Gone Tomorrow

saw a small green Toyota SUV drive out. It went west with the traffic. I guessed he was heading for the Lincoln Tunnel, and home. I wondered when I would see him again. Between three days and a week, I thought.
    I was wrong.

Chapter 19
    I was still directly across the street from the 14th Precinct’s door when Theresa Lee came out with two guys in blue suits and white button-down shirts. She looked tired. She had caught the call at two in the morning, which put her on the night watch, so she should have quit around seven and been home in bed by eight. She was way into overtime. Good for her bank balance, not so good for anything else. She stood in the sunlight and blinked and stretched and then she saw me on the far sidewalk and did a classic double take. She smacked the guy next to her on the elbow and said something and pointed straight at me. I was too far away to hear her words, but her body language screamed, Hey, that’s him right there , with a big exclamation point in the vehemence of her physical gesture.
    The guys in the suits automatically checked left for traffic, which told me they were based in town. Odd-numbered streets run east to west, even numbers run west to east. They knew that, in their bones. Therefore they were local. But they were more used to driving than walking, because they didn’t check for bicycle messengers coming the wrong way. They just hustled across the street, dodging cars, scrambling, splitting up and coming at me from the left and the right simultaneously, which told me they were field-trained to some degree, and in a hurry. I guessed the Crown Vic with the needle antennas was theirs. I stood in the shade and waited for them. They had black shoes and blue ties and their undershirts showed through at the neck, white under white. The left sides of their suit coats bulged more than the right. Right-handed agents with shoulder holsters. They were late thirties, early forties. In their prime. Not rookies, not out to pasture.
    They saw that I wasn’t going anywhere, so they slowed up a little and approached me at a fast walk. FBI, I thought, closer to cops than paramilitaries. They didn’t show me ID. They just assumed I knew what they were.
    “We need to talk to you,” the left-hand guy said.
    “I know,” I said.
    “How?”
    “Because you just ran through traffic to get here.”
    “Do you know why?”
    “No idea. Unless it’s to offer me counseling because of my traumatic experience.”
    The guy’s mouth set in an impatient scowl, like he was ready to bawl me out for my sarcasm. Then his expression changed a little to a wry smile, and he said, “OK, here’s my counsel. Answer some questions and then forget you were ever on that train.”
    “What train?”
    The guy started to reply, and then stopped, late to catch on that I was yanking his chain, and embarrassed about looking slow.
    I said, “What questions?”
    He asked, “What’s your phone number?”
    I said, “I don’t have a phone number.”
    “Not even a cell?”
    “Especially not even,” I said.
    “Really?”
    “I’m that guy,” I said. “Congratulations. You found me.”
    “What guy?”
    “The only guy in the world who doesn’t have a cell phone.”
    “Are you Canadian?”
    “Why would I be Canadian?”
    “The detective told us you speak French.”
    “Lots of people speak French. There’s a whole country in Europe.”
    “Are you French?”
    “My mother was.”
    “When were you last in Canada?”
    “I don’t recall. Years ago, probably.”
    “You sure?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “You got any Canadian friends or associates?”
    “No.”
    The guy went quiet. Theresa Lee was still on the sidewalk outside the 14th Precinct’s door. She was standing in the sun and watching us from across the street. The other guy said, “It was just a suicide on a train. Upsetting, but no big deal. Shit happens. Are we clear?”
    I said, “Are we done?”
    “Did she give you anything?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Completely. Are we done?”
    The guy asked, “You got plans?”
    “I’m leaving town.”
    “Heading where?”
    “Someplace else.”
    The guy nodded. “OK, we’re done. Now beat it.”
    I stayed where I was. I let them walk away, back to their car. They got in and waited for a gap in the traffic and eased out and drove away. I guessed they would take the West Side Highway all the way downtown, back to their desks.
    Theresa Lee was still on the sidewalk.
    I crossed the street