Jack stared up at the gray concrete block where Anna was visiting her mother, and swore he’d never complain about his cramped one-bedroom apartment on the West Side ever again. He had to wait another forty minutes before Anna emerged from the building. He remained still as she walked back down the path to her taxi.
Jack jumped back into his own cab and, pointing frantically, said, “Follow them, but keep your distance until the traffic is heavier.” He wasn’t even sure that the driver understood what he said. The taxi drove out of the side road,
and although Jack kept tapping the driver’s shoulder and repeating, “Hold back,” the two yellow cabs must have looked like camels in a desert as they drove through the empty streets. Jack cursed again, knowing he was burned. Even an amateur would have spotted him by now.
“You do realize that someone is following you?” Sergei said, as he drove off.
“No, but I’m not surprised,” Anna replied, but she still felt cold and sick now that Sergei had confirmed her worst fear. “Did you get a look at them?” she asked.
“Only a glimpse,” Sergei replied. “A man, around thirty, thirty-five, slim, dark hair; not much else, I’m afraid.” So Tina was wrong when she thought the stalker was a woman was Anna’s first reaction. “And he’s a professional,” added Sergei.
“What makes you say that?” asked Anna anxiously.
“When the taxi passed me, he didn’t look back,” said Sergei. “Mind you, I can’t tell you which side of the law he’s on.”
Anna shivered as Sergei checked his rearview mirror. “And I’m pretty sure he’s following us now, but don’t look around,” said Sergei sharply, “because then he’ll know you’ve spotted him.”
“Thank you,” said Anna.
“Do you still want me to take you to the airport?”
“I don’t have any choice,” Anna replied.
“I could lose him,” said Sergei, “but then he would know that you were on to him.”
“Not much point,” said Anna. “He already knows where I’m going.”
Jack always carried his passport, wallet, and credit card with him in case of just such an emergency. “Damn,” he said, when he saw the sign for the airport and remembered his unpacked suitcase sitting in the hotel room.
Three or four other taxis were also heading in the direction of Otopeni airport, and Jack wondered which one the woman was in, or whether she was already at the airport and booked on the same flight as Anna Petrescu.
Anna handed Sergei a twenty-dollar bill long before they’d reached Otopeni and told him which flight she was booked to return on.
“Would you be able to pick me up?” she asked.
“Of course,” promised Sergei, as he came to a halt outside the international terminal.
“Is he still following us?” Anna asked.
“Yes,” Sergei replied, as he jumped out of the car.
A porter appeared and helped load the crate and her suitcase onto a trolley.
“I’ll be here when you return,” Sergei assured Anna, before she disappeared into the terminal.
Jack’s cab screeched to a halt behind the yellow Mercedes. He leaped out and ran toward the driver’s window, waving a ten-dollar bill. Sergei wound the window down slowly and took the proffered money. Jack smiled.
“The lady in your cab, do you know where she’s going?”
“Yes,” replied Sergei, stroking his thick moustache.
Jack peeled off another ten-dollar bill, which Sergei happily pocketed.
“Well, where?” demanded Jack.
“Abroad,” replied Sergei, put the car into first gear, and drove off.
Jack cursed, ran back to his own cab, paid the fare—three dollars—and walked quickly into the airport. He stood still while checking in every direction. Moments later he spotted Anna leaving the check-in counter and heading toward the escalator. He didn’t move again until she was out of sight. By the time he had reached the top of the escalator, Anna was already in the café. She’d taken a seat in the far corner from where she could observe everything and, more important, everybody. Not only was he being followed, but now the person he was following was also looking out for him. She had already mastered being a tool so she could identify her target. Jack feared that this could end up as a case study at Quantico on how not to trail a suspect.