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Melanie obediently followed her down a long corridor. The hallway was stark. No artwork, no awards, no photos, no signs. Not even doors. At the end of the hallway, they turned the corner to another bleak corridor with only one door. Gilmour was waiting for her.
The receptionist said nothing. She pulled out a magnetic card, swiped it over the lock, and punched in a security code. The code was changed every day to ensure the highest security in the back halls of the building.
Gilmour and Melanie took the stairs to the fourth floor, where Melanie waited inside the stairwell. Gilmour took the first elevator down to the cafeteria. She checked her watch and set it to vibrate in fifteen minutes. It was the longest fifteen minutes of her life. As soon as it signaled, she moved to the hallway and toward the elevator. If an elevator stopped on her floor with people in it, or if someone approached the elevator bank while she was waiting, she’d fake forgetting something. It was crucial she keep as low a profile as possible. If anything went sideways, the fewer people who could identify her, the better. Not that she expected trouble, but better to be incognito than obvious.
While she was waiting, one person approached the elevator bank. He nodded. She smiled. When the elevator arrived, she said, “Dang. Go ahead. I forgot something.”
The man seemed to think nothing of it and took the car. Melanie checked her watch again. Finally the soft ding of the elevator accompanied the light above the door. She got in and pressed the button for the lower level. Her heart was beating much faster than usual. She had been on many cases over the course of her career, but this one was personal. She peered into the massive room. There was a pillar just ahead where she could scope out where Howell and Gilmour were sitting. She saw Howell look in her direction and darted behind the pillar. She couldn’t tell if he’d seen her or not. She’d have to wait. But for how long? What if he recognized her? Would he remember her?
She shook off her fears. She was a champion of karma. And luck. She’d also learned that luck often meant being prepared for when an opportunity presented itself. Here was her opportunity. And she was prepared. For anything.
At the moment, the big question was how was she to keep an eye on Howell when he was facing her? She glanced in both directions. The only way to get to the other side of the cafeteria was through the kitchen. Even though the swinging door said EXIT, she was going to change its purpose for a few seconds. She looked over at the food counter. The protective plexiglass in front of the stainless-steel trays of food proved to be a valuable tool, and she was able to spot Howell’s reflection. She hoped he wasn’t able to see hers. She held her breath as she watched him get up and walk in her direction. He stopped in front of the vending machine and purchased a can of soda. She couldn’t make out what brand it was but would bet it was the same ginger ale he used to drink years ago. As soon as he turned to go back to his table, she darted into the kitchen, practically knocking over a busboy.
“Hey! Watch it, lady,” the scrawny adolescent cried out.
She flashed her OSI badge long enough for him to see what it was but too quickly to see who it was. She excused herself and moved quickly past the rows of pots and pans. The half-hour lunch break was almost over. She had to get to the other side of the room posthaste if she was to have any chance of retrieving anything that might have his DNA.
Melanie watched from several yards away, with another column blocking her from view. Gilmour stood. He spotted her. Then Howell got up. Gilmour placed his arm on Howell’s shoulder and gave him a “good buddy” pat on the back. From where Melanie stood, it appeared the ruse was successful. She pulled on a pair of clear plastic gloves. Once Gilmour and Howell were out of sight, she hurried to the recycling container, where he’d deposited his empty can of soda. She checked around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. She peered inside the bin. There were two cans of ginger ale. She picked them out and placed them in the plastic ziplock bag she carried in her pocket and quickly put them in her tote bag. She took her time exiting the cafeteria, thinking Howell and Gilmour might still be in the hallway chatting, even though that wasn’t part of the plan. Gilmour was to follow Howell to the elevator, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Not now. She listened for voices. The hallway was quiet except for the clamoring of the janitorial crew in the cafeteria. She hit the elevator button. It was empty. She let out a sigh of relief. Just a few more doors and a few hundred yards, and she was home free.
She hustled through the lobby and bounded down the steps of the large quadrangle. Gilmour was leaning against his car. “Bingo!” She pulled the bag from her tote. “Let’s get this over to the lab ASAP.”
Melanie got in her car and began to drive in the direction of Interstate 695 to Anacostia. As she passed the parking garage, she didn’t notice a car exiting behind her. She also didn’t notice the car was following her. She drove for several miles, turned on her directional signal, and got on the exit ramp to a quiet intersection. As she was rolling to a stop, she felt a strong bump against the back of her car. “Oh, not now. Please,” she muttered. She looked in the side-view mirror and saw a man running toward her. She leaned over to the compartment where she kept her gun. It was always locked unless she was in a perilous situation, and this could be one. But by the time she’d unlocked her seat belt, the man was yanking her door open and dragging her out of the car. Melanie began to kick and scream, but Howell placed a bag over her head, forced her arms behind her, swiftly shoved her onto the floor of the back seat of his car, and then cuffed her wrists. There was no one to save her this time.
Howell got back into the driver’s seat and pulled away, leaving her unattended, slightly crumpled automobile on the side of the road. Police would eventually identify it, but by then, it could be too late.
He began to speak. “You know, MelDrake, you always thought you were a notch above the rest of us. Such a clever girl. Did you really think you were going to get away with that pathetic play you and your cohort devised?” He was waiting for a reply.
Melanie didn’t answer him. Let him keep talking while she focused on what her next move should be.
“How did I know? You might ask. I spotted you the minute you walked in. My eyes always go to the ladies. You never know when you will meet someone interesting.” He cleared his throat and spat out the window. “Then I realized you looked familiar. But your pal? He needs to take acting lessons. I knew something was up.”
Melanie listened. He was not the same Wayne from years ago. His voice had much more of a chill to it now. He’d become desensitized. She knew trying to reason with him would be futile. Arguing would make him more aggressive. She had to appeal to his ego without his realizing it.
“How so?” she asked.
“He was too friendly. Too handsy.” Howell chuckled. “He thought he gave me the slip, but I got out of the elevator and followed him. I figured the two of you were watching me and would meet up at some point. I went straight to my car and waited. And bingo. There you were.” He glanced at the rearview again. He could barely see the top of the bag on her head. “And bingo, here you are now.”
Melanie wondered if he knew about the ginger ale. If she wasn’t able to escape, at least there would be evidence in her car. She knew she needed all the psychological tricks she could pull out of her bag. Then she remembered Uncle Leo. He’d taught her how to pick her way out of a pair of handcuffs with a small paper clip. But where would she find one at that moment? Her lanyard. The bobby pins. She always had two clipped on it in case she had to get her hair out of her face. She figured it was close enough and her only option. She struggled to move the lanyard around her body.
“Getting cozy back there?” Howell asked sarcastically.
“Wayne?” She knew addressing him by name would help humanize her, make her a bit less of a victim in his eyes.
“Yes. MelDrake.”
“Do you think you could take the bag off my head?” Her words were muffled. “I promise I won’t scream, and even if I did, no one would hear me. Please? I’d rather not have an asthma attack.” Melanie’s voice was calm as her muted words reached the front seat. “And my arm is asleep.” Still calm, but she was lying. Lying about the asthma and her arm.
“We’ll wake it up soon enough. In about an hour. So relax and enjoy the ride.” That was the end of the chatter.
Melanie knew she had less than sixty minutes to untangle herself. She rolled up into a crouching position. She pressed her cheek against her shoulder, inching the cord away from her body. She just needed enough room to get the lanyard over her head. But the bag. It would be in the way.
“Wayne? Please.” She was being submissive, just short of begging. She knew he would like that.
Without turning around, he reached one arm over the seat and yanked the bag off her head.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Yes. Very. Thank you.” She crouched farther, bent her head, and wriggled a little more, letting the lanyard drop to the floor. She rolled and lay on her side with the lanyard behind her.
