Misplaced (47 page)

“Gi
v
e me your outer garment.”

“Why?”

“Quickly!”

V
ictoria handed Khara her tan blazer, which she thrust into
the
hands
of
the
first
person
who
approached.
As
luck
would
ha
v
e
it
,
i
t
happene
d
t
o
b
e
a
youn
g
woman
,
wh
o
e
y
e
d
them
suspiciously.

“Ha
v
e
yo
u
e
v
e
r
neede
d
hel
p
fro
m
a
stranger?
”
I
t
becam
e
obvious that Khara
w
as
w
ell-schooled in the art of persuasion.

“I
s
thi
s
som
e
kin
d
o
f
trick?
”
th
e
perplexe
d
youn
g
woman
ans
w
ere
d
wit
h
he
r
ow
n
questio
n
a
s
he
r
e
y
e
s
s
w
ep
t
Khara’
s
face
and her fingers
studied the summer—
w
eight wool of the jacket.

Thankfully,
V
ictoria’s
mind
w
as
clear
again.
“See
the
man
pushing
the
cross
w
alk
button?
He’s
just
crossed
that
corner
for
the second time. He’s following us.”

“What does he
w
ant with you?”

“Nothing good.”

“P
lease,
there
is
no
time
to
w
aste,”
Khara
interjected.
“
W
ear
this,”
she
coaxed,
taking
the
coat
from
the
woman’s
hands
and
sliding it onto her shoulders. “It will confuse him.”

They
w
ere running
out of time. If he chose to, their pursuer
could
close
the
intentional
distance
bet
w
een
them
in
a
matter
of moments.

Unexpectedly
,
th
e
youn
g
woman’
s
expressio
n
hardened.
“He
’
l
l
b
e
angrie
r
now
”
sh
e
cautione
d
unde
r
he
r
breath
.
“They
’
re
al
w
ays
angry
when
you
try
to
get
a
w
ay.”
Her
fingers
quickly
undid
her
braid,
releasing
hair
w
as
as
dark
as
V
ictoria’s
and
a
bi
t
longe
r
befor
e
sh
e
slippe
d
he
r
arm
s
int
o
th
e
jacket
.
Befor
e
sh
e
set
off,
zig-zagging
through
the
pedestrian
traffic
in
such
a
w
ay
as
to
attract
attention,
she
looked
back
for
a
second.
Don’t
get
caught
,
her
expression
said.
Then
V
ictoria
could
see
nothing
of
her except the tail of her favorite jacket flying
like a cape.

“Th
e
temptatio
n
i
s
t
o
run
.
D
o
no
t
yiel
d
t
o
it,
”
Khar
a
stressed.
“
V
ictoria?”

After
having
temporarily
lost
touch
with
time
and
space
at
the
sight
of
the
man,
V
ictoria
retained
only
a
dim
memory
of
ho
w
sh
e
an
d
Khar
a
fade
d
int
o
th
e
strea
m
o
f
pedestrian
s
like
rings of smoke into the graying dusk and made their escape.

Chapte
r
Twenty-one
Miel
e
y

H
e
o
b
ser
v
e
d
t
h
e
t
w
o
wome
n
a
s
t
he
y
lef
t
t
h
e
par
k
ing
garag
e
o
n
foot
.
Th
e
ho
t
win
d
fanne
d
flame
s
o
f
pai
n
i
n
his lef
t
hand
.
H
e
too
k
a
momen
t
t
o
scrutiniz
e
it
,
grimacin
g
at
th
e
damag
e
h
e
ha
d
done
.
Thi
s
won’
t
loo
k
goo
d
fo
r
m
y
National
Geographi
c
interview
,
h
e
thought
.
Nee
d
t
o
ge
t
bac
k
o
n
the
medication.

H
e
go
t
ou
t
o
f
hi
s
ca
r
an
d
follo
w
e
d
them
.
E
v
e
n
fro
m
half
a
bloc
k
a
w
ay
,
h
e
notice
d
thing
s
th
e
a
v
erag
e
perso
n
would
miss. Mere inches separated them as they
w
alked. When their
footstep
s
quickene
d
an
d
thei
r
hand
s
brushe
d
agains
t
each
other, it
w
as without the least bit of awk
w
ardness. Evidently, theirs
w
as no strict attorney-client
relationship.

I
n
th
e
se
a
o
f
dar
k
ski
n
an
d
hair
,
Miele
y
fel
t
conspicuous.
Th
e
feelin
g
threatene
d
t
o
o
v
erwhel
m
him
.
H
e
ha
d
t
o
remind
himself, as he
w
alked the dusty streets where neither the shop signs nor the con
v
ersations
w
ere in English, that he
w
as still in the United States.

Hi
s
quarr
y
heade
d
dow
n
bac
k
street
s
an
d
int
o
a
seed
y
nightclub.
P
erhaps
,
he
thought,
licking
his
lips,
Elias’s
niece
has
a
more
interesting
side.
A
man
w
earing
green
sneakers
led
them
inside
.
Miele
y
w
a
s
lef
t
t
o
imagin
e
wha
t
the
y
migh
t
b
e
doing
and
with
whom
they
might
be
doing
it.
When
his
imagination
got the better
of him, he
w
ent inside.

E
y
eing
the
tattered
upholstery
of
the
barstools,
he
chose
to
stand. “Gi
v
e me your best single malt scotch.”

“W
e
go
t
De
w
a
r
’s,
”
snorte
d
th
e
bartender
.
Hi
s
mustache
looked as though he
’
d s
w
allo
w
ed a horse’s tail.

“It will ha
v
e to do.”

When
the
bartender
deli
v
ered
the
drink,
Mieley
wiped
the
rim of the glass.

Les
s
tha
n
fiftee
n
minute
s
later
,
the
y
emerge
d
fro
m
the
corrido
r
wher
e
th
e
restroom
s
w
ere
.
Miele
y
shifte
d
t
o
the
darknes
s
o
f
a
corne
r
a
t
th
e
en
d
o
f
th
e
bar
.
Fortunately
,
they
didn’t
look
his
w
ay.
He
threw
down
a
t
w
enty
and
left
most
of
his
drink,
ho
v
ering
near
the
door
until
he
w
as
sure
he
would
not be seen.

There
w
as
not
much
sunlight
left
when
he
w
alked
outside.
Th
e
stree
t
reeke
d
o
f
diese
l
an
d
ranci
d
cookin
g
oil
.
Th
e
smell
reminded
him
that
he
w
as
hungry.
Y
ou
can
ha
v
e
any
kind
of
food
yo
u
w
a
n
t
i
n
thi
s
to
wn
,
Miele
y
t
hou
g
h
t
,
a
s
lo
n
g
a
s
it’
s
b
e
a
n
s
a
n
d
tortillas.

H
e
traile
d
the
m
withou
t
inciden
t
fo
r
almos
t
fou
r
blocks
when
the
smaller
one
tried
to
make
it
seem
as
though
she
w
as
windo
w
shopping
.
I
n
hi
s
distraction
,
h
e
stumble
d
o
n
a
n
une
v
en
patc
h
o
f
side
w
alk
.
Heightene
d
reflexe
s
kep
t
hi
m
fro
m
hitting
the
ground,
but
his
Italian
loafers
w
ere
all
but
ruined.
He
bent
down
to
inspect
the
damage,
purposely
increasing
the
distance
bet
w
een them.

Humiliatio
n
turne
d
t
o
exhilaratio
n
a
s
h
e
imagine
d
the
bracelet
swinging
back
and
forth,
more
brilliant
and
beautiful
than
e
v
er.
He
d
aw
d
led
another
m
o
m
ent
o
r
tw
o
,
and
then
s
tood
wit
h
rene
w
e
d
resol
v
e
,
pullin
g
u
p
th
e
hoo
d
o
f
hi
s
s
w
eatshirt
.
He
looked again, and they
w
ere gone.