Mistress

Chapter 32

I leave the police station with a growing set of facts spread out all over the desk of my brain, but in no discernible order, no logic. Think, Ben. Ultimately, everything is a link in a chain. I just have to put them together.

I hop on my Triumph and spot a car across the street from the Second District parking lot, two guys inside a dark Chevy sedan looking my way. Can’t tell if they’re Chinese or not, but I suppose the Chinese are capable of having Caucasians in their employ, right? I mean, why would I assume that Chinese only hire Chinese? Maybe they’ll get that albino guy from The Firm-

They start their car up just as I kick the Triumph to life. Coincidence? I don’t believe in them.

Is it just a coincidence, Ben? Did your fingerprints just leap onto that gun?

I should call Father.

We’ll call your father, Ben. For now, you’re coming with us. We’re taking you into custody. You’ll be provided a lawyer and a guardian ad litem and you probably won’t be able to live with your dad for a very long time.

Unless, Ben, you want to explain to me what happened.

The Chevy backs up to get out of its parking space and bumps a Toyota compact in the process as I maneuver my bike out of its spot, not sure of where I’m headed-

The compact. The two women in the blue compact car who reached Diana-or whoever it was who fell from her balcony-before I did. They took off before the police and ambulance arrived, Ellis said.

I tear out of the parking lot, suddenly sure of where I’m headed.

I turn onto Wisconsin Avenue, passing a bar that used to be the Alliance Tavern, where Ellis and I once got drunk on cheap whiskey. I don’t see the Chevy behind me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t following me. Traffic is pretty thick, for some reason. I take a quick right onto M Street and then I get on Route 29 going south, crossing into Virginia. The rush of air, the best thing about this bike, provides me some measure of relief, but there is a permanent tremble coursing through me now, and the only antidote I can think of is speed, speed, speed, but I’m back on main roadways until I hit Jefferson Davis Highway and I floor it, topping ninety, and then I’m thinking of Jefferson Starship and all the other names they used, We built this city on rock and roll, and I almost throw up in my mouth-

Within thirty minutes, I’m at the Delta ticket counter at Reagan Airport. I use my corporate credit card, not a personal one, and just book the flight there, not a return, knowing that a last-minute, one-way flight is sure to subject me to the most stringent of security checks, but I don’t care anymore. Maybe that’s my problem-I’m too afraid, afraid of dying. Maybe if I’m more reckless, if I’m fearless, like James Bond or something, a cool smile in the face of mortal danger, I’ll be okay. That new James Bond guy is freakin’ awesome. I try for a cool smile, but it doesn’t work.

Turns out I missed the last flight of the evening. So I’ll sleep in the terminal tonight.

And tomorrow morning, I’ll be on the first plane to Madison, Wisconsin.