Spencerville

Washington.
    Keith glanced at Annie, and in his best midwestern accent, he said, “I told you we should have called up ahead for reservations.”
    She nodded in understanding and leaned toward the open window, addressing the security man. “Like I said, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing to go to New York. Like you see people do in the movies.” She added, “We never flew before.”
    The security man advised them, “You can get a motel and stay over. There’s a USAir flight to New York in the morning.”
    Keith replied, “The hell with it. We’re going home.” He opened the door, got in the Blazer, and drove off. He watched the security man still standing at the curb. Keith said, “He was a little too nosy.”
    “You’ve lived in Washington too long. He was trying to be helpful. He was very concerned when I spoke to him.”
    “I guess.” Either way, the man would remember them and the car.
    Annie asked, “What are we going to do now?”
    “Get a motel.”
    “Can’t we just drive to New York?”
    “I don’t think so.” He glanced at her and said, “I spoke to Larry. There’s an all-points bulletin out on us and this car.”
    She didn’t say anything.
    Keith left the airport and turned east on the airport highway road, toward Toledo.
    She said, “Could we rent a car?”
    “I thought we could before I heard about the all-points. We have to be careful where we go and what we do.”
    She nodded.
    There was an Airport Sheraton up ahead, and Keith pulled up and parked out of sight of the lobby. “Wait here.”
    She tried to smile and said, “Just like old times.”
    “Sort of.” He went into the lobby. Near the front desk, sitting on a shelf, he found the 800-number reservation telephone. He picked it up, got the reservation operator, and made a late-arrival reservation for the Sheraton at Cleveland Airport and confirmed it with his American Express card. He then went to a pay phone and called the 800 number for USAir. He reserved two seats on the eight-fifteen morning flight from Cleveland to New York and gave his card number. He wasn’t used to escape-and-evasion in his own country, but he was reasonably sure his toll-free calls couldn’t be traced back to the Toledo area. And even if they were, the police would be looking for him on the interstate to Cleveland, or more likely waiting for him at the Airport Sheraton in Cleveland. Red herrings were so stupidly simple they sometimes worked, and only two things were necessary for success—a police force efficient enough to pick up on the reservations, but gullible enough to think it was real. As for the latter, he assumed the police thought they were looking for John A. Citizen, not someone who’d once done this for a living.
    He left the lobby, went to the Blazer, took his briefcase out of the rear, and got back behind the wheel. “Could you hold this?”
    She took the briefcase, and Keith pulled out of the motel parking lot, continuing east on the highway.
    Annie asked, “Aren’t we staying there?”
    “No.” He explained what he’d done.
    She looked at him and asked, “This was your vocation or avocation?”
    “Vocation.” He added, “And I thought it had no application to civilian life. Goes to show you.”
    He continued east, along the highway toward Toledo, whose downtown skyscrapers he could now see. Traffic was heavier here, and the commercial strip was more built-up.
    He considered switching license plates. That meant finding a car that he thought would be parked all night and/or whose owner wouldn’t notice that his plates had been switched and report it. Meanwhile, they could drive all night with the switched plates and be in Washington before dawn. But you never knew if the plates had been reported stolen. Also, even if the plates weren’t reported stolen, the police were looking for a green Blazer, and if they saw one and the license plate on the Blazer didn’t match the all-points bulletin, they’d still run the license number through the computer to see if it matched up. Basically, switching plates was a sucker’s bet.
    She asked him, “What are you thinking about?”
    “Options. Run or hide?”
    “Why don’t we just go to a police station and explain?”
    “That is not an option.”
    “Why not?”
    He told her why not and asked, “Are you up for that domestic scene?”
    She thought a moment and replied, “If it was just him, I could handle it. If my children were with him… I don’t know…”
    “Why