Jan Burke - Nine

The grip on his hair, just before he passed out, was definitely not painless.

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Tuesday, May 20, 4:32 P.M.

“Decision time,” Frederick Whitfield IV muttered to himself, as he stared as if fascinated by a souvenir spoon rest that said “Sandia Peak Tramway” on it.

He had climbed the stairs from the parking lot to the tramway entrance, making sure he stayed out of sight of Meghan. He saw her the moment he came into the building. She had been standing with her lover at the ticket counter, their backs to him. They had just missed a tram, the woman at the counter said, and would have about a twenty-minute wait. Meghan, pointing out a sign that said diners with reservations at the Peak Experience Restaurant received discounted round-trip fares, asked about the one-way fare for a person with dinner. Frederick wanted to shout that the rich slut shouldn’t quibble over a lousy four bucks. But the old dude with her had heard him walking by and started to turn around, so Frederick quickly ducked into the gift shop.

Eventually the lovebirds had walked outside. Frederick used the opportunity to pay fourteen dollars for a round-trip ticket-full fare, without a murmur of protest. He stayed inside, keeping a wary eye on them until they began to come back inside. Once again he ducked into the gift shop. The tram would be here before much longer, and he would be forced to decide whether to give them as much as a thirty-minute lead or get on a nearly empty tram and risk Meghan recognizing him. Hence his dilemma near the spoon rests.

As if in answer, though, a group of hikers came into the building, about twenty or so people who had made plans to take a moonlight hike along one of the trails at the top. A woman with the group wandered into the gift shop and began flirting mildly with him. She wasn’t bad-looking-and he definitely liked her bod. She was in good shape, one of those healthy, outdoorsy types, but with delicate facial features. She had thick, wavy hair of a color that was a mixture of peaches and honey, large green eyes, and long fingers. She wore silver earrings shaped with the zodiac symbol for Gemini. Seeing an opportunity that might pay off in several ways, he gave her a dazzling smile and asked why her group was going hiking on a weeknight.

“Blame it on the moon,” she said. “We have to choose the night when it will be at its best for the hike, and when we can get the permit for it.” She then went on and on, telling him much more about it than he wanted to know, including that the full moon was not best for night hiking, and what animals might be seen, and blah, blah, blah.

Christ, he thought, no wonder she has to go man hunting outside the group.

But he kept smiling and took off his sunglasses, to give her the full effect of his baby blues, which obviously dazzled her. Even though he was now noticing that her outdoor wear was not made by the best companies, he pretended that he had never met a more fascinating individual in all his days. He managed to actually laugh a little at the moments when he was fairly sure she thought she had been funny.

“Do you cook or is it for your girlfriend?” she asked now. At his look of incomprehension, she said, “The spoon rest?”

“Oh-for my grandmother,” he said. “She collects them. I bring her one from everywhere I go. In Russia, they have really adorable ones that rest one within the other. They call them boyakinas.” He smiled, seeing that his bogus (as far as he knew, anyway) Russian word was not detected as such. And then, remembering his conversation with his mother, he suddenly let his face fall and added, “I don’t like to think much about Russia, though. My parents were killed there-shot as spies-when I was just a baby. No hard feelings, an honest mistake on the part of the Russian government, really. And maybe it all worked out for the best, because I was raised by my grandmother.”

He went on to weave a tale about a grandmother who lived in a little cottage in New Mexico, surrounded by spoon rests, a kindly old woman whom he had just been visiting, to tell her that her grandson, whom she had raised in near poverty, had struck it rich through wise and honest investing, and was now going to see that she could command all the comforts of life. “Beginning,” he ended, “with this spoon rest.”

The woman, for once speechless, hugged him. He heard a familiar voice and looked over the woman’s shoulder as he hugged back. Meghan stood not far away, talking to her lover. He was a little afraid that she had heard his tall tale, recognized him, and was about to expose him as a fake, but apparently she had not seen him. She was too engrossed in a disagreement with her lover.

To his puzzlement, he heard her say, “You don’t need to wait, really. I don’t think anyone will bother me.”

The old dude, his back to Frederick, said something Frederick didn’t hear.

Meghan said, “If you insist. Let’s go out to the platform. The tram should be here any minute. Do you need cab fare back to your office?”

His answer was apparently a negative, because she didn’t give him any money.

Frederick then had to turn his attention back to the woman in his arms, who was suddenly self-conscious. He behaved as if he were, too.

“I’m-” she began, but he placed his fingers gently over her lips.

“No, don’t tell me. Not yet. And I won’t tell you my name, either. That would spoil everything special about this, don’t you think?”

And she nodded, although he could see she was a little unsure of exactly why it would.

“A complete stranger,” he sighed. “I promise you, I have never told a living soul what I’ve told you today, and why a complete stranger should free me of these painful memories, I can’t say, but-but thank you.”

For a brief moment, he thought he might have overplayed his hand, but she merely hugged him once more.

He freed himself by paying for the spoon rest, but took her hand as they walked to the platform. He saw that a few of her fellow hikers were watching them, but she fended off their stares with a look of triumph. Who could blame her?

The man with Meghan was looking the crowd over but didn’t seem to take more than casual notice of Frederick and the woman. Frederick waited until there were a number of people between him and Meghan before getting on. The man stayed on the platform as the doors closed, and the aerial tram began its ascent, a trip of more than two miles.

So, he thought, I have Meghan to myself after all. He smiled, watching the other men in the tram looking at her. Poor bastards. None of them stood a chance.

Following her now was going to be a damn piece of cake. Morgan would have fucked it up from start to finish, of course. Good thing he arranged to be the one who was here instead. All he had to do was send the hiker on her way with the other moonstruck idiots and Meghan-who was staring up at the top of the peak, as if she, too, couldn’t wait to get off this thing-was going to see what Agent Frederick Whitfield IV was willing to do to get a stuck-up bitch to answer some questions.

She turned then, and her eyes rested briefly on him and then on the view beyond before she again turned away.

“Do you know that woman?” the hiker asked.

He squeezed her hand. “What woman?”

“The one you were just staring at.”

He pulled the hand up, kissed it lightly on the knuckles. “Was I? I didn’t even see her.” He turned her then, away from the eyes of the other passengers, and stood behind her, so that the two of them were looking out the tram window-and away from any study Meghan might have decided to make of him. He bent his lips close to the hiker’s ear and said quietly, “I’ll tell you what was on my mind, since I don’t seem to be able to keep any secrets from you. I was just wondering if-well, if maybe you’d give me your phone number. I have some business with the owners of the ski resort up here, but maybe when you get back from the hike, and I get back from my meeting? I’d like for you to meet my grandmother.”