The Blonde

5:08 a.m.

Under the El

Kowalski thought it would be a simple matter of following the tracks, but that wasn’t easy at first. They popped out of a tunnel from beneath the city and led into a station that was tucked between eight lanes of an interstate. Then they dipped down again, and it was tough separating the columns of the El from the support columns of 1-95. Then he saw the church, and the tracks, and it all made sense. Kowalski turned off the engine of the chopper for a moment. Below the din of the early-morning highway traffic, he thought he could hear the rumble of the train.

First train of the morning, according to his new cop buddy. Gary? Gerry?

And a fat chopper between his legs, courtesy of his other cop buddy.

Philadelphia. Such a friendly town.

If this indeed were the first train of the morning, and his quarry were indeed on it, then all he had to do was overtake it, hop on board, then do a car-by-car search. Convince Jack to go along with him to Pennsylvania Hospital. He didn’t think he’d have to resort to his break-your-finger routine. Telling Jack Eisley that his life could be spared would be enticement enough.

Jack didn’t want to end up like Ed Hunter, after all.

No offense, Ed.

The bag was hooked to the side of the chopper, bouncing a bit with the bumps in the asphalt.

Hang in there, my friend. Soon we’ll have some answers.