Riptide

in a scant twelve minutes.
    You wanted out of the line of fire and to get where you were going
    as quickly as you could. There was a flight from Dulles to
    Boston leaving only forty-five minutes after you landed in Dulles,
    but you turned it down. You didn't have any checked luggage, too
    big a risk with that, which was smart of you. The woman at the
    check-in counter recognized your photo, said she realized you
    might miss that plane, but you insisted even though she tried to talk
    you out of it. She didn't understand at the time, since there was another
    flight so soon. She told you the chances were very high that
    you'd miss the first plane to Boston."
    "I nearly did miss it. I had to run like mad to catch it. They'd already
    closed the gate but I talked my head off until they opened it."
    "I know. I spoke to the flight attendant who greeted you at the
    door when you came rushing onto the plane. She said you looked
    somewhat desperate."
    She sighed, but didn't say anything, just crossed her arms over
    her chest and stared at him, still as a stone. "Come on, let's hear the
    rest of it."
    "It didn't take long to find you on that flight to Portland. Your
    fake ID was pretty amateur. I'll bet they were really busy at the
    check-in counters in New York and Dulles for you to get passed on
    through. At least you were smart enough not to use that driver's license
    again to get yourself a rental car. You waited an hour for a
    flight from Boston to Portland, then you took a taxi into Portland
    --yes, one of my people found the driver and verified that it

was you--and went to Big Frank's Previously Owned Cars on
    Blake Street. You wanted your own car. That told me that you had
    a definite destination in mind, a place where you were going to
    burrow in for the long haul. I got all the particulars out of Big
    Frank, including your license plate number, the make, model, and
    color of your Toyota. I called a friend in the Portland PD to put out
    an APB on you and it didn't take more than a day and a half to net
    you. Remember when you got gas at the Union 76 station when
    you were first coming into town?"
    She'd paid cash. No trail. No record. "I didn't make any mistakes."
    "No, but it turns out that the guy who pumped your gas is a police
    radio buff with an excellent memory for numbers. He heard
    the APB, remembered your car and license plate, and phoned it in.
    It got to me really fast. Don't worry, I canceled the APB. Needless
    to say, I owe a good-sized favor to Chief Aronson of the Portland
    PD. Also I spoke to the kid who pumped your gas, told him it had
    all been a mistake, thanked him, and slipped him a fifty. Oh yes, I
    got a good laugh over the name on the fake ID--Martha Clinton
    --a nice mix of presidential names."
    "I did, too," Becca said, wondering why she'd bothered at all.
    "At least Martha was young and had blondish hair. Did you buy
    it off a street kid in New York?"
    "Yes. I had to try six of them before I could find an ID that
    looked anything remotely like me. I liked the name. When did you
    get here to Riptide?"
    "Two days ago. I went immediately to the only bed-and-breakfast
    in town and of course you had stayed there for one night.
    Scottie told me you'd taken the old Marley place." He splayed his
    fingers. "Nothing to it."
    "Why didn't you come to see me right away?"

"I wanted to get the lay of the land, watch you awhile, see what
    was happening, who you spoke to, things like that. It's an approach
    I've always used. I've never believed in rushing into things, if I have
    a choice."
    "It was so easy for you." She sighed, her arms still crossed over
    her chest. "That means that the FBI should be ringing the doorbell
    at any minute."
    "Nah, they're not as smart as I am."
    She threw her empty coffee cup at him.
    He snagged the cup out of the air and set it back on the table.
    His reflexes were good. He was very fast. She said, "I'm awfully
    glad I didn't come any nearer to you. You could have nailed me in
    a flash, couldn't you?"
    "Probably, but that's not the point. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm
    here to protect you."
    "My guardian angel."
    "That's right."
    "Why don't you think the cops and FBI will be here any moment?"
    "They have to follow all sorts of legal procedures to get to the
    goodies." He paused a moment, grinning at her. "And I also sent
    them on a wild-goose chase. I'll tell you about it later."
    "All right. Let's cut to the chase. If you're not a cop, then who
    are you and who hired you to