loud and clear: You'd best take care of that woman, mister.
I walked up to Rachel, who looked oddly at me. 'Was she referring to something anatomical?'
'I'll tell you later.' I took hold of Rachel's arm and led her out of the store.
'I didn't know there was a mall here,' she said. 'Can we get some clothes?'
'Not here. I don't really see the kind of place we need. We want one big department store that carries everything.'
'Maybe on the upper level?'
'Not here,' I insisted.
As I led her back toward the main entrance, a D.C. cop walked past us. My heart flew into my throat. I was sure he had started a double take just as we passed. I wanted to turn and check, but I didn't dare.
'What's the matter?' Rachel asked, sensing my ten¬sion.
'I think they're looking for us here.'
'Of course they are.'
'I mean publicly. I think that cop just recognized me.'
She started to turn, but I shook my head hard enough to stop her.
'You mean it's not just the NSA anymore,' she said.
'I'm afraid not. Stay beside me, and be ready to run.'
We passed a tree growing from a huge planter in the middle of the floor. I pulled Rachel behind it and looked back from cover. The cop was walking in our footsteps and craning his neck, trying to see around the planter. He was also speaking into a collar radio.
'We're blown,' I said. 'Come on!'
CHAPTER 26
I grabbed Rachel's hand and doubled my walking speed. Instead of making for the main entrance, I veered toward a staircase that swept up to the next level, using the crowd for concealment.
'Up?' Rachel asked, pointing at the stairs.
'No.' My goal was the trains. I moved toward the ticketing area to our left, but a female voice over the PA stopped me.
'Attention, all travelers. Attention. All incoming and outgoing trains will be stopped immediately for mainte¬nance reasons. Please remain on the platforms, and we will issue further bulletins as we have more information. Thank you for your patience.'
Adrenaline flushed through my body. The announcer was repeating the message in Spanish.
'Back to the stairs,' I said, reversing direction.
'Up or down?'
'Up!'
We took the steps two at a time. On the next floor, I leaned far enough over the rail to see the cop who had spotted us. He was still on the main floor, trying to decide which way we had gone. He looked up, shielding his eyes against the lights, then started toward the stairs.
'Why did they stop the trains?' Rachel asked.
'Us.'
'They're shutting down all the trains in Union Station to find us?'
'Attention, please,' said the PA announcer. 'The police have asked that all shoppers and travelers move in a calm and methodical way to the exits. We apologize for this inconvenience. There is no danger of any kind to per¬sons or property. You may pay for your purchases, but we ask that you move to the exits as soon as possible. Thank you.'
I could see the effort it was taking for Rachel to stay calm.
'We're not going to get out, are we?' she asked.
I looked over the balcony rail again. The cop was try¬ing to decide whether to come up or go down. 'They must have triggered some sort of terrorist alert. That's the only way you could evacuate this place. There could be a hundred cops surrounding the building.'
Rachel looked along the mezzanine. Clusters of peo¬ple were hurrying toward us. We stepped away from the stairs and let them pass.
The cop below moved toward the ticketing area and spoke into his collar radio again.
'We've got two choices. One, we change our appear¬ance and try to get out with the crowd.'
'Change our appearance how?'
'Go into a store and put on all black clothes, maybe. Find some scissors and cut off your hair. Mousse mine up. Try to look ten years younger.'
Rachel didn't look encouraged. 'That'll get us nailed in the airport. We won't match our passport photos.'
'You're right. Then we do the simple thing. Go into the back of a store, find a couple of big cardboard boxes, and hide in them until all this dies down.'
'Simple is good.'
'But the police might bring dogs.'
'God.'
'Come on,' I said, suddenly sure what to do.
I ran down the curved staircase, watching for police uniforms. I'd seen a marquee for a theater on our way in, and from the station's layout, I guessed it was on the lower level. The staircase terminated in a food court. People were rushing to finish their meals, anxiety on their faces. Through a jumble of orange and yellow chairs I saw a line of moviegoers filing out of the theater doors.
'Where are we going?' Rachel asked.
'The cinema.'
'They're evacuating it.'
As we moved toward the theater entrance, a section of wall opened about ten yards in front of us, and a frightened-looking young couple walked out, squinting their eyes. Before the tire door's spring could pull it closed, I darted forward and blocked it with my foot.
The houselights were on in the theater, but the seats were empty. Up the sloping floor to my left, a man in a sport jacket was ushering the last moviegoers up the cen¬ter aisle toward the main exit. To my right, a ten-foot- tall Hugh Grant walked dejectedly along a London street, his hands in his pockets. Rachel leaned against my back.
'What's in there?'
I pulled the door open wide enough for us to slip through, then lifted the bottom of the heavy red curtain that ran along the wall and let it fall over us. We flattened ourselves against the wall and separated, so as to fit more naturally into the billow of the fabric. I could no longer see Rachel, but I realized with surprise that we were holding hands. The instinct was as primitive as that of two Neanderthals comforting each other against a cave wall.
'Why here?' she asked. 'Why not the back of a store?'
In my mind's eye, I saw police converging on our stolen truck.
'Dogs,' Rachel whispered. 'A minute ago, this room was full of sweating people. Different scents. Not like the stockroom of some store.'
'Right.' The soundtrack of the movie died with a groan. I expected to hear voices, but none came. Fifteen minutes passed. Twenty. Rachel clung to my sweating hand. As I wiped perspiration from my forehead, a male voice penetrated the curtain.
'I got the center aisle!'
Rachel's hand clenched mine.
Police radio chatter echoed through the theater.
'Okay,' called a second man. 'I'll shine my light under the seats.'
The men didn't worry me much, but the rapid pant¬ing that followed nearly stopped my heart. I might soon
