An American Spy by Olen Steinhauer

Author:Olen Steinhauer [Steinhauer, Olen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Atlantic Books
Published: 2012-03-13T06:00:00+00:00

12

He arrived at JFK’s Terminal Three, with its distinctive flying saucer roof, just before eight in the morning. He was a blank slate. He’d left behind all his papers, his wallet, his phone, and cut the tags out of his navy suit. All he carried was a folded stack of cash and two blister packs of Nicorette. When he climbed out of the taxi, he had to pause to avoid getting hit by porters, uniformed police, and fellow travelers. It took him a moment to get his bearings because airports, where he had once felt at home, were now anathema to him. Leticia Jones was already approaching with a sultry smile.

“Hey, baby,” she said, kissing his cheeks. She looked perky in her striped business skirt as she led him by the elbow through the initial security check and into the airy but crowded terminal.

“Where to?” he asked, though he had trouble finding the breath to speak.

She walked him to one of the departure screens, full of the world’s cities. “You choose.”

“What?”

“How about Vegas?” she said, noting a nine thirty flight.

He turned to stare at her. He knew how he looked—knew that his eyes were a mess—but didn’t give a damn.

“Boston, then?” she suggested. “Cancún?”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“No,” she said after a moment. “I think Mexico City will do quite nicely.”

They stood in line at the Delta counter. Behind them, a family chatted merrily about terrorists, while ahead of them a trio of Mexican businessmen exchanged occasional words in Spanish, but Milo and Leticia said nothing to one another. Milo watched faces. It didn’t take long to spot Chaudhury, clutching a newspaper beside a family camped around their luggage. There might have been more, but his vision wasn’t cooperating; it blurred over every few seconds. The same was true of his thoughts, and he found himself thinking that, had he known then what he knew now, he would have killed Chaudhury in D.C.

When they reached the counter, Leticia opened her small purse and took out two well-thumbed passports. “Two for the nine thirty-five to Mexico City.”

“You have reservations?” asked the clerk, a diminutive brunette with olive skin.

“It’s under Frederickson,” she said and nodded at Milo. “That’s him.” She leaned across the counter, and in a high whisper added, “He’s in a mood today.”

Like you wouldn’t believe, he thought.

The clerk suppressed a grin, then checked their passports—Gwendolyn Davis and Sam Frederickson—and printed out boarding passes. “Any luggage to check?”

“Just us,” said Leticia, then grabbed Milo’s arm. “Come on, honey.”

While they waited in the winding line for security, he saw Chaudhury with a cell phone to his ear, calling in their status. Leticia seemed to notice him staring, so he said, “You reserved the tickets.”

“You gotta reserve,” she said. “This plane’s always full.”

“What if I’d said Cancún?”

She smiled. “Mr. Frederickson made a lot of reservations for this morning.”

They made it smoothly through security, and as they were slipping their shoes back on Milo said, “Should I be confused?”

“Well, I hope so.”

They reached

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