being childish. She had called for a cab and here it was—she glanced at her watch—and it was actually early. The rest was just her overheated imagination.
She stepped toward the back seat of the cab, but the man didn’t get out to open the door for her. He only waved his hand in a “get on with it” gesture. She pulled open the door, got in, and pulled it shut.
“I’d like to go to the airport, please.”
“I know,” he muttered irritably.
She began to regret calling a cab. It was a decision she had reached two days ago. She had made the call right away to reserve the cab, then repeated it this morning in case they forgot. She had meant to keep herself free and unencumbered this morning, but she could have driven her own car down there. A cab meant relinquishing control, and this driver was not very pleasant. At least the traffic would be light at this hour, so it wouldn’t take very long. She could collect her thoughts before she had to start being convincing.
The cab pulled away from the curb and moved down the street. A few seconds later, she noticed that the back of the driver’s head was easier to see, and then the mirror threw a bright reflection across his eyes. She saw him squint for a moment before he flipped the mirror up so the reflected glare was cast on the ceiling. Another car was behind them. She was surprised. She had not seen any car come off Colorado since the taxi had arrived, and she was almost sure she would have noticed if any of her neighbors had slammed a car door or started an engine in the silence.
The glow from behind did not go away, and ugly possibilities began to float into the front of her mind. She had heard that cab drivers who worked in the hours of darkness often got robbed. She had always imagined them being robbed because they were alone. But why wouldn’t a robber strike when there was a passenger in the car? Certainly he would get more money, and she couldn’t stop him. She looked at the back of the driver’s head. He must know that he was a potential victim, but he didn’t seem to be concerned. He did glance in the side mirror now and then, as though to verify that nothing had changed.
She waited for the driver to make the first turn, then another to head back toward Colorado, and looked behind. The car was still there. It had fallen back a bit, but it had not gone away. The driver turned again, and she waited. She counted to ten slowly, then extended it to twenty. The lights were visible again. Then it occurred to her that there was a reason why this might be happening, and she felt foolish for not thinking of it before. She worked for a big company in a competitive business. For over a year, she had been polite but aloof with her supervisors and colleagues. She had worked alone, developed her own leads, and pursued them. She had been earning commissions that were multiples of the ones other salespeople made. She had told her boss two days in advance that she would not be in today, because she was meeting a client. She had told him too much. She was amazed at herself for being surprised. Big companies spied on their employees all the time. Would it be so strange if the company had her followed?
She looked back. The car followed them onto the freeway entrance. “That car has been behind us a long time.”
The driver said, “Really? I didn’t notice.” He looked into the side mirror again and shrugged. “Probably a cop.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. It’s a compact car.”
He was silent for a few seconds. “A lot of times, people who aren’t sure where the airport is see a cab and follow. This time of day, you take a cab, that’s probably where you’re going.”
It made no sense to her. He seemed to think she was a fool, and that made her panicky. “I know it’s probably nothing, but it gives me the creeps. Can you please lose him?”
“How? We’re on a freeway!”
“I don’t know. Take an exit, then get back on, I guess. Nothing illegal or dangerous. I’ll give you an extra twenty.”
He looked behind, then pulled off the freeway at the next exit, went down the street a half block, and headed up the entrance ramp and back onto the freeway.
Ellen looked ahead for the car, then looked behind, and watched the ramp until the freeway curved and she could not see it anymore. No other car seemed to follow. She sat back and relaxed. “I think it worked.”
The car radio crackled and buzzed, and she could hear a man’s voice under the static. “Larry, where you at now?”
The driver lifted his microphone and held it so close to his mouth that Ellen could hear the amplified sound of his lips brushing it while he murmured, “Still on the One-ten south, heading for LAX.” He fiddled with a dial on the radio. There was a lot of squawking and crackling, so that Ellen couldn’t hear the dispatcher’s next words, but she heard the driver say, “Okay.”
She looked at the cars going nearly the same speed in the lane beside her, held there where she could study them. She was trying to see inside and speculate about who the passengers might be and where they were going. But in a moment the one she was staring at was slipping ahead, and the next two simply glided past. She looked over the driver’s shoulder. He was slowing, pulling onto a freeway exit.
“Where are we going?”
“Got to pick somebody else up on the way. One of our cars broke down, and the guy’s going to the airport too.”
She looked at the dim, ugly, unfamiliar street that had replaced the freeway. They were passing through an area that seemed to be nothing but small stores with iron grating across the doors and windows, and a few larger buildings that were old and seemed to have some industrial purpose. She knew that the car breaking down was a lie. Mechanical breakdowns were a code, a vague, almost tactful thing that people in the transportation business said to silence people they felt were not entitled to an explanation. “You know,” she began, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable with this. I don’t want to share the cab. Please take me to the airport, and come back for him.”
“No, I’m sorry,” said the man, mimicking her tone exactly. His voice turned sharp and angry. “I’m within a couple blocks of his place. This is a good customer. I can’t just stiff a regular customer for somebody I never saw before.”
She felt as though she had been slapped. She tried to think of a tactic that would work. If she said “Let me out,” it would mean marooning herself in this deserted industrial area alone before dawn. Probably the reason the regular customer had to be served was that few cabs ever came down here—might not even be willing to come. She was also a bit embarrassed because she had asked the driver to lose the car that had followed. She was aware that he already thought she was a stupid, hysterical woman. She sat in silence, trying to decide what to say, her eyes beginning to water.
The driver pulled to a stop at a red light where the street crossed a major thoroughfare. She looked out the window and craned her neck, trying to find a street sign that might tell her where she was. She could not see one, but she did see something else. It was a dull yellow cab, stopped at the curb on the cross street, where there was a lighted doorway of a tiny doughnut shop. As she watched, a pudgy middle-aged man came out the door, already eating a doughnut and drinking a cup of coffee he must have bought in the shop. He stepped around the front of the cab to the driver’s side and set his cup on the hood.
She decided. She swung the door open, slipped out of the cab, and slammed it shut. The driver’s reaction was to make a tardy grab for her arm. That made his cab lurch forward a couple of feet, then stop with a screech so that it rocked on its squeaky shock absorbers. “Hey!” His voice was muffled, but he pushed a button to open the passenger window. “What the hell are you trying to do?”
She pushed three twenty-dollar bills through the open window onto the passenger seat. “I’m taking another cab.”
He yelled, “You can’t do that!”
She said, “I’m not cheating you, I’m just leaving,” turned, and stepped toward the other cab. She walked with her head up, feeling pleased with herself for speaking quietly and not relinquishing her dignity. She could see the pudgy cab driver chewing and watching her, so she made sure her performance was good. When she was near enough, she said, “Would you be able to take me to the airport?” It was only after she had said it that it occurred to her he might say no.
He nodded and swallowed. “Sure.”
There was a loud blare of a horn, and Ellen looked back to see the cab she had just left still in the intersection. The driver twisted in his seat to look out the rear window. The light had changed, and there was a
