“What do you mean?”
“You know. All of those women who get dumped think they have to get revenge in court and leave their husbands in poverty. I’ve heard them at lunch in restaurants laughing about how much they took, like harpies or something. They gossip about the ex-husband and the new woman, and try to sabotage them any way they can.” Her eyes stayed on him as she talked. “You know. They turn him in to the IRS for hiding income or something like that.” With some effort, she softened. “I just want you to know I’m not like them. If you want somebody younger and don’t find me attractive anymore, I won’t punish you for that.”
“Oh. So that’s it.” He sounded tired and annoyed. “I had no idea what you were talking about. I should have known, I guess, but I didn’t. I never said you weren’t attractive, or that I wanted somebody younger.”
“No. Please don’t be mad. I’m not trying to start a fight. It’s just the opposite. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve thought about you in all kinds of ways. And what I feel most is gratitude. I’ve had such an incredible time with you. I’ve learned so much—even that. You’re the one who taught me to make all the decisions I can in advance.”
“Okay.” His voice sounded tight, as though he were holding back anger. He was reacting as though she had said the opposite of what she had said. She took a breath to speak, then held it. She was getting herself in deeper. She let out the breath and sat in silence, staring ahead at the red taillights. The cars went around a long, slow curve and she could see the ones ahead of her better. The headlights of the car directly ahead shone on the side of the next, and she could make out the head of the driver. “There. That’s Jack Till.”
Sylvie turned in her seat and squinted through the rear window at the configuration of headlights behind their car. As their car began the long curve, the headlights of the cars behind aimed off to the left, and she could see them better. There seemed to her to be none in the pack that were troublesome. There were an overdecorated white SUV with gold trim, a Volvo station wagon, and two Japanese cars that were too small for cops to use. She looked ahead again. “I don’t think any of those cars can be searching for us, and I don’t see any of them that could be a backup for Till. That’s what I would have done if I were Till. I’d have a second car following me with a couple of cops in it, just in case.”
“This isn’t a presidential motorcade,” Paul said. “And Till isn’t even a cop anymore. He was just trying to sneak her into L.A., and he’s failed.”
She watched Paul’s expression of concentration, and his eyes moving from the rearview mirror to the highway ahead and back. It occurred to her that for the moment she was in no danger. Paul was an expert strategist, and he knew that his biggest advantage over his adversary right now was Sylvie. With her he had double the firepower, an extra set of eyes and hands and an extra brain.
Paul said, “Okay, here we go. He’s pulling off the freeway, taking the exit up there.”
“It’s about time. I was wondering if those people ever had to pee.” Sylvie took the silencer out of her purse and screwed it onto the barrel of her pistol.
“Get ready.”
She resisted the impulse to say, “What do you think I’m doing?” Instead, she said, “Hand me your gun.”
He pulled the gun out of the well in the door beside him and handed it to her. She took the second silencer out of her purse and screwed it on, then ejected the magazine and looked at it. “You didn’t reload after the cop.”
He looked mildly surprised, but he was busy trying to get off the freeway at the right speed and distance from Till’s car. Sylvie could see he was staying barely within sight, only close enough to see which way Till turned before he disappeared. Till’s car turned left and drove under the freeway overpass.
She wanted time, and the time was speeding up, slipping away. She rested both guns in her lap, one in each hand. She wondered for a moment whether in the long run she wouldn’t be wise simply to wait for Paul to pull the car off the exit and put it in neutral, and then fire his pistol into his right temple. She would be able to squeeze the gun into his right hand and walk away. Then she could get a flight home, clean up the house, and await the visit from the quiet, respectful police officers. The tears would be real. That was the problem with the idea.
No, she decided. She wouldn’t act now to prevent him from acting later. As long as this job was occupying him, he wouldn’t harm her. She checked to be sure the safety was on and handed him the gun. “There’s a round in the chamber.”
“Good. Thanks. You’re thinking better than I am.”
“A pretty good compliment.” She leaned over and gave him a soft, wet kiss on the cheek, then sat up in her seat, her eyes on the windshield again.
Paul followed Till’s car at a distance, the taillights so far ahead that they looked almost like one red spot instead of two. The car swerved into the driveway of a big hotel on the hillside. Instead of following Till into the parking lot, Paul stopped at a gas station down the street. He coasted up to a gas pump but stayed in the car watching the hotel parking lot. Paul said, “He’s parking in front of the hotel restaurant.”
Jack Till got out of his car and stood beside it to stretch his long body and twist his torso a couple of times. Sylvie could see that he was standing guard with his coat open and his gun in easy reach while Wendy Harper got out and walked toward the restaurant entrance.
When Jack Till and Wendy Harper had disappeared into the restaurant, Paul got out of the car, went into the gas station, and gave the teenaged boy inside some money. Then he returned, inserted the nozzle into the car, and began to fill the tank.
Sylvie pressed the button to lower her window. “Why are you doing that now?”
He shrugged. “After we get them, I’m not going to want to stop for gas.”
She shook her head in mock disapproval. “I hope you didn’t smile into the surveillance camera, because I intend to go in that restaurant and get her right there.”
“Oh? Don’t you want to eat dinner first?”
“Not in that place. If you hadn’t stopped for gas, I’ll bet I could have bagged her by now.”
“Don’t get too eager.” He wasn’t sure how much of her impatience was an interest in getting the job done, and how much was wanting to kill a woman who was younger and prettier than she was. The nozzle on the hose clicked and stopped, and he took it out and hung it on the pump. He looked at the total on the pump, touched the screen to indicate he didn’t want a receipt, and got back in beside her. “I want to do this right, so we need to be a little bit careful.” He started the engine, looked at the gas gauge to be sure it was full, then turned out into the road and down the street into the parking lot between the hotel and the restaurant. He found a space among the cars of hotel guests, far from the one where Jack Till had parked. “Are you sure you can do her by yourself?”
“If you can get me out of there afterward.”
“Okay. You get her when she’s in the ladies’ room. If Till moves when you come out, I’ll shoot him. Then we’ll just step outside with everybody else in the confusion.”
“All right. Let’s go in before I get nervous.” Sylvie took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself as she walked toward the restaurant. She could see people sitting at the window tables along the front, but none of them was Till or Wendy. She wasn’t surprised that they would want to avoid sitting in a lighted window. Wendy Harper had probably not lingered in front of a window in six years. Sylvie approached the front door and she could feel her excitement building.
She did not have time to hesitate in front of the door before she sensed the displacement of air to her right as Paul’s hand appeared and opened the door for her. The closeness reassured her. It was the old unspoken certainty that she felt while they were dancing, the knowledge of where his body was in relation to hers.