Hit List

said, “but don’t get too close to him, either.”
    “You got it.”
    Keller sat forward, his eyes on the cab in front of them. After a moment he said, “Why not the airport?”
    “No luggage.”
    “Maybe he travels light.”
    “You figure he’s going to the airport?”
    “It’s possible.”
    “Which airport, you happen to know?”
    “I could narrow it down to three.”
    “La Guardia and JFK’s okay, but I get double the meter if it’s Newark.”
    “Double the meter,” Keller said.
    “For out of town.”
    “Plus the fifty we agreed to.”
    “Plus the fifty, and plus the tunnel toll.”
    Keller was silent, watching the cab in front of them, and the driver took it for resistance. “You want a cheap ride to Newark,” he said, “they got a bus at Port Authority’ll take you there for ten, twelve dollars. No tip and no tolls, but don’t point out some asshole with a hat and expect the driver to follow him for you.”
    Keller told him the money wasn’t a problem. Anyway, it didn’t look as though they were headed for Newark. They were on Eighth Avenue now, headed uptown, and they’d passed the turnoffs for both the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels. If the killer’s destination was one of the other two airports, what was his cab doing this far west?
    “Here we go,” Keller’s driver said, slowing to a stop. “Hotel Woodleigh, a touch of Europe in Old New York. Didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t go to the airport without luggage?”
    “Your very words,” Keller said.
    “He’ll be out in a minute, carrying a suitcase. Or more likely it’ll have wheels on it and he’ll be rolling it. Those Rollaboards are taking over the world.”
    “He’s paying off his cab.”
    “So?”
    “So I think he’s got the right idea,” Keller said, and drew three twenties and a ten from his wallet. The cabby seemed satisfied—he damn well ought to be, Keller thought—but would have preferred to stick around for the rest of the operation.
    “He’ll be out in five minutes, and you’ll wish you had me waiting,” he said. Keller figured he was probably right, but all the same he got out of the cab and walked into the hotel lobby.
    He found a chair where he could watch both entrances and the bank of elevators, but barely got settled into it before he sensed that someone was taking an interest in him. He looked around and caught the desk clerk looking his way.
    A few hours from now, he thought, a man like himself, presentably dressed and groomed, could sit for an hour with a newspaper without attracting any attention. But at this hour, with the sky still dark and the city as close as it got to sleep, he was conspicuous.
    He walked over to the desk, took out his wallet, flipped it open as if to show a badge. “Fellow who just came in here,” he said. “Had a hat on.”
    “You know,” the clerk said, “I had a feeling about him.”
    “Where’d he go?”
    “To his room,” the clerk said. “Well, to somebody’s room. He went right up on the elevator. Didn’t stop at the desk for his key.”
    “You happen to know the room?”
    “Never saw him before. I wasn’t on when he checked in. If he checked in.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “What’d he do, anyway?”
    He killed a friend of mine, Keller thought. “I’ll just have a seat,” he said. “I don’t know how long he’ll be, but I wouldn’t want him to slip past me. You don’t have newspapers for sale, do you? So I don’t look too obvious sitting there.”
    The papers hadn’t come yet, but the clerk managed to find yesterday’s Times . Keller didn’t offer to pay for it, figuring a cop wouldn’t. He sat down with the paper and tried to look interested in it.
    At first there was no activity at all, but then as dawn approached, the elevator would open every few minutes, and someone would emerge from it and head for the desk to check out. Some looked tired, others looked wide awake, but none looked like the man who had paid Maggie a visit. He kept an eye on the hotel entrance, too, and now and then walked out onto the street for a quick look around. One time he saw a fellow in a cap and windbreaker, caught a quick glimpse of him entering a deli across the street.
    Roger, he thought, and tried to position himself so he could watch the front door of the deli and still keep an eye on the hotel lobby. His eyes darted from side to side, it was like watching a tennis match, and then the man in the cap and windbreaker came out of the