Desperate Measures

FOUR
1

A sleeper car wasn’t available. Not that it made a difference-Pittman was so exhausted that he was ready to sleep anywhere. Shortly after the train left Penn Station, he and Jill ate sandwiches and coffee that she had bought in the terminal. She had also been the one who bought the tickets; he didn’t want anyone to get a close look at him. For the same reason, he chose a seat against a window in an area that had few passengers. The photo of him that the newspapers and television were using didn’t show him as he now looked. Still, he had to be careful.

Soon the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of wheels on rails became hypnotic. Pittman glanced toward the other passengers in the half-full car, assuring himself that they showed no interest in him. Then he peered toward the lights in buildings the train was passing. His eyelids felt heavy. He leaned against the gym bag-he’d retrieved it from Sean O’Reilly’s loft-and started to ask Jill how long the trip would take, but his eyelids kept sinking, and he never got the question out.