one appeared to be interested in her. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Caitlin went inside.
The hostess, a strikingly beautiful, fiftyish woman, eyed her softly as she approached. “Good evening. Will you be dining?”
“Yes, but I need to make a stop first. Where’s the ladies’ room?”
The hostess nodded her head. “That way, miss.”
“Thank you.”
In the empty ladies’ room, she used the first stall, and then went to the sink. The mirror’s clear reflection revealed more flaws than the storefront window had. She wet a paper towel and washed her face and legs. Then she opened her purse and removed her makeup case. It held the basics, mascara, lipstick, and powder. Caitlin used each sparingly, and then eyed her reflection one more time. Much better, not perfect, but much better.
She put everything back in her purse and went out to meet the hostess. The older woman gave her an approving smile.
“Right this way.” Carrying a menu, she led Caitlin to a table next to the window and pulled a chair out for her.
“May I send a waitress over with a before dinner drink?” She held out the menu as Caitlin sat.
“Yes, please, a brandy Manhattan, with olives. Ah, make it a double.”
Caitlin felt uncomfortable ordering a double, but she needed to calm down as much or more than she needed to keep her wits about her.
The hostess nodded and moved away.
