Assumed Identity

ELEVEN
1

Buchanan woke to a throbbing headache aggravated by banging metal and a roaring engine. He roused himself and blinked through the windshield at where a sanitation crew was emptying cans and throwing bags of refuse into the back of a garbage truck. He glanced at his watch: 8:00 A.M. Holly was driving north on Madison Avenue in New York City.

“You should have wakened me.” Buchanan shielded his eyes from the hazy sunshine.

“So you could keep me company? No. You obviously needed the rest. Besides, I didn’t mind the quiet. It gave me a chance to think.”

“About what?”

“I realized I can’t go back. Not until we find a way to convince them this has nothing to do with them. I have to keep moving forward.”

“But there’s only so far you can keep going until you drop. I’m not the only one who needed rest.”

“I took your advice,” Holly said.

“I don’t remember giving. .”

“Last night, I asked you how you’d managed to drive all the way from New Orleans to San Antonio, as tired as you must have been after having been wounded. You said you’d napped at rest stops along the way. So whenever I had to stop to go to the bathroom, I locked the car doors and closed my eyes. You’re right. People make so much noise slamming their car doors, it’s hard to sleep more than a few minutes.”

“You certainly don’t look like you’ve been up most of the night.”

“The miracle of cosmetics. Thanks to sinks and mirrors at rest stops. If we’re going to pull this off, by the way, you need a shave.”

Buchanan rubbed his jaw, reached into his travel bag, pulled a safety razor from a pouch, and began to scrape it along his beard-stubbled cheeks.

“Ouch,” Holly said. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“You get used to it. A lot of times on assignments, this was the only way to try to keep clean.”

He waited uneasily, hoping that she wouldn’t take advantage of the reference and ask him questions about those assignments.

Instead, she passed the test and merely concentrated on her driving.

“Have we got any coffee left?” he asked.

“We drank it all. But now that you mention it. .”

She pulled over to a curb, parked with the motor running, ran into a coffee shop, and returned in a minute with two Styrofoam cups of coffee and four Danish.

“You’re a good provider.”

“And you’d better keep being a good teacher,” Holly said. “The Sherry-Netherland’s one block over on Fifth. It was mentioned in yesterday’s article in the Post. How do you want to do this?”

“First, we find a parking garage that has space.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Then we look for somebody watching Frederick Maltin’s apartment.”

“Why would someone be watching-?”

“To tie up an unfortunate loose end. I don’t think he was expected to be as big a problem as he’s become, going to reporters, drawing attention to Maria Tomez’s disappearance. My guess is, whoever’s responsible will want to take care of that.”