The old engine juddered into action and the ferry began to drift slowly away from the pier on its short journey across the Hudson to New Jersey.
One o’clock struck on the pier tower. Half a day had gone.
“The first flights out of JFK won’t be taking off for another couple of days,” said Tina.
“Does that include private aircraft?” asked Fenston.
“There are no exceptions,” Tina assured him.
“The Saudi royal family are being allowed to fly out tomorrow,” interjected Leapman, who was standing by the chairman’s side, “but they seem to be the only exception.”
“Meanwhile, I’m trying to get you on what the press are describing as the priority list,” said Tina, who decided not to mention that the port authorities didn’t consider his desire to pick up a Van Gogh from Heathrow quite fell into the category of emergency.
“Do we have any friends at JFK?” asked Fenston.
“Several,” said Leapman, “but they’ve all suddenly acquired a whole lot of rich relations.”
“Any other ideas?” asked Fenston, looking up at both of them.
“You might consider driving across the border into Mexico or Canada,” suggested Tina, “and taking a commercial flight from there,” knowing only too well that he wouldn’t consider it.
Fenston shook his head and, turning to Leapman, said, “Try and turn one of our friends into a relation — someone will want something,” he added. “They always do.”
17
“I’ll take any car you’ve got,” said Anna.
“I have nothing available at the moment,” said the weary-looking young man behind the Happy Hire Company desk, whose plastic badge displayed the name HANK. “And I don’t anticipate anything being returned until tomorrow morning,” he added, failing to fulfil the company’s motto displayed on the countertop, NO ONE LEAVES HAPPY HIRE WITHOUT A SMILE ON THEIR FACE. Anna couldn’t mask her disappointment.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider a van?” Hank ventured. “It’s not exactly the latest model, but if you’re desperate...”
“I’ll take it,” said Anna, well aware of the long line of customers waiting behind her, all no doubt willing her to say no. Hank placed a form in triplicate on the countertop and began filling in the little boxes. Anna pushed across her driver’s license, which she had packed along with her passport, enabling him to complete even more boxes. “How long do you require the vehicle?” Hank asked.
“A day, possibly two — I’ll be dropping it off at Toronto airport.”
Once Hank had completed all the little boxes, he swiveled the form around for her signature.
“That’ll be sixty dollars, and I’ll need a two-hundred-dollar deposit.” Anna frowned and handed over $260.
“And I’ll also need your credit card.”
Anna slipped another hundred-dollar bill across the counter. The first time she’d ever attempted to bribe someone.
Hank pocketed the money. “It’s the white van in bay thirty-eight,” he told her, handing over a key.
When Anna located bay thirty-eight, she could see why the little two-seater white van was the last vehicle on offer. She unlocked the back door and placed her case and laptop inside. She then went to the front and squeezed herself into the plastic-covered driver’s seat. She checked the dashboard. The odometer read 98,617, and the speedometer suggested a maximum of 90, which she doubted. It was clearly coming to the end of its rental life, and another four hundred miles might well finish it off. She wondered if the vehicle was even worth $360.
Anna started the engine and tentatively reversed out of the parking lot. She saw a man in her rearview mirror, who quickly stepped out of the way. It was less than a mile before she discovered the vehicle was built for neither speed nor comfort. She glanced down at the route map she’d placed on the passenger seat beside her, then began to look for signs to the Jersey Turnpike and the Del Water Gap. Although she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, Anna decided she needed to put a few miles on the clock before she started thinking about food.
“You were right, boss,” said Joe, “she’s not going to Danville.”
“So where is she headed?”
“Toronto airport.”
“Car or train?” he asked.
“Van,” replied Joe.
Jack tried to calculate how long the journey would take and concluded that Petrescu ought to reach Toronto by late the next afternoon.
“I’ve already fixed a GPS on her rear bumper,” Joe added, “so we’ll be able to track her night and day.”
“And be sure you have an agent waiting for her at the airport.”
“He’s already been detailed,” said Joe, “with instructions to let me know where she intends to fly.”
“She’ll be flying to London,” said Jack.
By three that afternoon, Tina had been able to remove four more names from the missing list. Three of them had been voting in the primary elections for mayor, while the fourth had missed her train.
Fenston studied the list, as Leapman placed a finger on the only name he was interested in. Fenston nodded when his eyes settled on the Ps. He smiled.
“Saved having to do it ourselves,” was Leapman’s only comment.
“What’s the latest from JFK?” Fenston asked.
“They’re allowing a few flights out tomorrow,” said Leapman, “visiting diplomats, hospital emergencies, and some senior politicians vetted by the State Department. But I’ve managed to secure us an early slot for Friday morning.” He paused. “Someone wanted a new car.”
“Which model?” asked Fenston.
“A Ford Mustang,” replied Leapman.
“I would have agreed to a Cadillac.”
Anna had reached the outskirts of Scranton by three thirty that afternoon but decided to press on for a couple more hours. The weather was clear and crisp and the three-lane highway crowded with cars heading north, almost all of them overtaking her. Anna relaxed a little once tall trees replaced skyscrapers on both sides. Most of the highways had a fifty-five-mile speed limit, which suited her particular mode of transport. But she still had to hold on to the steering wheel firmly to make sure the van didn’t drift into another lane. Anna glanced down at the tiny clock on the dashboard. She would try and make Buffalo by seven, and then perhaps take a break.
She checked her rearview mirror, suddenly aware of what it must feel like to be a criminal on the run. You couldn’t use a credit card or a cell phone, and the sound of a distant siren doubled your heartbeat. A life spent wary of strangers, as you looked over your shoulder every few minutes. Anna longed to be back in New York, among her friends, doing the job she loved. Her father once said — “Oh, God,” said Anna out loud. Did her mother think she was dead? What about Uncle George and the rest of the family in Danville? Could she risk a phone call? Hell, she wasn’t very good at thinking like a criminal.
Leapman walked into Tina’s office unannounced. She quickly flicked off the screen on the side of her desk.
“Wasn’t Anna Petrescu a friend of yours?” Leapman asked without explanation.
“Yes, she is,” said Tina, looking up from her desk.
“Is?” said Leapman.
“Was,” said Tina, quickly correcting herself.
“So you haven’t heard from her?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t have left her name on the missing list, would I?”