The Planck Factor

Chapter 20

Jessica Evans

So much for lunch. I snatched a granola bar from Liz's stash, headed out the door and took a right toward the main road. I thought about the subway, but worried that the Metro security people might recognize me, despite my feeble attempts to disguise myself. Assuming I could remember where the nearest Metro stop was.

I felt ridiculous in the hat that I'd found in Liz's closet, but it had a nice, wide brim that flopped over my face just enough to hide my features. I couldn't help feeling it was just a touch too sophisticated for my jeans and T-shirt. At least, it was a silk T-shirt. Still the hat seemed to cry out to be matched with something more like a little black dress or a long gown like Holly Golightly wore in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Hopefully, it wouldn't have the opposite effect of making me even more conspicuous.

I was idly considering the possibility of taking up smoking through a long-handled cigarette holder and living the Bohemian life—just me and a cat holding parties every night in a New York apartment—when I reached the corner and noticed a couple of cabs roll by. Hmm. Should I take a cab or walk? The walk was several blocks. Now, in Boulder, several blocks is nothing. In DC, even one block can seem close to a mile. It depends on which block you're talking about. On the stretch of Constitution Avenue I was headed for, a block could stretch out for some distance.

"Oh, hell." I waved down the next cab I spotted. He pulled up to the curb, with an abrupt squeak of tires.

As I climbed in and pulled the door shut, I said to the Plexiglas partition behind the driver, "Could you take me to the Navy Memorial on Constitution, pl—"

The cab took off with a squeal of tires that threw me back against the seat. Like an astronaut leaving orbit.

The cabbie's radio was tuned to NPR. I pulled the hat's brim lower over my face. If this guy listened to NPR, he might follow the news in other media. He might have seen my picture in the papers, on the Web or TV. It was hard for me to fathom. I'm just a student, not a killer, I wanted to snivel.

Fortunately, the cab driver was so busy trying to wreck his car, barreling through yellow lights turning red as we hit the intersection and taking the cab through slalom turns around slower-moving vehicles (which is to say, everyone else), I doubt my face even registered on his radar. For my own part, I simply clung with grim determination to the seat back and sent up a prayer or two. I've never considered myself particularly religious, but no atheists ride in DC cabs.

I arrived at my destination in one piece. I was so grateful for that, I threw in extra bucks toward the tip. The driver smiled, his teeth gleaming from a mahogany face. His right front tooth was rimmed with gold. "Have a good day, miss," he said, with an accent that sounded British, and barreled back into the traffic.

I stood by the curb and looked around. The caller said he'd know me. Before we'd hung up, I'd asked him (assuming it was a "him") how he knew me, but he'd never answered the question.

I walked toward people congregated on the amphitheater steps surrounding the Navy Memorial. Many were seated, enjoying a late lunch or just talking, legs stretched out, and soaking up the sun's rays.

I moved toward the crowd, scanning it with each step. I wondered if he'd already seen me. I felt eyes on my back and whirled around to see a cop car, creeping by.

I turned away and hustled into the throng, which was growing dense with people coming out of the Metro.

Pulling the hat's brim down and peering out from beneath, I snuck a look at the street. The cop car wasn't there. I exhaled, releasing the tension that had hiked my shoulders halfway to my ears.