Black Friday

CHAPTER 37

Asante had cleared airport security with no problems. He presented a boarding pass and driver's license and received only a cursory glance with a wave of a busy hand. Even his duffel bag made it through with a brief pause on the conveyer. No one spoke to him. No one gave him a second look. It was perfect.

Except that here he still sat at his gate. His flight was delayed. No new departure time even hinted at.

He avoided drawing attention to himself but stayed close enough to listen. He'd heard the desk clerk tell another passenger that their plane was on the ground in Chicago and the snowstorm kept it there. As soon as it was cleared for takeoff and on its way, she would alert everyone. Until then, they could only wait.

"No," she told several impatient passengers. "There were no other flights tonight to Las Vegas."

On his handheld computer, Asante had done his own search of other flights on other airlines. Unfortunately the clerk was correct. There were no other flights from Minneapolis to Las Vegas until morning and all of those were booked or overbooked.

"It is after all, Thanksgiving weekend," he overheard the clerk defend herself when one of the passengers complained.

Asante kept calm. Just another glitch.

He had already checked rental cars, too. None available. Even those due back were delayed because of the storm. What Asante had earlier called a godsend was quickly turning into a…a glitch, he reminded himself. Only a glitch.

Sitting so close to the information desk, he'd shut off his phone's ringer and ignored all calls. Now he checked messages. They knew better than to leave text messages. Too easy to trace. There was, however, one voice message. He pushed the button to listen.

"Hi, it's me," the woman's voice said in a cheerful, familiar tone, a wife leaving a quick message for a husband. "Just wanted to let you know Becky hasn't been picked up yet. She's out of cash. On our way to get her now."

Asante smiled. He should have been upset that Rebecca Cory was still wandering around. "She's out of cash," meant that the girl must have tried an ATM machine. Their system would be able to tell them exactly where the ATM machine was located. They'd know exactly where to "get her."

He checked his wristwatch. If the plane was still in Chicago there was no way it would get here within an hour. He had ignored his hunger for too long, and he believed taking care of the basics kept the mind sharp. Food was one of those basics. He set the alarm on his watch for thirty minutes. On his handheld computer, that he continued to keep strapped to his other wrist, he set the alarm for any weather alerts concerning Chicago and Minneapolis. Then he swung his duffel up over his shoulder and headed off to find something to eat.

Despite the delay he was safe here. If the authorities began searching for another person—another John Doe #2—they'd never identify him now. Even if they captured his image on any of the mall's cameras and started canvassing the airport to prevent his escape, they'd never find him. Most airports didn't have cameras in their ticketing or receiving areas. Those were virtually securityless or what Asante liked to call, "security-lite." And the John Doe #2 who had facilitated the mall bombing was no longer anywhere to be found. He had been left down in one of those camera-less areas, stuffed away in the restroom trash and flushed down the toilet.